XX
THE GRAY FOX RETURNS
“Crook is coming back! General Crook is coming back!”
That was the word at Camp Thomas, in this the early summer of 1882, a couple of months after the Geronimo outbreak.
The Third Cavalry already had arrived from its northern plains campaigns, and the Sixth was being stationed over in New Mexico. But the Sixth had done well, and the best news was that which bore the name of Crook. He had been ordered from the Department of the Platte to the Department of Arizona, again.
“Now we shall see the Chiricahua grow tired,” laughed Micky Free, when Jimmie met him. “Sibi is glad; the White Mountains are glad; everybody will be glad, except Whoa and Geronimo. Are you going to help fight, Cheemie, instead of riding all the time along the talking wire?”
“You bet I am, Micky,” declared Jimmie. “Hope Tom Moore’s coming, too. I reckon if my leg won’t let me scout I can join the pack-train.”
General Crook wasted no time. Scarcely had he announced himself at Fort Whipple, ere he was bound for San Carlos and Fort Apache, to straighten out these affairs first.
Jimmie rode over to the fort with a party from Thomas, to learn the latest. The general was there, with Lieutenant Bourke, now a captain. Wearing an ancient, smoked and scorched corduroy suit he had arrived on the same “Apache,” his mule. He looked rather older than when he had left, back in 1875. The campaigning in winter up north had been tough. But he acted as energetic as ever.
He held a council with the dissatisfied White Mountains.