III.

About noon of the 15th we had descended into a small box cañon, where we were met by two white men (packers) and nine Apache scouts.

They had come back from Crawford with news for which all were prepared. The enemy was close in our front, and fighting might begin at any moment. The scouts in advance had picked up numbers of ponies, mules, burros, and cattle. This conversation was broken by the sudden arrival of an Apache runner, who had come six miles over the mountains in less than an hour. He reached us at 1.05, and handed General Crook a note, dated 12.15, stating that the advance-guard had run across the Chiricahuas this morning in a cañon, and had become much excited. Two Chiricahuas were fired at, two bucks and a squaw, by scouts, which action had alarmed the hostiles, and their camp was on the move. Crawford wouldpursue with all possible rapidity. At the same moment reports of distant musketry-firing were borne across the hills. Crawford was fighting the Chiricahuas! There could be no doubt about that; but exactly how many he had found, and what luck he was having, no one could tell. General Crook ordered Chaffee to mount his men, and everybody to be in readiness to move forward to Crawford’s support, if necessary. The firing continued for a time, and then grew feeble and died away.

All were anxious for a fight which should bring this Chiricahua trouble to an end; we had an abundance of ammunition and a sufficiency of rations for a pursuit of several days and nights, the moon being at its full.

Shortly after dark Crawford and his command came into camp. They had “jumped” “Bonito’s” and “Chato’s”rancherías, killing nine and capturing five—two boys, two girls, and one young woman, the daughter of “Bonito,” without loss to our side. From thedead Chiricahuashad been taken four nickel-plated, breech-loading Winchester repeating rifles, and one Colt’s revolver, new model. TheChiricahuas had been pursued across a fearfully broken country, gashed with countless ravines, and shrouded with a heavy growth of pine and scrub-oak. How many had been killed and wounded could never be definitely known, the meagre official report, submitted by Captain Crawford, being of necessity confined to figures known to be exact. Although the impetuosity of the younger scouts had precipitated the engagement and somewhat impaired its effect, yet this little skirmish demonstrated two things to the hostile Chiricahuas; their old friends and relatives from the San Carlos had invaded their strongholds as the allies of the white men, and could be depended upon to fight, whether backed up by white soldiers or not. The scouts next destroyed the village, consisting of thirtywickyups, disposed in two clusters, and carried off all the animals, loading down forty-seven of them with plunder. This included the traditional riffraff of an Indian village: saddles, bridles, meat, mescal, blankets, and clothing, with occasional prizes of much greater value, originally stolen by the Chiricahuas in raids upon Mexicans orAmericans. There were several gold and silver watches, a couple of albums, and a considerable sum of money—Mexican and American coin and paper. The captives behaved with great coolness and self-possession, considering their tender years. The eldest said that her people had been astounded and dismayed when they saw the long line of Apache scouts rushing in upon them; they would be still more disconcerted when they learned that our guide was “Peaches,” as familiar as themselves with every nook in strongholds so long regarded as inaccessible. Nearly all the Chiricahua warriors were absent raiding in Sonora and Chihuahua. This young squaw was positive that the Chiricahuas would give up without further fighting, since the Americans had secured all the advantages of position. “Loco” and “Chihuahua,” she knew, would be glad to live peaceably upon the reservation, if justly treated; “Hieronymo” and “Chato” she wasn’t sure about. “Ju” was defiant, but none of his bands were left alive. Most important information of all, she said that in therancheríajust destroyed was a little white boy about sixyears old, called “Charlie,” captured by “Chato” in his recent raid in Arizona. This boy had run away with the old squaws when the advance of the Apache scouts had been first detected. She said that if allowed to go out she would in less than two days bring in the whole band, and Charlie (McComas) with them. All that night the lofty peak, the scene of the action, blazed with fire from the burningranchería. Rain-clouds gathered in the sky, and, after hours of threatening, broke into a severe but brief shower about sunrise next morning (May 15).

APACHE GIRL WITH TYPICAL DRESS.

