With the Apache's Compliments.
"Ondoubted," observed the Old Cattleman, during one of our long
excursive talks, "ondoubted, the ways an' the motives of Injuns is past
the white man's findin' out. He's shore a myst'ry, the Injun is! an'
where the paleface forever fails of his s'lootion is that the latter
ropes at this problem in copper-colour from the standp'int of the
Caucasian. Can a dog onderstand a wolf? Which I should remark not!
"It's a heap likely that with Injuns, the white man in his turn is jest
as difficult to solve. An' without the Injun findin' onusual fault
with 'em, thar's a triangle of things whereof the savage accooses the
paleface. The Western Injuns at least--for I ain't posted none on
Eastern savages, the same bein' happily killed off prior to my
time--the Western Injuns lays the bee, the wild turkey, an' that weed
folks calls the 'plantain,' at the white man's door. They-all descends
upon the Injun hand in hand. No, the Injun don't call the last-named
veg'table a 'plantain;' he alloodes to it as 'the White Man's Foot.'
"Thar's traits dominant among Injuns which it wouldn't lower the
standin' of a white man if he ups an' imitates a whole lot. I once
encounters a savage--one of these blanket Injuns with feathers in his
ha'r--an' bein' idle an' careless of what I'm about, I staggers into
casyooal talk with him. This buck's been East for the first time in
his darkened c'reer an' visited the Great Father in Washin'ton. I asks
him what he regyards as the deepest game he in his travels goes
ag'inst. At first he allows that pie, that a-way, makes the most
profound impression. But I bars pie, an' tells him to su'gest the
biggest thing he strikes, not on no bill of fare. Tharupon,
abandonin' menoos an' wonders of the table, he roominates a moment an'
declar's that the steamboat--now that pie is exclooded--ought to get
the nomination.
"'The choo-choo boat,' observes this intelligent savage, 'is the
paleface's big medicine.'
"'You'll have a list of marvels,' I says, 'to avalanche upon the people
when you cuts the trail of your ancestral tribe ag'in?'
"'No,' retorts the savage, shakin' his head ontil the skelp-lock whips
his y'ears, an' all mighty decisive; 'no; won't tell Injun nothin'.'
"'Why not?' I demands.
"'If I tell,' he says, 'they no believe. They think it all heap lie.'
"Son, consider what a example to travellers is set by that ontootered
savage? That's what makes me say thar be traits possessed of Injuns,
personal, which a paleface might improve himse'f by copyin'.
"Bein' white myse'f, I'm born with notions ag'in Injuns. I learns of
their deestruction with relief, an' never sees one pirootin' about,
full of life an' vivacity, but the spectacle fills me with vain
regrets. All the same thar's a load o' lies told East concernin' the
Injun. I was wont from time to time to discuss these red folks with
Gen'ral Stanton, who for years is stationed about in Arizona,
an'--merely for the love he b'ars to fightin'--performs as chief of
scouts for Gen'ral Crook.
"'Our divers wars with the Apaches,' says Gen'ral Stanton, 'comes more
as the frootes of a misdeal by a locoed marshal than anything else
besides. When Crook first shows up in Arizona--this is in the long
ago--an' starts to inculcate peace among the Apaches, he gets old
Jeffords to bring Cochise to him to have a pow-wow. Jeffords rounds up
Cochise an' herds him with soft words an' big promises into the
presence of Crook. The Grey Fox--which was the Injun name for
Crook--makes Cochise a talk. Likewise he p'ints out to the chief the
landmarks an' mountain peaks that indicates the Mexican line. An' the
Grey Fox explains to Cochise that what cattle is killed an' what skelps
is took to the south'ard of the line ain't goin' to bother him a bit.
But no'th'ard it's different; thar in that sacred region cattle killin'
an' skelp collectin' don't go. The Grey Fox shoves the information on
Cochise that every trick turned on the American side of the line has
done got to partake of the characteristics of a love affair, or the
Grey Fox with his young men in bloo--his walk-a-heaps an' his
hoss-warriors--noomerous as the grass, they be--will come down on
Cochise an' his Apaches like a coyote on a sage hen or a pan of milk
from a top shelf an' make 'em powerful hard to find.
"'Cochise smokes an' smokes, an' after considerin' the bluff of the
Grey Fox plenty profound, allows he won't call it. Thar shall be peace
between the Apache an' the paleface to the no'th'ard of that line.
Then the Grey Fox an' Cochise shakes hands an' says "How!" an' Cochise,
with a bolt or two of red calico wherewith to embellish his squaws,
goes squanderin' back to his people, permeated to the toes with
friendly intentions.
