Two days later the scout announced another friend. In twenty minutes, Ana, Benito's wife, climbed the hill to Geronimo's camp.
"Why are you here?" Geronimo demanded.
"I bear a message from Chief Gray Wolf," said Ana.
Geronimo said, "It has come to my ears that Chief Gray Wolf killed all the followers of Benito. Yet you, Benito's wife, are not dead."
"We did indeed fight some of Chief Gray Wolf's Apache scouts," said Ana. "They were commanded by the white chiefs, Crawford and Gatewood. They surprised us in our camp, and we thought they came for war. But they came for peace, and though they killed a few of us because we fought them, they took most of us prisoner and treated us very well.
"The men remain prisoners. But the children have freedom of Chief Gray Wolf's camp and all women have been sent forth with the message Chief Gray Wolf has for all Apaches. That is why I am here."
"And what is this message?" Geronimo asked.
"Return to Arizona and live in peace."
Geronimo asked, "Was Chato in Benito's camp when Gray Wolf's scouts came?"
"Chato was there," Ana said.
"And what says Chato to the message?"
"Chato and Benito have agreed to return," said Ana. "So have Zele and Naiche. I know not of the others."
"She lies," Francisco warned.
Geronimo said, "Women do not lie about their husbands. Would Chief Gray Wolf speak with me?"
"He would," said Ana.
"Where?"
Ana used a stick to trace a map on the ground. Geronimo studied it, rubbed it out with his moccasin, and nodded.
"Eat and rest," he told Ana. "Then go to Chief Gray Wolf and say Geronimo will come in four days."
In four days, carrying his Winchester repeating rifle and wearing a belt full of bullets, Geronimo approached the meeting place an hour after sunrise. He looked straight ahead only, for anything else might betray him. His warriors, who had left camp while night still held, were hidden all about. But they were to attack only if there was treachery.
Geronimo saw Captain Crawford and Lieutenant Gatewood, army officers whose deeds had earned them the respect of all Apaches. There was Al Sieber, famed chief of scouts and one of the very few white men who could think like an Apache. Mickey Free, whom Cochise had been accused of kidnapping years before, stood ready to tell Geronimo and General Crook what each said to the other. Geronimo spoke Apache, Spanish, and some English. General Crook spoke and understood English only.
Proud and haughty as the Apache himself, every inch the warrior, General Crook's eyes met Geronimo's. They did not look away.
Geronimo asked, "What would you talk about?"
"Your return to Arizona," said General Crook.
Geronimo said, "You think I will live again on the hot flats of the Gila?"
"It was not I who sent you there," said General Crook. "Choose your home. There are the White Mountains."
A mighty yearning stirred in Geronimo's heart. He was homesick for Arizona, and the White Mountains.
"What else do you ask?" Geronimo inquired.
General Crook said, "Your promise to live in peace."
"Who promises me that the white man will also keep the peace?" Geronimo asked.
"I do," said General Crook. "And have you known me to lie?"
"I have never known Chief Gray Wolf to speak falsely," Geronimo admitted. "And I see no treachery here."
Humor lighted General Crook's eyes. "How many of your warriors surround us, Geronimo?"
"Do you think I came in fear?" Geronimo asked angrily.
"I did not say that," said General Crook. "I asked how many of your warriors surround us."
"Some," Geronimo admitted. "But they are to shoot only if you start a battle."
"See for yourself that we want no battle," General Crook said. "Will you come back to live on the Apache reservation if you may choose your home in the White Mountains?"
"I will if I may do that," Geronimo said.
"Will you live in peace?"
Geronimo promised, "I will live in peace."
"When will you come?" General Crook asked.
"When I am ready."
Geronimo turned on his heel and strode away.
A mile and a half from his farm on Turkey Creek, in Arizona's White Mountains, Geronimo skulked in a thicket and looked sourly at a flock of wild turkeys. They were so many that they seemed a living carpet over the five-acre clearing in which they were catching grasshoppers. But they held no charm for Geronimo. Who besides white men would eat a bird that ate snakes?
White men also ate the trout that swarmed in White Mountain streams, and trout were akin to snakes. Geronimo grimaced. He had had enough, and more than enough, of white men and their ways.
A lark called three times. The turkeys skulked away. They knew that it was not a lark calling, but a man imitating a lark. A moment later Naiche slipped into the thicket where Geronimo hid.
