at early dawn, came to see General Crook, and told him he wished for
peace. He earnestly promised amendment, and begged to be taken back
to San Carlos. He asked permission to get all his people together,
and said he had sent some of his young men off to hurry them in
from all points. He could not get them to answer his signals, as
they imagined them to be made by Apache scouts trying to ensnare
them. Chiricahuas were coming in all the morning,--all ages, and
both sexes,--sent in by “Chihuahua” and his party; most of these
were mounted on good ponies, and all drove pack and loose animals
before them. Early in the day there was seen winding through the
pine timber a curious procession,--mostly young warriors, of an
aggregate of thirty-eight souls,--driving steers and work cattle, and
riding ponies and burros. All these were armed with Winchester and
Springfield breech-loaders, with revolvers and lances whose blades
were old cavalry sabres. The little boys carried revolvers, lances,
and bows and arrows. This was the band of Kaw-tenné (Looking-Glass),
a young chief, who claimed to be a Mexican Apache and to belong to
the Sierra Madre, in whose recesses he had been born and raised.
[Illustration: APACHE WARFARE.]
The question of feeding all these mouths was getting to be a very
serious one. We had started out with sixty days’ supplies, one-third
of which had been consumed by our own command, and a considerable
percentage lost or damaged when mules rolled over the precipices.
The great heat of the sun had melted much bacon, and there was the
usual wastage incident to movements in campaign. Stringent orders
were given to limit issues to the lowest possible amount; while the
Chiricahuas were told that they must cut and roast all the mescal
to be found, and kill such cattle and ponies as could be spared.
The Chiricahua young men assumed the duty of butchering the meat.
Standing within five or six feet of a steer, a young buck would prod
the doomed beast one lightning lance-thrust immediately behind the
left fore-shoulder, and, with no noise other than a single bellow of
fear and agony, the beef would fall forward upon its knees, dead.
Camp at this period presented a medley of noises not often found
united under a military standard. Horses were neighing, mules
braying, and bells jingling, as the herds were brought in to be
groomed. The ring of axes against the trunks of stout pines and oaks,
the hum of voices, the squalling of babies, the silvery laughter
of children at play, and the occasional music of an Apache fiddle
or flute, combined in a pleasant discord which left the listener
uncertain whether he was in the bivouac of grim-visaged war or
among a band of school-children. Our Apache scouts--the Tontos
especially--treated the Chiricahuas with dignified reserve: the
Sierra Blancas (White Mountain) had intermarried with them, and were
naturally more familiar, but all watched their rifles and cartridges
very carefully to guard against treachery. The squaws kept at work,
jerking and cooking meat and mescal for consumption on the way back
to San Carlos. The entrails were the coveted portions, for the
possession of which the more greedy or more muscular fought with
frequency.
Two of these copper-skinned “ladies” engaged in a pitched battle;
they rushed for each other like a couple of infuriated Texas steers;
hair flew, blood dripped from battered noses, and two “human forms
divine” were scratched and torn by sharp nails accustomed to this
mode of warfare. The old squaws chattered and gabbled, little
children screamed and ran, warriors stood in a ring, and from a
respectful distance gazed stolidly upon the affray. No one dared
to interfere. There is no tiger more dangerous than an infuriated
squaw; she’s a fiend incarnate. The packers and soldiers looked on,
discussing the “points” of the belligerents. “The little one’s built
like a hired man,” remarks one critic. “Ya-as; but the old un’s a
_He_, and doan’ you forgit it.” Two rounds settled the battle in
favor of the older contestant, although the younger remained on the
ground, her bleeding nostrils snorting defiance, her eyes blazing
fire, and her tongue volleying forth Apache imprecations.
