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[Illustration: CRAWFORD’S COLUMN MOVING TO THE FRONT.]
AN APACHE CAMPAIGN IN THE SIERRA MADRE.
An Account of the Expedition in Pursuit of the
Hostile Chiricahua Apaches in the
Spring of 1883.
by
JOHN G. BOURKE,
Captain Third Cavalry, U. S. Army,
Author of “The Snake Dance of the Moquis.”
Illustrated
New York
Charles Scribner’S Sons.
1886.
Copyright 1886,
By Charles Scribner’S Sons.
Press of J. J. Little & Co.,
Nos. 10 to 20 Astor Place, New York.
PREFACE.
The recent outbreak of a fraction of the Chiricahua Apaches, and the
frightful atrocities which have marked their trail through Arizona,
Sonora, New Mexico, and Chihuahua, has attracted renewed attention to
these brave but bloodthirsty aborigines and to the country exposed to
their ravages.
The contents of this book, which originally appeared in a serial
form in the _Outing Magazine_ of Boston, represent the details of
the expedition led by General Crook to the Sierra Madre, Mexico, in
1883; but, as the present military operations are conducted by the
same commander, against the same enemy, and upon the same field of
action, a perusal of these pages will, it is confidently believed,
place before the reader a better knowledge of the general situation
than any article which is likely soon to appear.
There is this difference to be noted, however; of the one hundred
and twenty-five (125) fighting men brought back from the Sierra
Madre, less than one-third have engaged in the present hostilities,
from which fact an additional inference may be drawn both of the
difficulties to be overcome in the repression of these disturbances
and of the horrors which would surely have accumulated upon the heads
of our citizens had the _whole_ fighting force of this fierce band
taken to the mountains.
One small party of eleven (11) hostile Chiricahuas, during the period
from November 15th, 1885, to the present date, has killed twenty-one
(21) friendly Apaches living in peace upon the reservation, and no
less than twenty-five (25) white men, women, and children. This
bloody raid has been conducted through a country filled with regular
troops, militia, and “rangers,”--and at a loss to the enemy, so far
as can be shown, of only one man, whose head is now at Fort Apache.
JOHN G. BOURKE.
APACHE INDIAN AGENCY,
SAN CARLOS, ARIZONA,
_December 15th, 1885_.
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.
PAGE
CRAWFORD’S COLUMN MOVING TO THE FRONT _Frontispiece._
APACHE VILLAGE SCENE to face 7
APACHE WAR-DANCE 17
APACHE INDIAN SCOUTS EXAMINING TRAILS BY NIGHT 23
APACHE AWL-CASES, TOBACCO BAGS, ETC. 26
APACHE AMBUSCADE 34
APACHE HEAD-DRESSES, SHOES, TOYS, ETC. 49
APACHE WEAPONS AND EQUIPMENTS 64
APACHE GIRL, WITH TYPICAL DRESS 79
APACHE WARFARE 88
APACHE BASKET-WORK 100
FIGHTING THE PRAIRIE FIRE 107
AN APACHE CAMPAIGN.
I.
Within the compass of this volume it is impossible to furnish a
complete dissertation upon the Apache Indians or the causes which led
up to the expedition about to be described. The object is simply to
outline some of the difficulties attending the solution of the Indian
question in the South-west and to make known the methods employed
in conducting campaigns against savages in hostility. It is thought
that the object desired can best be accomplished by submitting an
unmutilated extract from the journal carefully kept during the whole
period involved.
Much has necessarily been excluded, but without exception it has
been to avoid repetition, or else to escape the introduction of
information bearing upon the language, the religion, marriages,
funeral ceremonies, etc., of this interesting race, which would
increase the bulk of the manuscript, and, perhaps, detract from its
value in the eyes of the general reader.
Ethnologically the Apache is classed with the Tinneh tribes, living
close to the Yukon and Mackenzie rivers, within the Arctic circle.
For centuries he has been preëminent over the more peaceful nations
about him for courage, skill, and daring in war; cunning in deceiving
and evading his enemies; ferocity in attack when skilfully-planned
ambuscades have led an unwary foe into his clutches; cruelty and
brutality to captives; patient endurance and fortitude under the
greatest privations.
In peace he has commanded respect for keen-sighted intelligence, good
fellowship, warmth of feeling for his friends, and impatience of
wrong.
No Indian has more virtues and none has been more truly ferocious
when aroused. He was the first of the native Americans to defeat in
battle or outwit in diplomacy the all-conquering, smooth-tongued
Spaniard, with whom and his Mexican-mongrel descendants he has waged
cold-blooded, heart-sickening war since the days of Cortés. When the
Spaniard had fire-arms and corselet of steel he was unable to push
back this fierce, astute aborigine, provided simply with lance and
bow. The past fifty years have seen the Apache provided with arms
of precision, and, especially since the introduction of magazine
breech-loaders, the Mexican has not only ceased to be an intruder
upon the Apache, but has trembled for the security of life and
property in the squalid hamlets of the States of Chihuahua and Sonora.
