CHAPTER XXVIII.

THE CAMPAIGN AGAINST “GERONIMO”—THE CROPS RAISED BY THE APACHES—THE PURSUIT OF THE HOSTILES—THE HARD WORK OF THE TROOPS—EFFICIENT AND FAITHFUL SERVICE OF THE CHIRICAHUA SCOUTS—WAR DANCES AND SPIRIT DANCES—CAPTAIN CRAWFORD KILLED—A VISIT TO THE HOSTILE STRONGHOLD—A “NERVY” PHOTOGRAPHER—A WHITE BOY CAPTIVE AMONG THE APACHES—“ALCHISE’S” AND “KA-E-TEN-NA’S” GOOD WORK—“GERONIMO” SURRENDERS TO CROOK.

To show that Apaches will work under anything like proper encouragement, the reader has only to peruse these extracts from the annual report of Captain F. E. Pierce, who succeeded Captain Emmet Crawford:

“They have about eleven hundred acres under cultivation, and have raised about 700,000 lbs. of barley and an equal amount of corn. They have delivered to the Post Quartermaster here 60,000 lbs. of barley and 60,000 lbs. to the agency, have hauled 66,000 lbs. to Thomas and about 180,000 lbs. to Globe, and still have about 330,000 lbs. on hand. Since they have been hauling barley to Thomas and Globe, however, where they receive fair prices, they feel much better. It gives them an opportunity to get out and mingle with people of the world, and get an idea of the manner of transacting business and a chance to make purchases at considerably less rates than if they bought of the Indian traders at San Carlos. The people at Globe are particularly kind to them, and, so far as I can learn, deal justly with them, and the more respectable ones will not permit the unprincipled to impose upon them or maltreat them in any way. The Indians also conduct themselves properly, and all citizens with whom I have conversed speak very highly of their conduct while in Globe. About a dozen are now regularly employed there at various kinds of work; and they are encouraged as much as possible to seek work with citizens, as they thereby learn much that will be of benefit to them in the future. Shortly after the Chiricahua outbreak, word was sent to the head of each band that General Crook wanted two hundred more scouts to take the field, and all who wished to go were invited to appear here next morning. It is difficult to say how many reported, but almost every able-bodied man came. It was difficult to tell which ones to take when all were so eager togo. But a body of as fine men was selected as could well be secured in any country. They repeatedly told me they meant fight; that they intended to do the best they could, and reports from the field show that they have made good their promises. Sixteen hundred White Mountain Indians have been entirely self-sustaining for nearly three years.”

The Indians at the White Mountains, according to the official reports, were doing remarkably well.

“At this date there have been 700,000 pounds of hay and 65,000 pounds of barley purchased by the Quartermaster. Of course, the amount of hay which will yet be furnished by them will be regulated by the amount required, which will be in all about 1,800,000 pounds. As near as I can judge, the total yield of barley will be about 80,000 pounds, or about double the quantity produced last year. If no misfortune happens the crops, the yield of corn for this year should fully reach 3,500,000 pounds, including that retained by the Indians for their own consumption and for seed.“Cantelopes, watermelons, muskmelons, beans, and pumpkins are raised by them to a considerable extent, but only for their own consumption, there being no market for this class of produce.“A few of the Indians—principally Chiricahuas—are delivering wood on the contract at the post of Fort Apache. I have no doubt that more would engage in it if it were not for the fact that the White Mountain Apaches have no wagons for hauling it.”

“Cantelopes, watermelons, muskmelons, beans, and pumpkins are raised by them to a considerable extent, but only for their own consumption, there being no market for this class of produce.

“A few of the Indians—principally Chiricahuas—are delivering wood on the contract at the post of Fort Apache. I have no doubt that more would engage in it if it were not for the fact that the White Mountain Apaches have no wagons for hauling it.”