Naiche said, "No one saw me."
"It is well," said Geronimo. "Chato suspects that we are again on the point of fleeing to Mexico. He will be happy to inform the soldiers if he can discover our plans."
Naiche said, "Chato suspects everything since he turned from his own people to the white men. In his own opinion, Chato is a very great man. He told me himself that Chief Gray Wolf never would have come to the Sierra Madres if he, Chato, had not gone raiding into Arizona. He said the settlers of Arizona had decided that the Apaches would never dare leave Mexico. His raid taught them otherwise, and so Chief Gray Wolf came."
"For once, Chato spoke the truth," Geronimo said.
Without announcing himself, old Nana came so silently that neither Geronimo nor Naiche knew he was coming until he was almost upon them. Mangas and Chihuahua arrived, and the leaders who had planned this second outbreak were gathered.
Geronimo spoke. "When I met Chief Gray Wolf in Mexico, I told him that I would return to Arizona if I might live as an Apache should. But before I could come, I needed time. Not wishing to return to Arizona a poor man, I had to steal enough cattle to make me rich. My warriors and I took three hundred and fifty cattle from the Mexicans. They were honorably stolen. We brought them to Arizona when we came. But when we arrived at Fort Apache, our cattle were taken from us."
The chiefs growled like angry wolves. Geronimo continued:
"That was not what Chief Gray Wolf promised, but where is he? Where are Captain Crawford and Lieutenant Gatewood? Where are any white men we may trust? They brought us here and over us set strangers like Lieutenant Davis, who knows nothing about Apaches and cares less."
"I told Mickey Free to tell the fat white chief, Lieutenant Davis, that I had killed men before he was born!" old Nana snarled. "He cannot tell me what to do!"
Chihuahua said angrily, "He and others do tell us! We must not do this, we must not do that! But we must scratch the ground with those foolish plows they gave us, and try to grow corn when it is much easier to steal it! I promised to keep peace with white men! I never promised not to fight with and raid Papagoes and Navajos!"
"None of us promised anything except that we would live on the reservation and bother no white men," Geronimo said. "It is true that we live in the White Mountains rather than on the flats of the Gila, but how do we live? It is still better to be free and at war in Mexico than to be at peace and live like the stupid sheep which Navajo herders chase."
"Right!" Nana agreed. "It is better to die in battle than to live as a slave! Before we go, I think that I will pick a fight with the fat white chief."
"Have men, not boys, beside you if you do," Geronimo advised. "Lieutenant Davis is a warrior. How many are we?"
Naiche said, "In all, we are thirty-five men, eight boys who know how to shoot, and a hundred and one women and children. We might have had as many more as we cared to take with us if we had been able to provide arms for them. As it is, three of the boys who can shoot must carry bows and arrows since we were unable to get enough rifles."
"It is as well," Geronimo said. "The smaller the party, the faster we may travel. We know that the Apache scouts and the white soldiers will stop us if they can. And I feel that Lieutenant Davis is suspicious."
Naiche said, "I can go to him and pick a fight. He would kill me, or I would kill him. If I killed him, he could not stop us."
"Since we are not sure he knows anything, this is not the time to fight him," Geronimo said. "He has not tried to stop us. When we are gone, he cannot stop us."
"He can send a message by the wire that talks, the telegraph," said Nana. "He can tell the soldiers at Fort Thomas to stop us, and we shall have to fight them when we meet."
Geronimo said, "If we start a fight here, we must fight all the soldiers and all the Apache scouts. If we run, we cannot be sure that we will meet anyone. It is wiser to run."
The Apaches started in late afternoon. Geronimo was the last to leave, and he scouted thoroughly. Seeing nothing, he turned his pony southward.
Only another Apache could have hidden from Geronimo's final scouting. As soon as the runaways had gone, Mickey Free rose from the patch of brush in which he had hidden and watched every move. He ran full speed to the army headquarters and found Lieutenant Davis.
"Geronimo, Chihuahua, Mangas, and Nana lead many people toward Mexico," Mickey Free said.
Lieutenant Davis hurried to the telegraph operator.
"Send this message at once to Captain Pierce, in Fort Thomas: 'An unknown number of Apaches under Geronimo and other chiefs are fleeing toward Mexico. Head them off.'"