But all interest was withdrawn from this spectacle and converged upon
a file of five wretched, broken-down Mexican women, one of whom bore
a nursing baby, who had come within the boundaries of our camp and
stood in mute terror, wonder, joy, and hope, unable to realize that
they were free. They were a party of captives seized by “Hieronymo”
in his last raid into Chihuahua. When washed, rested, and fed a
small amount of food, they told a long, rambling story, which is
here condensed: They were the wives of Mexican soldiers captured
near one of the stations of the Mexican Central Railway just two
weeks previously. Originally there had been six in the party, but
“Hieronymo” had sent back the oldest and feeblest with a letter to
the Mexican general, saying that he wanted to make peace with the
whites, and would do so, provided the Mexicans returned the Apache
women and children held prisoners by them; if they refused, he would
steal all the Mexican women and children he could lay hands on, and
keep them as hostages, and would continue the war until he had made
Sonora and Chihuahua a desert. The women went on to say that the
greatest terror prevailed in Chihuahua at the mere mention of the
name of “Hieronymo,” whom the peasantry believed to be the devil,
sent to punish them for their sins.
“Hieronymo” had killed the Mexican soldiers with rocks, telling his
warriors he had no ammunition to waste upon Mexicans. The women
had suffered incredible torture climbing the rough skirts of lofty
ranges, fording deep streams of icy-cold water, and breaking through
morasses, jungles and forests. Their garments had been rent into rags
by briars and brambles, feet and ankles scratched, torn, and swollen
by contusions from sharp rocks. They said that when “Hieronymo”
had returned to the heart of the mountains, and had come upon one
of our lately abandoned camps, his dismay was curious to witness.
The Chiricahuas with him made a hurried but searching examination
of the neighborhood, satisfied themselves that their enemies--the
Americans--had gained access to their strongholds, and that they had
with them a multitude of Apache scouts, and then started away in
the direction of our present bivouac, paying no further heed to the
captured women or to the hundreds of stolen stock they were driving
away from Chihuahua. It may be well to anticipate a little, and say
that the cattle in question drifted out on the back trail, getting
into the foot-hills and falling into the hands of the Mexicans in
pursuit, who claimed their usual wonderful “victory.” The women did
not dare to turn back, and, uncertain what course to pursue, stayed
quietly by the half-dead embers of our old camp-fires, gathering up
a few odds and ends of rags with which to cover their nakedness; and
of castaway food, which they devoured with the voracity of famished
wolves. When morning dawned they arose, half frozen, from the
couches they had made, and staggered along in the direction taken by
the fleeing Chiricahuas, whom, as already narrated, they followed to
where they now were.
And now they were free! Great God! Could it be possible?
The gratitude of these poor, ignorant, broken-down creatures
welled forth in praise and glorification to God. “Praise be to the
All-Powerful God!” ejaculated one. “And to the most Holy Sacrament!”
echoed her companions. “Thanks to our Blessed Lady of Guadalupe!”
“And to the most Holy Mary, Virgin of Soledad, who has taken pity
upon us!” It brought tears to the eyes of the stoutest veterans to
witness this line of unfortunates, reminding us of our mothers,
wives, sisters, and daughters. All possible kindness and attention
were shown them.
The reaction came very near upsetting two, who became hysterical
from over-excitement, and could not be assured that the Chiricahuas
were not going to take them away. They did not recover their natural
composure until the expedition had crossed the boundary line.
“Hieronymo” had another interview with General Crook, whom he assured
he wanted to make a peace to last forever. General Crook replied
that “Hieronymo” had waged such bloody war upon our people and the
Mexicans that he did not care to let him go back to San Carlos; a
howl would be raised against any man who dared to grant terms to
an outlaw for whose head two nations clamored. If “Hieronymo” were
willing to lay down his arms and go to work at farming, General Crook
would allow him to go back; otherwise the best thing he could do
would be to remain just where he was and fight it out.
“I am not taking your arms from you,” said the General, “because I
am not afraid of you with them. You have been allowed to go about
camp freely, merely to let you see that we have strength enough to
exterminate you if we want to; and you have seen with your own eyes
how many Apaches are fighting on our side and against you. In making
peace with the Americans, you must also be understood as making peace
with the Mexicans, and also that you are not to be fed in idleness,
but set to work at farming or herding, and make your own living.”
“Hieronymo,” in his reply, made known his contempt for the Mexicans,
asserted that he had whipped them every time, and in the last fight
with them hadn’t lost a man. He would go to the San Carlos with
General Crook and work at farming or anything else. All he asked for
was fair play. He contended that it was unfair to start back to the
San Carlos at that time, when his people were scattered like quail,
and when the women and children now in our hands were without food or
means of transportation. The old and the little ones could not walk.