It would take many more pages than I care to devote to the subject to properly describe the awful consequences of the official blunder, which in this case was certainly worse than a crime, shown in the bickerings and jealousies between the representatives of the War and Interior Departments, which culminated in the “Geronimo” outbreak of May, 1885. Those of my readers who have followed this recital need no assurances that the country was as rough as rocks and ravines, deep cañons and mountain streams, could make it; neither do they need to be assured that the trail of the retreating Chiricahuas was reddened with the blood of the innocent and unsuspecting settlers, or that the pursuit made by the troops was energetic, untiring, and, although often baffled, finally successful. No more arduous and faithful work was ever done by any military commands than was performed by those of Emmet Crawford, Lieutenant Britton Davis, Frank L. Bennett, Lieutenant M. W. Day, Surgeon Bermingham, and Major Wirt Davis in tracking the scattered fragments of the “Geronimo” party over rocks and across country soaked with the heavy rains of summer which obliterated trails as fast as made. Thework done by “Chato” and the Chiricahuas who had remained on the reservation was of an inestimable value, and was fittingly recognized by General Crook, Captain Crawford, and the other officers in command of them.

Thirty-nine white people were killed in New Mexico and thirty four in Arizona, as established in official reports; in addition to these there were numbers of friendly Apaches killed by the renegades, notably in the raid made by the latter during the month of November, 1885, to the villages near Camp Apache, when they killed twelve of the friendlies and carried off six women and children captive. The White Mountain Apaches killed one of the hostile Chiricahuas and cut off his head. On the 23d of June, 1885, one of the hostile Chiricahua women was killed and fifteen women and children captured in an engagement in the Bavispe Mountains, northeast of Opata (Sonora, Mexico), by Chiricahua Apache scouts under command of Captain Crawford; these prisoners reported that one of their warriors had been shot through the knee-joint in this affair, but was carried off before the troops could seize him. July 29, 1885, two of the hostile Chiricahua bucks were ambushed and killed in the Hoya Mountains, Sonora, by the detachment of Apache scouts with Major Wirt Davis’s command. August 7, 1885, five of the hostile Chiricahuas were killed (three bucks, one squaw, and one boy fifteen years old) by the Apache scouts of Wirt Davis’s command, who likewise captured fifteen women and children in the same engagement (northeast of the little town of Nacori, Sonora, Mexico). On the 22d of September, 1885, the same scouts killed another Chiricahua in the mountains near Bavispe.

An ex-army-officer, writing on this subject of scouting in the southwestern country, to theRepublican, of St. Louis, Mo., expressed his opinion in these words:

“It is laid down in our army tactics (Upton’s ‘Cavalry Tactics,’ p. 477), that twenty-five miles a day is the maximum that cavalry can stand. Bear this in mind, and also that here is an enemy with a thousand miles of hilly and sandy country to run over, and each brave provided with from three to five ponies trained like dogs. They carry almost nothing but arms and ammunition; they can live on the cactus; they can go more than forty-eight hours without water; they know every water-hole and every foot of ground in this vast extent of country; they have incredible powers of endurance; they run in small bands, scattering at the first indications of pursuit. What can the United States soldier, mounted on his heavy American horse, with the necessaryforage, rations, and camp equipage, do as against this supple, untiring foe? Nothing, absolutely nothing. It is no exaggeration to say that these fiends can travel, week in and week out, at the rate of seventy miles a day, and this over the most barren and desolate country imaginable. One week of such work will kill the average soldier and his horse; the Apache thrives on it. The frontiersman, as he now exists, is simply a fraud as an Indian-fighter. He may be good for a dash, but he lacks endurance. General Crook has pursued the only possible method of solving this problem. He has, to the extent of his forces, guarded all available passes with regulars, and he has sent Indian scouts on the trail after Indians. He has fought the devil with fire. Never in the history of this country has there been more gallant, more uncomplaining, and more efficient service than that done by our little army in the attempt to suppress this Geronimo outbreak.”...