"Right away," the operator said.
While the operator worked his key, Lieutenant Davis tapped his foot nervously up and down. He did not as yet know how many Apaches had fled from the reservation. But he did know that, even if they were only a few, they were far more dangerous than the most savage pack of wolves that had ever roamed.
If they escaped again into the Sierra Madres, it meant more terror for the citizens of Arizona. From their stronghold in the Mexican mountains, the Apaches would certainly raid Arizona towns and ranches. It meant equal terror for Mexico, and it meant a long and costly military campaign before the runaways were again under control.
The telegraph operator continued to work his key. But Geronimo had already stopped long enough in his flight to climb one of the trees to which the telegraph wire was fastened. He had cut the wire with his axe and tied the two ends together with a piece of buckskin. This he did so that the wires would not dangle, making it easy for soldiers to find and repair the break.
After five minutes, the operator turned, much puzzled, to Lieutenant Davis.
"I cannot get through," he said.
"Stay at your key and keep trying," Lieutenant Davis said. "If you get through, say that I'm on the trail with soldiers and scouts. I hope we may catch them, but trailing will be slow at night, and I think it means another campaign in Mexico."
Lieutenant Davis was right. Geronimo and all his followers again reached Mexico and found a haven in the Sierra Madres.
Geronimo galloped wildly through the black night. Naiche rode beside him. Ten of the eighteen warriors who remained with Geronimo followed.
Geronimo turned his head. He saw light from the burning buildings of the Arizona ranch that he and his warriors had just raided, reflected in the sky. The Apaches had taken fresh horses. But the four men who had been at the ranch had fled after firing a few shots.
Presently Geronimo pulled in his horse to a trot. The rest slowed. Naiche drew in nearer to his chief.
"I wish that the white men had stayed to fight," he said.
"I too," said Geronimo, "but the white men are not fools. They remain great liars. The last time, I raided in Arizona with but six men, and Kieta deserted to return to San Carlos. But the white men said we had two hundred warriors. Loco, who remains on the reservation, sent me a messenger, asking to know where we found such strength."
Naiche asked anxiously, "Was that the whole message?"
"There was no more," Geronimo said.
Said Naiche, "Then I am sad. My wife and children are in Arizona. My relatives are there. I am sorely in need of news of them. Why does Chihuahua send me no word? He returned to the reservation the second time Chief Gray Wolf came to us and asked us to come in."
"There is no knowing what happened to Chihuahua," Geronimo said. "Chief Gray Wolf has gone from Arizona, and the Apaches will never see him again."
General Crook had indeed made a second journey to Mexico, and again he met the runaway Apaches and tried to persuade them to come back to the reservation. Chihuahua and his followers had returned. Mangas and two or three others had fled deeper into Mexico, but Geronimo and Naiche had promised to return. At the last minute they, with eighteen other men and nineteen women and children, had changed their minds and fled back into the Sierra Madres.
General Crook had been sharply rebuked by his commander for letting Geronimo escape. So he had asked to be relieved of duty in Arizona and sent back to Texas. His wish was granted, and a general named Miles had come to Arizona to take his place.
General Miles had five thousand soldiers at his command, and their principal duty was to capture Geronimo. A large number of Mexicanruralesand police were afield for the same purpose. Besides these, there were many ranchers, cowboys, miners, and townsmen who would gladly do anything they could to put an end to Geronimo and his followers. There were certainly at least ten thousand people actively plotting the downfall of this one Apache chief.
And not all of them together had come near to succeeding.
By special arrangement with Mexico, American troops were permitted to range south of the border, and there had been several fights between them and Geronimo's band. Some American soldiers had been killed or wounded, and the Mexicans had suffered too. But Geronimo had not lost a single warrior. Not one of his followers had even been wounded. Yet the Apache chief was discouraged.
He swayed in the saddle, and bright lights flashed before his eyes. He put a hand in front of his eyes to shut out the lights.
"Are you ill?" Naiche asked in alarm.
"I am tired," said Geronimo.
Naiche said, "We may stop and rest."
"I speak not of body weariness," Geronimo said. "My spirit is tired."
"I understand," said Naiche. "We have fought for a very long while. We have been driven from our camps and our cooking fires. Seven times in fifteen months we lost all our horses and had to steal more. We know not when we will have to fight many soldiers. The spirits of all of us are tired, but we dare not surrender."