The young woman was given a little hard bread and meat, enough to last two days, and allowed to go off, taking with her the elder of the boy captives. The others stayed with us and were kindly treated. They were given all the baked mescal they could eat and a sufficiency of bread and meat. The eldest busied herself with basting a skirt, but, like another Penelope, as fast as her work was done she ripped it up and began anew—apparently afraid that idleness would entail punishment. The younger girl sobbed convulsively, but her little brother,a handsome brat, gazed stolidly at the world through eyes as big as oysters and as black as jet.

Later in the morning, after the fitful showers had turned into a blinding, soaking rain, the Apache scouts made for these young captives a little shelter of branches and a bed of boughs and dry grass. Pickets were thrown out to watch the country on all sides and seize upon any stray Chiricahua coming unsuspectingly within their reach. The rain continued with exasperating persistency all day. The night cleared off bitter cold and water froze in pails and kettles. The command moved out from this place, going to another and better location a few miles south-east. The first lofty ridge had been scaled, when we descried on the summit of a prominent knoll directly in our front a thin curl of smoke wreathing upwards. This was immediately answered by the scouts, who heaped up pine-cones and cedar branches, which, in a second after ignition, shot a bold, black, resinous signal above the tops of the loftiest pines.

Five miles up and down mountains of no great height but of great asperity led to a finecamping-place, at the junction of two well-watered cañons, near which grew pine, oak, and cedar in plenty, and an abundance of rich, juicy grasses. The Apache scouts sent up a second smoke signal, promptly responded to from a neighboring butte. A couple of minutes after two squaws were seen threading their way down through the timber and rocks and yelling with full voice. They were the sisters of Tô-klani (Plenty Water), one of the scouts. They said that they had lost heavily in the fight, and that while endeavoring to escape over the rocks and ravines and through the timber the fire of the scouts had played havoc among them. They fully confirmed all that the captives had said about Charlie McComas. Two hours had scarcely passed when six other women had come in, approaching the pickets two and two, and waving white rags. One of these, the sister of “Chihuahua”—a prominent man among the Chiricahuas—said that her brother wanted to come in, and was trying to gather up his band, which had scattered like sheep after the fight; he might be looked for in our camp at any moment.

On the 18th (May, 1883), before 8.30A.M., six new arrivals were reported—four squaws, one buck and a boy. Close upon their heels followed sixteen others—men, women, and young children. In this band was “Chihuahua” himself, a fine-looking man, whose countenance betokened great decision and courage.

This chief expressed to General Crook his earnest desire for peace, and acknowledged that all the Chiricahuas could hope to do in the future would be to prolong the contest a few weeks and defer their destruction. He was tired of fighting. His village had been destroyed and all his property was in our hands. He wished to surrender his band just as soon as he could gather it together. “Hieronymo,” “Chato,” and nearly all the warriors were absent, fighting the Mexicans, but he (“Chihuahua”) had sent runners out to gather up his band and tell his people they must surrender, without reference to what the others did.

Before night forty-five Chiricahuas had come in—men, women, and children. “Chihuahua” asked permission to go out with two youngmen and hurry his people in. This was granted. He promised to return without any delay. The women of the Chiricahuas showed the wear and tear of a rugged mountain life, and the anxieties and disquietudes of a rugged Ishmaelitish war. The children were models of grace and beauty, which revealed themselves through dirt and rags.

On May 19, 1883, camp was moved five of six miles to a position giving the usual abundance of water and rather better grass. It was a small park in the centre of a thick growth of young pines. Upon unsaddling, the Chiricahuas were counted, and found to number seventy, which total before noon had swollen to an even hundred, not including “Chihuahua” and those gone back with him.

The Chiricahuas were reserved, but good-humored. Several of them spoke Spanish fluently. Rations were issued in small quantity, ponies being killed for meat. Two or three of the Indians bore fresh bullet-wounds from the late fight. On the succeeding evening, May 20, 1883, the Chiricahuas were again numbered at breakfast. They had increased to121—sixty being women and girls, the remainder, old men, young men, and boys.

All said that “Chihuahua” and his comrades were hard at work gathering the tribe together and sending them in.

Toward eight o’clock a fearful hubbub was heard in the tall cliffs overlooking camp; Indians fully armed could be descried running about from crag to crag, evidently much perplexed and uncertain what to do. They began to interchange cries with those in our midst, and, after a brief interval, a couple of old squaws ventured down the face of the precipice, followed at irregular distances by warriors, who hid themselves in the rocks half-way down.