In the month of November additional scouts were enlisted to take the place of those whose term of six months was about to expire. It was a great time at San Carlos, and the “medicine men” were in all their glory; of course, it would never do for the scouts to start out without the customary war dance, but besides that the “medicine men” held one of their “spirit” dances to consult with the powers of the other world and learn what success was to be expected. I have several times had the good luck to be present at these “spirit dances,” as well as to be with the “medicine men” while they were delivering their predictions received from the spirits, but on the present occasion there was an unusual vehemence in the singing, and an unusual vim and energy in the dancing, which would betray the interest felt in the outcome of the necromancy. A war dance, attended by more than two hundred men and women, was in full swing close to the agency buildings in the changing lights and shadows of a great fire. This enabled the “medicine men” to secure all the more privacy for their own peculiar work, of which I was an absorbed spectator. There were about an even hundred of warriors and young boys not yet full grown, who stood in a circle surrounding a huge bonfire, kept constantly replenished with fresh fagots by assiduous attendants. At one point of the circumference were planted four bunches of green willow branches, square to the cardinal points. Seated within this sacred grove, as I may venture to call it, as it represented about all the trees they could get at the San Carlos, were the members of an orchestra, the leader of which with a small curved stick beat upon the drum improvised out of an iron camp-kettle, covered with soapedcalico, and partially filled with water. The beat of this rounded stick was a peculiar rubbing thump, the blows being sliding. Near this principal drummer was planted a sprig of cedar. The other musicians beat with long switches upon a thin raw-hide, lying on the ground, just as the Sioux did at their sun dance. There were no women present at this time. I did see three old hags on the ground, watching the whole proceedings with curious eyes, but they kept at a respectful distance, and were Apache-Yumas and not Apaches.

The orchestra thumped and drummed furiously, and the leader began to intone, in a gradually increasing loudness of voice and with much vehemence, a “medicine” song, of which I could distinguish enough to satisfy me that part of it was words, which at times seemed to rudely rhyme, and the rest of it the gibberish of “medicine” incantation which I had heard so often while on the Sierra Madre campaign in 1883. The chorus seconded this song with all their powers, and whenever the refrain was chanted sang their parts with violent gesticulations. Three dancers, in full disguise, jumped into the centre of the great circle, running around the fire, shrieking and muttering, encouraged by the shouts and singing of the on-lookers, and by the drumming and incantation of the chorus which now swelled forth at full lung-power. Each of these dancers was beautifully decorated; they were naked to the waist, wore kilts of fringed buckskin, bound on with sashes, and moccasins reaching to the knees. Their identity was concealed by head-dresses, part of which was a mask of buckskin, which enveloped the head as well as the face, and was secured around the neck by a “draw-string” to prevent its slipping out of place. Above this extended to a height of two feet a framework of slats of the amole stalk, each differing slightly from that of the others, but giving to the wearer an imposing, although somewhat grotesque appearance. Each “medicine man’s” back, arms, and shoulders were painted with emblems of the lightning, arrow, snake, or other powers appealed to by the Apaches. I succeeded in obtaining drawings of all these, and also secured one of these head-dresses of the “Cha-ja-la,” as they are called, but a more detailed description does not seem to be called for just now. Each of the dancers was provided with two long wands or sticks, one in each hand, with which they would point in every direction, principallytowards the cardinal points. When they danced, they jumped, pranced, pirouetted, and at last circled rapidly, revolving much as the dervishes are described as doing. This must have been hard work, because their bodies were soon moist with perspiration, which made them look as if they had been coated with oil.

“Klashidn,” the young man who had led me down, said that the orchestra was now singing to the trees which had been planted in the ground, and I then saw that a fourth “medicine man,” who acted with the air of one in authority, had taken his station within. When the dancers had become thoroughly exhausted, they would dart out of the ring and disappear in the gloom to consult with the spirits; three several times they appeared and disappeared, at each return dancing, running, and whirling about with increased energy. Having attained the degree of mental or spiritual exaltation necessary for satisfactory communion with the denizens of the other world, they remained absent for at least half an hour, the orchestra rendering a monotonous refrain, mournful as a funeral dirge. At last a thrill of expectancy ran through the throng, and I saw that they were looking anxiously for the incoming of the “medicine men.” When they arrived all the orchestra stood up, their leader slightly in advance, holding a bunch of cedar in his left hand. The “medicine men” advanced in single file, the leader bending low his head, and placing both his arms about the neck of the chief in such a manner that his wands crossed, he murmured some words in his ear which seemed to be of pleasing import. Each of the others did the same thing to the chief, who took his stand first on the east, then on the south, then on the west, and lastly on the north of the little grove through which the three pranced, muttering a jumble of sounds which I cannot reproduce, but which sounded for all the world like the chant of the “Hooter” of the Zunis at their Feast of Fire. This terminated the great “medicine” ceremony of the night, and the glad shouts of the Apaches testified that the incantations of their spiritual advisers or their necromancy, whichever it was, promised a successful campaign.

