Part 4

This, the guide said, was the stronghold occupied by the Chiricahuas while he was with them; but no one was there now. For all purposes of defense, it was admirably situated. Water flowed in a cool, sparkling stream through the middle of the amphitheatre. Pine, oak, and cedar in abundance and of good size clung to the steep flanks of the ridges, in whose crevices grew much grass. The country, for a considerable distance, could be watched from the pinnacles upon which the savage pickets had been posted, while their huts had been so scattered and concealed in the different brakes that the capture or destruction of the entire band could never have been effected.

The Chiricahuas had evidently lived in this place a considerable time. The heads and bones of cows and ponies were scattered about on all sides. Meat must have been their principal food, since we discovered scarcely any mescal or other vegetables. At one point the scouts indicated where a mother had been cutting a child’s hair; at another, where a band of youngsters had been enjoying themselves sliding down rocks.

Here were picked up the implements used by a young Chiricahua assuming the duties of manhood. Like all other Indians they make vows and pilgrimages to secluded spots, during which periods they will not put their lips to water, but suck up all they need through a quill or cane. Hair-brushes of grass, bows and arrows, and a Winchester rifle had likewise been left behind by the late occupants.

The pack-trains experienced much difficulty in keeping the trail this morning (May 9). Five mules fell over the precipice and killed themselves, three breaking their necks and two having to be shot.

Being now in the very centre of the hostile country, May 10, 1883, unusual precautions were taken to guard against discovery or ambuscade, and to hurry along the pack-mules. Parties of Apache scouts were thrown out to the front, flanks, and rear to note carefully every track in the ground. A few were detailed to stay with the pack-mules and guide them over the best line of country. Ax-men were sent ahead on the trail to chop out trees and remove rocks or other obstructions. Then began a climb which reflected the experience of the previous two days; if at all different, it was much worse. Upon the crest of the first high ridge were seen forty abandoned _jacales_ or lodges of branches; after that, another dismantled village of thirty more, and then, in every protected nook, one, two, or three, as might be. Fearful as this trail was the Chiricahuas had forced over it a band of cattle and ponies, whose footprints had been fully outlined in the mud, just hardened into clay.

After two miles of a very hard climb we slid down the almost perpendicular face of a high bluff of slippery clay and loose shale into an open space dotted with Chiricahua huts, where, on a grassy space, the young savages had been playing their favorite game of mushka, or lance-billiards.

Two white-tailed deer ran straight into the long file of scouts streaming down hill; a shower of rocks and stones greeted them, and there was much suppressed merriment, but not the least bit of noisy laughter, the orders being to avoid any cause of alarm to the enemy.

A fearful chute led from this point down into the gloomy chasm along which trickled the head-waters of the Bávispe, gathering in basins and pools clear as mirrors of crystal. A tiny cascade babbled over a ledge of limestone and filled at the bottom a dark-green reservoir of unknown depth. There was no longer any excitement about Chiricahua signs; rather, wonder when none were to be seen.

The ashes of extinct fires, the straw of unused beds, the skeleton frame-work of dismantled huts, the play-grounds and dance-grounds, mescal-pits and acorn-meal mills were visible at every turn. The Chiricahuas must have felt perfectly secure amid these towering pinnacles of rock in these profound chasms, by these bottomless pools of water, and in the depths of this forest primeval. Here no human foe could hope to conquer them. Notwithstanding this security of position, “Peaches” asserted that the Chiricahuas never relaxed vigilance. No fires were allowed at night, and all cooking was done at midday. Sentinels lurked in every crag, and bands of bold raiders kept the foot-hills thoroughly explored. Crossing Bávispe, the trail zigzagged up the vertical slope of a promontory nearly a thousand feet above the level of the water. Perspiration streamed from every brow, and mules and horses panted, sweated, and coughed; but Up! Up! Up! was the watchword.

Look out! came the warning cry from those in the lead, and then those in the rear and bottom dodged nervously from the trajectory of rocks dislodged from the parent mass, and, gathering momentum as each bound hurled them closer to the bottom of the cañon. To look upon the country was a grand sensation; to travel in it, infernal. Away down at the foot of the mountains the pack-mules could be discerned--apparently not much bigger than jack-rabbits,--struggling and panting up the long, tortuous grade. And yet, up and down these ridges the Apache scouts, when the idea seized them, ran like deer.

One of them gave a low cry, half whisper, half whistle. Instantly all were on the alert, and by some indefinable means, the news flashed through the column that two Chiricahuas had been sighted a short distance ahead in a side cañon. Before I could write this down the scouts had stripped to the buff, placed their clothing in the rocks, and dispatched ten or twelve of their number in swift pursuit.

This proved to be a false alarm, for in an hour they returned, having caught up with the supposed Chiricahuas, who were a couple of our own packers, off the trail, looking for stray mules.

When camp was made that afternoon the Apache scouts had a long conference with General Crook. They called attention to the fact that the pack-trains could not keep up with them, that five mules had been killed on the trail yesterday, and five others had rolled off this morning, but been rescued with slight injuries. They proposed that the pack-trains and white troops remain in camp at this point, and in future move so as to be a day’s march or less behind the Apache scouts, 150 of whom, under Crawford, Gatewood, and Mackey, with Al. Zeiber and the other white guides, would move out well in advance to examine the country thoroughly in front.