They asked whether they were to be hurt if they came in.

One of the scouts and one of the Chiricahuas went out to them to say that it made no difference whether they came in or not; that “Chihuahua” and all his people had surrendered, and that if these new arrivals came in during the day they should not be harmed; that until “Chihuahua” and the last of his band had hada chance to come in and bring Charlie McComas hostilities should be suspended. The Chiricahuas were still fearful of treachery and hung like hawks or vultures to the protecting shadows of inaccessible pinnacles one thousand feet above our position. Gradually their fears wore off, and in parties of two and three, by various trails, they made their way to General Crook’s fire. They were a band of thirty-six warriors, led by “Hieronymo,” who had just returned from a bloody foray in Chihuahua. “Hieronymo” expressed a desire to have a talk; but General Crook declined to have anything to do with him or his party beyond saying that they had now an opportunity to see for themselves that their own people were against them; that we had penetrated to places vaunted as impregnable; that the Mexicans were coming in from all sides; and that “Hieronymo” could make up his mind for peace or war just as he chose.

This reply disconcerted “Hieronymo;” he waited for an hour, to resume the conversation, but received no encouragement. He and his warriors were certainly as fine-looking a lot of pirates as ever cut a throat or scuttled a ship;not one among them who was not able to travel forty to fifty miles a day over these gloomy precipices and along these gloomy cañons. In muscular development, lung and heart power, they were, without exception, the finest body of human beings I had ever looked upon. Each was armed with a breech-loading Winchester; most had nickel-plated revolvers of the latest pattern, and a few had also bows and lances. They soon began to talk with the Apache scouts, who improved the occasion to inform them that not only had they come down with General Crook, but that from both Sonora and Chihuahua Mexican soldiers might be looked for in swarms.

“Hieronymo” was much humbled by this, and went a second time to General Crook to have a talk. He assured him that he had always wanted to be at peace, but that he had been as much sinned against as sinning; that he had been ill-treated at the San Carlos and driven away; that the Mexicans had been most treacherous in their dealings with his people, and that he couldn’t believe a word they said. They had made war upon his women and children, buthad run like coyotes from his soldiers. He had been trying to open communications with the Mexican generals in Chihuahua to arrange for an exchange of prisoners. If General Crook would let him go back to San Carlos, and guarantee him just treatment, he would gladly work for his own living, and follow the path of peace. He simply asked for a trial; if he could not make peace, he and his men would die in these mountains, fighting to the last. He was not a bit afraid of Mexicans alone; but he could not hope to prolong a contest with Mexicans and Americans united, in these ranges, and with so many Apache allies assisting them. General Crook said but little; it amounted to this: that “Hieronymo” could make up his mind as to what he wanted, peace or war.

May 21st was one of the busiest days of the expedition. “Hieronymo,” at early dawn, came to see General Crook, and told him he wished for peace. He earnestly promised amendment, and begged to be taken back to San Carlos. He asked permission to get all his people together, and said he had sent some of his young men off to hurry them in from all points. He could notget them to answer his signals, as they imagined them to be made by Apache scouts trying to ensnare them. Chiricahuas were coming in all the morning,—all ages, and both sexes,—sent in by “Chihuahua” and his party; most of these were mounted on good ponies, and all drove pack and loose animals before them. Early in the day there was seen winding through the pine timber a curious procession,—mostly young warriors, of an aggregate of thirty-eight souls,—driving steers and work cattle, and riding ponies and burros. All these were armed with Winchester and Springfield breech-loaders, with revolvers and lances whose blades were old cavalry sabres. The little boys carried revolvers, lances, and bows and arrows. This was the band of Kaw-tenné (Looking-Glass), a young chief, who claimed to be a Mexican Apache and to belong to the Sierra Madre, in whose recesses he had been born and raised.

APACHE WARFARE.

The question of feeding all these mouths was getting to be a very serious one. We had started out with sixty days’ supplies, one-third of which had been consumed by our own command, and a considerable percentage lost or damaged whenmules rolled over the precipices. The great heat of the sun had melted much bacon, and there was the usual wastage incident to movements in campaign. Stringent orders were given to limit issues to the lowest possible amount; while the Chiricahuas were told that they must cut and roast all the mescal to be found, and kill such cattle and ponies as could be spared. The Chiricahua young men assumed the duty of butchering the meat. Standing within five or six feet of a steer, a young buck would prod the doomed beast one lightning lance-thrust immediately behind the left fore-shoulder, and, with no noise other than a single bellow of fear and agony, the beef would fall forward upon its knees, dead.