Captain Crawford, whose services, both in pursuit of hostile Apaches and in efforts to benefit and civilize those who had submitted, had won for him the respect and esteem of every manly man in the army or out of it who had the honor of knowing him,met his death at or near Nacori, Sonora, Mexico, January 11, 1886, under peculiarly sad and distressing circumstances. These are narrated by General Crook in the orders announcing Crawford’s death, of which the following is an extract:

“Captain Crawford, with the zeal and gallantry which had always distinguished him, volunteered for the arduous and thankless task of pursuing the renegade Chiricahua Apaches to their stronghold in the Sierra Madre, Mexico, and was assigned to the command of one of the most important of the expeditions organized for this purpose. In the face of the most discouraging obstacles, he had bravely and patiently followed in the track of the renegades, being constantly in the field from the date of the outbreak in May last to the day of his death.“After a march of eighteen hours without halt in the roughest conceivable country, he had succeeded in discovering and surprising their rancheria in the lofty ranges near the Jarras River, Sonora. Everything belonging to the enemy fell into our hands, and the Chiricahuas, during the fight, sent in a squaw to beg for peace. All arrangements had been made for a conference next morning. Unfortunately, a body of Mexican irregular troops attacked Captain Crawford’s camp at daybreak, and it was while endeavoring to save the lives of others that Crawford fell.“His loss is irreparable. It is unnecessary to explain the important nature of the services performed by this distinguished soldier. His name has been prominently identified with most of the severest campaigns, and with many of the severest engagements with hostile Indians, since the close of the War of the Rebellion, in which also, as a mere youth, he bore a gallant part.”

“After a march of eighteen hours without halt in the roughest conceivable country, he had succeeded in discovering and surprising their rancheria in the lofty ranges near the Jarras River, Sonora. Everything belonging to the enemy fell into our hands, and the Chiricahuas, during the fight, sent in a squaw to beg for peace. All arrangements had been made for a conference next morning. Unfortunately, a body of Mexican irregular troops attacked Captain Crawford’s camp at daybreak, and it was while endeavoring to save the lives of others that Crawford fell.

“His loss is irreparable. It is unnecessary to explain the important nature of the services performed by this distinguished soldier. His name has been prominently identified with most of the severest campaigns, and with many of the severest engagements with hostile Indians, since the close of the War of the Rebellion, in which also, as a mere youth, he bore a gallant part.”

The irregular troops of the Mexicans were Tarahumari Indians, almost as wild as the Apaches themselves, knowing as little of morality and etiquette, the mortal enemies of the Apaches for two hundred years. While it is probable that their statement may be true, and that the killing of Crawford was unpremeditated, the indignities afterwards heaped upon Lieutenant Maus, who succeeded Crawford in command, and who went over to visit the Mexican commander, did not manifest a very friendly spirit. The Government of Mexico was in as desperate straits as our own in regard to the subjugation of the Chiricahua Apaches, which could never have been effected without the employment of just such wild forces as the Tarahumaris, who alone would stand up and fight with the fierce Chiricahuas, or could trail them through the mountains.

“Geronimo” sent word that he would come in and surrender at a spot he would designate. This was the“Cañon de los Embudos,”in the northeast corner of Sonora, on the Arizonaline. From Fort Bowie, Arizona, to the“Contrabandista”(Smuggler) Springs, in Sonora, is eighty-four miles, following roads and trails; the lofty mountain ranges are very much broken, and the country is decidedly rough except along the road. There are a number of excellent ranchos—that of the Chiricahua Cattle Company, twenty-five miles out from Bowie; that of the same company on Whitewood Creek, where we saw droves of fat beeves lazily browsing under the shady foliage of oak trees; and Joyce’s, or Frank Leslie’s, where we found Lieutenant Taylor and a small detachment of Indian scouts.