"We dare not," Geronimo agreed. "Chief Gray Wolf is gone. Captain Crawford is dead. Lieutenant Gatewood is gone. There is not one white man among all who pursue us whom we may trust. Almost I wish that I had gone in with Chief Gray Wolf."
"I too," Naiche murmured.
They halted at daylight in a rockbound little canyon. Horses that had become both weary and thirsty stood with heads raised and nostrils flared. They smelled water, for there was a water hole ahead. But the warriors tied their mounts and waited.
Carrying his Winchester repeating rifle, Geronimo slipped off alone. With no more fuss than a slinking coyote, he made his way among the boulders and the scrawny little trees that grew between them.
After a bit Geronimo stopped and cut a number of leafy twigs. He thrust them into his headband so that, if he held very still, whoever saw him would think they saw a bush instead. Then he dropped to wriggle forward on his stomach. Presently he looked down into another canyon.
The water hole was there, and the water was fresh and cold. Green grass surrounded it. Great cottonwood trees bordered it. But a herd of horses browsed on the grass, and pack mules stamped at a picket line. There were packs and tents, and there were more than twenty soldiers whose only reason for being here was to keep Geronimo away from the water.
Geronimo slipped away as quietly as he had come.
"Soldiers await," he told Naiche when he had returned to his warriors.
"Many soldiers?" Naiche asked.
"Too many for us to fight," Geronimo said.
Naiche said, "Then we must go."
"No. We must loose our horses," said Geronimo.
Naiche said, "They will run to water."
"They will run to water," Geronimo agreed.
Naiche asked wonderingly, "You would give good horses to white soldiers?"
"These horses are too spent to serve us any longer," Geronimo said. "Let them go."
Tie ropes were slipped. Following the smell of water, the horses were off at a gallop.
Geronimo led his warriors forward. He stopped them just beneath the rim of the canyon in which the water hole lay. Again he thrust bits of brush into his headband and crawled forward to look.
The thirsty horses had come in and were crowding each other at the water hole. A young lieutenant was ordering his men to mount. A scout whom Geronimo had seen, but whose name he had never heard, was arguing with the lieutenant.
"Don't do it!" the scout said. "Don't do it, Lieutenant!"
"You say these horses were loosed by Geronimo's men?" the lieutenant asked.
The scout said, "Couldn't of been nobody else, an' every horse wears the Pratt brand. Geronimo must of stole them there. I figure we'll find the Pratt ranch burned an' maybe the Pratt brothers dead. But don't dash off in all directions thisaway."
"If Geronimo's lost his horses, he and his men are afoot!" the young lieutenant exclaimed.
"The only horses Geronimo everlostwas them our scouts or soldiers took away from him," the scout said. "He's turned these loose for some deviltry of his own. An' did you ever try to hunt Apaches when they was afoot?"
"No," the lieutenant admitted. "But they should be easy to catch."
"'Bout as easy as so many quail with six extry wings," the scout said. "You can't catch 'em."
The lieutenant said sternly, "Mount and come with us."
"All right," the scout said. "But don't leave no horses here!"
"I won't. But we must travel fast so I'll leave the pack mules."
"Then leave a guard too."
"I'll need every man," the lieutenant said.
"S'pose the Apaches come here?" the scout asked.
"They won't," the lieutenant said. "They're too cowardly. Geronimo and every last one of his men are running for Mexico. We must overtake them. Geronimo's the last Apache war chief! When he's captured or killed, it will mean an end to Indian wars here in the Southwest! The least I'll get out of this is a captain's rating, and perhaps even a major's!"
The scout said, "If I'm asked, I'll say I told you 'twas a fool thing to do."
"Say what you please," the lieutenant said. "I know what I'm doing."
The soldiers followed the scout, who in turn followed the back trail of the horses. When they found the place where the horses had been loosed, the lieutenant thought, they would also find helpless Apaches on foot.
When the soldiers were out of sight, Geronimo signaled his men forward.
They drank at the water hole. Then they rummaged hastily through the packs and tents and took all the rifles and ammunition they could find. Minutes later, each warrior was mounted on a mule. Geronimo led them into rough and rocky ground where mules could travel but horses could not.
Long before the young lieutenant brought his men back to their camp, every Apache was safe.
