"That is as it should be," said Geronimo. "Apaches need room, and they
cannot crowd together as Mexicans and Americans do. But we may get
together when we choose."
"If I had known that Chato was going raiding into Arizona, I would have
chosen to ride with him," Francisco said.
Geronimo said wistfully, "I too, for I have longed to see Arizona once
more and have a good fight with American soldiers."
"Let us wish Chato all success," Francisco said.
Geronimo said, "He will have it. Benito rides with him, and twenty-six
picked warriors."
"Were I there, there would be twenty-seven picked warriors," Francisco
bragged.
Geronimo grunted sourly and lay down to sleep. A half hour later he was
awakened by Francisco's hand on his shoulder.
"They come," said Francisco.
Geronimo sat up and looked down the slope to see some thirty soldiers
climbing it. All led their horses, and they stopped often to rest.
Geronimo turned to Francisco.
"These are not the _rurales_ we once fought," he said. "_Rurales_ never
came so deeply into the Sierra Madres. If they did, they were never so
foolish as to be caught in daylight on a slope such as this."