The next morning at an early hour we started and drove first to the camp of Captain Allan Smith, Fourth Cavalry, with whom were Lieutenant Erwin and Surgeon Fisher. Captain Smith was living in an adobe hut, upon whose fireplace he had drawn and painted, with no unskilled hand, pictures, grave and comic, which imparted an air of civilization to his otherwise uncouth surrounding. Mr. Thomas Moore had preceded General Crook with a pack-train, and with him were “Alchise,” “Ka-e-ten-na,” a couple of old Chiricahua squaws sent down with all the latest gossip from the women prisoners at Bowie, Antonio Besias and Montoya (the interpreters), and Mr. Strauss, Mayor of Tucson. All these moved forward towards the“Contrabandista”Springs. At the last moment of our stay a photographer, named Fly, from Tombstone, asked permission for himself and his assistant—Mr. Chase—to follow along in the wake of the column; and still another addition, and a very welcome one, was made in the person of José Maria, another Spanish-Apache interpreter, for whom General Crook had sent on account of his perfect familiarity with the language of the Chiricahuas.

San Bernardino Springs lie twelve miles from Silver Springs, and had been occupied by a cattleman named Slaughter, since General Crook had made his expedition into the Sierra Madre. Here I saw a dozen or more quite large mortars of granite, of aboriginal manufacture, used for mashing acorns and other edible nuts; the same kind of household implements are or were to be found in the Green Valley in the northern part of Arizona, and were also used for this same purpose. We left the wheeled conveyances and mounted mules saddled and in waiting, and rode over to the“Contrabandista,”three miles across the boundary. Before going to bed that night, General Crook showed “Ka-e-ten-na”a letter which he had received from Lorenzo Bonito, an Apache pupil in the Carlisle School. “Ka-e-ten-na” had received one himself, and held it out in the light of the fire, mumbling something which the other Apaches fancied was reading, and at which they marvelled greatly; but not content with this proof of travelled culture, “Ka-e-ten-na” took a piece of paper from me, wrote upon it in carefully constructed school-boy capitals, and then handed it back to me to read aloud. I repressed my hilarity and read slowly and solemnly: “MY WIFE HIM NAME KOWTENNAYS WIFE.” “ONE YEAR HAB TREE HUNNERD SIXY-FIBE DAY.” “Ka-e-ten-na” bore himself with the dignity and complacency of a Boston Brahmin; the envy of his comrades was ill-concealed and their surprise undisguised. It wasn’t in writing alone that “Ka-e-ten-na” was changed, but in everything: he had become a white man, and was an apostle of peace, and an imitation of the methods which had made the whites own such a“rancheria”as San Francisco.

The next morning we struck out southeast across a country full of little hills of drift and conglomerate, passing the cañons of the Guadalupe and the Bonito, the former dry, the latter flowing water. A drove of the wild hogs (peccaries or musk hogs, called“jabali”by the Mexicans) ran across our path; instantly the scouts took after them at a full run, “Ka-e-ten-na” shooting one through the head while his horse was going at full speed, and the others securing four or five more; they were not eaten. Approaching the Cañon de los Embudos, our scouts sent up a signal smoke to warn their comrades that they were coming. The eyes of the Apaches are extremely sharp, and “Alchise,” “Mike,” “Ka-e-ten-na,” and others had seen and recognized a party of horsemen advancing towards us for a mile at least before Strauss or I could detect anything coming out of the hills: they were four of our people on horseback riding to meet us. They conducted us to Maus’s camp in the Cañon de los Embudos, in a strong position, on a low mesa overlooking the water, and with plenty of fine grass and fuel at hand. The surrounding country was volcanic, covered with boulders of basalt, and the vegetation was the Spanish bayonet, yucca, and other thorny plants.