In 1871 the War Department confided to General George Crook the task
of whipping into submission all the bands of the Apache nation living
in Arizona. How thoroughly that duty was accomplished is now a matter
of history. But at the last moment one band--the Chiricahuas--was
especially exempted from Crook’s jurisdiction. They were not attacked
by troops, and for years led a Jack-in-the-box sort of an existence,
now popping into an agency and now popping out, anxious, if their
own story is to be credited, to live at peace with the whites, but
unable to do so from lack of nourishment.
When they went upon the reservation, rations in abundance were
promised for themselves and families. A difference of opinion soon
arose with the agent as to what constituted a ration, the wicked
Indians laboring under the delusion that it was enough food to
keep the recipient from starving to death, and objecting to an
issue of supplies based upon the principle according to which
grumbling Jack-tars used to say that prize-money was formerly
apportioned,--that is, by being thrown through the rungs of a
ladder--what stuck being the share of the Indian, and what fell
to the ground being the share of the agent. To the credit of the
agent it must be said that he made a praiseworthy but ineffectual
effort to alleviate the pangs of hunger by a liberal distribution
of hymn-books among his wards. The perverse Chiricahuas, not being
able to digest works of that nature, and unwilling to acknowledge
the correctness of the agent’s arithmetic, made up their minds to
sally out from San Carlos and take refuge in the more hospitable
wilderness of the Sierra Madre. Their discontent was not allayed by
rumors whispered about of the intention of the agent to have the
whole tribe removed bodily to the Indian Territory. Coal had been
discovered on the reservation, and speculators clamored that the land
involved be thrown open for development, regardless of the rights
of the Indians. But, so the story goes, matters suddenly reached a
focus when the agent one day sent his chief of police to arrest a
Chiricahua charged with some offense deemed worthy of punishment in
the guard-house. The offender started to run through the Indian camp,
and the chief of police fired at him, but missed his aim and killed a
luckless old squaw, who happened in range. This wretched marksmanship
was resented by the Chiricahuas, who refused to be comforted by
the profuse apologies tendered for the accident. They silently
made their preparations, waiting long enough to catch the chief of
police, kill him, cut off his head, and play a game of foot-ball with
it; and then, like a flock of quail, the whole band, men, women,
and children--710 in all--started on the dead run for the Mexican
boundary, one hundred and fifty miles to the south.
Hotly pursued by the troops, they fought their way across Southern
Arizona and New Mexico, their route marked by blood and devastation.
The valleys of the Santa Cruz and San Pedro witnessed a repetition
of the once familiar scenes of farmers tilling their fields with
rifles and shot-guns strapped to the plow-handle. While engaged in
fighting off the American forces, which pressed too closely upon
their rear, the Apaches were attacked in front by the Mexican column
under Colonel Garcia, who, in a savagely contested fight, achieved
a “substantial victory,” killing eighty-five and capturing thirty,
eleven of which total of one hundred and fifteen were men, and the
rest women and children. The Chiricahuas claim that when the main
body of their warriors reached the scene of the engagement the
Mexicans evinced no anxiety to come out from the rifle-pits they
hastily dug. To this fact no allusion can be found in the Mexican
commander’s published dispatches.
[Illustration: APACHE VILLAGE SCENE.]
The Chiricahuas, now reduced to an aggregate of less than 600--150
of whom were warriors and big boys, withdrew to the recesses of the
adjacent Sierra Madre--their objective point. Not long after this the
Chiricahuas made overtures for an armistice with the Mexicans, who
invited them to a little town near Casas Grandes, Chihuahua, for a
conference. They were courteously received, plied with liquor until
drunk, and then attacked tooth and nail, ten or twelve warriors being
killed and some twenty-live or thirty women hurried off to captivity.
This is a one-sided description of the affair, given by a Chiricahua
who participated. The newspapers of that date contained telegraph
accounts of a fierce battle and another “victory” from Mexican
sources; so that no doubt there is some basis for the story.
Meantime General Crook had been reassigned by the President to the
command of the Department of Arizona, which he had left nearly
ten years previously in a condition of peace and prosperity, with
the Apaches hard at work upon the reservation, striving to gain a
living by cultivating the soil. Incompetency and rascality, in the
interval, had done their worst, and when Crook returned not only
were the Chiricahuas on the war-path, but all the other bands of
the Apache nation were in a state of scarcely concealed defection
and hostility. Crook lost not a moment in visiting his old friends
among the chiefs and warriors, and by the exercise of a strong
personal influence, coupled with assurances that the wrongs of which
the Apaches complained should be promptly redressed, succeeded in
averting an outbreak which would have made blood flow from the
Pecos to the Colorado, and for the suppression of which the gentle
and genial tax-payer would have been compelled to contribute most
liberally of his affluence. Attended by an aid-de-camp, a surgeon,
and a dozen Apache scouts, General Crook next proceeded to the
south-east corner of Arizona, from which point he made an attempt
to open up communication with the Chiricahuas. In this he was
unsuccessful, but learned from a couple of squaws, intercepted
while attempting to return to the San Carlos, that the Chiricahuas
had sworn vengeance upon Mexicans and Americans alike; that
their stronghold was an impregnable position in the Sierra Madre,
a “great way” below the International Boundary; and that they
supplied themselves with an abundance of food by raiding upon the
cattle-ranches and “haciendas” in the valleys and plains below.
