THE NIGHT OF THE MESCALERO APACHE CALLED WINNETOU

By Andamogirl

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3. CASTILLO AND HIS BANDITOS

Three days later

It was mid-day when Artemus Gordon left Dr. Gerald's office which was located in a narrow street in the heart of the city, near the San Miguel Chapel., the doors there, being all the same and green.

Holding his horse's reins, he smiled at the three men who were standing in front of him – at Winnetou, still weak and leaning against Old Shatterhand and at Martin Gerald holding a linen bag containing a bottle of beer, a piece of bread, a can of sardines in oil and an apple. "It's time for me to leave, I'm going back to Washington on the first train leaving El Paso. I have a report to give to General Grant. But before that I'm going to send him a message to tell him briefly what's been going on lately. The telegraph office is not far from here." He took the bag and said, "Thanks for the picnic Martin."

Gerald held out his hand. "I hope to see you again one day, my friend, and please be very careful. I'd hate to go to your funeral."

Shaking the physician's offered hand, Artemus smiled and then said, "I'll do my best, but I can't promise you anything."

The physician and surgeon nodded. "Take care, Artemus."

Gordon saluted Winnetou the Apache way. Using his hand which was close, except for the index and middle joined together, he made a large gesture from his heart to his right side. "Goodbye, Winnetou. I hope we'll meet again someday, under better circumstances."

Being careful not to make any sudden movements, Winnetou imitated Artemus's gesture and then said, "Winnetou hopes so too, and Artemus Gordon will always be welcome among my band. Winnetou thanks you again for saving his life, ahéhe'e"("thank you', pronounced similar to ah-heh-heh-eh).

Old Shatterhand shook Artemus's hand and added, "And you have my gratitude for everything you've done, Major Gordon, thank you."

Rubbing his horse's neck Artemus asked, "What are you going to do now?" He asked Old Shatterhand.

Looking at Winnetou, standing at his side, the blond man responded, "This afternoon, Winnetou and I will return to the military camp to meet the Apaches there."

Winnetou nodded. "I need to see my people, talk to them."

Frowning in concern, Artemus said, "So soon? I thought you'd be here longer, Winnetou. You had a very delicate operation, and you need a lot of rest and care. You should stay here with Martin a few days more, for a complete recovery."

Dr. Gerald smiled." I'm glad to hear that. I said the same thing to Winnetou but he wouldn't listen. Maybe he'll listen to you?"

Glancing at the physician then at Artemus, Winnetou replied, "Winnetou needs to go back to his people where he belongs. Winnetou feels strong now. Howgh!" - all the while ignoring the dull ache radiating from where the bullet was lodged in his chest.

Gordon mounted his horse and tipped the edge of his white hat bordered by black. "Goodbye, my friends. Be seeing you."

The spy was ready to leave when, suddenly, the crack of a gunshot suddenly filled the hot air, echoing in the desert street, and a bullet grazed his right temple.

Artemus let out a muffled sound, with a grimace twisted on his face, his eyes rolled up in their sockets and then darkness washed over him.

He slid from his saddle, to the side and then crumpled on the desert street, hard and then didn't move, passed out.

Dr. Gerald lunged forward and crouched at his friend's side – while Old Shatterhand pushed Winnetou towards the open door to protect him. But the Indian resisted, his gray-blue eyes darting around, trying to locate the gunman's position.

He removed Artemus's hat, setting it aside and began examining the wound.

Suddenly armed men appeared on either side of the street.

One of them, carrying a black sombero charro and two cartridge belts across his chest said, "Don't move, or my men here will shoot you!" with a satisfied look on his face.

He joined Gerald who had rolled Artemus onto his back. The doctor was pressing his hand against the bleeding wound the other man had on the side of his head.

The Mexican smiled broadly, proud of himself. "It was a very good shot, wasn't it? I wanted to knock him down, not kill him. It's nothing, just a graze. He'll wake up with a terrible headache, that's all" He said and holstered his gun. "I could have killed him, but I'd rather make him suffer first. It's not just Indians who know how to torture people, I'm an expert." He kicked Artemus's side and continued, "Because of this damn spy, almost all my compañeros are in jail and our business is dead. It's a good thing I saw him last night when I was looking for a hotel," He looked at Winnetou with a black look, recognizing Apache clothes. "What's an Apache doing here? He should be at the end of a rope instead!"

