The three Apaches crouched in the brush and bided their time. They were heedless of the sun that burned down upon them. Thirst that would have driven a white man mad bothered them not at all. They were trained to endure thirst.
An hour before dark, several Mexican riders came with a herd of forty horses. They put them in the same corral where the fifty were already confined, and turned their own saddle mounts in with them. Two more riders came, stripped saddles and bridles from their mounts, and shut them in the corral. Then all the Mexicans went into the house.
Night fell before the three Apaches stirred. Geronimo gave his orders.
"Zayigo and Pedro, keep those in the house from coming out. I go to the corral."
Geronimo slipped away in the darkness. He could no longer see the corral, but his sense of direction was so sure that he went exactly to it. The Mexicans had draped their saddles over the top rail and hung their bridles on the saddle horns. Taking no saddles, for all three raiders were expert bareback riders, Geronimo looped three bridles over his shoulder and entered the corral.
The horses snorted in alarm when they got his scent, then wheeled to run to the corral's far side. Geronimo did not hurry even slightly, for in the first place any quick move would frighten the horses. In the second place, with Zayigo and Pedro Gonzalez watching the house, he was not afraid that the Mexicans would come. In the third place, Geronimo had done this so many times that he knew exactly how to go about it.