"'Sech is Cochise's reverence for his word, coupled with his fear of
the Grey Fox, that years float by an' every deefile an' canyon of the
Southwest is as safe as the aisles of a church to the moccasins of the
paleface. Thus it continyoos ontil thar comes a evenin' when a jimcrow
marshal, with more six-shooters than hoss sense, allows he'll apprehend
Cochise's brother a whole lot for some offense that ain't most likely
deuce high in the category of troo crime. This ediot offishul reaches
for the relative of Cochise; an' as the latter--bein' a savage an'
tharfore plumb afraid of captivity--leaps back'ard like he's met up
with a rattlesnake, the marshal puts his gun on him an' plugs him so
good that he cashes in right thar. The marshal says later in
explanation of his game that Cochise's brother turns hostile an' drops
his hand on his knife. Most likely he does; a gent's hands--even a
Apache's--has done got to be some'ers.
"'But the killin' overturns the peaceful programmes built up between
the Grey Fox an' Cochise. When the old chief hears of his brother
bein' downed, he paints himse'f black an' red an' sends a bundle of
arrows tied with a rattlesnake skin to the Grey Fox with a message to
count his people an' look out for himse'f. The Grey Fox, who realises
that the day of peace has ended an' the sun gone down to rise on a
mornin' of trouble, fills the rattlesnake skin with cartridges an'
sends 'em back with a word to Cochise to turn himse'f loose. From that
moment the war-jig which is to last for years is on. After Cochise
comes Geronimo, an' after Geronimo comes Nana; an' one an' all, they
adds a heap of spice to life in Arizona. It's no exaggeration to put
the number of palefaces who lose their ha'r as the direct result of
that fool marshal layin' for Cochise's brother an' that Injun's
consequent cuttin' off, at a round ten thousand. Shore! thar's scores
an' scores who's been stood up an' killed in the hills whereof we never
gets a whisper. I, myse'f, in goin' through the teepees of a Apache
outfit, after we done wipes 'em off the footstool, sees the long ha'r
of seven white women who couldn't have been no time dead.
"'Who be they? Folks onknown who's got shot into while romancin' along
among the hills with schemes no doubt of settlement in Californy.
"'With what we saveys of the crooelties of the Apaches, thar's likewise
a sperit of what book-sharps calls chivalry goes with 'em an' albeit on
one ha'r-hung o'casion I profits mightily tharby, I'm onable to give it
a reason. You wouldn't track up on no sim'lar weaknesses among the
palefaces an' you-all can put down a stack on that.
"'It's when I'm paymaster,' says the Gen'ral, reachin' for the canteen,
'an' I starts fo'th from Fort Apache on a expedition to pay off the
nearby troops. I've got six waggons an' a escort of twenty men. For
myse'f, at the r'ar of the procession, I journeys proudly in a
amb'lance. Our first camp is goin' to be on top of the mesa out a
handful of miles from the Fort.
"'The word goes along the line to observe a heap of caution an' not
straggle or go rummagin' about permiscus, for the mountains is alive
with hostiles. It's five for one that a frownin' cloud of 'em is
hangin' on our flanks from the moment we breaks into the foothills.
No, they'd be afoot; the Apaches ain't hoss-back Injuns an' only fond
of steeds as food. He never rides on one, a Apache don't, but he'll
camp an' build a fire an' eat a corral full of ponies if you'll furnish
'em, an' lick his lips in thankfulness tharfore. But bein' afoot won't
hinder 'em from keepin' up with my caravan, for in the mountains the
snow is to the waggon beds an' the best we can do, is wriggle along the
trail like a hurt snake at a gait which wouldn't tire a papoose.
"'We've been pushin' on our windin' uphill way for mighty likely half a
day, an' I'm beginnin'--so dooms slows is our progress--to despair of
gettin' out on top the mesa before dark, when to put a coat of paint on
the gen'ral trouble the lead waggon breaks down. I turns out in the
snow with the rest, an' we-all puts in a heated an' highly profane
half-hour restorin' the waggon to health. At last we're onder headway
ag'in, an' I wades back through the snow to my amb'lance.
"'As I arrives at the r'ar of my offishul waggon, it occurs to me that
I'll fill a pipe an' smoke some by virchoo of my nerves, the same bein'
torn and frayed with the many exasperations of the day. I gives my
driver the word to wait a bit, an' searchin' forth my tobacco outfit
loads an' lights my pipe. I'm planted waist deep in the mountain
snows, but havin' on hossman boots the snow ain't no hardship.
"'While I'm fussin' with my pipe, the six waggons an' my twenty men
curves 'round a bend in the trail an' is hid by a corner of the canyon.