One of the bandits moved forward and told his boss, "It's the Indian that killed Cortez! It's him! I was there when he shot him. Kill him too, Castillo!"

Pedro Castillo glared heinously at the Apache. "Cortez and I were associates. He was like a brother to me! You too will suffer before you die redskin! I'll scalp you alive, Apache!" Glancing at the physician he added. "Go back to your office, doctor. And if I find out that you told the marshall what happened here. I'll come back later and deal with you. Your death will be slow and painful... I have 'ears' all over here." He finally looked at Old Shatterhand. "Who are you?"

The tall man responded, "My name is Old Shatterhand."

Castillo's eyes opened wide in surprise as he suddenly understood who the Apache was. "Yes, I heard about Old Shatterhand and this Indian here is Winnetou, your blood brother. Everybody in this territory is talking about you, the two wild west vigilantes…" Then he furrowed his brow in confusion. "I heard Winnetou was dead, killed by Rollins, in the mountains."

Old Shatterhand shook his head. "The news of his death has been greatly exaggerated. As you can see, he's alive."

Castillo gave Winnetou a sinister smile. "Not for long!"

Dr. Gerald was brutally manhandled into his office by one man, while another pushed Old Shatterhand and Winnetou into the middle of the street.

Several rifles and revolvers were immediately pointed at them and Castillo said, "Just behave yourself and you'll live a few more hours. If you don't..." He pointed at Artemus, who was still passed out. "Henrique, put the spy back on his horse."

Henrique, a hulky bandit hefted Artemus from beneath his underarms, settled the unconscious man across his saddle and used the rope to tie him up. Then he looked at Old Shatterhand and Winnetou and asked, "Castillo, what do you want to do with them?"

Castillo pulled on each side of his moustache, thinking. "They'll come with us, of course, Winnetou because he killed Cortez and Old Shatterhand because I don't want to separate brothers. I respect family."

Henrique grinned. "We tie them to the end of a rope?"

Castillo nodded. "Yes, a long walk through the mountains behind our horses will do them good." And he laughed out loud.

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Much later, in the arid plain around Santa Fe

Off the road

Exhausted, muscles burning with effort, Winnetou stumbled on trembling legs. His knees buckled and he collapsed on the blistering hot sand next to a thorny bush and a whimper escaped his dry lips.

Castillo stopped his horse and turned around. "What is it? Move!" He said harshly. "I thought Apaches were tireless! I thought they could walk and run for hours without resting and drinking!" He pulled hard on the rope, one end of which was attached to the pommel of his saddle and the other looped around the Indian's wrists – but Winnetou was too weak to move. "Come on red skin! Get up! We're not arrived yet! We still have a long way to go! You get up or I'll drag you behind my horse!"

Old Shatterhand knelt beside his brother and noticed that Winnetou was bleeding through his bandage. The stitches had ruptured, he realized with concern.

He looked up at the bandito and said, "If you want him to stay alive we need to take a break. He's badly injured and he's still wea k."

Castillo shook his head. "No break! He's your blood brother, then you will carry him! Henrique, untie Old Shatterhand!"

Once Old Shatterhand was free of his restraints, he scooped Winnetou into his arms – a muffled groan escaping out of the Apache's throat, and said, "I have you; brother."

Drenched in sweat because he was feverish and because of the unrelenting heat of the desert, Winnetou raised his chin proudly and rasped, "Winnetou can walk. Put Winnetou down." And he frowned as everything was growing fuzzy.

Old Shatterhand shook his head. "No, I don't want you to die, my brother. I almost lost you once, it won't happen again."

Frowning the Apache said, calmly, "They will kill Winnetou."

The blond man smiled. "We're not dead yet, and we're together", and in a low voice he added, "We will find a way to escape."

Closing his blue eyes, Winnetou mumbled, "Have to save… Artemus Gordon."