Crook now found himself face to face with the following intricate
problem: The Chiricahuas occupied a confessedly impregnable position
in the precipitous range known as the Sierra Madre. This position was
within the territory of another nation so jealous of its privileges
as not always to be able to see clearly in what direction its best
interests lay. The territory harassed by the Chiricahuas not only
stretched across the boundary separating Mexico from the United
States, but was divided into four military departments--two in
each country; hence an interminable amount of jealousy, suspicion,
fault-finding, and antagonism would surely dog the steps of him who
should endeavor to bring the problem to a solution.
To complicate matters further, the Chiricahuas, and all the other
Apaches as well, were filled with the notion that the Mexicans were
a horde of cowards and treacherous liars, afraid to meet them in war
but valiant enough to destroy their women and children, for whose
blood, by the savage’s law of retaliation, blood must in turn be
shed. Affairs went on in this unsatisfactory course from October,
1882, until March, 1883, everybody in Arizona expecting a return of
the dreaded Chiricahuas, but no one knowing where the first attack
should be made. The meagre military force allotted to the department
was distributed so as to cover as many exposed points as possible,
one body of 150 Apache scouts, under Captain Emmet Crawford, Third
Cavalry, being assigned to the arduous duty of patrolling the
Mexican boundary for a distance of two hundred miles, through a
rugged country pierced with ravines and cañons. No one was surprised
to learn that toward the end of March this skeleton line had been
stealthily penetrated by a bold band of twenty-six Chiricahuas, under
a very crafty and daring young chief named _Chato_ (Spanish for Flat
Nose).
By stealing fresh horses from every ranch they were successful in
traversing from seventy-five to one hundred miles a day, killing and
destroying all in their path, the culminating point in their bloody
career being the butchery of Judge McComas and wife, prominent and
refined people of Silver City, N. M., and the abduction of their
bright boy, Charlie, whom the Indians carried back with them on their
retreat through New Mexico and Chihuahua.
It may serve to give some idea of the courage, boldness, and subtlety
of these raiders to state that in their dash through Sonora, Arizona,
New Mexico, and Chihuahua, a distance of not less than eight hundred
miles, they passed at times through localities fairly well settled
and close to an aggregate of at least 5,000 troops--4,500 Mexican and
500 American. They killed twenty-five persons, Mexican and American,
and lost but two--one killed near the Total Wreck mine, Arizona, and
one who fell into the hands of the American troops, of which last
much has to be narrated.
To attempt to catch such a band of Apaches by _direct_ pursuit would
be about as hopeless a piece of business as that of catching so many
fleas. All that could be done was done; the country was alarmed
by telegraph; people at exposed points put upon their guard, while
detachments of troops scoured in every direction, hoping, by good
luck, to intercept, retard, mayhap destroy, the daring marauders.
The trail they had made coming up from Mexico could, however, be
followed, _back_ to the stronghold; and this, in a military sense,
would be the most _direct_, as it would be the most practical pursuit.
Crook’s plans soon began to outline themselves. He first
concentrated at the most eligible position on the Southern Pacific
Railroad--Willcox--all the skeletons of companies which were
available, for the protection of Arizona.
Forage, ammunition, and subsistence were brought in on every
train; the whole organization was carefully inspected, to secure
the rejection of every unserviceable soldier, animal, or weapon;
telegrams and letters were sent to the officers commanding the
troops of Mexico, but no replies were received, the addresses of the
respective generals not being accurately known. As their co-operation
was desirable, General Crook, as a last resort, went by railroad to
Guaymas, Hermosillo, and Chihuahua, there to see personally and
confer with the Mexican civil and military authorities. The cordial
reception extended him by all classes was the best evidence of the
high regard in which he was held by the inhabitants of the two
afflicted States of Sonora and Chihuahua, and of their readiness
to welcome any force he would lead to effect the destruction or
removal of the common enemy. Generals Topete and Carbó--soldiers of
distinction--the governors of the two States, and Mayor Zubiran,
of Chihuahua, were most earnest in their desire for a removal of
savages whose presence was a cloud upon the prosperity of their
fellow-citizens. General Crook made no delay in these conferences,
but hurried back to Willcox and marched his command thence to the
San Bernardino springs, in the south-east corner of the Territory
(Arizona).
But serious delays and serious complications were threatened by the
intemperate behavior of an organization calling itself the “Tombstone
Rangers,” which marched in the direction of the San Carlos Agency
with the avowed purpose of “cleaning out” all the Indians there
congregated. The chiefs and head men of the Apaches had just caused
word to be telegraphed to General Crook that they intended sending
him another hundred of their picked warriors as an assurance and
pledge that they were not in sympathy with the Chiricahuas on the
war-path. Upon learning of the approach of the “Rangers” the chiefs
prudently deferred the departure of the new levy of scouts until the
horizon should clear, and enable them to see what was to be expected
from their white neighbors.
The whiskey taken along by the “Rangers” was exhausted in less
than ten days, when the organization expired of thirst, to the
gratification of the respectable inhabitants of the frontier, who
repudiated an interference with the plans of the military commander,
respected and esteemed by them for former distinguished services.
