CRAWFORD’S Scouts were preparing to ride
with the coming of the new day when there
appeared upon a little eminence near their camp
the figure of an Indian. Silent and erect it stood—a
bronze statue touched by the light of the
rising sun. Slowly, to and fro, it waved a white
rag that was attached to the muzzle of a rifle. A
scout called Crawford’s attention to the flag of
truce; and the cavalry officer, bearing a similar
emblem, went out alone and on foot toward the
messenger, who now came slowly forward until
the two met a couple of hundred yards from the
camp.
Crawford recognized the Black Bear and
nodded, waiting for him to speak.
“Shoz-Dijiji brings a message from Geronimo,”
said the Apache.
“What message does Geronimo send me?”
asked the officer. Both men spoke in the language
of the Shis-Inday.
“Geronimo has heard that Nan-tan-des-la-par-en
wishes to hold a parley with him,” replied
Shoz-Dijiji.
“Nan-tan-des-la-par-en wishes only that Geronimo
surrenders with all his warriors, women,
and children,” said Crawford. “There is no
need for a parley. Tell Geronimo that if he will
come to my camp with all his people, bringing
also all his horses and mules, and lay down his
arms, I will take him to Nan-tan-des-la-par-en in
safety.”
“That is surrender,” replied Shoz-Dijiji.
“Geronimo will not surrender. He will make
peace with Nan-tan-des-la-par-en, but he will not
surrender.”
“Black Bear,” said Crawford, “you are a great
warrior among your people, you are an intelligent
man, you know that we have you surrounded by
a greatly superior force, you are worn by much
fighting and marching, you are short of food, you
cannot escape us this time. I know these things;
you know them; Geronimo knows them.
“It will be better for you and your people if
you come in peaceably now and return with me.
Nan-tan-des-la-par-en will not be hard on you if
you surrender now, but if you cause us any more
trouble it may go very hard indeed with you.
Think it over.”
“We have thought it over,” replied the Black
Bear. “We know that a handful of braves cannot
be victorious over the armies of two great
nations, but we also know that we can keep on
fighting for a long time before we are all killed
and that in the meantime we shall kill many more
of our enemies than we lose. You know that
these are true words. Therefore it would be
better for you to arrange for a parley with Nan-tan-des-la-par-en
than to force us back upon the
war trail.
“Geronimo is a proud man. The thing that
you demand he will never consent to, but a peace
parley with Nan-tan-des-la-par-en might bring the
same results without so greatly injuring the pride
of Geronimo.
“These things I may say to you because it is
well known that your heart is not bad against the
Apaches. Of all the pindah-lickoyee you are best
fitted to understand. That is why Geronimo
sent me to you. He would not have sent this message
to any white-eyed man but you or Lieutenant
Gatewood. Him we trust also. We do not
trust Nan-tan-des-la-par-en any more; but if we
have your promise that no harm shall befall us
we will go with you and talk with him, but we
must be allowed to keep our weapons and our
live-stock. I have spoken.”
“I get your point,” said Crawford after a moment
of thought. “If Geronimo and the warriors
in his party will give me their word that
they will accompany us peaceably I will take them
to General Crook and guarantee them safe escort,
but I cannot promise what General Crook will do.
Geronimo knows that I have no authority to do
that.”
“We shall come in and make camp near you
this afternoon,” said Shoz-Dijiji. “Tell your
scouts not to fire upon us.”
“When you come stop here, and I will tell you
where to camp,” replied Crawford. “Geronimo
and two others may come into my camp to talk
with me, but if at any time more of you enter my
camp armed I shall consider it a hostile demonstration.
Do you understand?”
Shoz-Dijiji nodded and without more words
turned and retraced his steps toward the camp
of the renegades, while Crawford stood watching
him until he had disappeared beyond a rise
of ground. Not once did the Apache glance back.
The cavalry officer shook his head. “It is difficult,”
he mused, “not to trust a man who has
such implicit confidence in one’s honor.”
That afternoon, January 11, 1886, promised
to witness the termination of more than three
hundred years of virtually constant warfare between
the Apaches and the whites. Captain
Crawford and Lieutenant Maus were jubilant—they
were about to succeed where so many others
had failed. The days of heat and thirst and
gruelling work were over.
