_Flight into Mexico_
The lowering sun scorched Camp Goodwin, the United States Army fort on
the San Carlos reservation. But despite the sun, Geronimo had been
sitting near the fort all day, as he had sat for the past six days, with
a Navajo blanket draped about him and his fastest pony near at hand. He
wanted the Indian agent at Camp Goodwin, a man named Hoag, to become
accustomed to his sitting thus so that Hoag would pay no attention to
him.
On this seventh day, plans that had been more than a year in the making
were at last as perfect as they ever would be. Swift action lay ahead.
Geronimo's blanket hid a Winchester repeating rifle and bullet-filled
belts. He watched a little group of Apaches, all mounted, riding
southward. Nobody else paid any attention; the group might have been
going hunting or wood gathering.
Geronimo returned his attention to Camp Goodwin. Two Apache chiefs named
Loco and Nana, with most of their people, were gathered near the
building. They all knew that Geronimo and another leader, Whoa, were
about to make a break for Mexico with sixty warriors and a hundred and
sixty women and children. Loco and Nana wanted to be sure that the agent
could see them near the fort and know that they were taking no part in
this break.
Geronimo wanted to make sure that neither chief told Hoag of the
forthcoming flight. If there was any sign that they intended to betray
his plans for escape, Geronimo would shoot them, and Loco and Nana both
knew it.
Planning the flight had not been easy. And when the plans were made it
had been necessary to choose the right time for the break. There would
never be a better one than this afternoon. Many of the soldiers usually
stationed at Camp Goodwin were away. Some were campaigning in New
Mexico. Some were hunting outlaw Apaches who had been reported near the
Arizona-Mexico border.
Whoa had left early this morning to wait in a dry wash some miles to the
south. All day long Apaches had been quietly drifting out to join him.
They intended to start just before dark so they would have all night
before the soldiers still in Camp Goodwin could take their trail.
Geronimo's eyes narrowed. Loco and Nana and their followers had done
nothing. But the man named Sterling, Chief of San Carlos Police, now
rode up with some Apache policemen. Had someone betrayed the careful
plans? Or had Sterling intended to bring his Apache Police to Camp
Goodwin anyhow?
The sun told Geronimo that it was a little past four o'clock. He rose.
Still keeping the rifle hidden under his blanket, he walked to his pony
and was preparing to mount when the man named Sterling shouted:
"Hey you! Wait!"
Pretending he did not know that he was being addressed, Geronimo did not
look around. Sterling shouted again:
"I mean you, Geronimo! Stop or I'll shoot!"
Geronimo sprang to the saddle, dropping his blanket as he did so.
Sterling's rifle cracked and a bullet sang close. Leveling his own
rifle from the back of the already running pony, Geronimo flung a shot
at Sterling. He bent low on his pony's back to make a smaller target as
bullets from Sterling's Apache police whistled past. Then he galloped
over a hill and was hidden.
[Illustration]
Geronimo raced into the dry wash where the rest awaited him. All the
warriors were on foot and holding their horses. The women and children
were mounted, and some of the women held tightly to babies not yet old
enough to ride alone. Most children, often with three on the same pony,
managed their own mounts. Whoa, an Indian so big that he dwarfed the
wiry little pony he rode, came to meet Geronimo.
"What news do you bring?" Whoa asked.
Geronimo said, "The man named Sterling came with his Apache police. He
shot at me, and I shot at him, but I do not know if I hit him. The
soldiers must know soon that we are gone."
"Come."
The warriors mounted. With an advance and rear guard, and scouts on
either side, men, women, and children rode on at a fast trot.
Night fell, and they were safe until the sun rose again. But sunrise
might find soldiers hot on their trail, so there could be no thought of
sparing horses. The only sleep they dared allow themselves was such
snatches as might be had in the saddle. From time to time they nibbled a
bit of the parched corn or jerky, sun-dried beef that they carried in
pouches.
With daylight, Geronimo reined in on top of a hill and looked behind
him. There were no soldiers in sight and no cloud of dust, to indicate
that any were coming. Geronimo turned and overtook Whoa.
"Nobody comes from the rear," he said, "but we shall be in trouble
soon. Our mounts reel from weariness."
"Yes," Whoa grunted.
Neither said more. Both had known that they and their people must travel
fast. And both had also known that their horses and ponies could not run
all the way to Mexico. They did not know yet what they would do when the
animals were played out.
Some Apaches were asleep in the saddle, and now the fastest must suit
their gait to the slowest. A pony stumbled, almost went down, then found
his balance and pounded on. Suddenly Geronimo pointed ahead and
exclaimed:
"Look! Usan has smiled upon us!"
A long pack train, with some horses and mules bearing packs and many
more running loose, was making its way up the valley. Knowing how to get
the last burst of speed from his tired pony, Geronimo whooped and sped
to the attack. He began to shoot as soon as he was in range, and he
heard the rifles of the rest of the warriors blasting behind him.
[Illustration: "_Look! Usan has smiled upon us!_"]
The white men and the Mexicans with them were outnumbered six to one.
They fired a few hasty return shots and spurred out of danger, leaving
their pack train and loose horses behind them. Letting the fleeing men
go, Geronimo rode in ahead of the frightened horses and turned them. The
warriors surrounded the herd.
There was a quick exchange of saddles and bridles, a swift rummaging
through all the packs for priceless rifles and bullets, and most of the
Apaches rode on.
Freshly mounted, Geronimo returned to the top of a hill for another look
at the back trail. He could still see neither soldiers nor the telltale
dust cloud to indicate any were coming. Geronimo hurried to catch Whoa.
"No soldiers are near enough to cause trouble from the rear," he
reported. "So rather than go on at full speed, it would be wise to ride
these fresh horses at a pace they can maintain."
"Wise indeed," Whoa said. "But let us not forget that some soldiers are
elsewhere and even now may be returning to Camp Goodwin. We must be
alert for whoever approaches from the front."