Old Shatterhand nodded and murmured, "Of course, I will. It wasn't my intention to abandon him. He'll come with us. I repeat, we'll find a way to escape…" And saw his brother lose consciousness. Then he remembered holding Winnetou - dying - in his arms, a few days ago, and his throat tightened with strong emotion. "This time nothing will happen to you, I promise you."

Holding Winnetou against him, Old Shatterhand resumed his long walk, in the baking sun, among the scrubby bushes, hills and mesas far off in the distance.

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Much later, in the mountain

Old Shatterhand stretched his stiff limbs then looked down at Winnetou, still unconscious, laid at his side on the rocky ground.

He sighed. "We'll find a way to escape," he told him.

He licked his dry and cracked lips. God! He was so thirsty, he thought.

He glanced at Artemus Gordon who was leaning against a boulder – and moaning. He had just regained consciousness.

There was dried blood caked to the side of his forehead and he winced in sympathy watching the other man fighting against a painful headache.

He noticed too that the spy was struggling against the rope that bound his hands, trying to break free and smiled in admiration. This man would never admit defeat, he told himself.

He stood then headed toward the Major. He knelt beside him as Artemus gingerly probed the wound on his temple. "I know it's a silly question, but how do you feel?"

His head throbbing and his vision swimming, Artemus replied, "Like someone with a head wound and a monstrous headache." His entire body ached too. "On the bright side, I'm still alive." He glanced around him, trying to blink his blurred vision clear. "What happened?"

Old Shatterhand nodded. "Castillo, Cortez's associate shot you in the street to neutralize you – and then captured us. He wants to keep us alive – to kill us later. Cortez was his friend and Winnetou killed him and you put a good part of his gang in jail and blew up his business, so he's out for revenge. He took me too, probably because he doesn't want to separate brothers." He paused, wiping his sweat-soaked forehead with the back of his hand. "We stopped on the mountain for the horses to rest. He told everyone that we'll be leaving in an hour. I know the area very well and we're headed for the border with Mexico."

Looking around him, to see if they were still alone, Artemus said, "He must have a hideout in the area. We have to escape if we want to stay alive." And then he restarted rotating his wrists to try and ease the ropes binding his wrists. He suddenly stopped what he was doing, realizing that the blond man had his hands free. "You can untie me. Do it!"

Old Shatterhand shook his head. "I can't. I'm sorry. If I do that, he'll hurt Winnettou. He made it very clearwhen we stopped here. That's why he left my hands free and told me not to untie you." He smiled as Artemus suppressed a curse. "But nothing is lost, Major. I know how to get rid of Castillo and his men after we escape, but I haven't found a way to escape yet."

Intrigued, Artemus asked, "How do you intend to get rid of Castillo and his men?"

Old Shatterhand explained, "There's a footbridge that goes over a canyon, a few miles from here. After we go past it, we'll destroy it. Castillo and his men will have to take a long detour to catch up with us – and there's little chance they could. Besides I know the area well. We're close to Ute territory (A/N, pronounced 'yoot'. This comes from the Spanish name for the tribe, Yuta). Utes are Winnetou's friends. They will help us. We'll find shelter in their settlement, until we can get back to Santa Fe to get our things and our horses."

Skeptical the spy said, "what I don't like is 'there's little chance'... I'd like to be sure they don't find us, but it's not a certainty, is it?"

The tall man shook his head. "No, it's not. Castillo knows the area very well too. But we'll try nonetheless, and with lots of luck we'll get rid of them."

Glancing at the immobile form of Winnetou – he could now see clearly – the simple act setting off a wave of dizziness, Gordon asked, "How is he?"

Old Shatterhand nodded. "He lost consciousness a few hours ago in the desert. His wound has opened up and he's bleeding. He's lost blood, not too much, fortunately, and he's very weak and feverish. I carried him all the way here and I will continue to carry him."

Smiling, Artemus proposed, "Not if I steal horses, it's one of my skills."

The two men fell silent when they heard footsteps. Someone was approaching.

Castillo, gun in his hand, moved toward his three prisoners, grinning. "Ah! You're finally awake!" He said, looking down at the spy.

