Part 5

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

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

May 21st was one of the busiest days of the expedition. “Hieronymo,” at early dawn, came to see General Crook, and told him he wished for peace. He earnestly promised amendment, and begged to be taken back to San Carlos. He asked permission to get all his people together, and said he had sent some of his young men off to hurry them in from all points. He could not get them to answer his signals, as they imagined them to be made by Apache scouts trying to ensnare them. Chiricahuas were coming in all the morning,--all ages, and both sexes,--sent in by “Chihuahua” and his party; most of these were mounted on good ponies, and all drove pack and loose animals before them. Early in the day there was seen winding through the pine timber a curious procession,--mostly young warriors, of an aggregate of thirty-eight souls,--driving steers and work cattle, and riding ponies and burros. All these were armed with Winchester and Springfield breech-loaders, with revolvers and lances whose blades were old cavalry sabres. The little boys carried revolvers, lances, and bows and arrows. This was the band of Kaw-tenné (Looking-Glass), a young chief, who claimed to be a Mexican Apache and to belong to the Sierra Madre, in whose recesses he had been born and raised.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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