At this point it may be well to insert an outline of the story told
by the Chiricahua captive who had been brought down from the San
Carlos Agency to Willcox. He said that his name was Pa-nayo-tishn
(the Coyote saw him); that he was not a Chiricahua, but a White
Mountain Apache of the Dest-chin (or Red Clay) clan, married to two
Chiricahua women, by whom he had had children, and with whose people
he had lived for years. He had left the Chiricahua stronghold in the
mountain called Pa-gotzin-kay some five days’ journey below Casas
Grandes in Chihuahua. From that stronghold the Chiricahuas had been
raiding with impunity upon the Mexicans. When pursued they would draw
the Mexicans into the depths of the mountains, ambuscade them, and
kill them by rolling down rocks from the heights.
The Chiricahuas had plenty of horses and cattle, but little food of a
vegetable character. They were finely provided with sixteen-shooting
breech-loading rifles, but were getting short of ammunition, and
had made their recent raid into Arizona, hoping to replenish their
supply of cartridges. Dissensions had broken out among the chiefs,
some of whom, he thought, would be glad to return to the reservation.
In making raids they counted upon riding from sixty to seventy-five
miles a day as they stole fresh horses all the time and killed
those abandoned. It would be useless to pursue them, but he would
lead General Crook back along the trail they had made coming up
from Mexico, and he had no doubt the Chiricahuas could be taken by
surprise.
He had not gone with them of his own free will, but had been
compelled to leave the reservation, and had been badly treated while
with them. The Chiricahuas left the San Carlos because the agent had
stolen their rations, beaten their women, and killed an old squaw.
He asserted emphatically that no communication of any kind had been
held with the Apaches at San Carlos, every attempt in that direction
having been frustrated.
[Illustration: APACHE WAR-DANCE.]
The Chiricahuas, according to Pa-nayo-tishn, numbered seventy
full-grown warriors and fifty big boys able to fight, with an unknown
number of women and children. In their fights with the Mexicans about
one hundred and fifty had been killed and captured, principally women
and children. The stronghold in the Sierra Madre was described as a
dangerous, rocky, almost inaccessible place, having plenty of wood,
water, and grass, but no food except what was stolen from the
Mexicans. Consequently the Chiricahuas might be starved out.
General Crook ordered the irons to be struck from the prisoner; to
which he demurred, saying he would prefer to wear shackles for the
present, until his conduct should prove his sincerity. A half-dozen
prominent scouts promised to guard him and watch him; so the fetters
were removed, and Pa-nayo-tishn or “Peaches,” as the soldiers
called him, was installed in the responsible office of guide of the
contemplated expedition.
By the 22d of April many of the preliminary arrangements had
been completed and some of the difficulties anticipated had been
smoothed over. Nearly 100 Apache scouts joined the command from the
San Carlos Reservation, and in the first hours of night began a
war-dance, which continued without a break until the first flush of
dawn the next day. They were all in high feather, and entered into
the spirit of the occasion with full zest. Not much time need be
wasted upon a description of their dresses; they didn’t wear any,
except breech-clout and moccasins. To the music of an improvised
drum and the accompaniment of marrow-freezing yells and shrieks
they pirouetted and charged in all directions, swaying their bodies
violently, dropping on one knee, then suddenly springing high in air,
discharging their pieces, and all the time chanting a rude refrain,
in which their own prowess was exalted and that of their enemies
alluded to with contempt. Their enthusiasm was not abated by the
announcement, quietly diffused, that the “medicine men” had been hard
at work, and had succeeded in making a “medicine” which would surely
bring the Chiricahuas to grief.
In accordance with the agreement entered into with the Mexican
authorities, the American troops were to reach the boundary line _not
sooner than May 1_, the object being to let the restless Chiricahuas
quiet down as much as possible, and relax their vigilance, while at
the same time it enabled the Mexican troops to get into position for
effective co-operation.
The convention between our government and that of Mexico, by which
a reciprocal crossing of the International Boundary was conceded
to the troops of the two republics, stipulated that such crossing
should be authorized when the troops were “in close pursuit of a band
of savage Indians,” and the crossing was made “in the unpopulated
or desert parts of said boundary line,” which unpopulated or desert
parts “had to be two leagues from any encampment or town of either
country.” The commander of the troops crossing was to give notice
at time of crossing, or before if possible, to the nearest military
commander or civil authority of the country entered. The pursuing
force was to retire to its own territory as soon as it should have
fought the band of which it was in pursuit, or lost the trail; and in
no case could it “establish itself or remain in the foreign territory
for a longer time than necessary to make the pursuit of the band
whose trail it had followed.”
The weak points of this convention were the imperative stipulation
that the troops should return at once after a fight and the ambiguity
of the terms “close pursuit,” and “unpopulated country.” A friendly
expedition from the United States might follow close on the heels of
a party of depredating Apaches, but, under a rigid construction of
the term “unpopulated,” have to turn back when it had reached some
miserable hamlet exposed to the full ferocity of savage attack, and
most in need of assistance, as afterwards proved to be the case.