Camp at this period presented a medley of noises not often found united under a military standard. Horses were neighing, mules braying, and bells jingling, as the herds were brought in to be groomed. The ring of axes against the trunks of stout pines and oaks, the hum of voices, the squalling of babies, the silvery laughter of children at play, and the occasional music of an Apache fiddle or flute, combined in a pleasantdiscord which left the listener uncertain whether he was in the bivouac of grim-visaged war or among a band of school-children. Our Apache scouts—the Tontos especially—treated the Chiricahuas with dignified reserve: the Sierra Blancas (White Mountain) had intermarried with them, and were naturally more familiar, but all watched their rifles and cartridges very carefully to guard against treachery. The squaws kept at work, jerking and cooking meat and mescal for consumption on the way back to San Carlos. The entrails were the coveted portions, for the possession of which the more greedy or more muscular fought with frequency.

Two of these copper-skinned “ladies” engaged in a pitched battle; they rushed for each other like a couple of infuriated Texas steers; hair flew, blood dripped from battered noses, and two “human forms divine” were scratched and torn by sharp nails accustomed to this mode of warfare. The old squaws chattered and gabbled, little children screamed and ran, warriors stood in a ring, and from a respectful distance gazed stolidly upon the affray. No one dared to interfere. There is no tiger more dangerousthan an infuriated squaw; she’s a fiend incarnate. The packers and soldiers looked on, discussing the “points” of the belligerents. “The little one’s built like a hired man,” remarks one critic. “Ya-as; but the old un’s aHe, and doan’ you forgit it.” Two rounds settled the battle in favor of the older contestant, although the younger remained on the ground, her bleeding nostrils snorting defiance, her eyes blazing fire, and her tongue volleying forth Apache imprecations.

But all interest was withdrawn from this spectacle and converged upon a file of five wretched, broken-down Mexican women, one of whom bore a nursing baby, who had come within the boundaries of our camp and stood in mute terror, wonder, joy, and hope, unable to realize that they were free. They were a party of captives seized by “Hieronymo” in his last raid into Chihuahua. When washed, rested, and fed a small amount of food, they told a long, rambling story, which is here condensed: They were the wives of Mexican soldiers captured near one of the stations of the Mexican Central Railway just two weeks previously. Originallythere had been six in the party, but “Hieronymo” had sent back the oldest and feeblest with a letter to the Mexican general, saying that he wanted to make peace with the whites, and would do so, provided the Mexicans returned the Apache women and children held prisoners by them; if they refused, he would steal all the Mexican women and children he could lay hands on, and keep them as hostages, and would continue the war until he had made Sonora and Chihuahua a desert. The women went on to say that the greatest terror prevailed in Chihuahua at the mere mention of the name of “Hieronymo,” whom the peasantry believed to be the devil, sent to punish them for their sins.

“Hieronymo” had killed the Mexican soldiers with rocks, telling his warriors he had no ammunition to waste upon Mexicans. The women had suffered incredible torture climbing the rough skirts of lofty ranges, fording deep streams of icy-cold water, and breaking through morasses, jungles and forests. Their garments had been rent into rags by briars and brambles, feet and ankles scratched, torn, and swollen by contusions from sharp rocks. They said thatwhen “Hieronymo” had returned to the heart of the mountains, and had come upon one of our lately abandoned camps, his dismay was curious to witness. The Chiricahuas with him made a hurried but searching examination of the neighborhood, satisfied themselves that their enemies—the Americans—had gained access to their strongholds, and that they had with them a multitude of Apache scouts, and then started away in the direction of our present bivouac, paying no further heed to the captured women or to the hundreds of stolen stock they were driving away from Chihuahua. It may be well to anticipate a little, and say that the cattle in question drifted out on the back trail, getting into the foot-hills and falling into the hands of the Mexicans in pursuit, who claimed their usual wonderful “victory.” The women did not dare to turn back, and, uncertain what course to pursue, stayed quietly by the half-dead embers of our old camp-fires, gathering up a few odds and ends of rags with which to cover their nakedness; and of castaway food, which they devoured with the voracity of famished wolves. When morning dawned they arose,half frozen, from the couches they had made, and staggered along in the direction taken by the fleeing Chiricahuas, whom, as already narrated, they followed to where they now were.

