“Quick! get to the cedar, quick!” shouted Sam Hawkins.
There was nothing to prevent my doing so, but still I did not move, for he was not yet dangerously near. Then I ran swiftly towards the tree. Had I been in the water, he could have thrown the tomahawk even at that distance; but I was sure he would not use it till we were on a level. The tree was three hundred feet away. When I had made half this distance as fast as I could, I stopped again, and looked back just as the chief came out of the water. He pulled the tomahawk from his belt, and ran towards me. I did not move, but as he came dangerously close I turned as if to fly, but only apparently. I felt sure that he would not throw the tomahawk when I stood still, for I could then dodge it. So I started running, stopped suddenly, and turned around. Right! He had paused to make his throw surer, swung his weapon around his head, and, even as I turned, hurled it at me. I leaped to one side: the tomahawk flew past me, and buried itself in the sand. That was what I wanted. I ran over, drew it out, and, instead of going on to the tree, walked deliberately over to the chief. He uttered an exclamation of rage, and sprang at me like a madman.
I raised the tomahawk, and called to him: “Halt, Intschu-Tschuna! You deceived yourself in Old Shatterhand. Do you want your own weapon buried in your skull?”
He paused, and cried: “Dog! How did you escape me in the water? The wicked spirit has helped you.”
“Don’t you believe that. If any spirit has defended me, it is the good Manitou.”
As I spoke I saw a secret determination light his eyes as he watched me, and I said warningly: “You mean to surprise and attack me; I see it. Don’t do it, for it would be your death. I will do you no harm, for I really care for you and Winnetou; but if you attack, I must defend myself. You know that I am stronger than you without a weapon, and I have your tomahawk. Be wise, and—”
I could say no more. His wrath mastered him beyond control of his reason. He threw himself towards me with hands outstretched like claws. He thought he had me, but I slipped aside, and the force of his own weight threw him down. Instantly I was over him; putting my left knee on one arm, my right on the other, I held him with the left hand by the throat, swung the tomahawk, and cried: “Intschu-Tschuna, do you ask for mercy?”