During the early years following the Civil War the successive administrations at Washington seem to have appreciated, in a vague sort of way, that any real development of the new Territory of Arizona would be impossible without military protection from the hostile Indians, yet the relief furnished was so inadequate that raiding of mines and ranches and the murder of travelers continued more or less continuously down to 1885, when the worst of the Apache renegades were taken as prisoners of war out of the State.

According to Bancroft, the number of Indians in Arizona in 1863-64, exclusive of the Navajos, was about twenty-five thousand.

To protect the settlers against the hostiles, the War Department furnished from two to three regiments of soldiers, distributed in posts in different parts of the Territory. These were not in any sense defensible forts, but simply barracks where soldiers were quartered. In the desert country the buildings were usually made of adobe, with pole roofs covered with clay. In timbered localities like Prescott log houses, in some cases, were erected.

The principal posts used during the period from 1865 to 1885 include the following: Fort Yuma on the lower Colorado; Fort Mohave on the Colorado, a few miles below Hardyville this post was maintained specially to look after the Mojave and Hualpai Indians, and give protection to the ferry across the Colorado at Seal's Crossing; and Camp Crittenden on the Sonoita, which took the place of old Fort Buchanan. Tubac was rehabilitated for a short time after the Civil War and garrisoned companies of the Arizona volunteers as well as United States troops.

Fort Mason at Calabasas, fifteen miles to the south, was also maintained as a garrison for a short time.

Camp Huachuca, in Cochise County, is one of the newer southern Arizona camps, being built in 1876. As it is less than fifteen miles from the border, its importance has grown steadily, while practically all the old Indian posts have long been abandoned.

Fort Lowell was first located at Tucson and occupied in 1862. It was abandoned in 1864, reoccupied in 1865, and in 1873 removed seven miles east of the town.

Camp Bowie, as we have seen, was established in Apache Pass after the battle between the soldiers and the Chiricahua and Mimbres Apaches. General Miles used it as his headquarters when campaigning against the Apaches in 1885. It was abandoned in 1896.

Forts Apache, Thomas and Grant are in approximately a straight line running north and south, fifty or sixty miles from the New Mexican border. All were in Apache country, and besides guarding the miners and farmers in the upper Gila and Salt countries, they were designed to check bands of renegade Apaches raiding en route to and from Old Mexico. Fort Apache, the farthest north, is about eighty-five miles south of Holbrook on the White River. It was established in 1870. Thomas was fifty miles south of Apache, on the upper Gila, while Grant, at the foot of the Pinaleno Mountains, was about thirty-five miles south of Thomas.

There was also an earlier Camp Grant, of much historic interest, which was situated at the confluence of the San Pedro and the Aravaipa Creek, and was originally established as Fort Brecken- ridge, as has already been mentioned.

Camp McDowell was located about thirty miles northeast of Phoenix on the Verde River, and was established in 1865. It was also an important Apache post, being near of access of a number of Apache trails running through the mountains to the north and east.

Camp Verde, which was first known as Camp Lincoln, is in the upper Verde Valley, forty miles or so east of Prescott. It was used in 1863 by the California volunteers, afterwards, in '64, by Arizona volunteers and finally by the regulars. In 1876 there were quartered at this post six officers, one hundred and seventeen men and forty Indian scouts. It was also in Apache country.

Whipple Barracks, whose establishment we have already noticed, was one of the most important posts in the Territory in Apache days. Near the capital of the State, and being regimental headquarters with a band, it was the center of much social life for a number of years. For a while General Crook used it as headquarters for the military department of Arizona and southern California.

In 1864, the year of Arizona's birth as a separate commonwealth, the military forces of the Territory were in command of Gen. James H. Carleton, who had acquired prestige not only as the leader of the California column when the Confederates had been driven eastward, but in successful campaigns against New Mexican Indians. However, after his arrival in Arizona, although he waged an unremitting warfare against the Apaches, wherein some two hundred members of the tribe were killed, no relief of permanent value to the settlers accrued.

At all times skeptical as to the ability of the regular army to protect them, throughout the years that followed bands of civilians from time to time would organize temporary expeditions on their own account against the hostiles. In 1864, such a party, led by "Col." King S. Woolsey, attained a rather unfavorable notoriety, at least outside of the Territory, as it was claimed that he, upon running across a number of Tonto Apaches, invited them to a conference and poisoned them by giving them pinole mixed with strychnine. For years the pinole treaty was a stock story of Apache sympathizers to illustrate the brutality of Arizona settlers.

This version of the story is denied by one of the party, A. H. Peoples, in an account given by Mc- Clintock. A band of Apaches had stolen a number of Peoples' horses and mules. Woolsey and Peoples, with sixteen other settlers, went in pursuit of them. They followed the trail south from Peoples'
Valley to the lower Verde, where they received reinforcements in a party of Pima and Maricopa warriors. A few days later they came upon a large band of Tonto Apaches near the present town of Miami. As the hills appeared to be fairly swarming with the savages, it seemed more prudent to Woolsey to parley than to fight, and an Apache boy, who was a member of Woolsey's party, was sent as an ambassador to the enemy.

The boy, after conversing with the hostiles, came back with the information that the Apaches were willing to have a peace talk, but advised the Americans to be careful, as what the Tontos were really planning was to massacre them. Hardly had they all been seated on their blankets when an Indian made a suspicious movement. It seemed to be a case of "he who draws first draws best," and the fight was on. Though far outnumbered, the Woolsey party had the best of it in arms, and made a successful retreat. We read that the Apache boy and the Maricopas fought the Tontos like fiends, taking twenty-four scalps. The Apaches, however, always maintained that they came to the peace talk at the invitation of the Americans, and, with no thought of treachery, were fired upon by their hosts without provocation.

