We had been without water all day and when night came Lieutenant Baylor and Captain Garcia decided it was useless to continue the fight any longer, so we withdrew toward our horses. After reaching the animals we could still hear the Indians firing on our positions. We might have captured the Apaches' horses by a charge, but we would have had to go down the side of the mountain and across a deep canyon where we would have been compelled to pick our way slowly under a constant cross fire from the concealed riflemen, and neither Baylor nor Garcia thought the horses worth the sacrifice required to capture them.
As the nearest water was thirty miles away and our men and horses weary and thirsty, we rode back to our hospitable friend, Don Ramon Arrandas' ranch, where our horses were fed and we ourselves supplied with fresh milk and cheese. On our return to Guadalupe we were most kindly entertained by Mr. Maximo Arrandas, custom house officer at San Elizario, and brother to Don Ramon. We reached our headquarters at Ysleta after being out five days and traveling two hundred and twenty-two miles, sustaining no other damage than a few bruises from scaling the mountain and the loss of Sergeant Swilling's horse. This first brush with Apaches, however, was but a prelude to other expeditions after this tribe, and we were soon hot on the trail of Victorio, the Apache Napoleon.
SCOUTING IN MEXICO
About a month after our first brush with Apaches, during November, 1879, Chief Victorio quit the Mescalero Reservation and with a party of one hundred and twenty-five warriors and a hundred women and children, traveled south into Mexico on a raid. This old chief was probably the best general ever produced by the Apache tribe. He was a far better captain than old Geronimo ever was and capable of commanding a much larger force of men. His second in command was Nana, also a very able officer.
Victorio knew every foot of the country and just where to find wood, water, grass and abundance of game, so he took his time and, coming from New Mexico down into the state of Chihuahua, stopped first at the Santa Maria. The country about this stream is very mountainous, especially to the south, and here he could find refuge in case of an attack from Mexican soldiers. Of this, however, there was not much danger at that time, for the country was thinly settled, farming and stock raising being confined to the neighborhood of the small towns. Gradually Chief Victorio moved down into the Candelaria Mountains, approaching them from the northwest. Here he could get fresh range for his large band of horses and be near the settlement of San Jose, owned by Don Mariano Samaniego. Here, also, he could watch the public road between Chihuahua and El Paso del Norte, the present Juarez.
One of the saddest and most heart-rending tragedies resulted from this move. Victorio was camped at the large tanks on the north side and almost on top of the Candelaria Mountains, where he had fine range for his stock and plenty of game and wood. From those almost inaccessible peaks he could see for twenty or thirty miles in every direction and watch every move of travelers or hostile forces. The old chief now sent a small band of Indians, some six or seven in number, on a raid against the little settlement of San Jose. Here the Indians stole a bunch of Mexican ponies and hurried back to their camp on top of the Candelaria Mountains. The citizens of San Jose discovered the loss of their ponies, and on examining the trail, found there was only a small band of Indians in the raiding party. A company of the principal Mexicans of San Jose, under the command of Don Jose Rodriguez, and augmented by volunteers from the little town of Carrajal, left to locate the Indians and recover the stolen horses. The little band of fifteen brave men went to the northern side of the mountains and struck the trail of Victorio's band on an old beaten route used by the Indians, which passed from the Santa Maria River to the Candelaria Mountains. This road wound between two rocky peaks and then down the side of the hills to the plain between them and the Candelaria, ending at last at the big tank.
From his position on the tall peaks Victorio had seen the little body of Mexicans long before they struck his trail and, knowing they would never come upon the Candelaria after seeing the size of his trail, sent forty or fifty of his warriors to form an ambuscade where the trail crosses the crest between the two peaks. He must have been with the braves himself, for the thing was skillfully planned and executed. On the north side of the trail there were only a few boulders, but on the south the hills were very broken, rising in rough tiers of stones. The Apaches hid in these rocks and awaited their victims. On November 7, 1879, the Mexicans entered the narrow defile and as soon as they were between the two parties of Indians concealed on each side of the pass the Apaches on the north side of the trail fired a volley upon them. The Mexicans thereupon made for the rocks on the south, as was natural. As they sought refuge there the redskins in the cliffs above the gallant little band opened fire on them. Caught in a real death trap the entire punitive force was massacred. When I walked over the ground some time afterward I saw where one Mexican had gotten into a crevice from which he could shoot anyone coming at him from the east or west. He was hidden also from the Indians in the cliffs above him, but his legs were exposed to the warriors on the north side and they had literally shot them off up to his knees. I also found seven dead Mexicans in a small gulley, and on a little peak above them I discovered the lair of one old Indian who had fired twenty-seven shots at the tiny group until he had killed them all, for I found that number of 45-70 cartridge shells in one pile. Practically all the horses of the Mexicans were killed. Some of the animals had been tied to Spanish dagger plants and when shot ran the length of their rope before falling. Some of the bodies rolled down the deep canyon until they reached the bottom of what we called the Canado del Muerte (Canyon of Death), and the Indians removed none of the saddles or ropes from the dead horses.