In the presence of strangers the Apache soldier is sedate and taciturn. Seated around his little apology for a camp-fire, in the communion of his fellows, he becomes vivacious and conversational. He is obedient to authority, but will not brook the restraints which, under our notions of discipline, change men into machines. He makes an excellent sentinel, and not a single instance can be adduced of property having been stolen from or by an Apache on guard.
He has the peculiarity, noticed among so many savage tribes in various parts of the world, of not caring to give his true name to a stranger; if asked for it, he will either give a wrong one or remain mute and let a comrade answer for him. This rule does not apply where he has been dubbed with a sobriquet by the white soldiers. In such case he will respond promptly, and tell the inquirer that he is “Stumpy,” “Tom Thumb,” “Bill,” “Humpy Sam,” or “One-Eyed Reilly,” as the case may be. But there is no such exception in regard to the dead. Their names are never mentioned, even by the wailing friends who loudly chant their virtues.
APACHE AMBUSCADE.
Approaching the enemy his vigilance is a curious thing to witness. He avoids appearing suddenly upon the crest of a hill, knowing that his figure projected against the sky can at such time be discerned from a great distance. He will carefully bind around his brow a sheaf of grass, or some other foliage, and thus disguised crawl like a snake to the summit and carefully peer about, taking in with his keen black eyes the details of the country to the front with a rapidity, and thoroughness the American or European can never acquire. In battle he is again the antithesis of the Caucasian. The Apache has no false ideas about courage; he would prefer to skulk like the coyote for hours, and then kill his enemy, or capture his herd, rather than, by injudicious exposure, receive a wound, fatal or otherwise. But he is no coward; on the contrary, he is entitled to rank among the bravest. The precautions taken for his safety prove that he is an exceptionally skillful soldier. His first duty under fire is to jump for a rock, bush, or hole, from which no enemy can drive him except with loss of life or blood.
The policy of Great Britain has always been to enlist a force of auxiliaries from among the natives of the countries falling under her sway. The Government of the United States, on the contrary, has persistently ignored the really excellent material, ready at hand, which could, with scarcely an effort and at no expense, be mobilized, and made to serve as a frontier police. General Crook is the only officer of our army who has fully recognized the incalculable value of a native contingent, and in all his campaigns of the past thirty-five years has drawn about him as soon as possible a force of Indians, which has been serviceable as guides and trailers, and also of consequence in reducing the strength of the opposition.
The white army of the United States is a much better body of officers and men than a critical and censorious public gives it credit for being. It represents intelligence of a high order, and a spirit of devotion to duty worthy of unbounded praise; but it does not represent the acuteness of the savage races. It cannot follow the trail like a dog on the scent. It may be brave and well-disciplined, but its members cannot tramp or ride, as the case may be, from forty to seventy-five miles in a day, without water, under a burning sun. No civilized army can do that. It is one of the defects of civilized training that man develops new wants, awakens new necessities,—becomes, in a word, more and more a creature of luxury.
Take the Apache Indian under the glaring sun of Mexico. He quietly peels off all his clothing and enjoys the fervor of the day more than otherwise. He may not be a great military genius, but he is inured to all sorts of fatigue, and will be hilarious and jovial when the civilized man is about to die of thirst.
Prominent among these scouts was of course first of all “Peaches,” the captive guide. He was one of the handsomest men, physically, to be found in the world. He never knew what it was to be tired, cross, or out of humor. His knowledge of the topography of Northern Sonora was remarkable, and his absolute veracity and fidelity in all his dealings a notable feature in his character. With him might be mentioned “Alchise,” “Mickey Free,” “Severiano,” “Nockié-cholli,” “Nott,” and dozens of others, all tried and true men, experienced in warfare and devoted to the general whose standard they followed.