On the Border with Crook

by John Gregory Bourke

Crook’s management of the Department of Arizona was conducted on the same lines as during his previous administration: he rode on mule-back all over it, and met and understood each and every Indian with whom he might have to deal as friend or enemy; he reorganized his pack-trains and the Indian scouts, put the control of military affairs at the San Carlos under charge of Captain Emmet Crawford, Third Cavalry, a most intelligent and conscientious officer, encouraged the Indians to prepare for planting good crops the next spring, and made ready to meet the Chiricahuas. These Indians, for whom a reservation had been laid out with its southern line the boundary between the United States and the Mexican Republic, had been dealing heavily at the ranch of Rogers and Spence, at Sulphur Springs, where they were able to buy all the vile whiskey they needed. In a row over the sale of liquor both Rogers and Spence were killed, and the Apaches, fearing punishment, fled to the mountains of Mexico—the Sierra Madre. From that on, for six long years, the history of the Chiricahuas was one of blood: a repetition of the long series of massacres which, under “Cocheis,” they had perpetrated in the old days.

On several occasions a number of them returned to the San Carlos, or pretended to do so, but the recesses of the Sierra Madre always afforded shelter to small bands of renegades of the type of “Ka-e-tan-ne,” who despised the white man as a liar and scorned him as a foe. The unfortunate policy adopted by the Government towards the “Warm Springs” Apaches of New Mexico, who were closely related to the Chiricahuas, had an unhealthy effect upon the latter and upon all the other bands. The “Warm Springs” Apaches were peremptorily deprived of their little fields and driven away from their crops, half-ripened, and ordered to tramp to the San Carlos; when the band reached there the fighting men had disappeared, and only decrepit warriors, little boys and girls, and old women remained. “Victorio” went on the war-path with every effective man, and fairly deluged New Mexico and Chihuahua with blood.

General Crook felt that the Chiricahua Apache problem was a burning shame and disgrace, inasmuch as the property and lives not only of our own citizens but of those of a friendly nation, were constantly menaced. He had not been at San Carlos twenty-four hours before he had a party of Apaches out in the ranges to the south looking for trails or signs; this little party penetrated down into the northern end of the Sierra Madre below Camp Price, and saw some of the Mexican irregular troops, but found no fresh traces of the enemy. Crook insisted upon the expulsion from the reservation of all unauthorized squatters and miners, whether appearing under the guise of Mormons or as friends of the late agents, and opposed resolutely the further curtailment of the reservation or the proposition to transfer the Apaches to the Indian Territory, having in mind the contemptible failure of the attempt to evict the Cherokees from the mountains of North Carolina, where some twenty-two hundred of them still cling to the homes of their forefathers. He also insisted upon giving to the Apaches all work which could be provided for them, and in paying for the same in currency to the individual Indians without the interposition of any middlemen or contractors in any guise.

This will explain in a word why Crook was suddenly abused so roundly in the very Territory for which he had done so much. People who were not influenced by the disappointed elements enumerated, saw that General Crook’s views were eminently fair and sound, based upon the most extended experience, and not the hap-hazard ideas of a theoretical soldier. To quote from the Annual Message of Governor Tritle: “The Indians know General Crook and his methods, and respect both.” Had the notion ever taken root among the Apaches that they were all to be transplanted to unknown regions, the country would have had to face the most terrible and costly war in its history. Crook did not want wars—he wanted to avert them. In a letter to United States District Attorney Zabriskie, he used the following language: “I believe that it is of far greater importance to prevent outbreaks than to attempt the difficult and sometimes hopeless task of quelling them after they do occur; this policy can only be successful when the officers of justice fearlessly perform their duty in proceeding against the villains who fatten on the supplies intended for the use of Indians willing to lead peaceful and orderly lives. Bad as Indians often are, I have never yet seen one so demoralized that he was not an example in honor and nobility to the wretches who enrich themselves by plundering him of the little our Government appropriates for him.”

To prevent any of the Indians from slipping off from the agency, they were all enrolled, made to wear tags as of yore, and compelled to submit to periodical counts occurring every few days. It was found that there were then at the San Carlos Agency eleven hundred and twenty-eight males capable of bearing arms; this did not include the bands at or near Camp Apache or the Chiricahuas. The Apaches manifested the liveliest interest in the system of trial by jury, and it was apparent that criminals stood but a small chance of escaping punishment when arraigned before their own people. While we were at San Carlos on this occasion Captain Crawford had arrested two Apaches on the charge of making “tizwin,” getting drunk, and arousing camp by firing off guns late at night. The jury was impanelled, the trial began, and the room soon filled with spectators. The prisoners attempted to prove an “alibi,” and introduced witnesses to swear to the shooting having been done by other parties.

“Eskiminzin” impatiently arose to his feet and interrupted the proceedings: “That man is not telling the truth.”

“Tell ‘Eskiminzin’ to sit down and keep quiet,” ordered Captain Crawford; “he must not interrupt the proceedings of the court.”

A few moments after, in looking down the long list of witnesses, it was discovered that “Eskiminzin” was present as a witness, and he was called upon to testify.

“Tell the Captain,” said the indignant chief, “that I have nothing to say. I do not understand these white men; they let all kinds of people talk at a trial, and would just as soon listen to the words of a liar as those of a man telling the truth. Why, when I began to tell him that So-and-so was lying, he made me sit down and keep my mouth shut, but So-and-so went on talking, and every word he said was put down on paper.”

It took some time to explain to “Eskiminzin” the intricacies of our laws of evidence, and to pacify him enough to induce him to give his version of the facts.