The complication was not diminished by the orders dispatched by
General Sherman on March 31 to General Crook to continue the pursuit
of the Chiricahuas “without regard to departmental or national
boundaries.” Both General Crook and General Topete, anxious to
have every difficulty removed which lay in the way of a thorough
adjustment of this vexed question, telegraphed to their respective
governments asking that a more elastic interpretation be given to the
terms of the convention.
To this telegram General Crook received reply that he must abide
strictly by the terms of the convention, which could only be changed
with the concurrence of the Mexican Senate. But what these terms
meant exactly was left just as much in the dark as before. On the 23d
of April General Crook moved out from Willcox, accompanied by the
Indian scouts and a force of seven skeleton companies of the Third
and Sixth Cavalry, under Colonel James Biddle, guarding a train of
wagons, with supplies of ammunition and food for two months. This
force, under Colonel Biddle, was to remain in reserve at or near San
Bernardino Springs on the Mexican boundary, while its right and left
flanks respectively were to be covered by detachments commanded by
Rafferty, Vroom, Overton, and Anderson; this disposition affording
the best possible protection to the settlements in case any of the
Chiricahuas should make their way to the rear of the detachment
penetrating Mexico.
A disagreeable sand-storm enveloped the column as it left the line of
the Southern Pacific Railroad, preceded by the detachment of Apache
scouts. A few words in regard to the peculiar methods of the Apaches
in marching and conducting themselves while on a campaign may not be
out of place. To veterans of the campaigns of the Civil War familiar
with the compact formations of the cavalry and infantry of the Army
of the Potomac, the loose, straggling methods of the Apache scouts
would appear startling, and yet no soldier would fail to apprehend
at a glance that the Apache was the perfect, the ideal, scout of
the whole world. When Lieutenant Gatewood, the officer in command,
gave the short, jerky order, Ugashé--Go!--the Apaches started as if
shot from a gun, and in a minute or less had covered a space of one
hundred yards front, which distance rapidly widened as they advanced,
at a rough, shambling walk, in the direction of Dos Cabezas (Two
Heads), the mining camp near which the first halt was to be made.
[Illustration: APACHE INDIAN SCOUTS EXAMINING TRAILS BY NIGHT.]
They moved with no semblance of regularity; individual fancy alone
governed. Here was a clump of three; not far off two more, and
scattered in every point of the compass, singly or in clusters, were
these indefatigable scouts, with vision as keen as a hawk’s, tread
as untiring and as stealthy as the panther’s, and ears so sensitive
that nothing escapes them. An artist, possibly, would object to
many of them as undersized, but in all other respects they would
satisfy every requirement of anatomical criticism. Their chests
were broad, deep, and full; shoulders perfectly straight; limbs
well-proportioned, strong, and muscular, without a suggestion
of undue heaviness; hands and feet small and taper but wiry;
heads well-shaped, and countenances often lit up with a pleasant,
good-natured expression, which would be more constant, perhaps,
were it not for the savage, untamed cast imparted by the loose,
disheveled, gypsy locks of raven black, held away from the face
by a broad, flat band of scarlet cloth. Their eyes were bright,
clear, and bold, frequently expressive of the greatest good-humor
and satisfaction. Uniforms had been issued, but were donned upon
ceremonial occasions only. On the present march each wore a loosely
fitting shirt of red, white, or gray stuff, generally of calico, in
some gaudy figure, but not infrequently the sombre article of woollen
raiment issued to white soldiers. This came down outside a pair of
loose cotton drawers, reaching to the moccasins. The moccasins are
the most important articles of Apache apparel. In a fight or on
a long march they will discard all else, but under any and every
circumstance will retain the moccasins. These had been freshly made
before leaving Willcox. The Indian to be fitted stands erect upon
the ground while a companion traces with a sharp knife the outlines
of the sole of his foot upon a piece of rawhide. The leggin is made
of soft buckskin, attached to the foot and reaching to mid-thigh. For
convenience in marching, it is allowed to hang in folds below the
knee. The raw-hide sole is prolonged beyond the great toe, and turned
upward in a shield, which protects from cactus and sharp stones. A
leather belt encircling the waist holds forty rounds of metallic
cartridges, and also keeps in place the regulation blue blouse and
pantaloons, which are worn upon the person only when the Indian scout
is anxious to “paralyze” the frontier towns or military posts by a
display of all his finery.
The other trappings of these savage auxiliaries are a Springfield
breech-loading rifle, army pattern, a canteen full of water, a
butcher knife, an awl in leather case, a pair of tweezers, and a
tag. The awl is used for sewing moccasins or work of that kind. With
the tweezers the Apache young man carefully picks out each and every
hair appearing upon his face. The tag marks his place in the tribe,
and is in reality nothing more or less than a revival of a plan
adopted during the war of the rebellion for the identification of
soldiers belonging to the different corps and divisions. Each male
Indian at the San Carlos is tagged and numbered, and a descriptive
list, corresponding to the tag kept, with a full recital of all his
physical peculiarities.
This is the equipment of each and every scout; but there are many,
especially the more pious and influential, who carry besides,
strapped at the waist, little buckskin bags of Hoddentin, or sacred
meal, with which to offer morning and evening sacrifice to the
sun or other deity. Others, again, are provided with amulets of
lightning-riven twigs, pieces of quartz crystal, petrified wood,
concretionary sandstone, galena, or chalchihuitls, or fetiches
representing some of their countless planetary gods or Kân, which
are regarded as the “dead medicine” for frustrating the designs of
the enemy or warding off arrows and bullets in the heat of action.