The rancheria of the hostile Chiricahuas was in a lava bed, on top of a small conical hill surrounded by steep ravines,not five hundred yards in direct line from Maus, but having between the two positions two or three steep and rugged gulches which served as scarps and counter-scarps. The whole ravine was romantically beautiful: shading the rippling water were smooth, white-trunked, long, and slender sycamores, dark gnarly ash, rough-barked cottonwoods, pliant willows, briery buckthorn, and much of the more tropical vegetation already enumerated. After General Crook had lunched, “Geronimo” and most of the Chiricahua warriors approached our camp; not all came in at once; only a few, and these not all armed. The others were here, there, and everywhere, but all on thequi vive, apprehensive of treachery, and ready to meet it. Not more than half a dozen would enter camp at the same time. “Geronimo” said that he was anxious for a talk, which soon took place in the shade of large cottonwood and sycamore trees. Those present were General Crook, Dr. Davis, Mr. Moore, Mr. Strauss, Lieutenants Maus, Shipp, and Faison; Captain Roberts and his young son Charlie, a bright lad of ten; Mr. Daily and Mr. Carlisle, of the pack-trains; Mr. Fly, the photographer, and his assistant, Mr. Chase; packers Shaw and Foster; a little boy, named Howell, who had followed us over from the San Bernardino ranch, thirty miles; and “Antonio Besias,” “Montoya,” “Concepcion,” “José Maria,” “Alchise,” “Ka-e-ten-na,” “Mike,” and others as interpreters.

I made a verbatim record of the conference, but will condense it as much as possible, there being the usual amount of repetition, compliment, and talking at cross-purposes incident to all similar meetings. “Geronimo” began a long disquisition upon the causes which induced the outbreak from Camp Apache: he blamed “Chato,” “Mickey Free,” and Lieutenant Britton Davis, who, he charged, were unfriendly to him; he was told by an Indian named “Nodiskay” and by the wife of “Mangas” that the white people were going to send for him, arrest and kill him; he had been praying to the Dawn (Tapida) and the Darkness, to the Sun (Chigo-na-ay) and the Sky (Yandestan), and to Assunutlije to help him and put a stop to those bad stories that people were telling about him and which they had put in the papers. (The old chief was here apparently alluding to the demand made by certain of the southwestern journals, at the time of his surrender to Crook in 1883, that he should be hanged.)“I don’t want that any more; when a man tries to do right, such stories ought not to be put in the newspapers. What is the matter that you [General Crook] don’t speak to me? It would be better if you would speak to me and look with a pleasant face; it would make better feeling; I would be glad if you did. I’d be better satisfied if you would talk to me once in a while. Why don’t you look at me and smile at me? I am the same man; I have the same feet, legs, and hands, and the Sun looks down on me a complete man; I wish you would look and smile at me. The Sun, the Darkness, the Winds, are all listening to what we now say. To prove to you that I am now telling you the truth, remember I sent you word that I would come from a place far away to speak to you here, and you see me now. Some have come on horseback and some on foot; if I were thinking bad or if I had done bad, I would never have come here. If it had been my fault would I have come so far to talk with you?” He then expressed his delight at seeing “Ka-e-ten-na” once more: he had lost all hope of ever having that pleasure; that was one reason why he had left Camp Apache.

General Crook: “I have heard what you have said. It seems very strange that more than forty men should be afraid of three; but if you left the reservation for that reason, why did you kill innocent people, sneaking all over the country to do it? What did those innocent people do to you that you should kill them, steal their horses, and slip around in the rocks like coyotes? What had that to do with killing innocent people? There is not a week passes that you don’t hear foolish stories in your own camp; but you are no child—you don’t have to believe them. You promised me in the Sierra Madre thatthatpeace should last, but you have lied about it. When a man has lied to me once, I want some better proof than his own word before I can believe him again. Your story about being afraid of arrest is all bosh; there were no orders to arrest you. You sent up some of your people to kill ‘Chato’ and Lieutenant Davis, and then you started the story that they had killed them, and thus you got a great many of your people to go out. Everything that you did on the reservation is known; there is no use for you to try to talk nonsense. I am no child. You must make up your minds whether you will stay out on the war-path or surrender unconditionally. If you stay out I’ll keep after you and kill the last one if it takesfifty years. You are making a great fuss about seeing ‘Ka-e-ten-na’; over a year ago, I asked you if you wanted me to bring ‘Ka-e-ten-na’ back, but you said ‘no.’ It’s a good thing for you, ‘Geronimo,’ that we didn’t bring ‘Ka-e-ten-na’ back, because ‘Ka-e-ten-na’ has more sense now than all the rest of the Chiricahuas put together. You told me the same sort of a story in the Sierra Madre, but you lied. What evidence have I of your sincerity? How do I know whether or not you are lying to me? Have I ever lied to you? I have said all I have to say; you had better think it over to-night and let me know in the morning.”

