"We will all go to Arispe," Mangus Coloradus said. "We will start at
once. For in truth we must fight the _rurales_ who massacred our
people."
"I shall tell Cochise," Naiche said.
Mangus Coloradus said, "Ask Cochise to inform Whoa. Tell both that we
join forces before Arispe."
"I shall inform Whoa," Naiche promised.
Naiche disappeared in the darkness. The word spread like wind-driven
wildfire, and warriors prepared to march. Nobody was mounted. Even with
almost a year to make ready, there had not been enough time to capture
war horses for everyone. Besides, so great a number of horsemen would be
far easier to detect than foot soldiers, so nobody rode.
Geronimo felt in the darkness to make sure his knife was at his belt. In
turn he fingered his powder horn, the pouch of beads, his parcel of
jerked meat, and his parcel of parched corn.
He hung over his shoulder the blanket that served him as bed by night
and clothing by day. Like all the rest of the warriors, he was going
into battle wearing as little clothing as possible, and the blanket
would be flung aside when the fight started. Taking his lance in his
left hand, Geronimo carried his shotgun in his right hand.