WHEN I left Winnetou I intended to go straight to the place where I had found Santer's horses, but on the way I thought of the horse I had ridden in coming, and that Santer must have found him, and ridden at once from the scene of his crime. This thought redoubled my speed; I ran down the mountain, and with bitter disgust saw that the horse was gone, and Santer was already on his way. I plunged through the ravine; it was too stony there to see a trail, but a little farther on I came to soft earth which I examined carefully for a footprint.

Then I found that I had been entirely deceived. Search as I would I could discover nothing; Santer had not gone this way. He must hake chosen another where the rocks betrayed no hoof prints, and the only thing for me to do was to hasten back to our camp for assistance. One person alone might spend hours in a vain attempt to discover the exit he had chosen.

It was a long distance to traverse on foot when one was on fire with impatience, grief and rage, but though it seemed to me my feet were shod with lead, in reality I was not long getting to our camp. It was past midday, however, when I came in, and Sam Hawkins called out to me as he saw me coming: "Where have you been? We have eaten, and I --"

He stopped suddenly, shocked by the expression of

my face. "For the love of heaven," he cried, "what is the matter?"

Instead of answering, I called the Apaches together, and told them as well as I could my terrible news.

No one spoke or moved; they could not believe me; it was too horrible. But when they did realize I had spoken the truth, and Intschu-Tschuna and Nscho-Tschi were really dead, such a howl arose as could have been heard for miles. The Indians ran about like madmen, brandishing their tomahawks, and uttering fierce cries, their faces distorted with grief and rage.

As soon as I could make myself heard, I said: "Let the Apache braves be silent. Nothing comes of noise. We must hasten after the murderer."

"Yes; away, away, away," they shrieked, throwing themselves on their horses; had they caught Santer then he would have been torn to shreds.

"Gently," I said. "My brothers do not know what must be done; let me tell them."

They crowded around me till I was nearly suffocated, while Sam Hawkins, Stone and Parker stood as if petrified just where they were when I came back; the tragedy seemed to have benumbed them. They stirred at last, and joined us, and Sam gasped out: "I feel as though I had been knocked on the head, and could not think. The dear, beautiful, good, good young red girl! She was so friendly, so sweet to me! To think she is murdered!"

"Don't talk about it, Sam. I don't dare dwell on that side of it. Now all our strength is needed to catch that beast. My idea is to divide our force into two parties, and ride around the mountain. We will meet on the further side, and learn whether either division has

found the trail. I am convinced that one or the other must find it, and then we will follow it fast."

"Upon my word the very best way, and the simplest; I wonder I didn't think of it," cried Sam.

"Winnetou has lent me ten Indians to pursue Santer, and I'll take those who are the best mounted, for no one knows how long we shall have to follow the wretch, and we must take enough provisions. You know the region; how long do you think it will take us to ride around the mountain?"

"If we hurry we can do it in a little more than two hours."

"Then let us delay no longer." I picked out my ten Apaches, who were glad to be chosen, for they much preferred hunting the murderer to singing the death song. To the remaining twenty I gave explicit directions how to reach Winnetou, and we then parted.

My ten Indians turned to the left of the mountain to encompass it on its western side, while we kept on to the east. We spurred our horses, and rode rapidly, keeping the hills on our left. Our eyes were glued to the ground, for the faster we rode the sharper we must watch not to pass the trail.

Thus we spent an hour, and half of another, and had almost finished our half circuit of the hills when we spied a dark line running through the grass. It was the trail of a single rider -- Santer's. It was not more than two hours old, and we longed to follow it at once, but had to wait for the Apaches, who came up with us in three-quarters of an hour.

I sent a man back to Winnetou to tell him that we had found the trail, and then we rode on at our best speed. It was so early in the season that there were

but two hours before sunset, and we must hasten. We must put a long stretch behind us before darkness came on, for we could not see the trail during the night. We felt sure that Santer would press on in the darkness, knowing well we must be following, and tomorrow our ride would be a long one. Fortunately, however, both horse and man would require rest; Santer could not ride forever without stopping.

Nugget Mountain disappeared behind us, and a flat prairie lay before us, in which the trail was easily seen. As it grew dark we dismounted, and followed it on foot until we could distinguish it no longer. There was grass here for the horses, and we lay down for the night just as we were. The thought of the death of Intschu-Tschuna and his daughter kept my eyes open, and when I closed them I saw them lying in their blood, and heard again Nscho-Tschi's dying words. I reproached myself for not showing how fully I appreciated the love and kindness they had shown me, and felt as wretched as if my own hand had slain them. It grew cold toward morning, and we were so chilled that we started out while it was still gray dawn, and the trail was scarcely discernible. Our horses too were cold, and needed no other spur to speed.