I reflects at the time--though I ain't really expectin' no perils--that
I'd better catch up with my escort, if it's only to set the troops a
example. As I exhales my first puff of smoke and is on the verge of
tellin' my driver to pull out--this yere mule-skinner is settin' so
that matters to the r'ar is cut off from his gaze by the canvas cover
of my waggon--a slight noise attracts me, an' castin' my eye along the
trail we've been climbin', I notes with feelin's of disgust a full
dozen Apaches comin'. An' it ain't no hyperbole to say they're shore
comin' all spraddled out.
"'In the lead for all the deep snow, an' racin' up on me like the wind,
is a big befeathered buck, painted to the eyes; an' in his right fist,
raised to hurl it, is a 12-foot lance. As I surveys this pageant, I
realises how he'pless, utter, I be, an' with what ca'mness I may,
adjusts my mind to the fact that I've come to the end of my trails.
He'pless? Shore! I'm stuck as firm in the snow as one of the pines
about me; my guns is in the waggon outen immediate reach; thar I stands
as certain a prey to that Apache with the lance as he's likely to go up
ag'inst doorin' the whole campaign. Why, I'm a pick-up! I remembers
my wife an' babies, an' sort o' says "Goodbye!" to 'em, for I'm as
certain of my finish as I be of the hills, or the snows beneath my
feet. However, since it's all I can do, I continyoos to smoke an'
watch my execootioners come on.
"'The big lance Injun is the dominatin' sperit of the bunch. As he
draws up to me--he's fifty foot in advance of the others--he makes his
lance shiver from p'int to butt. It fairly sings a death song! I can
feel it go through an' through me a score of times. But I stands thar
facin' him; for, of course, I wants it to go through from the front. I
don't allow to be picked up later with anything so onfashionable as a
lance wound in my back. That would be mighty onprofessional!
"'You onderstands that what now requires minutes in the recital don't
cover seconds as a play. The lance Injun runs up to within a rod of me
an' halts. His arm goes back for a mighty cast of the lance; the
weepon is vibrant with the very sperit of hate an' malice. His eyes,
through a fringe of ha'r that has fallen over 'em, glows out like a
cat's eyes in the dark.
"We stands thar--I still puffin my pipe, he with his lance raised--an'
we looks on each other--I an' that paint-daubed buck! I can't say
whatever is his notion of me, but on my side I never beholds a savage
who appeals to me as a more evil an' forbiddin' picture!
"'As I looks him over a change takes place. The fire in his eyes dies
out, his face relaxes its f'rocity, an' after standin' for a moment an'
as the balance of the band arrives, he turns the lance over his arm an'
with the butt presented, surrenders it into my hand. You can gamble I
don't lose no time in arguin' the question, but accepts the lance with
all that it implies. Bringin' the weepon to a 'Right Shoulder' an'
with my mind relieved, I gives the word to my mule-skinner--who's
onconscious of the transactions in life an' death goin' on behind his
back--an' with that, we-all takes up our march an' soon comes up on the
escort where it's ag'in fixed firm in the snow about a furlong to the
fore. My savages follows along with me, an' each of 'em as grave as
squinch owls an' tame as tabby cats.
"'Joke? no; them Apaches was as hostile as Gila monsters! But
beholdin' me, as they regyards it--for they don't in their ontaught
simplicity make allowance for me bein' implanted in the snow, gunless
an' he'pless--so brave, awaitin' deestruction without a quiver, their
admiration mounts to sech heights it drowns within 'em every thought of
cancellin' me with that lance, an' tharupon they pays me their savage
compliments in manner an' form deescribed. They don't regyard
themse'fs as surrenderin' neither; they esteems passin' me the lance as
inauguratin' a armistice an' looks on themse'fs as guests of honor an'
onder my safegyard, free to say "How!" an' vamos back to the warpath
ag'in whenever the sperit of blood begins to stir within their breasts.
I knows enough of their ways to be posted as to what they expects; an'
bein', I hopes, a gent of integrity, I accedes to 'em that exact status
which they believes they enjoys.
"'They travels with me that day, eats with me that evenin' when we
makes our camp, has a drink with me all 'round, sings savage hymns to
me throughout the night, loads up with chuck in the mornin', offers me
no end of flattery as a dead game gent whom they respects, says
_adios_; an' then they scatters like a flock of quail. Also, havin'
resoomed business on old-time lines, they takes divers shots at us with
their Winchesters doorin' the next two days, an' kills a hoss an'
creases my sergeant. Why don't I corral an' hold 'em when they're in
my clutch? It would have been breakin' the trooce as Injuns an' I
onderstands sech things; moreover, they let me go free without
conditions when I was loser by every roole of the game.'"