"It is as 'Tonio says," answered Crook, with grave inclination of the head. "His brother chief, Captain Stannard, sustains him. Is it not so, Stannard?"
"Every word of it, sir!" was the blunt reply, as Stannard rose from his seat. "We found two Apache-Mohaves killed. We chased the Tontos into the mountains. Lieutenant Harris and 'Tonio, with Apache-Mohave scouts, rescued Mrs. Bennett, and led us." Whereat Archer's sad, white face was bowed upon his hands. Oh, that luckless despatch!
"We are listening, 'Tonio," said the general, as Stannard slowly resumed his seat, looking almost disappointed that there had been none to contradict or doubt his view.
"My father asks me why I left the camp after we had brought home our Capitan Chiquito. It was because my people came to the willows and called me. The sister of Comes Flying was weeping for her brother. Ramon and Alvarez were angered and talking battle and revenge, and Pancha came to warn me and to beg me come or there would be much trouble. My young men were doubly angered. They said the white brother had broken his promise, had feasted the Tontos and had starved them, had killed Comes Flying and driven our women and children to the mountains. They had seen more. They had seen their chief struck in the face with the glove of the young soldier chief—who is not here." And again the black eyes sought everywhere throughout the circle. "Ramon, Alvarez and others had vowed that he should die because of Comes Flying and of me. It was for this they played all so many hours with the riders from the Verde. They would head them off and hold them. The soldiers would come to rescue, and maybe the young chief. If so, they would lure him out beyond the others, and they did. I could not break their will. I saw their plan only just in time. They were in hiding among the rocks beyond the ridge, with only one or two in sight before them. He was galloping straight into their trap. There was just one way to save him and be true to our pledge to the Great Father. I shot to kill his horse, not him. My rifle would have carried just as true had it been aimed at his heart. He who struck me at the ranch—and denounced me here—owes his life to 'Tonio."
In the dramatic pause that followed a murmur of sympathy and admiration, irrepressible, flew from lip to lip. He noted it, but gave no sign.
"The young white chief says again I shot or sought to kill him that night at the ford. Again I could have done so, and again I sought to save. He was my enemy. He was"—and here, with affection all could see, the glittering eyes seemed to soften as they turned on Harris, sitting pale, silent and observant—"the enemy of this my brother and my friend. I would no longer go within the soldier lines. In spite of what I had done the white-haired chief ordered his soldiers to kill or take me prisoner. They could not find me, but I tried to warn my brother there was trouble—they would kill his brother chief, then there would be fearful war, but my brother was wounded still and could not come.
"Then the young stranger chief was lured out again by Sanchez—his people and mine. They swear to me they did not kill him—that the white man, Case, did that. He, too, hated him. But Sanchez lied to me. He promised to take back the pistol my people found the night I shot his horse, and he never did, nor messages I sent. So I know not who fired the shot, who clubbed him, but Sanchez had that pistol—Sanchez lied to me! I was not that night so near as the Picacho, and when the soldiers came to find me I went farther, with two of my people. We met the Great Chief's couriers. We met more Tontos. We fought them back and I was wounded. They took me to McDowell, and no man was unkind until the night they put me in the iron cell with Sanchez, and he told me I should never see the Great Chief, my father; that I should hang for shooting the white chief, Willett. When I slept he was there. When I awakened he was gone, and the iron bars were gone. I went out into the night—into the mountains—until I found my young chief. Then the truth was told me. Then we followed, and found Sanchez. Then my people heard the story and helped me find the way to the cave where the boys were hidden. The Great Spirit of my fathers knows I have never broken my promise. That is all that 'Tonio can say. I have spoken."
And then as he finished and the last word had been translated, all in language far less vivid than his native tongue, all men seemed to breathe a sigh of relief and seek instinctively to rise and gather about him. The general slowly found his feet, rose to his full height, stepped straightway forward to where the Indian stood, placed his left hand on the gaunt and bony shoulder, and with his ungloved right seized and grasped and held that of the elder chieftain, his own eyes twinkling, moistening, as he spoke.
"'Tonio—Brother—the Great Father shall know, and if I live, all his people shall know, how deeply you have suffered, how truly you have stood our friend."
And then, still clasping the warrior's hand, Crook turned to his officers, for by this time every man was on his feet, every eye was again upon them, every face lighted with interest, and many with emotion. Silently the general glanced about him, and at his signal Archer came forward, his handsome old head bared, his fine eyes filling. At his approach the commander drew back a step, releasing 'Tonio's hand. Then the soldier who but a fortnight back had sought to prison, possibly to kill, this soldier of the desert and the mountain, following his superior's lead, held forth his hand, a thinned and trembling one, yet the clasp in which it took that sinewy brown one was one an Indian could never doubt. Looking straight into 'Tonio's fearless eyes, the veteran spoke: "'Tonio—Brother—I did you wrong. I beg your pardon and I ask your friendship."