During this conference “Geronimo” appeared nervous and agitated; perspiration, in great beads, rolled down his temples and over his hands; and he clutched from time to time at a buckskin thong which he held tightly in one hand. Mr. Fly, the photographer, saw his opportunity, and improved it fully: he took “shots” at “Geronimo” and the rest of the group, and with a “nerve” that would have reflected undying glory on a Chicago drummer, coolly asked “Geronimo” and the warriors with him to change positions, and turn their heads or faces, to improve the negative. None of them seemed to mind him in the least except “Chihuahua,” who kept dodging behind a tree, but was at last caught by the dropping of the slide. Twenty-four warriors listened to the conference or loitered within ear-shot; they were loaded down with metallic ammunition, some of it reloading and some not. Every man and boy in the band wore two cartridge-belts. The youngsters had on brand-new shirts, such as are made and sold in Mexico, of German cotton, and nearly all—young or old—wore new parti-colored blankets, of same manufacture, showing that since the destruction of the village by Crawford, in January, they had refitted themselves either by plunder or purchase.

Mr. Strauss, Mr. Carlisle, “José Maria,” and I were awakened at an early hour in the morning (March 26, 1886), and walked over to the rancheria of the Chiricahuas. “Geronimo” was already up and engaged in an earnest conversation with “Ka-e-ten-na” and nearly all his warriors. We moved from one“jacal”to another, all being constructed alike of the stalks of the Spanish bayonet and mescal and amole, covered with shreds of blanket, canvas, and other textiles. The “daggers” of the Spanish bayonet and mescal were arranged around each“jacal”to forman impregnable little citadel. There were not more than twelve or fifteen of these in the“rancheria,”which was situated upon the apex of an extinct crater, the lava blocks being utilized as breastworks, while the deep seams in the contour of the hill were so many fosses, to be crossed only after rueful slaughter of assailants. A full brigade could not drive out that little garrison, provided its ammunition and repeating rifles held out. They were finely armed with Winchesters and Springfield breech-loading carbines, with any quantity of metallic cartridges.

Physically, the Chiricahuas were in magnificent condition: every muscle was perfect in development and hard as adamant, and one of the young men in a party playing monte was as finely muscled as a Greek statue. A group of little boys were romping freely and carelessly together; one of them seemed to be of Irish and Mexican lineage. After some persuasion he told Strauss and myself that his name was Santiago Mackin, captured at Mimbres, New Mexico; he seemed to be kindly treated by his young companions, and there was no interference with our talk, but he was disinclined to say much and was no doubt thoroughly scared. Beyond showing by the intelligent glance of his eyes that he fully comprehended all that was said to him in both Spanish and English, he took no further notice of us. He was about ten years old, slim, straight, and sinewy, blue-gray eyes, badly freckled, light eyebrows and lashes, much tanned and blistered by the sun, and wore an old and once-white handkerchief on his head which covered it so tightly that the hair could not be seen. He was afterwards returned to his relations in New Mexico.

One of the Chiricahuas had a silver watch which he called “Chi-go-na-ay” (Sun), an evidence that he had a good idea of its purpose. Nearly every one wore “medicine” of some kind: either little buckskin bags of the Hoddentin of the Tule, the feathers of the red-bird or of the woodpecker, the head of a quail, the claws of a prairie dog, or silver crescents; “medicine” cords—“Izze-kloth”—were also worn. I stopped alongside of a young Tubal Cain and watched him hammering a Mexican dollar between two stones, and when he had reduced it to the proper fineness he began to stamp and incise ornamentation upon it with a sharp-pointed knife and a stone for a hammer. Nearly all the little girls advanced to the edge of our camp and gazed in mute admiration upon Charlie Roberts, evincing their good opinion insuch an unmistakable manner that the young gentleman at once became the guy of the packers. “Geronimo” and his warriors remained up in their village all day, debating the idea of an unconditional surrender.