He held a canteen and he tossed it to Old Shatterhand, who caught it. "Drink! I wouldn't want you to die of thirst! I have plans for you three."

Sending the bandito a black look, Artemus replied, "And I have a plan for you, Castillo. Put you behind bars, and I will."

Castillo burst out laughing then said, "That head wound made you lose your mind! You're my prisoner and in a few hours you'll be dead! You'll never send me to prison, never." He glanced at Winnetou who was moaning and coming round. Using his free hand, he pulled out the knife he concealed in his high boot and then added, "Let's have some fun." He beckoned at Old Shatterhand. "Move! Don't stay there!" and the tall man complied reluctantly. He crouched down beside the confused Apache, before placing the blade of his knife against his prisoner's throat, a sadistic grin on his face. "Oh, yes, lots of fun…" And suddenly he grabbed Winnetou's long hair, behind his head and cut a good handful off. "Just a taste of what's in store for you, red skin!" And he glanced at his trophy with a grin.

His limbs feeling heavy, Winnetou tried to push Castillo away from him, but was unable to do so, too weak to do anything other than to growl angrily.

Old Shatterhand thought, "He's distracted, it's time for action!'

The Mexican bandito stood, giggling as he could see the limp Indian shooting a searing glare at him, then he turned around and... found himself facing Old Shatterhand - and his shattering fist.

He didn't have time to react when the blond man hit him with a powerful uppercut and he was knocked out within seconds.

He crumpled to the ground like a puppet with cut strings.

Old Shatterhand looked around him warily – expecting some violent reaction from the banditos gathere around the fire, farther away among the rocks. But they were busy talking and eating, their backs to them, and they hadn't noticed anything, he realized, and he sighed in relief.

He took Castillo's knife and cut Artie's ties before telling him, "It's time to leave." He helped the other man to stand and then added, "We need two horses. I'll take Winnetou with me."

Suddenly Henrique's voice resounded, "Is everything okay Castillo?" The bandito asked – and expected an answer.

If he didn't get an answer, he'd come and see what was going on and their escape would be ruined, Artemus thought, and, in a flash, he responded, imitating Castillo's voice beautifully, "Yes, I'm having a conversation with the prisoners, I don't want to be disturbed, entiende?"

Henrique replied, "No problemo, Castillo." and then he fell silent, returning to his occupation, preparing a pot of fresh coffee.

Artemus smiled proud of himself. "That was easy."

Old Shatterhand was impressed. "That was fantastic! Well done, now get horses!" He saw Artemus salute then leave silently.

He removed Castillo's gunbelt before fastening it around his hips. He checked if the cylinder was loaded, then put the revolver back in the holster.

Then he maneuvered Winnetou into a sitting position before placing the canteen against his blood brother's chapped lips. The Apache drank greedily with large gulps.

Pulling the canteen away, the blond man warned Winnetou, "Enough for now, or you'll get sick," and, in turn he swallowed several sips of water.

The Indian had a weak smile. "Old Shatterhand is right." Then he moved to his knees, pushed himself to his feet and wavered.

Old Shatterhand caught him before he could collapse. "Easy my brother. You're in no condition to walk yet. Lean on me."

But Winnetou shook his head. Hating to be weak and showing weakness, he said, "Winnetou is fine," and he took a step forward.

He felt sick, like he was going to throw up.

He stumbled, his breath coming to him in short gasps, his hands trembling. He attempted to stay upright and failed. Old Shatterhand barely managed to catch his brother and steady him before he could end up on his face on the ground.

Upset the proud Apache accepted the other man's help reluctantly and let Old Shatterhand drag him into the shade of the nearest tree.

Old Shatterhand pressed Winnetou's shoulder in a comforting gesture. "It's going to be okay. We're going to wait for Gordon here, he shouldn't be long now."

Accustomed to stealing horses to sneak away from dangerous situations, Artemus took only a few moments to bring two horses close to Old Shatterhand and Winnetou, who could barely stand.

He helped the Indian get on the pinto – the Apache groaning in pain with every movement—and then Old Shatterhand mounted the horse, sitting behind his blood brother. "I'm sorry I didn't take the saddles, it was too much of a risk."

