Thirty-One Years on the Plains and in the Mountains, Or, the Last Voice from the Plains / An Authentic Record of a Life Time of Hunting, Trapping, Scouting and Indian Fighting in the Far West

by William F. Drannan

Of course I knew the horseback ride was only a ruse to get a chance to tell me the plans laid by herself and the white girl for her escape, although she said that she just wanted to try my Pinto horse to see how he would ride.

And here I will say that I don't believe there was another Indian in that village who had any idea of the scheme that was being worked up between myself and those two Indians, for they would never say a word to me while within earshot of any of the tribe.

The other Indians thought I was courting Nawasa, and it was always the custom among those Indians for a young couple never to ride out alone.

It has always been a mystery to me why those young Pimas took such a deep interest in the white girl, for they were merely untutored Indians, having only a few years since seen the first white man, and had not seen many since then.

But those two young Indians seemed to be as kind-hearted persons as I ever met, and were the most intelligent Indians I ever saw, who were not educated, and I often regretted that I did not take them to some school and have them educated, for it would have been a great benefit to the people on the plains at that time.

But to go on with my story. We took our ride, and as soon as we were well away from the village Nawasa told me that she had seen the white girl and completed plans for her escape. She said that after making arrangements with the girl, she—Nawasa—had not gone to the Apache village, but had met the girl at the huckleberry patch most every day.

She said: "The girl will come to the berry-patch every day until we go there for her, provided the Indians with whom she lived would let her go, that she might be there to-morrow, and she might not come till the next day. The girl is willing to go with you, and we will go to the berry-patch to-morrow and wait till she comes."

The next morning the three of us started out ostensibly to pick berries.

After we were out of sight of the village the young Indian man took my Pinto horse and started in the direction of Fort Yuma, it being understood that he was to stop about half way between Fort Yuma and the place where we would meet the girl. He was to wait there until the middle of the afternoon, and if we were not there by that time he was to return to camp.

Nawasa and I went on to the berry-patch, but the white girl was not there. We had not waited long, however, until Nawasa looked up and said in Spanish, "There she comes now."