And a few are happy in the possession of priceless sashes and shirts
of buckskin, upon which are emblazoned the signs of the sun, moon,
lightning, rainbow, hail, fire, the water-beetle, butterfly, snake,
centipede, and other powers to which they may appeal for aid in the
hour of distress.
The Apache is an eminently religious person, and the more deviltry he
plans the more pronounced does his piety become.
[Illustration: APACHE AWL-CASES, TOBACCO BAGS, AND HEAD-DRESSES WORN
BY YOUNG GIRLS.]
The rate of speed attained by the Apaches in marching is about an
even four miles an hour on foot, or not quite fast enough to make a
horse trot. They keep this up for about fifteen miles, at the end
of which distance, if water be encountered and no enemy be sighted,
they congregate in bands of from ten to fifteen each, hide in some
convenient ravine, sit down, smoke cigarettes, chat and joke, and
stretch out in the sunlight, basking like the negroes of the South.
If they want to make a little fire, they kindle one with matches, if
they happen to have any with them; if not, a rapid twirl, between the
palms, of a hard round stick fitting into a circular hole in another
stick of softer fiber, will bring fire in from eight to forty-five
seconds. The scouts by this time have painted their faces, daubing
them with red ochre, deer’s blood, or the juice of roasted “mescal.”
The object of this is protection from wind and sun, as well as
distinctive ornamentation.
The first morning’s rest of the Apaches was broken by the shrill
cry of Choddi! Choddi! (Antelope! Antelope!) and far away on the
left the dull slump! slump! of rifles told that the Apaches on that
flank were getting fresh meat for the evening meal. Twenty carcasses
demonstrated that they were not the worst of shots; neither were
they, by any means, bad cooks.
When the command reached camp these restless, untiring nomads built
in a trice all kinds of rude shelters. Those that had the army “dog
tents” put them up on frame-works of willow or cotton-wood saplings;
others, less fortunate, improvised domiciles of branches covered
with grass, or of stones and boards covered with gunny sacks. Before
these were finished smoke curled gracefully toward the sky from
crackling embers, in front of which, transfixed on wooden spits,
were the heads, hearts, and livers of several of the victims of
the afternoon’s chase. Another addition to the _spolia opima_ was a
cotton-tailed rabbit, run down by these fleet-footed Bedouins of the
South-west. Turkeys and quail are caught in the same manner.
Meanwhile a couple of scouts were making bread,--the light, thin
“tortillas” of the Mexicans, baked quickly in a pan, and not bad
eating. Two others were fraternally occupied in preparing their bed
for the night. Grass was pulled by handfuls, laid upon the ground,
and covered with one blanket, another serving as cover. These
Indians, with scarcely an exception, sleep with their feet pointed
toward little fires, which, they claim, are warm, while the big ones
built by the American soldiers, are so hot that they drive people
away from them, and, besides, attract the attention of a lurking
enemy. At the foot of this bed an Apache was playing on a home-made
fiddle, fabricated from the stalk of the “mescal,” or American aloe.
This fiddle has four strings, and emits a sound like the wail of a
cat with its tail caught in a fence. But the noble red man likes the
music, which perhaps is, after all, not so very much inferior to that
of Wagner.
Enchanted and stimulated by the concord of sweet sounds, a party of
six was playing fiercely at the Mexican game of “monte,” the cards
employed being of native manufacture, of horse-hide, covered with
barbarous figures, and well worthy of a place in any museum.
The cooking was by this time ended, and the savages, with genuine
hospitality, invited the Americans near them to join in the feast. It
was not conducive to appetite to glance at dirty paws tearing bread
and meat into fragments; yet the meat thus cooked was tender and
juicy, the bread not bad, and the coffee strong and fairly well made.
The Apaches squatted nearest to the American guests felt it incumbent
upon them to explain everything as the meal progressed. They said
this (pointing to the coffee) is Tu-dishishn (black water), and that
Zigosti (bread).
All this time scouts had been posted commanding every possible line
of approach. The Apache dreads surprise. It is his own favorite
mode of destroying an enemy, and knowing what he himself can do,
he ascribes to his foe--no matter how insignificant may be his
numbers--the same daring, recklessness, agility, and subtlety
possessed by himself. These Indian scouts will march thirty-five or
forty miles in a day on foot, crossing wide stretches of waterless
plains upon which a tropical sun beats down with fierceness, or
climbing up the faces of precipitous mountains which stretch across
this region in every direction.