And now they were free! Great God! Could it be possible?

The gratitude of these poor, ignorant, broken-down creatures welled forth in praise and glorification to God. “Praise be to the All-Powerful God!” ejaculated one. “And to the most Holy Sacrament!” echoed her companions. “Thanks to our Blessed Lady of Guadalupe!” “And to the most Holy Mary, Virgin of Soledad, who has taken pity upon us!” It brought tears to the eyes of the stoutest veterans to witness this line of unfortunates, reminding us of our mothers, wives, sisters, and daughters. All possible kindness and attention were shown them.

The reaction came very near upsetting two, who became hysterical from over-excitement, and could not be assured that the Chiricahuas were not going to take them away. They did not recover their natural composure until the expedition had crossed the boundary line.

“Hieronymo” had another interview with General Crook, whom he assured he wanted to make a peace to last forever. General Crook replied that “Hieronymo” had waged such bloody war upon our people and the Mexicans that he did not care to let him go back to San Carlos; a howl would be raised against any man who dared to grant terms to an outlaw for whose head two nations clamored. If “Hieronymo” were willing to lay down his arms and go to work at farming, General Crook would allow him to go back; otherwise the best thing he could do would be to remain just where he was and fight it out.

“I am not taking your arms from you,” said the General, “because I am not afraid of you with them. You have been allowed to go about camp freely, merely to let you see that we have strength enough to exterminate you if we want to; and you have seen with your own eyes how many Apaches are fighting on our side and against you. In making peace with the Americans, you must also be understood as making peace with the Mexicans, and also that you are not to be fed in idleness, but set towork at farming or herding, and make your own living.”

“Hieronymo,” in his reply, made known his contempt for the Mexicans, asserted that he had whipped them every time, and in the last fight with them hadn’t lost a man. He would go to the San Carlos with General Crook and work at farming or anything else. All he asked for was fair play. He contended that it was unfair to start back to the San Carlos at that time, when his people were scattered like quail, and when the women and children now in our hands were without food or means of transportation. The old and the little ones could not walk. The Chiricahuas had many ponies and donkeys grazing in the different cañons. Why not remain one week longer? “Loco” and all the other Chiricahuas would then have arrived; all the ponies would be gathered up; a plenty of mescal and pony-meat on hand, and the march could be made securely and safely. But if General Crook left the Sierra Madre, the Mexicans would come in to catch and kill the remnant of the band, with whom “Hieronymo,” would cast his fortunes.

General Crook acknowledged the justice of much which “Hieronymo” had said, but declined to take any action not in strict accord with the terms of the convention. He would now move back slowly, so as not to crowd the young and feeble too much; they should have time to finish roasting mescal, and most of those now out could catch up with the column; but those who did not would have to take the chances of reaching San Carlos in safety.

“Hieronymo” reiterated his desire for peace; said that he himself would start out to gather and bring in the remnants of his people, and he would cause the most diligent search to be made for Charlie McComas. If possible, he would join the Americans before they got out of the Sierra Madre. If not, he would make his way to the San Carlos as soon as this could be done without danger; “but,” concluded he, “I will remain here until I have gathered up the last man, woman, and child of the Chiricahuas.”

All night long the Chiricahuas and the Apache scouts danced together in sign of peace and good-will. The drums were camp-kettlespartly filled with water and covered tightly with a well-soaked piece of calico. The drumsticks were willow saplings curved into a hoop at one extremity. The beats recorded one hundred to the minute, and were the same dull, solemn thump which scared Cortésand his beleagueredfollowers duringla Noche triste. No Caucasian would refer to it as music; nevertheless, it had a fascination all its own comparable to the whirr-r-r of a rattlesnake. And so the song, chanted to the measure of the drumming, had about it a weird harmony which held listeners spell-bound. When the dance began, two old hags, white-haired and stiff with age, pranced in the centre of the ring, warming up under the stimulus of the chorus until they became lively as crickets. With them were two or three naked boys of very tender years. The ring itself included as many as two hundred Indians of both sexes, whose varied costumes of glittering hues made a strange setting to the scene as the dancers shuffled and sang in the silvery rays of the moon and the flickering light of the camp-fires.