The next morning (March 27th) “Chihuahua” sent a secret message to General Crook, to say that he was certain all the Chiricahuas would soon come in and surrender; but whether they did or not, he would surrender his own band at noon and come down into our camp. “Ka-e-ten-na” and “Alchise” had been busy at work among the hostiles, dividing their councils, exciting their hopes, and enhancing their fears; could General Crook have promised them immunity for the past, they would have come down the previous evening, when “Chihuahua” had first sent word of his intention to give up without condition, but General Crook did not care to have “Chihuahua” leave the hostiles at once; he thought he could be more useful by remaining in the village for a day or two as a leaven to foment distrust of “Geronimo” and start a disintegration and demoralization of the band. “Ka-e-ten-na” told General Crook that all the previous night “Geronimo” kept his warriors ready for any act of treachery on our part, and that during the talk of the 25th they were prepared to shoot the moment an attempt should be made to seize their leaders. It was scarcely noon when “Geronimo,” “Chihuahua,” “Nachita,” “Kutli,” and one other buck came in and said they wanted to talk. “Nané” toddled after them, but he was so old and feeble that we did not count him. Our people gathered under the sycamores in the ravine, while “Geronimo” seated himself under a mulberry, both he and “Kutli” having their faces blackened with pounded galena. “Chihuahua” spoke as follows: “I am very glad to see you, General Crook, and have this talk with you. It is as you say: we are always in danger out here. I hope that from this on we may live better with our families, and not do any more harm to anybody. I am anxious to behave. I think that the Sun is looking down upon me, and the Earth is listening. I am thinking better. It seems to me that I have seen the one who makes the rain and sends the winds, or he must have sent you to this place. I surrender myself to you, because I believe in you and you do not deceive us. You must be our God; I am satisfied with all that you do. You must be the one who makes the green pastures, who sends the rain, who commandsthe winds. You must be the one who sends the fresh fruits that come on the trees every year. There are many men in the world who are big chiefs and command many people, but you, I think, are the greatest of them all. I want you to be a father to me and treat me as your son. I want you to have pity on me. There is no doubt that all you do is right, because all you say is true. I trust in all you say; you do not deceive; all the things you tell us are facts. I am now in your hands. I place myself at your disposition to dispose of as you please. I shake your hand. I want to come right into your camp with my family and stay with you. I don’t want to stay away at a distance. I want to be right where you are. I have roamed these mountains from water to water. Never have I found the place where I could see my father or mother until to-day. I see you, my father. I surrender to you now, and I don’t want any more bad feeling or bad talk. I am going over to stay with you in your camp.

“Whenever a man raises anything, even a dog, he thinks well of it, and tries to raise it up, and treats it well. So I want you to feel towards me, and be good to me, and don’t let people say bad things about me. Now I surrender to you and go with you. When we are travelling together on the road or anywhere else, I hope you’ll talk to me once in a while. I think a great deal of ‘Alchise’ and ‘Ka-e-ten-na’; they think a great deal of me. I hope some day to be all the same as their brother. [Shakes hands.] How long will it be before I can live with these friends?”

Despatches were sent ahead to Bowie to inform General Sheridan of the conference and its results; the Chiricahuas had considered three propositions: one, their own, that they be allowed to return to the reservation unharmed; the second, from General Crook, that they be placed in confinement for a term of years at a distance from the Agency, and that, if their families so desired, they be permitted to accompany them, leaving “Nané,” who was old and superannuated, at Camp Apache; or, that they return to the war-path and fight it out. “Mangas,” with thirteen of the Chiricahuas, six of them warriors, was not with “Geronimo,” having left him some months previously and never reunited with him. He (General Crook) asked that instructions be sent him with as little delay as possible.

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