General Crook and the Fighting Apaches / Treating Also of the Part Borne by Jimmie Dunn in the days, 1871-1886, When With Soldiers and Pack-trains and Indian Scouts, but Employing the Stronger Weapons of Kindness, Firmness and Honesty, the Gray Fox Worked Hard to the End That the White Men and the Red Men in the Southwest as in the Northwest Might Better Understand One Another

by Edwin L. Sabin

“Hum!” mused the general. “Could you guide us to the Cochise camp, do you think?”

“N-no, sir,” faltered Jimmie. “You see, they have their own names for places, and sometimes I was in Mexico and sometimes I was in Arizona, and I got all mixed up.”

“I see,” admitted the general. “You say you were trying to reach Camp Apache. Don’t you know that this is a long way west of Camp Apache? How did you happen to be off here?”

“Yes, sir; I know it,” replied Jimmie. “The Chiricahua might think I was starting for Camp Apache, so I tried to fool them. Then I saw the Tonto trail, and then I saw the soldiers’ trail, and I was hurrying to catch you as soon as the Tonto did, when the Tonto jumped out of the basin, and I couldn’t do anything but hide and watch. I knew the soldiers would whip ’em, though. Did—did anybody get killed?”

“No,” said the general grimly. “That will do,” he continued. “We’ve been at Camp Apache, and can’t take you back there; but we may be able to send you down to Camp Grant. Turn him over to Mr. Moore, if you please, lieutenant, and see that he’s outfitted more like a white boy and less like an Indian.”

“Yes, sir.” Lieutenant Bourke saluted; Jimmie rigidly saluted. “Come with me, Jimmie.” And they looked up Tom Moore.

There were two troops of cavalry and twenty pack-mules. Tom Moore was busy, just now, attending to the pack-train; and having been left with him Jimmie might gaze about and listen.

None of the soldiers had even been wounded, but those Tontos certainly had shot hard. The general and party were examining a pine-trunk into which a Tonto arrow had buried itself clear to the feathers! In several other tree trunks there were arrows that could not be pulled out. As far as might be discovered, no Tontos had been wounded, except the one shot by the general. It had been a sharp skirmish, nevertheless.

Micky Free had disappeared. Not a trace of him was noted. Jimmie loyally said not a word about him, and did not see him again for some months.

“All right,” presently spoke Tom Moore. “Now, boy, you can ride behind me, on my hoss, and I’ll fix you out after we get to camp. Haven’t time here.”