Before the Lieutenant Maus camp was reached, the company had grown larger. Two photographers named Fly and Chase had joined; and a Mexican, José Maria Yaskes, who had lived with the Chiricahuas; and several ranchers and cow-boys.
“All want to see Geronimo—but I guess the Gray Fox wants to see him worst of anybody,” laughed Micky.
On the morning of March 25 Alchisé and Ka-e-ten-na sent up a smoke signal, to tell the camp and Geronimo that the general was near. Lieutenant Shipp, Chato and two others rode out to guide the detachment in.
The Maus camp was well located, upon a mesa commanding water and grass, in the canyon. Geronimo’s camp was just as strongly located, a half mile away—on the top of a lava cone surrounded by bristly gulches.
The packers already in camp thought that there would be no trouble. Geronimo had been over every day, to ask when the general was expected for the talk; Chihuahua had sent word that he was prepared to surrender at any time, and do exactly as the general told him to do.
“Chihuahua will leave Geronimo; Nana has left Geronimo; soon he will have nobody,” Chato repeated. “Geronimo and Chihuahua are living separate now. Nana is too old to run any more.”
After the general had lunched, there was sudden exclaiming and pointing. A large party of Chiricahuas were descending from their cone.
“Geronimo!”
“Here comes the old rascal!”
The Chiricahuas rode on, up the canyon, and Chief of Scouts Horn met them. He returned, and reported.