Old Shatterhand smiled. "It doesn't matter. Good job!"

He mounted the second horse, a gray mare, then whispered, "After you!" And they silently moved away from the bandits and headed for the small bridge.

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Later, at sunset

Half an hour later, holding the horses by their reins, Winnetou, Old Shatterhand and Artemus crossed the narrow suspension footbridge hanging over a deep canyon, moving dangerously from side to side with the crosswind, the old wooden planks cracking.

Once on the other side, using Castillo's knife, the tall man immediately began to cut the right-hand hemp rope, which, like the left one, supported the footbridge.

It took him ten minutes to do it, and suddenly the bridge tilted to the right side and twisted, now making its crossing impossible.

Old Shatterhand smiled. "The bandits won't catch us going over that bridge. A detour will take them at least a day. Let's go!"

He slid the knife into his belt and was ready to mount the horse on which Winnetou was already sitting when a dozen shots rang out.

Old Shatterhand took cover behind a boulder and returned fire – killing two bandits. Then he heard Winnetou yelp and saw him fall off the horse - a horse that had just been hit by several bullets - and was almost crushed under the body of the dead animal.

The Apache crawled towards his blood brother and took refuge at his side as more deadly projectiles whizzed past them.

Old Shatterhand glanced at Artemus and saw that the other man was hiding behind his dead horse, which had been killed by the banditos too.

He noticed that Artemus was clearly upset, his mouth pressed into a thin line. "Not even a second's break! I'm too old for this!" He heard the officer say.

He saw then a furious Castillo light the fuses of dynamite sticks and sucked in a breath. "Artemus! Dynamite! We need to jump into the canyon! It's our only chance!" He cried out, raising his voice at full volume to overpower the combined sounds of the gunfire and rushing water.

Feeling his heart thumping hard in his chest, Artemus took advantage of the bandits reloading their weapons to stand up.

He approached the edge, looked down at the bottom of the canyon watching the swirling and raging river running fifteen feet below among a jumble of rocks jutting out at the bottom of the wall.

It was a long way down. "See you down there!" He said, adrenaline flashing through his veins, and then, without a second of hesitation, he threw himself off.

Old Shatterhand and Winnetou jumped in after him a few seconds later, just before loud explosions resounded, hoping not to crash on a rock – and die.

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Old Shatterhand and Winnetou hit the water hard and all the air was knocked out from their lungs following the impact.

The blond man broke the surface of the rapids and glanced around him, panting, searching for Winnetou and Gordon, before a sudden onslaught of foamy water pushed him down.

He surfaced again a few seconds later, trying his best to swim against the raging current – and spotted them, clinging to the opposite wall of the gorge – both fighting against torrents of cold water slamming against them, pummeling them and threatening to pull them under.

They were still alive and un-hurt, and, closing his eyes briefly, he thanked God for that.

He then realized that bullets were raining all around him as mini geysers were rising into the air - the loud bangs of the bandits' weapons being completely overpowered by the sound of tumultuous waters rushing between the rocks.

Ignoring the deadly projectiles, he used his strong arms and legs and powerful crawl movements to join the others and then in his turn, gripped a protrusion in the rugged rock wall that towered above them, clinging there too, with all his might.

He frowned in concern as he noticed that Winnetou's features were strained as he did his best not to show his pain. "We've got to get out of here!"

Gordon nodded. "Yes, but for that we'll have to let the strong current carry us away! - and be at the mercy of the bandits' fire."

Old Shatterhand wiped water off his face. "I know, but it's the only solution!"

The spy glanced at the white-water with apprehension and said, "Yes, I know. Take care of Winnetou, he has trouble swimming, I'll go first."

He let go and immediately went under the frothy water.

He surfaced a few seconds later and let himself be dragged – or rather maltreated – by the wild river sweeping him away.

Artemus did his best to avoid the rocks that were scattered all over the tight passage as well as the dangerous swirls, while the bandits from the top of the cliff were shooting at him.

