What follows is a snippet from the first chapter of Karl May’s Winnetou I.  This hilarious description of an old trapper, Sam Hawkens, gives the reader snapshot of the imagery Karl May employed in his novels about the American Wild West. It sets the stage for the transformation of a German ‘greenhorn’ into a capable and respected frontiersman, complete with a warrior’s name: Old Shatterhand. My first impression was more acute in the sense that the trapper appeared here in the parlor as he would outdoors in the wilderness, failing to remove his head covering or laying aside his rifle. From under the woefully drooping coonskin cap, whose age, color and shape would have given the deepest thinker a splitting headache, jutted out through a black forest of a beard,  a nose of such gargantuan proportions, that it could have adequately served any sundial’s gnomon (blade) with ease. Above this imposing badge of manhood – the elongated olfactory organ – two small intelligent eyes nimbly flitted about, eventually coming to rest on their objective – myself. The scout stood there nonplussed and studied me as carefully as I scrutinized him, the reason for which momentarily eluded me. The man’s upper body was cloaked in an old buckskin coat that had clearly been fashioned for a substantially larger person. It gave the little man the appearance of a child, who, for the fun of it, had slipped into his grandfather’s nightshirt. From underneath this ample covering protruded two bowed legs in fringed leggings so old that they must have been repeatedly washed to lose any semblance of colour, yet they allowed a glimpse of a pair of hand-crafted boots that could have easily accommodated the entire man if the need should arise. The frontiersman carried a gun, which –  anyone in their right mind – would have handled with the utmost of care. It was more akin to a club than a rifle. At this particular moment, I couldn’t envision a more colorful caricature of this unusual prairie hunter.