This attack, said the papers, ought to convince the Government that the Apaches of Arizona were far from “civilized.” These very Indians had been living “peaceably” upon one of Commissioner Colyer’s tracts, where they were protected.
Lieutenant Wheeler and his main party commanded by Lieutenant David A. Lyle of the Second Artillery, with an escort of the Third Cavalry (Company I), supplied by the Department of California, rode into Camp Grant only a few days after the word of the Wickenburg Massacre had been received.
They were on their way from Camp Apache to Tucson; had been exploring since the middle of May, and were pretty well worn out. They had found many of the Indians met to be rude and insolent, but——
“No, they never attacked us,” said Lieutenant Lyle. “And now, to think that they’ve killed poor Loring, when he was all through and was going home! He had his hair cut very short, on his road out, and laughed when he claimed that the Apaches would never be able to take his scalp.”
“One drop of that fine young man’s blood was worth more to the United States than the whole Apache race is,” declared Lieutenant Wheeler. “In my opinion, the peace policy of forbidding a military campaign that shall drive the Apaches in upon the reservations is encouraging them to commit such outrages. The Indian question in Arizona will never be settled until the campaigns of an energetic officer shall thoroughly whip and subdue them.”
“And Crook’s that man,” asserted Chief Packer Tom Moore, who was over from Fort Whipple, on a trip around to inspect pack-train outfits. “We’ve had other gen’rals in Arizony. Some of ’em did too much—took ev’ry scalp they could ketch. Some of ’em did too little—reg’lar coffee-coolers. But this Gen’ral Crook, gentlemen, he’s goin’ to know for himself whether a ’Pache’s good or bad. The good ones he’ll treat square, and the bad ones he’ll trail down till he has their tongues hangin’ out. Now he’s just lyin’ low, till the Government’s got plumb sick o’ these ‘Colyer’s babes,’ and he has orders. If I don’t miss my guess, next spring the Arizony hills’ll be full o’ soldiers and pack-trains, and tame ’Paches fightin’ wild ’Paches, and Crook bossin’ us all from the saddle.”
Tom Moore and others from Fort Whipple brought word that General Crook kept very active. He seemed to have no idea of resting. He was constantly traveling, by mule and buck-board wagon, over the roads and trails of northern Arizona, learning them as he had learned the trails of southern Arizona. Usually he traveled with only Lieutenant Bourke, who was his aide-de-camp, and a cook and a packer, for he did not wish to use officers and men who should be ready for scouting expeditions. He issued orders that the pack-train outfits should be prepared at top notch. It was plain to be seen that he expected to go upon a hard campaign as soon as the Peace Policy had been tried and had failed.
Jimmie decided that his best chance of taking the trail with this active General Crook lay with the pack-trains; even a boy might be useful in the pack-trains; he could catch mules and pull on ropes and help the cook—and if he spoke Apache, like Jimmie did, and knew lots of Apache tricks, he might be valuable as an interpreter, sometimes. Besides, Joe Felmer was a scout and a horse-shoer both, and he surely would be ordered out. Jimmie intended not to be left at home.
Luckily, he had plenty of opportunity this fall and winter to learn pack-train wrinkles. For the practice that it gave the men, as well as because it was the better method, the general distributed the supplies to all the posts by means of pack-mules.
Before he had assumed command, the supplies out of Tucson and Prescott had been hauled largely by wagons in charge of “bull whackers” and “mule skinners,” and operated by civilian contractors, who made freighting their business. Of course, pack-mules had been necessary, too, with scouting columns and between out-of-the-way posts; and the miners, and the Mexican merchants and traders from Sonora of Mexico, employed pack-mules.