The relentless current pulled him right under countless times, submerging him, but he managed to get his head back above the surface each time, breathless and spitting water. It also led him, rapidly, out of reach of Castillo's and his men's rifles.

Old Shatterhand hauled Winnetou's form up to pull his head above the surface. "I've got you, and I won't let you go." Then with one arm wrapped around the other man's waist to keep him afloat, he asked his brother, "Are you ready?" as waves splashed up around them, bullets continuing their onslaught.

The Apache nodded. "Let's do it."

Old Shatterhand moved them away from the vertical wall, hugging his blood brother tightly to keep him from slipping, and let the rapids take them away, through the narrow passage, the bullets of the banditos missing them by a hair's breadth.

Polished, rounded rocks jabbed at them from all sides and they earned a few scratches and bruises, and, about ten minutes later, like Artemus did before them, they slid over a series of small waterfalls before falling out of a larger one, and landed in a pool.

Then the churning and bubbling water carried them downstream.

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Later, at dusk

Old Shatterhand was now swimming one-handed in the calmer waters which were gently snaking between polished rocks, in the middle of a larger canyon.

His left arm still wrapped tight around Winnetou's chest, he slowly reached a wide, sandy strip of riverbank, then pulled the other man limp and dripping wet body out of the water.

He maneuvered Winnetou down onto the warm sand, crouched at his blood brother's side and then gently shook the Apache's arm. "Wake up!" But there was no response and his breath hitched with worry. He repeated, "Wake up!"

It worked this time. A few seconds later Winnetou's eyes fluttered open and then he gazed up at Old Shatterhand and blinked tiredly. "My… white… brother… alright?" he slurred.

Old Shatterhand smiled and said, "Yes, I'm alright and you're going to be alright too." He glanced around him convinced that the spy was close by and he called, "Major Gordon!"

Only silence responded to him.

Looking dazed and confused, Winnetou rasped, "Is….Major Gordon dead?"

Old Shatterhand shook his head. "I don't think so, no. Major Gordon is someone who can survive anything. He's probably out there somewhere, scouting... We were separated by a rocky islet, he went to the right, and we went to the left, then I didn't see him again after that. The current probably carried him further down the river…" And he froze when he heard a branch snap.

Bear? Cougar? Indians? Artemus Gordon?

Eyes scanning the undergrowth, old Shatterhand didn't know. He pulled out the revolver from the holster and pointed it toward the line of trees and bushes aligned beyond the sandy beach.

There was a rustle of leaves and, suddenly a baritone voice said, "Don't shoot! Don't shoot! it's me, Artemus. I've had my fill of gunshots for the day, thanks." And the spy slid between two flowery shrubs heading toward the two men. "You alright?"

Old Shatterhand sighed in relief and took his finger off the trigger. "Yes, we are."

The Major explained, "I went for a little recon." He knelt beside Winnetou and noticed that though he still looked pale, his skin was slowly regaining its bronze color. He looked at the Apache's bandage, which was soaked with both water and blood mixed together, and added, "There's a cave not far from here, a little bit further up, which is tucked against a cliff face. I checked it. There are no wild and dangerous animals inside. It's safe. We'll spend the night there."

Old Shatterhand nodded. "What about the bandits?"

Glancing up at the craggy top of the large canyon, on each side, Artemus responded, "Castillo is an intelligent man. He's going to follow the river – and if we stay here too long, I'm sure that he'll find us eventually. We'll leave at first light."

The tall man nodded. "Good idea."

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At sunset,

Sitting beside Winnetou, who was laid on the cold, uncomfortably rocky floor of the cave, Artemus spread a layer of poultice made with honey and ground and powdered thyme, on the Apache's wound he had cleaned with water beforehand.

Winnetou hissed between his teeth.

He explained then, "I'm sorry. I explored the area and found honey and thyme. Honey has a great antiseptic power; and, in addition, it is an excellent healing agent, as is the thyme. First thing in the morning, I'll remove the poultice and stitch up the wound that will look better. I have spotted a bush that has curved thorns, and will use one as a needle and make thread from bark fibers. You'll get better in no time."

Old Shatterhand nodded, impressed. "Did I ever tell you that you are a man of many talents, Major?" He asked, with a smile.