On May 23, 1883, rations were issued to 220Chiricahuas, and, soon after, Nané, one of the most noted and influential of the Chiricahua chiefs, rode into camp with seventeen of his people. He has a strong face, marked with intelligence, courage, and good nature, but with an under stratum of cruelty and vindictiveness. He has received many wounds in his countless fights with the whites, and limps very perceptibly in one leg. He reported that Chiricahuas were coming in by every trail, and that all would go to the San Carlos as soon as they collected their families.

On the 24th of May the march back to the San Carlos began. All the old Chiricahuas were piled on mules, donkeys, and ponies; so were the weak little children and feeble women. The great majority streamed along on foot, nearly all wearing garlands of cotton-wood foliage to screen them from the sun. The distance travelled was not great, and camp was made by noon.

The scene at the Bávispe River was wonderfully picturesque. Sit down on this flat rock and feast your eyes upon the silver waves flashing in the sun. Don’t scare that little girl whois about to give her baby brother a much-needed bath. The little dusky brat—all eyes—is looking furtively at you and ready to bawl if you draw nearer. Opposite are two old crones fillingollas(jugs or jars) of basket-work, rendered fully water-proof by a coating of either mesquite or piñon pitch. Alongside of them are two others, who are utilizing the entrails of a cow for the same purpose. The splash and yell on your right, as you correctly divine, come from an Apache “Tom Sawyer,” who will one day mount the gallows. The friendly greeting and request for “tobacco shmoke” are proffered by one of the boys, who has kindly been eating a big portion of your meals for several days past, and feels so friendly toward you that he announces himself in a pleasant, off-hand sort of way as your “Sikisn” (brother). Behind you are grouped Apache scouts, whose heads are encircled with red flannel bandages, and whose rifles and cartridges are never laid aside. Horses and mules plunge belly-deep into the sparkling current; soldiers come and go, some to drink, some to get buckets filled with water, and some to soak neck,face, and hands, before going back to dinner.

APACHE BASKET-WORK.

In this camp we remained several days. The old and young squaws had cut and dried large packages of “jerked” beef, and had brought down from the hill-sides donkey-loads of mescal heads, which were piled in ovens of hot stones covered with wet grass and clay. The process of roasting, or rather steaming, mescal takes from three to four days, and resembles somewhat the mode of baking clams in New England. The Apache scouts passed the time agreeably enough in gambling with the Chiricahuas, whom they fleeced unmercifully, winning hundreds of dollars in gold, silver, and paper at the games ofmonte,conquien,tzi-chis, andmushka.

The attractive pools of the Bávispe wooed groups of white soldiers and packers, and nearly the whole strength of the Chiricahua women and children, who disported in the refreshing waters with the agility and grace of nereids and tritons. The modesty of the Apaches of both sexes, under all circumstances, is praiseworthy.

“Chato” and “Loco” told General Crook this morning that “Hieronymo” had sent them back to say that the Chiricahuas were very much scattered since the fight, and that he had not been as successful as he anticipated in getting them united and in corraling their herds of ponies. They did not want to leave a single one of their people behind, and urged General Crook to stay in his present camp for a week longer, if possible. “Loco,” for his part, expressed himself as anxious for peace. He had never wished to leave San Carlos. He wanted to go back there and obtain a little farm, and own cattle and horses, as he once did. Here it may be proper to say that all the chiefs of the Chiricahuas—“Hieronymo,” “Loco,” “Chato,” “Nané,” “Bonito,” “Chihuahua,” “Maugas,” “Zelé,” and “Kan-tenné”—are men of noticeable brain power, physically perfect and mentally acute—just the individuals to lead a forlorn hope in the face of every obstacle.