The Chiricahuas had many ponies and donkeys grazing in the different
cañons. Why not remain one week longer? “Loco” and all the other
Chiricahuas would then have arrived; all the ponies would be gathered
up; a plenty of mescal and pony-meat on hand, and the march could be
made securely and safely. But if General Crook left the Sierra Madre,
the Mexicans would come in to catch and kill the remnant of the band,
with whom “Hieronymo,” would cast his fortunes.
General Crook acknowledged the justice of much which “Hieronymo” had
said, but declined to take any action not in strict accord with the
terms of the convention. He would now move back slowly, so as not
to crowd the young and feeble too much; they should have time to
finish roasting mescal, and most of those now out could catch up with
the column; but those who did not would have to take the chances of
reaching San Carlos in safety.
“Hieronymo” reiterated his desire for peace; said that he himself
would start out to gather and bring in the remnants of his people,
and he would cause the most diligent search to be made for Charlie
McComas. If possible, he would join the Americans before they got out
of the Sierra Madre. If not, he would make his way to the San Carlos
as soon as this could be done without danger; “but,” concluded he, “I
will remain here until I have gathered up the last man, woman, and
child of the Chiricahuas.”
All night long the Chiricahuas and the Apache scouts danced together
in sign of peace and good-will. The drums were camp-kettles partly
filled with water and covered tightly with a well-soaked piece of
calico. The drumsticks were willow saplings curved into a hoop at one
extremity. The beats recorded one hundred to the minute, and were
the same dull, solemn thump which scared Cortés and his beleaguered
followers during _la Noche triste_. No Caucasian would refer to it
as music; nevertheless, it had a fascination all its own comparable
to the whirr-r-r of a rattlesnake. And so the song, chanted to
the measure of the drumming, had about it a weird harmony which
held listeners spell-bound. When the dance began, two old hags,
white-haired and stiff with age, pranced in the centre of the ring,
warming up under the stimulus of the chorus until they became lively
as crickets. With them were two or three naked boys of very tender
years. The ring itself included as many as two hundred Indians of
both sexes, whose varied costumes of glittering hues made a strange
setting to the scene as the dancers shuffled and sang in the silvery
rays of the moon and the flickering light of the camp-fires.
On May 23, 1883, rations were issued to 220 Chiricahuas, and, soon
after, Nané, one of the most noted and influential of the Chiricahua
chiefs, rode into camp with seventeen of his people. He has a strong
face, marked with intelligence, courage, and good nature, but with
an under stratum of cruelty and vindictiveness. He has received
many wounds in his countless fights with the whites, and limps very
perceptibly in one leg. He reported that Chiricahuas were coming in
by every trail, and that all would go to the San Carlos as soon as
they collected their families.
On the 24th of May the march back to the San Carlos began. All the
old Chiricahuas were piled on mules, donkeys, and ponies; so were the
weak little children and feeble women. The great majority streamed
along on foot, nearly all wearing garlands of cotton-wood foliage to
screen them from the sun. The distance travelled was not great, and
camp was made by noon.
The scene at the Bávispe River was wonderfully picturesque. Sit
down on this flat rock and feast your eyes upon the silver waves
flashing in the sun. Don’t scare that little girl who is about to
give her baby brother a much-needed bath. The little dusky brat--all
eyes--is looking furtively at you and ready to bawl if you draw
nearer. Opposite are two old crones filling _ollas_ (jugs or jars)
of basket-work, rendered fully water-proof by a coating of either
mesquite or piñon pitch. Alongside of them are two others, who are
utilizing the entrails of a cow for the same purpose. The splash and
yell on your right, as you correctly divine, come from an Apache “Tom
Sawyer,” who will one day mount the gallows. The friendly greeting
and request for “tobacco shmoke” are proffered by one of the boys,
who has kindly been eating a big portion of your meals for several
days past, and feels so friendly toward you that he announces himself
in a pleasant, off-hand sort of way as your “_Sikisn_” (brother).
Behind you are grouped Apache scouts, whose heads are encircled with
red flannel bandages, and whose rifles and cartridges are never laid
aside. Horses and mules plunge belly-deep into the sparkling current;
soldiers come and go, some to drink, some to get buckets filled with
water, and some to soak neck, face, and hands, before going back
to dinner.