The two great points of superiority of the native or savage soldier
over the representative of civilized discipline are his absolute
knowledge of the country and his perfect ability to take care of
himself at all times and under all circumstances. Though the rays
of the sun pour down from the zenith, or the scorching sirocco
blow from the south, the Apache scout trudges along as unconcerned
as he was when the cold rain or snow of winter chilled his white
comrade to the marrow. He finds food, and pretty good food too,
where the Caucasian would starve. Knowing the habits of wild animals
from his earliest youth, he can catch turkeys, quail, rabbits,
doves, or field-mice, and, perhaps, a prairie-dog or two, which
will supply him with meat. For some reason he cannot be induced to
touch fish, and bacon or any other product of the hog is eaten only
under duress; but the flesh of a horse, mule, or jackass, which has
dropped exhausted on the march and been left to die on the trail,
is a delicious morsel which the Apache epicure seizes upon wherever
possible. The stunted oak, growing on the mountain flanks, furnishes
acorns; the Spanish bayonet, a fruit that, when roasted in the ashes
of a camp-fire, looks and tastes something like the banana. The
whole region of Southern Arizona and Northern Mexico is matted with
varieties of the cactus, nearly every one of which is called upon
for its tribute of fruit or seed. The broad leaves and stalks of the
century-plant--called mescal--are roasted between hot stones, and
the product is rich in saccharine matter and extremely pleasant to
the taste. The wild potato and the bulb of the “tule” are found in
the damp mountain meadows; and the nest of the ground-bee is raided
remorselessly for its little store of honey. Sunflower-seeds, when
ground fine, are rich and nutritious. Walnuts grow in the deep
ravines, and strawberries in favorable locations; in the proper
season these, with the seeds of wild grasses and wild pumpkins, the
gum of the “mesquite,” or the sweet, soft inner bark of the pine,
play their part in staving off the pangs of hunger.
The above are merely a few of the resources of the Apache scout when
separated from the main command. When his moccasins give out on a
long march over the sharp rocks of the mountains or the cutting
sands of the plains, a few hours’ rest sees him equipped with a new
pair,--his own handiwork,--and so with other portions of his raiment.
He is never without awl, needle, thread, or sinew. Brought up from
infancy to the knowledge and use of arms of some kind,--at first the
bow and arrow, and later on the rifle,--he is perfectly at home with
his weapons, and knowing from past experience how important they are
for his preservation, takes much better care of them than does the
white soldier out of garrison.
He does not read the newspapers, but the great book of nature is
open to his perusal, and has been drained of much knowledge which
his pale-faced brother would be glad to acquire. Every track in the
trail, mark in the grass, scratch on the bark of a tree, explains
itself to the “untutored” Apache. He can tell to an hour, almost,
when the man or animal making them passed by, and, like a hound, will
keep on the scent until he catches up with the object of his pursuit.
In the presence of strangers the Apache soldier is sedate and
taciturn. Seated around his little apology for a camp-fire, in the
communion of his fellows, he becomes vivacious and conversational. He
is obedient to authority, but will not brook the restraints which,
under our notions of discipline, change men into machines. He makes
an excellent sentinel, and not a single instance can be adduced of
property having been stolen from or by an Apache on guard.
He has the peculiarity, noticed among so many savage tribes in
various parts of the world, of not caring to give his true name to a
stranger; if asked for it, he will either give a wrong one or remain
mute and let a comrade answer for him. This rule does not apply
where he has been dubbed with a sobriquet by the white soldiers. In
such case he will respond promptly, and tell the inquirer that he is
“Stumpy,” “Tom Thumb,” “Bill,” “Humpy Sam,” or “One-Eyed Reilly,”
as the case may be. But there is no such exception in regard to the
dead. Their names are never mentioned, even by the wailing friends
who loudly chant their virtues.
[Illustration: APACHE AMBUSCADE.]
Approaching the enemy his vigilance is a curious thing to witness. He
avoids appearing suddenly upon the crest of a hill, knowing that his
figure projected against the sky can at such time be discerned from
a great distance. He will carefully bind around his brow a sheaf of
grass, or some other foliage, and thus disguised crawl like a snake
to the summit and carefully peer about, taking in with his keen black
eyes the details of the country to the front with a rapidity, and
thoroughness the American or European can never acquire. In battle
he is again the antithesis of the Caucasian. The Apache has no false
ideas about courage; he would prefer to skulk like the coyote for
hours, and then kill his enemy, or capture his herd, rather than,
by injudicious exposure, receive a wound, fatal or otherwise. But
he is no coward; on the contrary, he is entitled to rank among the
bravest. The precautions taken for his safety prove that he is an
exceptionally skillful soldier. His first duty under fire is to jump
for a rock, bush, or hole, from which no enemy can drive him except
with loss of life or blood.
The policy of Great Britain has always been to enlist a force of
auxiliaries from among the natives of the countries falling under
her sway. The Government of the United States, on the contrary, has
persistently ignored the really excellent material, ready at hand,
which could, with scarcely an effort and at no expense, be mobilized,
and made to serve as a frontier police. General Crook is the only
officer of our army who has fully recognized the incalculable
value of a native contingent, and in all his campaigns of the past
thirty-five years has drawn about him as soon as possible a force of
Indians, which has been serviceable as guides and trailers, and also
of consequence in reducing the strength of the opposition.
The white army of the United States is a much better body of
officers and men than a critical and censorious public gives it
credit for being. It represents intelligence of a high order, and
a spirit of devotion to duty worthy of unbounded praise; but it
does not represent the acuteness of the savage races. It cannot
follow the trail like a dog on the scent. It may be brave and
well-disciplined, but its members cannot tramp or ride, as the case
may be, from forty to seventy-five miles in a day, without water,
under a burning sun. No civilized army can do that. It is one of the
defects of civilized training that man develops new wants, awakens
new necessities,--becomes, in a word, more and more a creature of
luxury.