We rode east till mid-day, when the trail turned more toward the south. Sam Hawkins noticed this, and looked thoughtful. "This fellow is deep," he said. "I believe he's gone to the Kiowas."

"He'd never do that!"

"Why not? Do you think he'd stand still for love of you, and let you have his head? He'll do his best to save himself. He had his eyes open, and saw our horses were better than his, and he's afraid he can't

hold out, so he'll seek the Kiowas' protection. They'll do anything for him when he tells them he has killed Intschu-Tschuna and Nscho-Tschi."

It was not long after that we came to the place where Santer had rested. We saw that his horse had lain down; he was very tired, as the trail had already shown. Apparently the rider was worn out too, for the trail from this point was not more than two hours old; he had probably slept longer than he intended. We were a good half hour nearer him than we had been the day before. The trail stretched still more to the south, and we steadily gained on him; it could not now be more than half an hour old. The horizon before us was dark; there was no longer open prairie, but woods ahead of us.

Just before evening we were so close to the fugitive that we might discover him at any moment, and we pressed forward more eagerly than ever. We rode through one of the groups of trees that stood on the left bank of a little stream. I was ahead, and as I passed the last tree I saw that the trail led into the dry bed of the brook. I reined up for a moment to tell this to the others, which was fortunate for us, for in that moment of delay I followed the bed of the little stream with my eye, and made a discovery which caused me to conceal myself hastily.

On the opposite bank of the stream there was a second piece of woods which was alive with Indians and their horses; I could see the stakes in the ground, across which they had stretched ropes to dry their meat. Had I ridden fifteen feet further they would have seen me. I dismounted and pointed out the scene to my companions. "Kiowas!" said one of the Apaches.

"

Yes, Kiowas," assented Sam. "The devil must love this Santer to have given him this protection at the last moment. I actually felt him between my fingers, but even now he shan't escape."

"It's not a strong force of Kiowas," I said.

"H'm. We see only those who are under those trees. You don't know how many more there are. They're hunting, and are drying their meat."

I wanted to go back further from the Kiowa camp where we would be in less danger of discovery, but Sam laughed at me, assuring me we were as safe there as if we were in New York. He frequently called me rash and foolhardy, but now the roles were reversed, and he insisted on a risk I was most unwilling to run. He was entirely unlike himself in every way that day; the death of the "dear, beautiful, good young red girl" had made him half insane with rage. In this case, though, the Apaches, as well as Stone and Parker agreed with him, so I reluctantly gave way to such a majority, and we tied our horses, and sat down where we were to wait for darkness. The Kiowas evidently felt perfectly secure; they rode and walked across the open plain, called to one another, and in every way behaved as if they were in their own well-guarded Indian village.

"You see how unsuspecting they are," said Sam.

"If things are as they seem," I returned." But I have a presentiment they are fooling us."

"Presentiment! Only old women have presentiments; no one else. What object could they have in fooling us?"

"To draw us on."

"That's quite unnecessary, for we'll go on without

drawing. Santer is over there, and has told them the whole story. They know of course we'll follow him, bet they don't think we're as near as we are; they're probably looking for us in the morning. As soon as it's dark I'll crawl over there and spy on them, and then we'll know what to do."

"Good. I'll go too."

"You needn't. When Sam Hawkins goes spying he doesn't need help," he said so curtly, and with an irritation so unlike his usual jolly self that I made no reply, understanding that he was not only saddened by the death of our friends, but angry and sore that his own imprudent talkativeness on the day we met Santer had probably caused all the trouble. I stretched myself out as though consenting to Sam's will, and was silent.

The sun had been down some time, and now the twilight too faded. The legion fires burned brightly, and it was so unlike Indians to thus carelessly announce their presence to a possible enemy that this confirmed my previous opinion of their game. While I lay thinking this over it seemed to me I heard a rustle behind me, where none of our people lay. I listened, and the sound was repeated; I heard it plainly, and could distinguish exactly what it was. The light movement of dried vines rubbing against each other. It might be caused by some little animal, but it might be caused by a man; I must look into it. I rose, and strolled in the opposite direction from whence the sound came. When I had gone far enough, I turned and crept around on the other side. I heard the noise again; crawled up, and saw exactly what I expected to see -- an Indian who had been hidden there, and was trying to get away noiselessly, but was caught in the blackberry vines. He had

almost freed himself; his body was out, except one shoulder and arm, and the neck and head. I crept up behind his back. He gradually got out all but his arm, when I rose to my knees -- I had been lying flat -- caught him around the neck with my left arm, and dealt two -- three stunning blows on his head which laid him motionless.