[Illustration: APACHE BASKET-WORK.]
In this camp we remained several days. The old and young squaws had
cut and dried large packages of “jerked” beef, and had brought down
from the hill-sides donkey-loads of mescal heads, which were piled
in ovens of hot stones covered with wet grass and clay. The process
of roasting, or rather steaming, mescal takes from three to four
days, and resembles somewhat the mode of baking clams in New England.
The Apache scouts passed the time agreeably enough in gambling with
the Chiricahuas, whom they fleeced unmercifully, winning hundreds
of dollars in gold, silver, and paper at the games of _monte_,
_conquien_, _tzi-chis_, and _mushka_.
The attractive pools of the Bávispe wooed groups of white soldiers
and packers, and nearly the whole strength of the Chiricahua women
and children, who disported in the refreshing waters with the agility
and grace of nereids and tritons. The modesty of the Apaches of both
sexes, under all circumstances, is praiseworthy.
“Chato” and “Loco” told General Crook this morning that “Hieronymo”
had sent them back to say that the Chiricahuas were very much
scattered since the fight, and that he had not been as successful as
he anticipated in getting them united and in corraling their herds
of ponies. They did not want to leave a single one of their people
behind, and urged General Crook to stay in his present camp for a
week longer, if possible. “Loco,” for his part, expressed himself
as anxious for peace. He had never wished to leave San Carlos. He
wanted to go back there and obtain a little farm, and own cattle and
horses, as he once did. Here it may be proper to say that all the
chiefs of the Chiricahuas--“Hieronymo,” “Loco,” “Chato,” “Nané,”
“Bonito,” “Chihuahua,” “Maugas,” “Zelé,” and “Kan-tenné”--are men of
noticeable brain power, physically perfect and mentally acute--just
the individuals to lead a forlorn hope in the face of every obstacle.
The Chiricahua children, who had become tired of swimming, played
at a new sport to-day, a mimic game of war, a school of practice
analogous to that established by old Fagan for the instruction of
young London pickpockets. Three boys took the lead, and represented
Mexicans, who endeavored to outrun, hide from, or elude their
pursuers, who trailed them to their covert, surrounded it, and poured
in a flight of arrows. One was left for dead, stretched upon the
ground, and the other two were seized and carried into captivity. The
fun became very exciting, so much so that the corpse, ignoring the
proprieties, raised itself up to see how the battle sped.
In such sports, in such constant exercise, swimming, riding, running
up and down the steepest and most slippery mountains, the Apache
passes his boyish years. No wonder his bones are of iron, his sinews
of wire, his muscles of India-rubber.
On May 27, 1883, the Chiricahuas had finished roasting enough mescal
to last them to the San Carlos. One of the Apache scouts came running
in very much excited. He told his story to the effect that, while
hunting some distance to the north, he had discovered a large body
of Mexican soldiers; they were driving back the band of cattle run
off by “Hieronymo,” and previously referred to. The scout tried
to communicate with the Mexicans, who imagined him to be a hostile
Indian, and fired three shots at him. Lieutenant Forsyth, Al. Zeiber,
and a small detachment of white and Indian soldiers started out to
overtake the Mexicans. This they were unable to do, although they
went some fifteen miles.
On the 28th, 29th, and 30th of May the march was continued back
toward the San Carlos. The rate of progress was very slow, the
Mexican captives not being able to ride any great distance along the
rough trails, and several of our men being sick. Two of the scouts
were so far gone with pneumonia that their death was predicted
every hour, in spite of the assurances of the “medicine-men” that
their incantations would bring them through all right. “Hieronymo,”
“Chato,” “Kan-tenné,” and “Chihuahua” came back late on the night
of the 28th, leading a large body of 116 of their people, making an
aggregate of 384 in camp on the 29th.
On the 30th, after a march, quite long under the
circumstances,--fifteen to eighteen miles,--we crossed the main
“divide” of the Sierra Madre at an altitude of something over 8,000
feet. The pine timber was large and dense, and much of it on fire,
the smoke and heat parching our throats, and blackening our faces.
