“Good-by, amigos,” he bade, to Jimmie and Micky. “Some day we will go together against the Chiricahua, with your Crook.”
There were fifty cavalry, mainly of the Fifth Regiment, and some fifty pack-mules which carried only supplies for the march. Micky and Alchisé led by the best trail, so that the trip was made in five days.
Now Jimmie had an opportunity to see the famous Camp Apache, in the grassy, well timbered and well watered Sierra Blanca or White Mountains of northeastern Arizona. By reason of the fine hunting and fishing, and scenery and climate, it was considered to be the prize army post of the Southwest.
It had been located in 1870, and was at first called Camp Ord, and Camp Thomas. The Chiricahuas had sneered at the White Mountain Apaches, who had permitted a soldier fort to be established among them. But Chiefs Pedro and Miguel and Pi-to-ne and all had continued to live just west of the post, and to remain tame Indians. In this they were wise.
With the twelve hundred tame Indians, and the many soldiers, some infantry but the majority cavalry, Camp Apache proved to be a stirring place. General Crook had arrived, with his escort; clear from Fort Whipple, two hundred and fifty miles west. He had traveled fast, breaking camp by four o’clock every morning, and now he was hustling matters so that he might set out for Camp Grant, to the southwest, and organize an expedition from there.
Lieutenant Bourke was at work enlisting the White Mountain young men. Most of the White Mountains were very anxious to take the war-path against the bothersome outlaw Tontos and Yavapais. Alchisé enlisted, so did Na-kay-do-klunni, so did a sub-chief named Es-qui-nos-quiz-n or Big Mouth, so did Nan-ta-je (Nan-tah-hay), a Coyotero; so did nearly one hundred others.
Micky knew every one of them. But his band was the Chief Pedro band.
“Are you coming, Micky?” eagerly asked Jimmie.
“Maybe. I will wait and see, Cheemie, until I can tell where there’ll be the best fighting.”
“We’ll catch the Tonto, won’t we, Micky?”