“Geronimo is through,” said Crawford. “He
is ready to give up and come in and be a good
Indian. If he wasn’t he’d never have sent the
Black Bear with that message.”
“I don’t trust any of them,” replied Maus,
“and as for being a good Indian—there’s only
one thing that’ll ever make Geronimo that”—he
touched the butt of his pistol.
“That doctrine is responsible to a greater extent
than any other one thing for many of the
atrocities and the seeming treachery of the
Apaches,” replied Crawford. “They have heard
that so often that they do not really trust any of
us, for they believe that we all hold the same
view. It makes them nervous when any of us are
near them, and as they are always suspicious of
us the least suggestion of an overt act on our part
frightens them onto the war trail and goads them
to reprisals.
“It has taken months of the hardest kind of
work to reach the point where Geronimo is ready
to make peace—a thoughtless word or gesture
now may easily undo all that we have accomplished.
Constantly impress upon the scouts by
word and example the fact that every precaution
must be taken to convince the renegades that we
intend to fulfill every promise that I have made
them.”
Shoz-Dijiji came and stood before Geronimo.
“What did the white-eyed chief say to you?” demanded
the old war chief.
“He said that if we lay down our arms and
surrender he will take us to Nan-tan-des-la-par-en,”
replied Shoz-Dijiji.
“What did Shoz-Dijiji reply?”
“Shoz-Dijiji told the white-eyed man that Geronimo
would not surrender, but that he would
hold a parley with Nan-tan-des-la-par-en. At last
the white-eyed chief agreed. We may retain our
arms, and he promises that we shall not be attacked
if we accompany him peaceably to the parley
with Nan-tan-des-la-par-en.”
“What did you reply?”
“That we would come and make camp near him
this afternoon. He has promised that his scouts
will not fire upon us.”
“Good!” exclaimed Geronimo. “Let us make
ready to move our camp, and let it be understood
that if the word made between Shoz-Dijiji and
the white-eyed chief be broken and shots fired in
anger the first shot shall not be fired by a member
of my band. I have spoken!”
As the renegades broke camp and moved
slowly in the direction of Crawford’s outfit a
swart Mexican cavalryman, concealed behind the
summit of a low hill, watched them, and as he
watched a grim smile of satisfaction played for
an instant about the corners of his eyes. Ten
minutes later he was reporting to Captain Santa
Anna Perez.
“They shall not escape me this time,” said
Perez, as he gave the command to resume the
march in pursuit of the illusive enemy.
A short distance from Crawford’s camp Geronimo
halted his band and sent Shoz-Dijiji ahead
to arrange a meeting between Geronimo and
Crawford for the purpose of ratifying the understanding
that Shoz-Dijiji and the officer had arrived
at earlier in the day.
With a white rag fastened to the muzzle of his
rifle the Black Bear approached the camp of the
scouts and, following the instructions of Crawford
to his men, was permitted to enter. Every
man of Crawford’s command Shoz-Dijiji knew
personally. With many of them he had played
as a boy; and with most of them he had gone
upon the war trail, fighting shoulder to shoulder
with them against both Mexicans and pindah-lickoyee;
but today he passed among them with
his head high, as one might pass among strangers
and enemies.
Crawford, waiting to receive him, could not
but admire the silent contempt of the tall young
war chief for those of his own race whom he must
consider nothing short of traitors; and in his
heart the courageous cavalry officer found respect
and understanding for this other courageous soldier
of an alien race.
“I am glad that you have come, Shoz-Dijiji,”
he said. “You bring word from Geronimo?
He will go with me to General Crook?”
“Geronimo wishes to come and make talk with
you,” replied the Black Bear. “He wishes his
own ears to hear the words you spoke to Shoz-Dijiji
this morning.”
“Good!” said Crawford. “Let Geronimo—”
His words were cut short by a fusilade of shots
from the direction of the renegades’ position.
Crawford snatched his pistol from its holster and
covered Shoz-Dijiji.
“So that is the word Geronimo sends?” he exclaimed.
“Treachery!”
The Apache wheeled about and looked in the
direction of his people. The scouts were hastily
preparing to meet an attack. Every eye was on
the renegades—in every mind was the same
thought that Crawford had voiced—treachery!
Shoz-Dijiji pointed. “No!” he cried. “Look!
It is not the warriors of Geronimo. Their backs
are toward us. They are firing in the other direction.
