"Far to the south, where no white soldier ever has been or ever shall be," Whoa said.
Geronimo said, "I do not think I would like the south."
"I say no more," said Whoa.
Whoa caught his pony and rode away. Geronimo knew a great sorrow. Whoa was frightened. Because he feared, he was willing to see through the eyes of others rather than find out for himself how things truly were. It was indeed a sad thing.
Two days later the scout announced another friend. In twenty minutes, Ana, Benito's wife, climbed the hill to Geronimo's camp.
"Why are you here?" Geronimo demanded.
"I bear a message from Chief Gray Wolf," said Ana.
Geronimo said, "It has come to my ears that Chief Gray Wolf killed all the followers of Benito. Yet you, Benito's wife, are not dead."
"We did indeed fight some of Chief Gray Wolf's Apache scouts," said Ana. "They were commanded by the white chiefs, Crawford and Gatewood. They surprised us in our camp, and we thought they came for war. But they came for peace, and though they killed a few of us because we fought them, they took most of us prisoner and treated us very well.