Sitting in the shade of some pines on the rim of a lofty mountain, Geronimo stared down at Mexico's Bavispe River. From the mountain top the river looked like a silver ribbon that followed the curves of the valley and gave back the sparkle of the sun.
Geronimo shook his head. When he was a medicine man, he had tried in vain to see the visions that should appear to allshamans. Though he was no longer ashaman, visions came now.
He saw that long past day when he had stolen Delgadito's war horse to fight a duel of stallions with the son of Ponce. Again he went with Delgadito on the raid, and saw the two Papagoes who had come to steal horses. Once more he lived in his mother's wickiup, and knew the love that had warmed him there. Next followed his happy days with Alope, but not the massacre at Kas-Kai-Ya.
Then the battle that avenged the massacre, the ambush of the California Volunteers in Apache Pass, and the battles that had been since.
He thought of all that had passed since his first fight with the two Papagoes. Geronimo had been twelve years old then. He was fifty-eight now. He had known forty-six years of war.
More visions came. Geronimo saw old Mangus Coloradus, leaving the Mimbreno village to surrender to the white man. He saw Cochise, who fought fiercely for ten years after the death of Mangus Coloradus but finally gave in too.
No more visions appeared. Geronimo turned to Naiche, who sat beside him.
"You told me that you long to see your wife, your children, your relatives," he said.
"I do," said Naiche. "Have you no wish again to visit your blood kin?"
"No one awaits me—"
Geronimo was interrupted by the whistle of a hawk, the sentry's signal that an enemy came. The sentry signaled again, the enemy was not in force.
The women and children ran to hurry the horses into hiding. The men hid themselves where they could ambush their foe. In less than a half minute, not one of Geronimo's band and no horses could be seen.
Presently two Apaches appeared. One was Kieta, who had deserted Geronimo while raiding in Arizona. The second was a warrior named Martine.
When the pair was well within the ambush, Geronimo and his hidden warriors sprang up. Kieta and Martine stood motionless. But both knew that, if either raised a weapon, both would die.
Geronimo said, "It is good to see you again, Kieta."
"I am here because I like you, Geronimo," Kieta said, "and I like you because you led us well. I know you bear me no ill will because I left you and returned to San Carlos."
Said Geronimo, "If you wished to follow me no more, your own path was before you, and how can I bear ill will because you chose it? Have you now returned to me and brought Martine with you?"
"We are here as messengers for a very gallant soldier," Kieta said.
Geronimo said harshly, "I treat with no soldiers."
"Will you hear his name?" Kieta asked.
Geronimo said, "I will hear his name."
"Lieutenant Gatewood," said Kieta.
Geronimo could not hide his astonishment. He knew that Lieutenant Gatewood was fierce in battle, merciful in victory, and always true to his word. With that respect which one great warrior must feel for another, Geronimo said, "More than once I have met Lieutenant Gatewood in battle. But it came to my ears that he had gone far from the land of the Apaches."
"Your ears heard truly," Kieta said. "Lieutenant Gatewood has been in a place so far off that I do not even know its name. But when he learned that Geronimo refuses even to talk with the soldiers who are pursuing him, he came as one whom Geronimo himself knows he may trust."
"How many soldiers are with him?" Geronimo asked.
Kieta said, "There are six soldiers, all of whom serve as couriers and none as warriors. There are two interpreters, Jose Maria and Tom Horn."
"They are all?" Geronimo asked.
"They are all with Lieutenant Gatewood," said Kieta. "But there are many soldiers not far away. Will you talk with this brave man?"
Geronimo gave himself to serious thought. After a while, he looked at Kieta.
"I will talk with him," he said. "But only Lieutenant Gatewood, the six couriers, and Tom Horn and Jose Maria. No one else must come to the meeting place. Should there be soldiers, we fight."
"We go to tell him," Kieta said.
Geronimo said, "Martine goes to tell him. Just to be sure Martine speaks truly, you stay with us until he returns."
Later Geronimo stood very still as he watched Lieutenant Gatewood and his group come near. Lieutenant Gatewood had been ill and showed it. But he was armed as a warrior should be, and mounted as a warrior should be, and he was completely at ease. True to his word, he was accompanied only by the six couriers and two interpreters.