"What was that?" said Sam.

"Did you hear anything?" "Old Shatterhand's horse stamped," said Dick.

"He's gone; where can he be? He'll do something foolish," cried Sam.

"Foolish? Not he. He never was yet, and he won't be now." I rose, and went softly over to them, and said: "You're mistaken, dear Sam. I haven't gone away. But if you want proof that I was right about the Kiowas, go over to those blackberry vines."

He rose, mystified." Hallo!" he cried." Why, it's an Indian. How did this happen?"

"He was hidden in the blackberry brambles, and I discovered him. He was trying to get out when I knocked him senseless. That was what you heard when you thought my horse was restless."

"Confound it! He has been spying. How lucky he didn't get back to his own gang. Bind him, and gag him. I'm going over now to spy on them. You stay here!"

He started at once, and the Apaches murmured at his ordering me so peremptorily, and Stone said: "Well, I really don't know what's come over Sam."

"Never mind; he's all right," I said." He's a good, faithful little fellow, but he's half crazed by the murder, and the thought that it was he who gave Santer the fatal

information. Of course I am going over there, though. You stay here till I come back; even if you hear shots don't come unless I call you."

I laid my gun down, and started. Sam had gone one way; not the best one, I thought, so I took the other, intending to creep up on the opposite side. I made my way successfully, and found myself under the trees where the thick darkness of the wood was increased by the contrast of the light of eight fires which the Kiowas were burning, although I counted but twenty Indians around them. They were evidently intended as decoys for us. The Kiowas had their guns in their hands ready to shoot at an instant, and woe to us if we had accepted their cordial invitation to fall on them. I crept from tree to tree, till at last I saw Santer. He was sitting with four Indians, and to my delight they were talking in perfectly audible tones. I heard Santer holding forth. He told them of Nugget Mountain, and urged the Indians to go there with him to get the treasure." Does my white brother know the place where it is?" asked the oldest of the four Indians." No; we should have learned, but the Apaches came back too soon. We thought they would be so long that we could spy upon them."

"Then is the search nearly hopeless. Ten times a hundred men could go there, and look carefully, and find nothing. The red men know well how to make such places undiscoverable. But since my brother has killed the greatest of our enemies and his daughter, we will go with him later, and help him seek. But first we must capture your pursuers, and kill Winnetou."

" Winnetou! He will be with them."

" No; for he may not leave his dead, and he will keep

the greater part of his braves with him. He has sent the smaller part after you, and they will probably be led by Old Shatterhand, the white dog who shot our chief, Tangua, in both knees over in the Apache pueblo. It is his band that we are now waiting for."

"Then we will ride over to Nugget Mountain, lay Winnetou out cold, and get the gold."

"That is not as easy as my Brother thinks. Winnetou has to bury his father and sister, and we could not kill him before that was done, for the Great Spirit would never forgive us. But when they are buried we will fall upon him. He will not go to the States of the pale-faces now, but will return to Rio Pecos. We will lay a trap for him as we have today for Old Shatterhand, who is surely over yonder. I only wait for the return of the spy I have sent there. It is strange that the sentries I have posted over toward them send me no tidings yet."

I was alarmed as I heard these words; there were sentinels then on the outskirts of the woods. Suppose Sam Hawkins did not see them, and fell into their hands! Scarcely had this thought come to me than I heard a short, sharp cry. The Kiowa leader sprang up, and listened, as did all the Indians. Four Kiowas came out of the woods bringing a white man, who struggled to no purpose, for though he was not bound, four knives would have pierced him had he broken away. This white man was my short-sighted Sam Hawkins! My resolution was quickly taken; I would not let him be killed, though I risked my life to prevent it.

"Sam Hawkins!" cried Santer, recognizing him. "Good evening, sir. You did not expect to see me here."

" Beast! thief! Murderer!" cried the fearless little Sam, springing at his throat as the Indians released him." I've got you now, and you shall have your pay."

The murderer defended himself, and the Indians pulled Sam off. Confusion reigned for a moment, and I made the most of it. Drawing my two revolvers I sprang out. "Old Shatterhand!" cried Santer, starting to run.

I sent two shots after him, which failed their mark, emptied the other barrels among the Indians, and cried to Sam: "Come away; get behind me." For a moment the Indians seemed unable to move. I seized Sam's arm, and drew him into the woods. It was all done so quickly that scarcely more than a minute had passed since I had jumped out." Mercy on us, that was none too soon," said Sam as we passed into the shadow.

