GERONIMO.
Having descended the elevation to meet his three friends, Captain
Freeman, like them, was on a broad open plain, which bore some
suggestion of a valley. For a mile to the westward a ridge rose to
a height of several hundred feet. On the other side of this ridge
and close to it, wound a tributary of the Salt River. The stream was
narrow, but of uncertain depth, being shallow in many places, while in
others it could be crossed only by swimming.
To the westward the sandy plain extended, slightly undulating, until
it faded from view in the distant horizon. Ten miles to the northeast
was Fort Reno, and at a somewhat less distance, and almost due south,
in the Sutra Valley, were the ranches of Captain Freeman and his friend
Captain Murray, a Union veteran of the war. The two were strongly
attached to each other and their families were intimate.
The reader will note the peculiar condition of things. If Geronimo or
any of his fierce Apaches made a raid into the section, they would come
from the westward, that is from the direction of Prescott or Phœnix,
or possibly from the south. Should they succeed in passing the scouts
that were out searching for them, the country to the east would be
exposed, and in that section were a number of families, besides the two
already named.
The great point, therefore, was to prevent the red men from penetrating
so far to the east. If they could be checked or turned back, the
scattered settlers would be safe but if the subtle and merciless
warriors flanked and passed in behind the soldiers and scouts, serious
mischief was sure to follow.
Tidings that Geronimo had left the reservation and was on the war path
was brought to Fort Reno by Mendez and Cemuri, who had caught glimpses
of several of the terrible raiders. It must not be supposed that the
colonel at the post contented himself with sending out Lieutenant
Decker and the two scouts alone, for that would have been a piece of
folly which the experienced Indian fighter could not have committed.
The supposition was that twenty at least of Geronimo’s savage followers
were ranging through the country, and fully that number of white men
and scouts were seeking to checkmate them.
Decker and his two White Mountain guides formed only one of several
parties engaged on the same business. These parties expected to keep
within signalling or communicating distance and to join forces, should
it become necessary.
It has been said that while Lieutenant Decker and Captain Freeman were
holding their brief, spirited conversation, the two friendly Apaches,
sat their horses a short distance back, taking no part in what was
said, and for a time not even speaking to each other.
It would have been an interesting study, however, could any one
have watched them. They continually turned their heads, as if
trying to decide from what point of the compass, some slight almost
indistinguishable sound came. Their fine sense of hearing was
supplemented by a vision trained to the highest conceivable point, and
the keen black eyes were scarcely at rest for an instant. Here, there,
everywhere the penetrating glances shot, flitting from point to point
so quickly that it would seem they could not grasp anything in their
field of vision. All the same, however, nothing escaped them.
It should be said that each of the four men was heavily armed. Freeman
and the young officer carried respectively a fine Winchester and
revolver, while the scouts had a formidable knife apiece in addition
to those weapons. The officer was in uniform, with his sword, and
Freeman’s costume suggested that of the professional cowboy, with the
broad-brimmed hat, loose, flowing shirt, cartridge belt, excellent
accouterments for his horse and large spurs for himself.
[Illustration: “’Pache ober dere,” was the reply, accompanied by a
pointing of his dusky finger at the ridge.—Page 35.
—_The Young Scout._]
Mendez and Cemuri made some pretense of wearing civilized costume,
though their clothing could hardly have found a purchaser at a
second-hand sale. They never covered their heads, the long, coarse
black hair dangling about their faces and shoulders, with occasionally
a stained feather projecting from the crown. No paint disfigured the
countenances, which in fact could not have been made to look uglier,
but they had the cartridge belt, trousers and leggings of the cowboy,
most of which they would have been glad to dispense with, but respect
for the prejudices of their white brethren forbade.
Mendez was glancing toward all points of the compass, in that quick,
fitful way named, when he suddenly fixed his eyes on the ridge to the
westward. The fact that he did not change his gaze for fully a minute
was proof that something had attracted his suspicion, and the faint
exclamation which followed was proof that an additional discovery had
been made or that the suspicion had become conviction.
The two white men instantly ceased talking and looked at him. He did
not turn his head, but peered with the same intensity as at first.
“What do you make of it, Mendez?” asked the lieutenant.
“Huh! ’Pache ober dere,” was the reply, accompanied by a pointing of
his dusky finger at the ridge.