They are being attacked from the south.
There! See! Mexican soldiers!”
The renegades, firing as they came, were falling
back upon the scouts’ camp; and, following
them, there now came into full view a company
of Mexican regulars.
“For God’s sake, stop firing!” cried Crawford.
“These are United States troops.”
Captain Santa Anna Perez saw before him only
Apaches. It is true that some of them wore portions
of the uniform of the soldiers of a sister
republic; but Captain Santa Anna Perez had
fought Apaches for years, and he well knew that
they were shrewd enough to take advantage of
any form of deception of which they could avail
themselves, and he thought this but a ruse.
Two of his officers lay dead and two privates,
while several others were wounded, and now the
Apaches in uniform, as well as those who were
not, were firing upon him. How was he to know
the truth? What was he to do? One of his
subordinates ran to his side. “There has been a
terrible mistake!” he cried. “Those are Crawford’s
scouts—I recognize the captain. In the
name of God, give the command to cease firing!”
Perez acted immediately upon the advice of his
lieutenant, but the tragic blunder had not as yet
taken its full toll of life. In the front line a
young Mexican soldier knelt with his carbine.
Perhaps he was excited. Perhaps he did not
hear the loudly shouted command of his captain.
No one will ever know why he did the thing
he did.
The others on both sides had ceased firing
when this youth raised his carbine to his shoulder,
took careful aim, and fired. Uttering no sound,
dead on his feet, Captain Emmet Crawford fell
with a bullet in his brain.
Shoz-Dijiji, who had been standing beside him,
had witnessed the whole occurrence. He threw
his own rifle to his shoulder and pressed the trigger.
When he lowered the smoking muzzle
Crawford had been avenged, and that is why no
one will ever know why the Mexican soldier did
the thing he did.
With difficulty Perez and Maus quieted their
men, and it was with equal difficulty that Geronimo
held his renegades in check. They were
gathered in a little knot to one side, and Shoz-Dijiji
had joined them.
“It was a ruse to trap us!” cried a brave.
“They intended to get us between them and kill
us all.”
“Do not talk like a child,” exclaimed Shoz-Dijiji.
“Not one of us has been killed or
wounded, while they have lost several on each
side. The Mexicans made a mistake. They did
not know Crawford’s scouts were near, nor did
Crawford know that the Mexican soldiers were
approaching.”
The brave grunted. “Look,” he said, pointing;
“the war chiefs of the Mexicans and the
pindah-lickoyee are holding a council. If they
are not plotting against us why do they not invite
our chiefs to the council? It is not I who
am a child but Shoz-Dijiji, if he trusts the pindah-lickoyee
or the Mexicans.”
“Perhaps they make bad talk about us,” said
Geronimo, suspiciously. “Maus does not like
me; and, with Crawford dead, there is no friend
among them that I may trust. The Mexicans I
have never trusted.”
“Nor does Shoz-Dijiji trust them,” said the
Black Bear. “The battle they just fought was
a mistake. That, I say again; but it does not
mean that I trust them. Perhaps they are plotting
against us now, for Crawford is dead.”
“Maus and the Mexican could combine forces
against us,” suggested Geronimo, nervously.
“Both the Mexicans and pindah-lickoyee have
tricked us before. They would not hesitate to
do it again. We are few, they are many—they
could wipe us out, and there would be none left
to say that it happened through treachery.”
“Let us attack them first,” suggested a warrior.
“They are off their guard. We could kill
many of them and the rest would run away.
Come!”
“No!” cried Geronimo. “Our women are
with us. We are very few. All would be killed.
Let us withdraw and wait. Perhaps we shall
have a better chance later. Only fools attack
when they know they cannot win. Perhaps Nan-tan-des-la-par-en
will come and we shall make
peace. That will be better. I am tired of
fighting.”
“Let us go away for a while, at least until the
Mexicans have left,” counselled Shoz-Dijiji.
“Then, perhaps, we can make terms with Maus.
If not we can pick our own time and place to
fight.”
“That is good talk,” said Geronimo. “Come!
We shall move away slowly.”
Maus and Perez, engaged in arranging terms
for the removal of Crawford’s body and exchanging
notes that would relieve one another of
responsibility for the tragic incident of the battle
between the troops of friendly nations, paid little
attention to the renegades; and once again
Geronimo slipped through the fingers of his
would-be captors, and as Maus’ and Perez’ commands
marched away together toward Nacori the
scouts of the old war chief watched them depart
and carried the word to Geronimo.