The Chiricahua children, who had become tired of swimming, played at a new sport to-day, a mimic game of war, a school of practice analogous to that established by old Fagan forthe instruction of young London pickpockets. Three boys took the lead, and represented Mexicans, who endeavored to outrun, hide from, or elude their pursuers, who trailed them to their covert, surrounded it, and poured in a flight of arrows. One was left for dead, stretched upon the ground, and the other two were seized and carried into captivity. The fun became very exciting, so much so that the corpse, ignoring the proprieties, raised itself up to see how the battle sped.

In such sports, in such constant exercise, swimming, riding, running up and down the steepest and most slippery mountains, the Apache passes his boyish years. No wonder his bones are of iron, his sinews of wire, his muscles of India-rubber.

On May 27, 1883, the Chiricahuas had finished roasting enough mescal to last them to the San Carlos. One of the Apache scouts came running in very much excited. He told his story to the effect that, while hunting some distance to the north, he had discovered a large body of Mexican soldiers; they were driving back the band of cattle run off by “Hieronymo,”and previously referred to. The scout tried to communicate with the Mexicans, who imagined him to be a hostile Indian, and fired three shots at him. Lieutenant Forsyth, Al. Zeiber, and a small detachment of white and Indian soldiers started out to overtake the Mexicans. This they were unable to do, although they went some fifteen miles.

On the 28th, 29th, and 30th of May the march was continued back toward the San Carlos. The rate of progress was very slow, the Mexican captives not being able to ride any great distance along the rough trails, and several of our men being sick. Two of the scouts were so far gone with pneumonia that their death was predicted every hour, in spite of the assurances of the “medicine-men” that their incantations would bring them through all right. “Hieronymo,” “Chato,” “Kan-tenné,” and “Chihuahua” came back late on the night of the 28th, leading a large body of 116 of their people, making an aggregate of 384 in camp on the 29th.

On the 30th, after a march, quite long under the circumstances,—fifteen to eighteen miles,—wecrossed the main “divide” of the Sierra Madre at an altitude of something over 8,000 feet. The pine timber was large and dense, and much of it on fire, the smoke and heat parching our throats, and blackening our faces.

With this pine grew a little mescal and a respectable amount of themadroña, or mountain mahogany. Two or three deer were killed by the Apache scouts, and as many turkeys; trout were visible in all the streams. The line of march was prolific in mineral formations,—basalt, lava, sandstone, granite, and limestone. The day the command descended the Chihuahua side of the range it struck the trail of a large body of Mexican troops, and saw an inscription cut into the bark of a mahogany stating that the Eleventh Battalion had been here on the 21st of May.

The itinerary of the remainder of the homeward march may be greatly condensed. The line of travel lay on the Chihuahua side and close to the summit of the range. The country was extremely rough, cut up with rocky cañons beyond number and ravines of great depth, all flowing with water. Pine forests coveredall the elevated ridges, but the cañons and lower foot-hills had vegetation of a different character: oak, juniper, maple, willow, rose, and blackberry bushes, and strawberry vines. The weather continued almost as previously described,—the days clear and serene, the nights bitter cold, with ice forming in pails and kettles on the 2d and 3d of June. No storms worthy of mention assailed the command, the sharp showers that fell two or three times being welcomed as laying the soot and dust.

Game was found in abundance,—deer and turkey. This the Apache scouts were permitted to shoot and catch, to eke out the rations which had completely failed, the last issue being made June 4th. From that date till June 11th, inclusive, all hands lived upon the country. The Apaches improved the excellent opportunity to show their skill as hunters and their accuracy with fire-arms.

FIGHTING THE PRAIRIE FIRE.

The command was threatened by a great prairie fire on coming down into the broad grassy valley of the Janos. Under the impetus of a fierce wind the flames were rushing upon camp. There was not a moment to belost. All hands turned out,—soldiers, scouts, squaws, Chiricahua warriors, and even children. Each bore a branch of willow or cotton-wood, a blanket, or scrap of canvas. The conflagration had already seized the hill-crest nearest our position; brownish and gray clouds poured skyward in compact masses; at their feet a long line of scarlet flame flashed and leaped high in air. It was a grand, a terrible sight: in front was smiling nature, behind, ruin and desolation. The heat created a vacuum, and the air, pouring in, made whirlwinds, which sent the black funnels of soot winding and twisting with the symmetry of hour-glasses almost to the zenith. For one moment the line of fire paused, as if to rest after gaining the hill-top; it was only a moment. “Here she comes!” yelled the men on the left; and like a wild beast flinging high its tawny mane of cloud and flashing its fangs of flame, the fire was upon, around, and about us.