The other three were gazing in the same direction. Whether Cemuri was
equally fortunate could not be decided, for he gave no sign. Neither
the lieutenant nor captain detected anything with the naked eye.
The former drew out his fieldglass and directed it at the point of
interest, holding it leveled for several minutes.
The ridge like the plain was of sand. Not so much as a mesquite bush
was to be seen in any direction. Here and there grew a species of sand
grass, which seems to thrive where there is no earth nourishment, while
an occasional prickly cactus added to the desolateness of the scene.
There was nothing, therefore, to interfere with the vision in any
direction.
“I’m blessed if I can see anything unusual!” exclaimed the lieutenant,
passing his instrument to Freeman, with the remark, “Maybe you can do
better.”
But the elder was no more successful than the younger. The latter
turned to Mendez, upon whose face were the faint indications of a
smile, and asked:
“What was it you saw?”
“One—two—tree ’Pache crawl up ridge—look ober—see dere eyes!”
It seemed incredible that the scout should have been able to detect
this fact—if it was a fact—at that distance, and yet we have the record
that Tycho Brahe, hundreds of years ago, did as well in the same line
and his visual powers could not have received finer training than those
of this White Mountain Apache.
“That won’t do,” remarked the lieutenant, smilingly shaking his head;
“I had the record at the Point of being able to see a professor further
than any of the cadets, but I wasn’t equal to that.”
“By heavens! he’s right!” exclaimed Freeman, who was still holding the
instrument pointed toward the ridge; “_he_ doesn’t need a spyglass.”
“When you are through, let me try it again.”
Freeman handed the glass to the lieutenant, who, being shown the exact
point toward which to direct it, did so with much doubt and misgiving
as to the result.
“Just as I supposed!” he muttered impatiently; “all imagination——”
When he first used the instrument he saw nothing besides the bare,
sandy elevation, but the words were yet in his mouth, when, on the very
crest of the ridge, something resembling a crow came into sight. His
first thought was that one of those birds or a buzzard had hopped up
from the other side, and was peering over, but a moment’s scrutiny left
no doubt that it was the head of an Apache Indian, for it could belong
to no other tribe and act in this manner, the circumstances being as
they were.
While Decker was studying the miscreant, who took care to expose only
his forehead down to his eyes, a second head appeared at its side, the
movements being precisely the same. The third, however, of which Mendez
had spoken, did not show itself.
The hostiles must have believed their presence unsuspected, or at least
not known of a certainty to the four horsemen, for they lay on their
faces and peered for a long time over the crest of the elevation.
“I apologize, Mendez,” said the lieutenant in his cheery manner; “your
powers of vision surpass anything I ever met. Will you please tell me
when the Apache on the right winks his eye?”
The scout, however, was too dignified to pay attention to this
attempted witticism. He gazed long and steadily at the two heads
faintly showing, and then Freeman, who was watching his countenance,
noted that his eyes were wandering along the ridge, evidently in search
of other ominous evidence.
All at once his gaze was arrested. He was looking at a point fully a
hundred yards to the right of where the crowns of the enemies had been
discerned and had detected something.
“What is it, Mendez?” asked the lieutenant, bringing his glass again
into use.
“’Pache,” was the response; “look dere!”
The scout was right, as Decker was quick to learn. In this instance,
however, the buck did not content himself with simply peering over the
elevation. He seemed to be creeping forward until he reached the crest
of the ridge, when he raised the upper part of his body, so that his
face and shoulders were in sight. In this posture he was evidently
studying the four horsemen.
“Mendez,” said the lieutenant; “you have the best pair of eyes I
ever heard of, but no person has eyes which cannot be helped by a
glass like this. You know that as well as I, for I’ve seen you use a
fieldglass. Now, since that buck off yonder isn’t afraid to show his
ugly countenance, see what you can make of him with the aid of the
instrument.”
The scout complied with the request. As the officer had stated the
scout knew how to use the glass and it brought a revelation. He leveled
it at that hard, wrinkled, peering countenance lifted above the distant
ridge, and scrutinized it with the intensity of a man seeking to read
his own fate.
Only a few moments were thus occupied, when he passed the instrument
back to its owner who observed the peculiar half-smiling expression on
his usually stolid countenance.
“Have you ever seen that buck before?” asked the lieutenant.
“Seen him—one—two—tree—hundred times.”
“Who is he?”
“Geronimo!”