“Just what I expected,” exclaimed Freeman; “it’s Lieutenant Decker from the fort, and he has Mendez and Cemuri with him. Decker would rather fight than eat, and if I’m not mistaken he will have enough of it before he sees much service in this part of the world. Geronimo has been quiet so long that it’s time he was heard of again, and when the old fellow moves the fur will fly.”
Lieutenant Decker, as might be supposed, was fond of scouting through the country, as his superiors permitted, and when rumors came to the post that the Apaches were becoming restless once more he was reckless enough to declare that he hoped the news would prove true.
“I don’t know anything more irksome,” he was wont to repeat, “than to be stationed at one of these posts, with nothing going on but the same monotonous drill and parade, day after day, week after week, and through the months from one year’s end to the other. If Geronimo will stir up things, I’ll do my part to keep them going.”
Mendez and Cemuri, both of whom were in middle life, were among the very best scouts that had served under Generals Crook and Miles. They were White Mountain Apaches, whose loyalty was never under a cloud. They had given invaluable help in more than one critical emergency, and, esteemed as they were by our officers and soldiers, they were intensely hated by their own people, who when forced to cease their hostilities, were sullen, ugly, revengeful, and given to brooding over their wrongs.
What more natural than that while hating the white race, they should regard with unspeakable detestation those of their own people who had aided that race in conquering them? Mendez and Cemuri knew that they took their lives in their hands, when they helped the white men to hunt down the Apache desperadoes, a score of whom were enough to throw the settlements, over an area of hundreds of miles, into consternation and terror.
The fact that Lieutenant Decker and these two friendly scouts were riding thus far from Fort Reno, was evidence that they were out on the same duty that had taken them scores of miles, many a time within the past weeks.
The young man made a military salute as he recognized Captain Freeman, and all four drew down their horses to a walk and quickly came to a standstill. The lieutenant’s white teeth shone under his dark mustache as he smiled, and, looking at the oval face, much bronzed under the Arizona sun, the clear bright eyes, the slightly aquiline nose and the fine figure, Captain Freeman thought he was the handsomest young officer he had ever met.
Mendez and Cemuri remained a few paces in the background, as the two white men halted with their knees almost touching each other. The Apaches had nothing to say unless appealed to, but were always ready for action, when called upon.
“On another scout, lieutenant?” was the inquiring remark of Freeman.