Geronimo's mind took him back almost six years to a nameless canyon. He and Naiche, with a large band of well-armed warriors, had succeeded in luring a company of United States Cavalry to a water hole in the canyon. The Apaches fell upon the soldiers and might have massacred every one had not the brave Lieutenant Gatewood rallied his men and led them out of the trap.
Geronimo stirred uneasily. His warriors could kill these few men in less than a minute. But even as the thought occurred to him, he knew that he would never give the order to shoot. Not when this gallant soldier was in command.
Lieutenant Gatewood dismounted, handed the reins of his horse to one of the couriers, and shook hands with Geronimo. Geronimo searched the officer's face for some sign of fear. But there was not even a slight nervousness. Lieutenant Gatewood was indeed worthy of his reputation for both courage and gallantry.
Geronimo said, "Your face is pale and drawn, as though it has not seen the sun in too many days. Or perhaps you have been ill?"
"It is nothing," said Lieutenant Gatewood. "I have merely ridden far and fast so that I may talk with Geronimo."
"You did not say, 'My friend, Geronimo,'" Geronimo pointed out.
"You are not my friend," Lieutenant Gatewood said calmly. "You are the friend of no white man or Mexican as long as you continue to live like a wild beast, and raid and kill at your pleasure. Except for those who are with you now, even the Apaches have turned against you, for you have given a bad name to Apaches who would live at peace."
"It is true that many thirst for my blood," Geronimo said thoughtfully. "It is equally true that you still speak with a straight tongue. Some have called me 'friend,' and when they thought I was no longer suspicious, have tried to betray me. But you say at once that you are not my friend, and that is honest talk. What would you have from me?"
Lieutenant Gatewood said, "For myself I want nothing, and as a soldier I may ask nothing. But for General Miles, the great chief in command of the soldiers who are pursuing you, I ask your surrender and the surrender of all your band."
Geronimo asked, "And what does General Miles offer in return?"
"Imprisonment in Florida for you and your families," Lieutenant Gatewood said.
"Is he mad?" Geronimo flared angrily. "His soldiers have pursued me for many months, and we have fought them many times. Many soldiers have died in these fights, but not a single Apache has been killed by white soldiers. Does your General Miles not know that we are capable of carrying on the fight?"
"He knows," Lieutenant Gatewood said. "But if you fail to surrender, General Miles has another offer. He will hunt you down and kill every one of you if it takes another fifty years."
"Take a message to your General Miles," Geronimo said. "Tell him that we will return to Arizona if we may go back to our homes in the White Mountains, and if we may live there as we did before fleeing into Mexico."
"That is childish talk, Geronimo," Lieutenant Gatewood said. "You have had many opportunities to prove that you would live in peace on the reservation. There will not be another chance. General Miles' orders stand. Accept imprisonment in Florida or be killed by soldiers."
"We may also kill soldiers," Geronimo reminded him.
"That you have proven many times," Lieutenant Gatewood admitted. "But you remember the times of long ago, when for every white man in Arizona there were a hundred Apaches. Now, for every Apache, there are two hundred white men and more to come. You cannot kill all the soldiers."
"Nor can they kill us," Geronimo said. "My terms stand. We return to the White Mountains and live as we once lived, or we continue the war."
Lieutenant Gatewood turned suddenly to Naiche and smiled. "I saw your mother and daughter, Naiche, just after they came in with Chihuahua's band. They have been sent to Florida with the rest, but both inquired about you."
"Are they well?" Naiche asked eagerly.
"Very well," Lieutenant Gatewood said. "They wish you to surrender so that you may join them, and I am to remind you that an enemy more merciless than any soldiers lies in wait. It is winter that is just ahead. Geronimo, do I have your final answer?"
Geronimo said, "May we talk again tomorrow?"
"We may," said Lieutenant Gatewood.
They parted. Lieutenant Gatewood and his party returned to their camp while the Apaches went to theirs. The Indians were sober and thoughtful.
"It is true," Geronimo said, "that few animals have been hunted harder than we. We have fought and fought well, but we are very few, and our enemies are very many. We cannot continue to fight them forever."
Said Naiche, "It is also true that we would like to see our friends and families again. There is small chance of doing that as long we are in Mexico and they are in Florida."
Others of the band murmured agreement. All were desperately tired and lonely. They had endured far more than flesh and blood should be expected to bear. But they were willing to continue the fight if Geronimo and Naiche decided that that was best.