Our people stood bravely up to their work, and the swish! swish! swish! of willow brooms proved that camp was not to be surrendered without a struggle.

We won the day; that is, we saved camp, herds, and a small area of pasturage; but over a vast surface of territory the ruthless flames swept, mantling the land with soot and an opaque pall of mist and smoke through which the sun’s rays could not penetrate. Several horses and mules were badly burned, but none to death.

For two or three nights afterwards the horizon was gloriously lighted with lines of fire creeping over the higher ridges. As we debouched into the broad plain, through which trickled the shriveled current of the Janos, no one would have suspected that we were not a column of Bedouins. A long caravan, stretched out for a mile upon the trail, resolved itself upon closer approach into a confused assemblage of ponies, horses, and mules, with bundles or without, but in every case freighted with humanity. Children were packed by twos and threes, while old women and feeble men got along as best they could, now riding, now walking. The scouts had decked themselves with paint and the Chiricahua women had donned all their finery of rough silver bracelets, woodencrosses, and saints’ pictures captured from Mexicans. This undulating plain, in which we now found ourselves, spread far to the north and east, and was covered with bunch and grama grasses, and dotted with cedar.—The march brought us to Alisos Creek (an affluent of the Janos), a thousand yards or more above the spot where the Mexican commander García, had slaughtered so many Chiricahua women and children. Human bones, picked white and clean by coyotes, glistened in the sandy bed of the stream. Apache baskets and other furniture were strewn about. A clump of graves headed by rude crosses betrayed the severity of the loss inflicted upon the Mexicans.

Between the 5th and 8th of June we crossed back (west) into Sonora, going over the asperous peak known as the Cocospera.

In this vicinity were many varieties of mineral—granite gneiss, porphyry, conglomerate, shale, sandstone, and quartz,—and travel was as difficult almost as it had been in the earlier days of the march. We struck the head waters of Pitisco Creek, in a very rugged cañon, then Elias Creek, going through another fine gameregion, and lastly, after crossing a broad tableland mantled with grama grass, mesquite, Spanish bayonet, and Palo Verde, mescal, and palmilla, bivouacked on the San Bernardino river, close to a tule swamp of blue, slimy mud.

The scouts plastered their heads with this mud, and dug up the bulbs of the tule, which, when roasted, are quite palatable.

On the 15th of June the command recrossed the national boundary, and reached Silver Springs, Arizona, the camp of the reserve under Colonel Biddle, from whom and from all of whose officers and men we received the warmest conceivable welcome. Every disaster had been predicted and asserted regarding the column, from which no word had come, directly or indirectly since May 5th. The Mexican captives were returned to their own country and the Chiricahuas marched, under Crawford, to the San Carlos Agency.

Unfortunately the papers received at Silver Springs were full of inflammatory telegrams, stating that the intention of the government was to hang all the Chiricahua men, without distinction, and to parcel out the women andchildren among tribes in the Indian Territory. This news, getting among the Chiricahuas, produced its legitimate result. Several of the chiefs and many of the head men hid back in the mountains until they could learn exactly what was to be their fate. The Mexican troops went in after them, and had two or three severe engagements, and were, of course, whipped each time. When the road was clear the Chiricahuas kept their promises to the letter, and brought to the San Carlos the last man, woman, and child of their people.

They have been quietly scattered in small groups around the reservation, the object being to effect tribal disintegration, to bring individuals and families face to face with the progress made by more peaceable Apaches, and at same time to enable trusted members of the latter bands to maintain a more perfect surveillance over every action of the Chiricahuas.

Charlie McComas was never found; the Chiricahuas insist, and I think truthfully, that he was in therancheríadestroyed by Crawford; that he escaped, terror-stricken, to the depths of the mountains; that the country was sorough, the timber and brush-wood so thick that his tracks could not be followed, even had there not been such a violent fall of rain during the succeeding nights. All accounts agree in this.

Altogether the Chiricahuas delivered up thirteen captives,—women and children,—held by them as hostages.

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