“They have marched away together—the
Mexicans and the pindah-lickoyee?” demanded
Geronimo. “That is bad. They are planning
to join forces against us. They will return, but
they will not find us here.”
Again the renegades changed camp; this time
to a still more remote and inaccessible position.
The days ran into weeks, the weeks to months.
The band scattered, scouting and hunting. At
all times Geronimo knew the location of Maus’
command; and when he became reasonably convinced
that Maus was waiting for the arrival of
Crook and was not planning a hostile move
against the renegades he made no further attempt
to conceal his location from the white officer, but
he did not relax his vigilance.
It was late in March. Geronimo, Shoz-Dijiji,
Gian-nah-tah, and several others were squatting
in the shade of a sycamore, smoking and chatting,
when two Apaches entered the camp and approached
them. One was one of Geronimo’s own
scouts, the other wore the red head-band of a
government scout. When the two halted before
Geronimo the war chief arose.
“What do you want in the camp of Geronimo?”
he asked, addressing the government
scout as though he had been a total stranger.
“I bring a message from Maus,” replied the
other. “Nan-tan-des-la-par-en has come. He is
ready to hold a parley with you. What answer
shall I take back?”
“Tell Nan-tan-des-la-par-en that Geronimo will
meet him tomorrow in the Canyon of Los
Embudos.”
When the morning came Geronimo set out with
a party of chiefs and warriors for the meeting
place. Mangas was with him and Na-chi-ta, and
there were Shoz-Dijiji, Gian-nah-tah, Chihuahua,
Nanáy, and Kut-le in the party. General Crook
was awaiting them in the Canyon of Los Embudos.
The two parties exchanged, salutations
and then seated themselves in a rough circle
under the shade of large sycamore and cottonwood
trees.
General Crook addressed Geronimo almost
immediately. “Why did you leave the reservation?”
he demanded.
“You told me that I might live in the reservation
the same as white people live,” replied
Geronimo, “but that was not true. You sent soldiers
to take my horses and cattle from me. I
had a crop of oats almost ready to harvest, but
I could not live in the reservation after the way
you had treated me. I went away with my wife
and children to live in peace as my own people
have always lived. I did not go upon the war
trail, but you told your soldiers to find me and
put me in prison and if I resisted to kill me.”
“I never gave any such orders,” snapped
Crook.
Geronimo glanced at Shoz-Dijiji but did not
reply.
“But,” continued Crook, “if you left the reservation
for that reason, why did you kill innocent
people, sneaking all over the country to do it?
What did those innocent people do to you that
you should kill them, steal their horses, and slip
around in the rocks like coyotes?
“You promised me in the Sierra Madre that
that peace should last, but you have lied about
it. When a man has lied to me once I want some
better proof than his own word before I can believe
him again.”
“So does Geronimo,” interrupted the war
chief.
“You must make up your mind,” continued
Crook, “whether you will stay out on the war
path or surrender unconditionally. If you stay
out I’ll keep after you and kill the last one if it
takes fifty years.”
“I do not want to fight the white man,” replied
Geronimo; “but I do not want to return to the
reservation and be hanged, as many of the white
people have said that I should be. People tell
bad stories about me. I do not want that any
more. When a man tries to do right, people
should not tell bad stories about him. I have
tried to do right. Does the white man try to do
right? I am the same man. I have the same
feet, legs, and hands; and the sun looks down
upon me, a complete man.
“The Sun and the Darkness and the Winds are
all listening to what we say now. They know
that Geronimo is telling the truth. To prove to
you that I am telling the truth, remember that I
sent you word that I would come from a place
far away to speak to you here; and you see me
now. If I were thinking bad, or if I had done
bad, I would never have come here.”
He paused, waiting for Crook to reply.
“I have said all that I have to say,” said the
General; “you had better think it over tonight
and let me know in the morning.”
For two more days the parley progressed; and
at last it was agreed that Geronimo and his band
should accompany Lieutenant Maus and his battalion
of scouts to Fort Bowie, Arizona. The
northward march commenced on the morning of
March 28th and by the night of the 29th the
party had reached the border between Mexico
and Arizona.