"Yet," Naiche continued, "I fear to surrender even more than I fear to continue the battle. Mexicans south of the border and Americans north of it would kill us as readily as we would kill a pack of rabid wolves. If we hand our arms over to Lieutenant Gatewood, who will protect us until we are safe in Florida?"
Suddenly Geronimo, who had been silent, saw in full the vision he had seen only in part as he sat beside Naiche. There was old Mangus Coloradus advising his people to make peace with the white men, since they could never hope to conquer them. There was Cochise, who had needed ten years of bloody war to teach him what Mangus Coloradus had been taught by his own wisdom. Now, almost twenty-five years after the death of Mangus Coloradus, Geronimo finally understood what one of these chiefs had known and the other had learned.
Apaches could not fight the white men. But neither could they surrender to them unless it was possible to work out a plan guaranteeing their own safety.
When they resumed their talks the next day, Geronimo said bluntly to Lieutenant Gatewood, "Forget you are a white man and pretend you are one of us. What would you do?"
"Trust General Miles and surrender to him," Lieutenant Gatewood said promptly.
"So you have spoken and so shall we do," said Geronimo. "But it is a long way to the border where General Miles awaits, and this is enemy country. We will not surrender our arms until we are met by General Miles."
"That is agreeable," said Lieutenant Gatewood. "In addition, Captain Lawton and a company of soldiers are camped not far away. I will ask them to march with you and help beat off any Mexicans who may attack."
"You march with us," Geronimo said. "Captain Lawton and his soldiers may come, but they are to stay ahead or behind. We do not care to mingle with white soldiers."
"That, too, is agreeable," said Lieutenant Gatewood.
It was thus that the Apaches marched to the border of Mexico. Lieutenant Gatewood marched with them. Captain Lawton provided an escort of American soldiers. And a mob of two hundred Mexicans, who finally saw the hated Apaches in captivity, trailed them all the way. But the Mexicans did not dare start a fight.
When they reached the camp where General Miles was waiting, Geronimo stalked haughtily to the general, who stared coldly at the great Apache leader. Geronimo and his warriors laid down the arms that they had carried so many miles and into so many battles. The disarmed Apaches were surrounded by soldiers who took them, first to prison cells at Arizona's Fort Bowie, then to the train that carried them to exile in Florida.
So ended the fighting days of Geronimo, the last and fiercest Apache war chief. And so, also, ended the Indian Wars in the Southwest. Never again would men and women on lonely ranches or in isolated villages awaken, trembling, in the middle of the night to hear the pound of ponies' hoofs and the wild Apache war cry. Never again would travelers in Arizona, New Mexico, and northern Mexico find it necessary to travel in groups and well-armed for fear of Apache attacks.
Geronimo and his followers, as well as many other Chiricahua and Warm Springs Apaches, were imprisoned at old Fort Pickens, or at Fort Marion, in Florida. Eventually they were moved to a reservation in what was then Indian Territory and what is now the State of Oklahoma. There Geronimo died at Fort Sill, on February 17, 1909.
Whether he was a great villain or a great patriot depends on whether one looks at him with the eyes of the white men whom he plundered, or the Apaches whom he championed. But nobody can deny that he fought for a free life for himself and his people and that he was one of the greatest warriors of all time.
Jim Kjelgaard was born in New York City but spent his childhood and youth in the Pennsylvania mountains. There he learned to hunt, fish, and handle dogs. He still likes to hunt and has done so in most parts of the United States and Canada, although he has exchanged his rifles and shotguns for cameras. After graduating from high school, he spent two years at Syracuse University Extension. Since then he has held a variety of jobs ranging all the way from trapper to factory superintendent, and has been writing professionally for over twenty years. Of some thirty successful books, all but one are for young people.
Charles Banks Wilson, well known to young people for his illustrations of many historical books about the West, has achieved equal success as a painter. Over 150 exhibitions of his work have been held in museums throughout America. In both book illustration and painting, Mr. Wilson is associated with the contemporary life of the American Indian. Many Indian ceremonials which have never been photographed are recorded in his work, which has taken him throughout the Southwest as well as the Far West. He lives in his native Oklahoma with his wife, a Quapaw Indian princess, and their two children. Since 1947 he has been head of the Art Department of the Northeastern Oklahoma A. & M. College.