Lying near the chiefs, with Naiche on one side and Nadeze on the other, Geronimo poured powder into the cavernous muzzle of his shotgun. He emptied the pouch of beads on top of it, tamped them in with cloth, and primed the gun. Naiche grinned, understanding at last.
Nadeze exclaimed, "There are the murderers of Kas-Kai-Ya!"
"So?" Mangus Coloradus said calmly. "What think you, Cochise? What think you, Whoa? These enemies slew Geronimo's mother. They slew his wife. They slew his children. Should Geronimo lead the first attack?"
"It is well," Cochise murmured.
"It is just," Whoa agreed.
Geronimo turned to Naiche. "Take fifty warriors and go unseen into that strip of woods we see from here. Wait until the enemies are past and we have attacked. Then charge them from the rear."
"I go, brother," Naiche said grimly. "Good hunting."
When the rurales were four hundred yards away they stopped to fire. Those in front kneeled so that those behind could shoot over their heads. Keeping his men hidden, Geronimo noticed that every weapon was discharged.
The rurales fired a second volley from two hundred yards and, as before, every weapon was emptied. Now, before they could reload, was the time to take them.
Shotgun in one hand, lance in the other, Geronimo sounded the Apache war whoop and raced out of the woods toward the enemy. The Mexicans worked desperately with their guns, but fewer than half reloaded in time. The remainder drew sabers and awaited the attack.