If they came upon scattered parties of the hostiles they would attack boldly, kill as many as they could, and take the rest back, prisoners, to San Carlos. Should the Chiricahuas be intrenched in a strong position, they would engage them, but do nothing rash, until reinforced by the rest of the command. General Crook told them they must be careful not to kill women or children, and that all who surrendered should be taken back to the reservation and made to work for their own living like white people.

Animation and bustle prevailed everywhere; small fires were burning in secluded nooks, and upon the bright embers the scouts baked quantities of bread to be carried with them. Some ground coffee on flat stones; others examined their weapons critically and cleaned their cartridges. Those whose moccasins needed repair sewed and patched them, while the more cleanly and more religious indulged in the sweat-bath, which has a semi-sacred character on such occasions.

A strong detachment of packers, soldiers, and Apaches climbed the mountains to the south, and reached the locality in the foot-hills where the Mexicans and Chiricahuas had recently had an engagement. Judging by signs it would appear conclusive that the Indians had enticed the Mexicans into an ambuscade, killed a number with bullets and rocks, and put the rest to ignominious flight. The “medicine-men” had another song and pow-wow after dark. Before they adjourned it was announced that in two days, counting from the morrow, the scouts would find the Chiricahuas, and in three days kill a “heap.”

On May 11, 1883 (Friday), one hundred and fifty Apache scouts, under the officers above named, with Zeiber, “Mickey Free,” Severiano, Archie McIntosh, and Sam Bowman, started from camp, on foot, at daybreak. Each carried on his person four days’ rations, a canteen, 100 rounds of ammunition, and a blanket. Those who were to remain in camp picketed the three high peaks overlooking it, and from which half a dozen Chiricahuas could offer serious annoyance. Most of those not on guard went down to the water, bathed, and washed clothes. The severe climbing up and down rough mountains, slipping, falling, and rolling in dust and clay, had blackened most of us like negroes.

Chiricahua ponies had been picked up in numbers, four coming down the mountains of their own accord, to join our herds; and altogether, twenty were by this date in camp. The suggestions of the locality were rather peaceful in type; lovely blue humming-birds flitted from bush to bush, and two Apache doll-babies lay upon the ground.

Just as the sun was sinking behind the hills in the west, a runner came back with a note from Crawford, saying there was a fine camping place twelve or fifteen miles across the mountains to the south-east, with plenty of wood, water, and grass.

For the ensuing three days the white soldiers and pack-trains cautiously followed in the footsteps of Crawford and the scouts, keeping a sufficient interval between the two bodies to insure thorough investigation of the rough country in front. The trail did not improve very much, although after the summit of a high, grassy plateau had been gained, there was easy traveling for several leagues. Pine-trees of majestic proportions covered the mountain-tops, and there was the usual thickness of scrub-oak on the lower elevations. By the side of the trail, either thrown away or else _cachéd_ in the trees, were quantities of goods left by the Chiricahuas--calico, clothing, buckskin, horse-hides, beef-hides, dried meat, and things of that nature. The nights were very cool, the days bright and warm. The Bávispe and its tributaries were a succession of deep tanks of glassy, pure water, in which all our people bathed on every opportunity. The scouts escorting the pack-trains gathered in another score of stray ponies and mules, and were encouraged by another note sent back by Crawford, saying that he had passed the site of a Chiricahua village of ninety-eight _wickyups_ (huts), that the enemy had a great drove of horses and cattle, and that the presence of Americans or Apache scouts in the country was yet undreamed of.

Additional rations were pushed ahead to Crawford and his command, the pack-trains in rear taking their own time to march. There was an abundance of wood in the forest, grass grew in sufficiency, and the Bávispe yielded water enough for a great army. The stream was so clear that it was a pleasure to count the pebbles at the bottom and to watch the graceful fishes swimming within the shadow of moss-grown rocks. The current was so deep that, sinking slowly, with uplifted arms, one was not always able to touch bottom with the toes, and so wide that twenty good, nervous strokes barely sufficed to propel the swimmer from shore to shore. The water was soft, cool, and refreshing, and a plunge beneath its ripples smoothed away the wrinkles of care.

On May 15, 1883, we climbed and marched ten or twelve miles to the south-east, crossing a piece of country recently burned over, the air, filled with soot and hot dust, blackening and blistering our faces. Many more old ruins were passed and scores of walls of masonry. The trail was slightly improved, but still bad enough; the soil, a half-disintegrated, reddish feldspar, with thin seams of quartz crystals. There were also granite, sandstone, shale, quartzite, and round masses of basalt. In the bottoms of the cañons were all kinds of “float”--granite, basalt, sandstone, porphyry, schist, limestone, etc.; but no matter what the kind of rock was, when struck upon the hill-sides it was almost invariably split and broken, and grievously retarded the advance.

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 would pursue 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 the dead Chiricahuas had been taken four nickel-plated, breech-loading Winchester repeating rifles, and one Colt’s revolver, new model. The Chiricahuas 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 thirty _wickyups_, 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 or Americans. 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 the _ranchería_ just destroyed was a little white boy about six years 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 burning _ranchería_. Rain-clouds gathered in the sky, and, after hours of threatening, broke into a severe but brief shower about sunrise next morning (May 15).

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 fine camping-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 8.30 A.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 young men 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 to 121--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 had a 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.