Smiling too, Artemus wiped his sticky hand on his pants. "No, you didn't," he replied with a chuckle. "Feel free to tell me again."

The blond man asked, "Where did you learn that?"

Artemus responded, "My father was a pharmacist and he used natural remedies to treat and heal his patients. He created them in his pharmacy. There were glass and ceramic jars everywhere, bunches of dried herbs hanging from the ceiling, bottles filled with a variety of liquids, and a large table on which there was everything needed to prepare potions, ointments, salves... And all kinds of smells mixed together, it was a unique place. He taught me many things, I still use, like this poultice for example. I have some medical knowledge too." Then he took his jacket off, rolled it into a ball and placed it under Winnetou's head. "You need sleep to be in better shape in the morning," he added.

Winnetou was closing his eyes already, drifting off. "Sleep…" he slurred.

Old Shatterhand placed a brotherly hand on the Apache's shoulder and said, "Sleep well, brother, we're watching over you."

He stood then and moved toward the mouth of the small cave. The view was beautiful. The last rays of the setting sun caressed the cliff tops, creating a craggy line of fire there.

He looked at Artemus who had joined him and noticed that the other man had drawn features, he too needed rest. "I'll take the first watch. I'll wake you up in a few hours," he said.

It was more of an order than a suggestion and Artemus smiled. "I usually take orders from General Grant only, but I'll make an exception for you."

The spy headed back inside and he lay down right by Winnetou's side – the Apache sleeping restfully, temporarily escaping the pain.

He closed his eyes and rapidly drifted into an uneasy sleep.

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The next morning

Old Shatterhand crouched beside Artemus and watched him expertly stitching Winnetou's wound with a curved black thorn, which the spy had transformed into a needle and a long vegetal 'thread". "I can see you're also used to stitching wounds, Major," he said.

Major Gordon nodded. "As a spy I was forced a few times to close my wounds myself with the means at hand, not being able to go to a doctor for medical help, fearing to be exposed, captured and then hanged. That's the fate of spies when they're caught you know - and I'm lucky enough to be very creative – and please, call me Artemus, like all my friends do."

He finished the stitches, while Winnetou's fists balled up in an attempt to increase his pain tolerance. Then he tied it off and cut the remanding ultra-thin 'fiber' with Old Shatterhand's knife.

Old Shatterhand asked, "Is it over?" seeing that Winnetou was in pain.

Artemus shook his head. "I'm sorry, it's not finished yet, I need to put something on the wound before I could bandage it. I've seen juniper bushes down by the river. Juniper berries are very useful in the treatment of inflamed wounds. They speed up the healing time. I'll go pick some and make a poultice with it." He stood and added, "I'll be right back, don't move." And he made his way to the entrance of the cave, leaving the two brothers alone.

Sitting cross-legged close to Winnetou, settled near a large stalactite nearly reaching the floor, Old Shatterhand asked, "How are you feeling?"

Placing a hand over his beating heart, still awed to be alive, the Apache said, "Winnetou feels better, brother, thanks to Artemus's care."

Old Shatterhand nodded, "Yes, he's a very resourceful man."

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Later

Suddenly three gunshots echoed in the canyon.

Major Gordon stormed into the cave at full speed a couple of minutes later, panting for breath and his chest heaving.

He joined Old Shatterhand and Winnetou and out of breath, announced, "Castillo and his bandits are here! They saw me and they're on my tail! They're by the river, both moving upstream and downstream. We can no longer escape!"

Old Shatterhand sighed, feigning to be upset. "There's never a dull moment with you, Artemus" he said, glancing at Artemus with a wink.

Rolling his eyes while shaking his head, Artemus replied, "I know, I know, I'm a trouble magnet, deal with it! We need a solution."

Old Shatterhand offered, "I've got one. This morning while you were both asleep, I explored the cave, and I discovered a passage at the bottom of it, leading to a smaller cave, and inside it, there's a large hole filled with water."

Intrigued, Artemus raised an eyebrow and said, "It could be the entrance to an underground cave or an underground passage that could lead both to an exit..."

