On May 23, 1883, rations were issued to 220 Chiricahuas, and, soon after, Nané, one of the most noted and influential of the Chiricahua chiefs, rode into camp with seventeen of his people. He has a strong face, marked with intelligence, courage, and good nature, but with an under stratum of cruelty and vindictiveness. He has received many wounds in his countless fights with the whites, and limps very perceptibly in one leg. He reported that Chiricahuas were coming in by every trail, and that all would go to the San Carlos as soon as they collected their families.
On the 24th of May the march back to the San Carlos began. All the old Chiricahuas were piled on mules, donkeys, and ponies; so were the weak little children and feeble women. The great majority streamed along on foot, nearly all wearing garlands of cotton-wood foliage to screen them from the sun. The distance travelled was not great, and camp was made by noon.
The scene at the Bávispe River was wonderfully picturesque. Sit down on this flat rock and feast your eyes upon the silver waves flashing in the sun. Don’t scare that little girl who is about to give her baby brother a much-needed bath. The little dusky brat—all eyes—is looking furtively at you and ready to bawl if you draw nearer. Opposite are two old crones filling ollas (jugs or jars) of basket-work, rendered fully water-proof by a coating of either mesquite or piñon pitch. Alongside of them are two others, who are utilizing the entrails of a cow for the same purpose. The splash and yell on your right, as you correctly divine, come from an Apache “Tom Sawyer,” who will one day mount the gallows. The friendly greeting and request for “tobacco shmoke” are proffered by one of the boys, who has kindly been eating a big portion of your meals for several days past, and feels so friendly toward you that he announces himself in a pleasant, off-hand sort of way as your “Sikisn” (brother). Behind you are grouped Apache scouts, whose heads are encircled with red flannel bandages, and whose rifles and cartridges are never laid aside. Horses and mules plunge belly-deep into the sparkling current; soldiers come and go, some to drink, some to get buckets filled with water, and some to soak neck, face, and hands, before going back to dinner.
APACHE BASKET-WORK.
In this camp we remained several days. The old and young squaws had cut and dried large packages of “jerked” beef, and had brought down from the hill-sides donkey-loads of mescal heads, which were piled in ovens of hot stones covered with wet grass and clay. The process of roasting, or rather steaming, mescal takes from three to four days, and resembles somewhat the mode of baking clams in New England. The Apache scouts passed the time agreeably enough in gambling with the Chiricahuas, whom they fleeced unmercifully, winning hundreds of dollars in gold, silver, and paper at the games of monte, conquien, tzi-chis, and mushka.
The attractive pools of the Bávispe wooed groups of white soldiers and packers, and nearly the whole strength of the Chiricahua women and children, who disported in the refreshing waters with the agility and grace of nereids and tritons. The modesty of the Apaches of both sexes, under all circumstances, is praiseworthy.
“Chato” and “Loco” told General Crook this morning that “Hieronymo” had sent them back to say that the Chiricahuas were very much scattered since the fight, and that he had not been as successful as he anticipated in getting them united and in corraling their herds of ponies. They did not want to leave a single one of their people behind, and urged General Crook to stay in his present camp for a week longer, if possible. “Loco,” for his part, expressed himself as anxious for peace. He had never wished to leave San Carlos. He wanted to go back there and obtain a little farm, and own cattle and horses, as he once did. Here it may be proper to say that all the chiefs of the Chiricahuas—“Hieronymo,” “Loco,” “Chato,” “Nané,” “Bonito,” “Chihuahua,” “Maugas,” “Zelé,” and “Kan-tenné”—are men of noticeable brain power, physically perfect and mentally acute—just the individuals to lead a forlorn hope in the face of every obstacle.
The Chiricahua children, who had become tired of swimming, played at a new sport to-day, a mimic game of war, a school of practice analogous to that established by old Fagan for the instruction of young London pickpockets. Three boys took the lead, and represented Mexicans, who endeavored to outrun, hide from, or elude their pursuers, who trailed them to their covert, surrounded it, and poured in a flight of arrows. One was left for dead, stretched upon the ground, and the other two were seized and carried into captivity. The fun became very exciting, so much so that the corpse, ignoring the proprieties, raised itself up to see how the battle sped.