With this pine grew a little mescal and a respectable amount of
the _madroña_, or mountain mahogany. Two or three deer were killed
by the Apache scouts, and as many turkeys; trout were visible
in all the streams. The line of march was prolific in mineral
formations,--basalt, lava, sandstone, granite, and limestone. The day
the command descended the Chihuahua side of the range it struck the
trail of a large body of Mexican troops, and saw an inscription cut
into the bark of a mahogany stating that the Eleventh Battalion had
been here on the 21st of May.
The itinerary of the remainder of the homeward march may be greatly
condensed. The line of travel lay on the Chihuahua side and close
to the summit of the range. The country was extremely rough, cut
up with rocky cañons beyond number and ravines of great depth, all
flowing with water. Pine forests covered all the elevated ridges,
but the cañons and lower foot-hills had vegetation of a different
character: oak, juniper, maple, willow, rose, and blackberry bushes,
and strawberry vines. The weather continued almost as previously
described,--the days clear and serene, the nights bitter cold, with
ice forming in pails and kettles on the 2d and 3d of June. No storms
worthy of mention assailed the command, the sharp showers that fell
two or three times being welcomed as laying the soot and dust.
Game was found in abundance,--deer and turkey. This the Apache scouts
were permitted to shoot and catch, to eke out the rations which had
completely failed, the last issue being made June 4th. From that date
till June 11th, inclusive, all hands lived upon the country. The
Apaches improved the excellent opportunity to show their skill as
hunters and their accuracy with fire-arms.
[Illustration: FIGHTING THE PRAIRIE FIRE.]
The command was threatened by a great prairie fire on coming down
into the broad grassy valley of the Janos. Under the impetus of a
fierce wind the flames were rushing upon camp. There was not a moment
to be lost. All hands turned out,--soldiers, scouts, squaws,
Chiricahua warriors, and even children. Each bore a branch of willow
or cotton-wood, a blanket, or scrap of canvas. The conflagration
had already seized the hill-crest nearest our position; brownish
and gray clouds poured skyward in compact masses; at their feet a
long line of scarlet flame flashed and leaped high in air. It was a
grand, a terrible sight: in front was smiling nature, behind, ruin
and desolation. The heat created a vacuum, and the air, pouring in,
made whirlwinds, which sent the black funnels of soot winding and
twisting with the symmetry of hour-glasses almost to the zenith. For
one moment the line of fire paused, as if to rest after gaining the
hill-top; it was only a moment. “Here she comes!” yelled the men on
the left; and like a wild beast flinging high its tawny mane of cloud
and flashing its fangs of flame, the fire was upon, around, and about
us.
Our people stood bravely up to their work, and the swish! swish!
swish! of willow brooms proved that camp was not to be surrendered
without a struggle.
We won the day; that is, we saved camp, herds, and a small area of
pasturage; but over a vast surface of territory the ruthless flames
swept, mantling the land with soot and an opaque pall of mist and
smoke through which the sun’s rays could not penetrate. Several
horses and mules were badly burned, but none to death.
For two or three nights afterwards the horizon was gloriously lighted
with lines of fire creeping over the higher ridges. As we debouched
into the broad plain, through which trickled the shriveled current of
the Janos, no one would have suspected that we were not a column of
Bedouins. A long caravan, stretched out for a mile upon the trail,
resolved itself upon closer approach into a confused assemblage of
ponies, horses, and mules, with bundles or without, but in every case
freighted with humanity. Children were packed by twos and threes,
while old women and feeble men got along as best they could, now
riding, now walking. The scouts had decked themselves with paint and
the Chiricahua women had donned all their finery of rough silver
bracelets, wooden crosses, and saints’ pictures captured from
Mexicans. This undulating plain, in which we now found ourselves,
spread far to the north and east, and was covered with bunch and
grama grasses, and dotted with cedar.--The march brought us to Alisos
Creek (an affluent of the Janos), a thousand yards or more above the
spot where the Mexican commander García, had slaughtered so many
Chiricahua women and children. Human bones, picked white and clean by
coyotes, glistened in the sandy bed of the stream. Apache baskets and
other furniture were strewn about. A clump of graves headed by rude
crosses betrayed the severity of the loss inflicted upon the Mexicans.
Between the 5th and 8th of June we crossed back (west) into Sonora,
going over the asperous peak known as the Cocospera.