"Don't talk; follow me," I interrupted, letting go his arm, and turning up the stream to get as far away as possible before attempting to cross, intending to come down behind our camp. When I thought we had gone far enough to be secure, I paused." Sam," I said, softly. No answer." Sam, do you hear me?" I asked louder. Still no answer. Where could he be? Had he not followed me? I took cartridges from my belt, reloaded my revolvers, and turned back to seek him. I went slowly, step by step, till I reached the spot where I had called on him to follow me. He must have disregarded my call, and tried to cross where he was; if this were so then the firelight must have fallen on him, and he had placed himself directly in the range of the Kiowa bullets. What carelessness on the part of the little man, so obstinate today! I went up the stream again, crossed out of sight, and reached our camp, where I

found everything in good order. My red and white comrades pressed around me, thankful to see me safe, and I asked at once: "Where is Sam? Isn't he here?"

"How can you ask?" said Stone." Didn't you see what happened to him?"

"What?"

"Sam appeared right over there, and there was a crowd of Kiowas after him. They captured him, and were off to the other side, and disappeared under the trees before we could get to the spot. We wanted to go after them and rescue Sam, but we remembered you had bade us stay here, and obeyed."

"That was wise, for twelve men could do nothing in that crowd but be killed."

" But what shall we do? Sam is a prisoner."

" Yes, and for the second time."

I then told them what had happened, and as I concluded Will Parker said: "It's no fault of yours. You have done more than another would have dared do. Sam's crazy today, and has only himself to blame. But we can't leave him there."

"No; wait till things quiet down a bit, and then we'll crawl over to see what can be done."

Two hours later, having made sure our horses were fast, and our prisoner safely bound and gagged, we crept over, Will and I, to spy upon our foe. We found the fires burning as brightly as before, but not a soul beside them. The Kiowas had silently slipped away. The dawn showed us their trail leading in the direction of the Kiowa village. Stone and Parker were beside themselves at the thought that Sam had been taken away to torture, but I reminded them that we had a hostage in our Kiowa prisoner, and furthermore I felt sure they were

not bound for their own village, but for Nugget Mountain, to capture Winnetou as soon as the burial was over. There was nothing for us to do but make our best speed back to warn him, and we set forth very ill pleased with the result of our ride, not having captured Santer, and having lost Sam Hawkins.

It was noon of the second day when we passed through the ravine, and found ourselves back on the scene of the double murder. We saw at once how busy the twenty Apaches whom we left with Winnetou had been. They had built the tomb, and the burial was to be on the next day. Winnetou was told we had come, and came out from beside his dead to greet us. He was always grave, and rarely laughed; I never heard him laugh aloud, but there was an expression of kindliness in his gravity, and his eyes were smiling and friendly. But today his face seemed turned to stone, and there was no light in his eyes. His movements were slow and painful as he came toward me, took my hand, and looked at me long and earnestly.

" When did my brother come back?" he asked.

" Just now."

" Where is the murderer?"

" He has escaped."

I confess that my eyes fell as I made this answer, and I felt ashamed to give it. His eyes too sought the ground. After a long pause he asked: "Did my brother lose the trail?"

" No, I have it still. He is coming here."

"Let Old Shatterhand tell me all." He seated himself on a stone, and I sat beside him to tell him the whole unsatisfactory story.

He listened in silence to the end, and then pressed

my hand, and said: "My brother will forgive me asking if he had lost the trail. He has done all that could be done, and has acted with great wisdom. Sam Hawkins will deeply repent his imprudence; we will forgive him, and free him. I think, as my brother does, that the Kiowas will come, but they will not find us unprepared. Tomorrow we will seal the tomb over Intschu-Tschuna and Nscho-Tschi. Will my brother be there?"

"I should be deeply grieved if Winnetou would not allow me to be there."

"I do not only allow it, but I beg you to be there. Your presence may perhaps save the lives of many sons of the pale-faces. The law of blood demands the death of many white men, but your eyes are like the sun whose warmth melts the hard ice, and turns it into running water. You know what I have lost; I am alone. Be to me father and sister, I pray you, Jack." Tears stood in his eyes; he was ashamed of them, and hastened back to his dead.

We buried the chief and his young daughter on the following day. Interesting as were the ceremonies, I cannot describe them, for when I think of that sorrowful hour my heart is as full of pain as if it were yesterday. Intschu-Tschuna's body was bound on his horse, which was strapped to the ground so that it could not move, and then shot through the head. The earth was piled over them until horse and rider, with his medicine charms and his weapons, were completely covered, and then they were built around with stone, and the tomb sealed.

At my request Nscho-Tschi received another kind of grave; I could not bear to have the earth heaped on her sweet face and kind hands. We seated her against the

trunk of a tree, and built a stone pyramid around her, from the top of which the green branches of the tree waved in the soft southern wind.