"Go we may, but we must go cautiously and we must not linger," Mangus Coloradus said. "The rurales may still await us there. If they do not, the night is our friend. And we must ask our friend to shield us while we travel far."
A clear thought penetrated Geronimo's numbed brain. At the time when the massacre must have occurred, the people of Kas-Kai-Ya had set up a deafening racket. Why, if not to make it impossible for the warriors in town to hear rifle shots?
The thought faded and Geronimo was again a live body with a numbed brain and sick soul. He understood dully that they must return to their village, but that first they would have one last visit at the encampment. He rose only because the others did, and started out of the grove.
They found and traveled the trail to the Apache encampment. It was a bold move and, under a lesser chief than Mangus Coloradus, might have been disastrous. But the Mimbreno chief had rightly decided that Mexicans gauged Apache hearts by their own. If such a disaster had stricken Mexicans, the survivors would never have dared show themselves on the trail. Neither would they have visited the scene of the massacre.
When the angry and grief-stricken Apaches reached the encampment, they found that the rurales had left. The moon was merciful. The crumpled figures that lay all about seemed like so many sleeping persons.
Geronimo sought the wickiup where he had left his family.
He stopped suddenly. Alope lay full length before him, head turned and cheek resting on her right hand. Her long black hair tumbled at her side. Many times had Geronimo watched her sleep in just such a fashion, and now she seemed asleep. But she did not wake.
Geronimo's mother had fallen at the entrance to the wickiup, and the children were near. The two little girls had embraced when the Mexicans overtook them, and had fallen with their arms still about each other. The boy was at his sisters' feet. His right arm was stretched toward them, and he still clutched the rock which he had intended to throw at the treacherous Mexicans.
Geronimo was unaware of the hand that touched his arm, until Mangus Coloradus said gently, "Come with us, brother."