They traveled all day, and when the sun was setting in the west, they found themselves but a short distance from the entrance to the valley. They camped for the night, not lighting a fire, in case there should be any unfriendly Indians in the vicinity.
As dawn drew near, the two young men crawled to the mountainous heights overlooking the twisting valley. There they lay and watched the valley below. For almost an hour they sat until finally about noontime a small band of warriors could be seen riding into the valley. They rode straight up the middle of the valley twisting and turning as the valley turned but finally about midway up the valley they swung sharply to the left and seemed to disappear into the very walls surrounding the valley.
“Come,” said Singing Fire, “we must investigate this strange occurrence.”
It took them most of the afternoon to reach a vantage point overlooking where the warriors had disappeared. Crawling carefully to the very edge, the two young braves looked carefully over the edge. Below them lay a fantastic sight. A tremendous Comanche encampment was being formed in a small box canyon. The entrance to the box canyon was a mere crack in the wall which was just about wide enough for one horse and rider to enter at one time. Now Singing Fire could see why a rider going through the valley would not see the opening for it was actually hidden from view by a turn in the trail. If one were not looking for it, one would not find it except by accident.
“This is why we have not seen the Comanches except for that one small party. Under cover of night or early dawn they have been entering our land in small parties, gathering here until their force is large enough to make war upon our people.”
Singing Fire tapped his friend upon the shoulder, motioning him away from the edge.
“Many Painted Ponies, one of us must ride for all he is worth to reach our village and tell of this plan to our people. You must tell the chief to gather the Apaches together and we can trap the scheming Comanches in their own camp.”
Many Painted Ponies rose to leave. “Be careful, my friend, for if they should suspect that you are here your scalp will soon hang from their medicine lodge and they will break from their camp fearing the trap we will set for them. Now I will ride for our village and may your prayers go with me.” With that, Many Painted Ponies left and mounting his pony he rode off toward home.
Singing Fire kept careful watch for the next day and night and when dawn approached he saw the dust of many horses approaching. Riding forth to meet his people, a plan formed in his mind. In council with the chiefs a short time later the plan was outlined. The best marksmen of the Apaches were placed around the box canyon on the walls overlooking the unsuspecting camp of the Comanches. Other warriors would ride into the valley to stand guard at the only entrance or exit to the canyon to make sure none escaped.
Soon all was in readiness. The signal was given. Like an attacking horde of eagles, the Apaches began firing down upon the Comanche encampment. The battle was long and bloody. In confusion the Comanches mounted their ponies and headed for the exit. Here they were met with a hail of arrows which drove them back into the canyon.