"He gave me the lie!" Geronimo said angrily. "I killed three deer with
my bow and arrows. Ponce said I _found_ them dead!"
"Twelve-year-old boys are not supposed to be able to kill deer," Alope
said.
"I did!" Geronimo insisted.
"I believe you," Alope said. "But these duels are dangerous. You know
the elders have forbidden them."
Geronimo patted the stallion's cheek.
"If the elders do not know a duel is being fought," he said, "they can
do nothing."
"And if my uncle's war horse is killed," Alope told him, "he'll stake
you out on an ant hill and let the ants devour you."
Geronimo said, "I'll gladly accept any punishment after I have fought
this duel, but I must fight!"
"What if you are killed?" asked Alope.
"I won't be. Among all his father's horses, the son of Ponce shall find
no stallion to equal this one, and I am a much better rider!"
Alope said, "My good sense bids me run and get my aunt, but my heart
tells me to speed a warrior on his way. I'll not tell, but I'll tremble
for what will happen to you should my uncle's war horse be killed or
hurt."
Geronimo slipped the tether rope, grasped the rein, and vaulted happily
to the back of the mighty horse. Though the stallion wanted to gallop
and Geronimo burned to test the speed and fire of such a mount, he held
him to a walk. There was a fight coming up. The stallion must go into
it rested.
At the same time, it was a glorious feeling just to be on such a
stallion. All Apaches could ride, but few were master horsemen. Geronimo
had started riding the village colts when he was so small that it was
necessary to lead his mount beside a boulder or stump from which he
could scramble onto its back. He seemed born to ride. Not half a dozen
men in the village could stay on the back of Delgadito's war horse. But
Geronimo was riding him.
After twenty minutes the Indian boy looked down on the secluded swale
where the duel would be fought. He and Ponce had chosen a battle ground
far enough from the village so that the elders would be unlikely to
interfere. Young Ponce was waiting there with one of his father's best
horses, a fiery bay that had already slain a half dozen rivals.
Though the elders knew nothing of the duel, a crowd of boys ringed the
chosen arena. They were tense with excitement, but they did not yell and
shout as white boys would have. And all stood far enough away so that
they could escape if either stallion charged toward them.
As Geronimo rode down the hill, Delgadito's war horse caught scent of
the other stallion and screamed his challenge. Ponce's bay answered, and
the two stallions rushed each other. Quickly Geronimo planned his
battle.
Such duels were a common way for Apache boys to settle arguments. They
often resulted in the death of a horse, a rider, or both. When they did,
it was usually the rider's fault. Geronimo planned on using his riding
skill to make a fool of Ponce, and he intended that nobody should get
hurt.
Just as it seemed certain the two stallions must close with each other,
Geronimo turned Delgadito's war horse so expertly that they passed
within inches. At this wonderful display of riding skill, an excited
murmur of admiration rose from the watching boys.
Geronimo turned back, this time wheeling right in front of Ponce's angry
stallion. He swerved to come in to the side. Ponce's bay reared and
pawed the air with skull-crushing front hoofs. The watching boys gasped.
But just as it seemed certain that Geronimo would be killed, he leaned
over and escaped by the width of a hair.
Suddenly, to Geronimo's vast surprise, Ponce wheeled his stallion and
galloped away as fast as his bay could run. Deciding to chase him on
Delgadito's war horse, Geronimo was even more astonished when a shrill
whistle split the air.
The war horse whirled and trotted obediently to--Delgadito himself! For
the first time Geronimo noticed that the watching boys had disappeared
too. He alone had been so interested in the duel that he had failed to
see Delgadito come. The chief's eyes blazed with anger.
"Why do you fight a duel of stallions?" he demanded.
"The son of Ponce gave me the lie!" said Geronimo, sitting erect on the
war horse. "I killed three deer with my bow and arrows! Young Ponce said
I found them dead!"
"Come with me!" commanded Delgadito.
He turned toward his gray hunting horse, which was rein-haltered near by
and which had a buck strapped behind the saddle. Without a word or a
backward glance the tall chief mounted and rode at a walk in the
direction of his wickiup.
Though he shivered inwardly, Geronimo did his best not to show it as he
followed. Nor was he sorry that he had stolen the war horse. He had
acted as a warrior should; he would take his punishment like a warrior.
When they reached the wickiup, they dismounted and Delgadito tethered
both horses. Then he removed his bow and quiver of arrows from the
hunting horse, took a single arrow from the quiver, and gave the arrow
and the bow to Geronimo.
[Illustration]
"Killer of deer, I would see you shoot," the chief ordered.