Take the Apache Indian under the glaring sun of Mexico. He quietly
peels off all his clothing and enjoys the fervor of the day more than
otherwise. He may not be a great military genius, but he is inured
to all sorts of fatigue, and will be hilarious and jovial when the
civilized man is about to die of thirst.
Prominent among these scouts was of course first of all “Peaches,”
the captive guide. He was one of the handsomest men, physically,
to be found in the world. He never knew what it was to be tired,
cross, or out of humor. His knowledge of the topography of Northern
Sonora was remarkable, and his absolute veracity and fidelity in all
his dealings a notable feature in his character. With him might be
mentioned “Alchise,” “Mickey Free,” “Severiano,” “Nockié-cholli,”
“Nott,” and dozens of others, all tried and true men, experienced in
warfare and devoted to the general whose standard they followed.
II.
From Willcox to San Bernardino Springs, by the road the wagons
followed, is an even 100 miles. The march thither, through a most
excellent grazing country, was made in five days, by which time
the command was joined by Captain Emmet Crawford, Third Cavalry,
with more than 100 additional Apache scouts and several trains of
pack-mules.
San Bernardino Springs break out from the ground upon the Boundary
Line and flow south into the Yaqui River, of which the San Bernardino
River is the extreme head. These springs yielded an abundance of
water for all our needs, and at one time had refreshed thousands of
head of cattle, which have since disappeared under the attrition of
constant warfare with the Apaches.
The few days spent at San Bernardino were days of constant toil and
labor; from the first streak of dawn until far into the night the
task of organizing and arranging went on. Telegrams were dispatched
to the Mexican generals notifying them that the American troops would
leave promptly by the date agreed upon, and at last the Indian scouts
began their war-dances, and continued them without respite from each
sunset until the next sunrise. In a conference with General Crook
they informed him of their anxiety to put an end to the war and bring
peace to Arizona, so that the white men and Apaches could live and
work side by side.
By the 29th of April all preparations were complete. Baggage had been
cut down to a minimum. Every officer and man was allowed to carry
the clothes on his back, one blanket and forty rounds of ammunition.
Officers were ordered to mess with the packers and on the same food
issued to soldiers and Indian scouts. One hundred and sixty rounds
of extra ammunition and rations of hard-bread, coffee and bacon, for
sixty days, were carried on pack-mules.
At this moment General Sherman telegraphed to General Crook that he
must not cross the Mexican boundary in pursuit of Indians, except in
strict accord with the terms of the treaty, without defining exactly
what those terms meant. Crook replied, acknowledging receipt of these
instructions and saying that he would respect treaty stipulations.
On Tuesday, May 1st, 1883, the expedition crossed the boundary
into Mexico. Its exact composition was as follows: General George
Crook, in command. Captain John G. Bourke, Third Cavalry, acting
adjutant-general; Lieutenant G. S. Febiger, engineer officer,
aid-de-camp; Captain Chaffee, Sixth Cavalry, with Lieutenants West
and Forsyth, and forty-two enlisted men of “I” company of that
regiment; Doctor Andrews, Private A. F. Harmer of the General
Service, and 193 Indian scouts, under Captain Emmet Crawford,
Third Cavalry, Lieutenant Mackey, Third Cavalry, and Gatewood,
Sixth Cavalry, with whom were Al. Zeiber, McIntosh, “Mickey Free,”
Severiano, and Sam Bowman, as interpreters.
The pack-mules, for purposes of efficient management, were divided
into five trains, each with its complement of skilled packers. These
trains were under charge of Monach, Hopkins, Stanfield, “Long Jim
Cook,” and “Short Jim Cook.”
Each packer was armed with carbine and revolver, for self-protection,
but nothing could be expected of them, in the event of an attack,
beyond looking out for the animals. Consequently the effective
fighting strength of the command was a little over fifty white
men--officers and soldiers--and not quite 200 Apache scouts,
representing the various bands, Chiricahua, White Mountain, Yuma,
Mojave, and Tonto.
The first rays of the sun were beaming upon the Eastern hills as
we swung into our saddles, and, amid a chorus of good-byes and
God-bless-yous from those left behind, pushed down the hot and sandy
valley of the San Bernardino, past the mouth of Guadalupe cañon, to
near the confluence of Elias Creek, some twenty miles. Here camp was
made on the banks of a pellucid stream, under the shadow of graceful
walnut and ash trees. The Apache scouts had scoured the country to
the front and on both flanks, and returned loaded with deer and wild
turkeys, the latter being run down and caught in the bushes. One
escaped from its captors and started through camp on a full jump,
pursued by the Apaches, who, upon re-catching it, promptly twisted
its head off.
The Apaches were in excellent spirits, the “medicine-men” having
repeated with emphasis the prediction that the expedition was to be
a grand success. One of the most influential of them--a mere boy,
who carried the most sacred medicine--was especially positive in his
views, and, unlike most prophets, backed them up with a bet of $40.