Geronimo shook his head. When he was a medicine man, he had tried in vain to see the visions that should appear to all shamans. Though he was no longer a shaman, visions came now.
He saw that long past day when he had stolen Delgadito's war horse to fight a duel of stallions with the son of Ponce. Again he went with Delgadito on the raid, and saw the two Papagoes who had come to steal horses. Once more he lived in his mother's wickiup, and knew the love that had warmed him there. Next followed his happy days with Alope, but not the massacre at Kas-Kai-Ya.
Then the battle that avenged the massacre, the ambush of the California Volunteers in Apache Pass, and the battles that had been since.
He thought of all that had passed since his first fight with the two Papagoes. Geronimo had been twelve years old then. He was fifty-eight now. He had known forty-six years of war.
More visions came. Geronimo saw old Mangus Coloradus, leaving the Mimbreno village to surrender to the white man. He saw Cochise, who fought fiercely for ten years after the death of Mangus Coloradus but finally gave in too.
No more visions appeared. Geronimo turned to Naiche, who sat beside him.
"You told me that you long to see your wife, your children, your relatives," he said.
"I do," said Naiche. "Have you no wish again to visit your blood kin?"
"No one awaits me—"