Old Shatterhand nodded. "I thought the same thing." He pointed towards a group of jagged edges hanging down from the ceiling. "That second cave is Just down there. The water in the hole is very clear and I could see algae moving on the bottom, indicating that there's some current. It must be connected with an underground river running under the mountain, or to the river outside. I don't know where that hole leads though, to an exit I hope. I know, it's not a perfect plan, but it's the only way to escape from Castillo and his men." He helped Winnetou to stand and helped him to put on his deerskin shirt. "Let's go."

Five minutes later the three men were crawling through an almost lightless tunnel and all the time it was descending a bit, scraping elbows and knees over the rock surface.

They ended up into the second cave about ten minutes later, aching, tired and breathless and Winnetou more than the others.

It was smaller than the first cave, various foliage and moss were hanging over walls which were glistening with humidity. It was lit here and there by a few rays of sunlight coming through dozens of holes in the high dome-shaped ceiling.

Old Shatterhand scooted off the edge of the rock wall, and helped Winnetou to join him in the hole filled with crystal clear water, lit with a circle of sunlight.

They swam at the calm surface, chilled to the bone, surrounded by a few curious little fish which were swimming past them.

Winnetou saw them and said, "If there are fish, this underground river must communicate with a river flowing in the open air."

Old Shatterhand smiled. "That's great news!"

But Artemus immediately dampened the blond man's enthusiasm. "Let's not be too quick to get excited! We'll have to get to the river! And I don't think it's going to be easy! In fact that might just be impossible." The tall man glared at the spy and he replied to that with, "I'm a practical person, sorry." He followed the two men into the water-filled hole. "Oh boy! Brrrr… it's cold!" He said shaken with shivers, his voice echoing in the vaulted stalactite-covered cave.

Seeing that Artemus looked a bit wary, Winnetou said, "Winnetou swam in an underwater passage to reach the cave where Ribanna was kept prisoner. It took a few minutes to." And his heart broke again at this memory, but he showed no emotion. Only his strangled voice betrayed his raw sadness at that thought as he added, "It's not difficult."

Not convinced Artemus replied, "Well, it depends on the length of the underwater passage. Someday I have to invent something to breathe underwater; that would really come in handy..." he realized that his companions were looking at him with surprise. Yes, I am also an engineer and an inventor, when I have some time." Rubbing his arms one after the other for warmth, he added, "I'm not worried about swimming underwater, I'm just concerned that I don't know where we're going."

Hearing noise coming from the first cave, they dove to the bottom of the deep, blue hole, and then swan through the narrow opening there.

For a few minutes, they swam straight ahead in a narrow corridor, in almost darkness – focused on a patch of sunlight which was located farther away, in front of them, trying to ignore their lungs which were screaming at them.

Deprived of oxygen, blood was pounding in their ears as they kicked their feet harder in the water and swam quicker in the underwater gallery. They finally reached another cave which was not completely submerged and had cracks in the vault which let in sunlight and oxygen.

There was a large moss-covered rock that glinted in daylight, in the middle of the pool and the three men hauled themselves onto it.

Silvery fish started circling their feet which were still underwater.

Old Shatterhand glanced around him and said, "We're lucky to have ended up here. We can breathe fresh air and rest."

His teeth chattering, Artemus just nodded.

Looking at the vault above him, to which some vegetation was clinging, Winnetou said, "Yes, but we can't stay here long. We have to go now or we will not have the strength to continue."

The three men paused there for one minute more, then took a large gulp of fresh air before the water closed over their heads.

WWW / W

Holding guns, Castillo and his men entered the smaller cave… and found no one there.

It was empty.

More than upset, he commanded, "Look for them! They must be hiding somewhere! And don't kill them! I want them alive!"

But the Mexican banditos couldn't find anyone.

Henrique went back to Castillo and said, "There is a deep water hole at the bottom of the cave, they must have fled that way."

Castillo turned pale with rage. "They escaped through an underground river!" Bit he abruptly calmed down and said, "We'll capture them! Later. Water always goes to water, they say. We have to look for them along all the rivers in the area."

Tbc.