A year later, Arizona was transferred from the military headquarters of New Mexico to California, and Gen. John S. Mason was put in command of the Arizona forces, which, reinforce by California volunteers, was raised to about twenty-eight hundred men.

Mason at once established the policy of treating all Apaches in the Territory as hostile, and gave orders that all Apache men, large enough to bear arms, should be slain on sight, unless they gave themselves up as prisoners. Women and children, too, were to be taken prisoners. Mason acted on the theory that an Apache at large was a continual menace, and that the only way that the Territory could be made a safe place for white people to live in was either to exterminate the hostiles or put them on a reservation and keep them there. A reservation for the Colorado Indians had been established in 1865. Mason now organized a second reservation at Camp Goodwin, near the later Camp Thomas, which was maintained until the end of 1868.

In 1866 the military forces of Arizona were substantially augmented by the organization of five companies of Arizona volunteers. Company A, thirty-five men, was composed for the most part of Mexicans and was commanded, while in the field, by Second Lieut. Primitive Cervantes. Company B was recruited entirely from Maricopa Indians. Thomas Ewing was first lieutenant, and Charles Reidt second lieutenant. Company C was composed of Pimas, and John D. Walker, who boasted of eastern Indian blood and who spoke Pima, was the captain while the company was in service. William A. Hancock, afterwards a Phoenix attorney, was second lieutenant. Antonio Azul, chief of Pimas, was first sergeant and later seems to have been promoted to a lieutenancy. Company E was recruited from Mexicans in the vicinity of Tubac by Capt. Hiram H. Washburn. His lieutenant, while in service, was Manuel Gallegos. Company F, also composed of Mexicans, was commanded by Oscar Hutton, afterwards a scout in the regular army.

All of these companies actively participated in the campaign against the Apaches. Both the Pimas and Maricopas, as well as the Mexicans, made good soldiers, bearing discomforts and privations without complaining and fighting with dash and bravery whenever the opportunity afforded. At the end of a year's campaign Capt. H. H. Washburn of Company E reported, "One thing has been proven, that native troops are far superior to any others for field service in the Territory, and until this has been taken as a basis of operation no immediate good results can occur. Government may continue to spend its millions on any other basis and the Apache raids will still continue, while three hundred native troops, well officered, at an expense of less than $800 to the man per year, will, in less than two years, rid the Territory of its greatest bane and obstacle in the way of progress."

To the great discredit of the Federal Government it must be recorded that after a year of the hardest kind of service, efficiently and bravely rendered, the men subsisting at times on half rations, illy clad, making their own shoes out of deerskin to keep from going barefoot, these gallant soldiers never received a cent of pay.

In this connection it is perhaps not out of place to anticipate our narrative and call the attention of the reader to the fact that in the final campaign waged against the Apaches by Generals Crook and Miles, much of what was accomplished was due to the sagacity and daring of their native scouts made up of Pima and friendly clans of Apaches.

In May, 1866, General Mason was succeeded by Col. H. D. Wallen in the north and Col. Charles S. Lovell in the south, and they in turn were replaced early in 1867 by Gen. J. I. Gregg and Gen. T. L. Crit- tenden, whose combined military force consisted of between fifteen hundred and two thousand men. In October, 1867, by order of General Halleck, Arizona was made a separate military district. A year later Gen. T. C. Devin was put in command, and succeeded in 1869-70 by General Wheaton.

While it is to be noted that the regulars who succeeded the volunteers did not seem to make as efficient soldiers as did the native troops, they kept up a steady campaign against the hostiles. Still little progress was made toward making Arizona a safe place for white people to live in. All of the commanders seem to have been working on the theory that the adoption of some kind of a reservation plan would come the nearest toward solving the problem, yet the steps they made in that direction cannot be said to have been notably crowned with success. General Devin stopped the rations at Camp Goodwin because the Apaches would not surrender murderers nor agree to settle permanently. Also a temporary reservation at Camp Grant, which fed many Pinal Apaches in 1867-68, was abandoned because a satisfactory agreement could not be reached with the natives.

In 1869, Arizona and southern California were combined into a military department with headquarters at Fort Whipple, with the command put into the hands of Gen. George Stoneman. General Stoneman seems to have followed a policy similar to that later worked out more successfully by Crook, which was, in brief, to exterminate persistently depredating Apaches, but encourage those who were inclined to pursue the paths of peace by furnishing them with rations and blankets.

The civilians of the State, however, thought that he put decidedly more stress upon rewards than punishments and that the Apache, murderous at heart and cunning by instinct, was making a fool of him; that the general's feeding stations were simply rendezvouses where the Apaches fattened themselves at the nation's expense and from which they made their murderous raids. State officials, legislators and private citizens were of one accord in these complaints, and finally, in the spring of 1871, a number of the citizens of Tucson took the matter into their own hands in a way that brought lasting shame to the Territory.

That spring a band of Apaches had surrendered at Camp Grant, and about three hundred were allowed to camp near by on Aravaipa Creek, where they received rations and did some little work for the garrison. While they were there, settlements on the San Pedro and Santa Cruz were being raided and travelers murdered. It was believed by the people of Tucson that it was these Camp Grant Indians that were doing the bloody work. Finally a ranch belonging to Lester B. Wooster, which lay just above Tubac, was raided. Mr. and Mrs. Wooster were both killed, and the contents of the house and the outbuildings demolished in the most wanton manner. This proved one outrage more than the settlers could bear. When the news came to Tucson a meeting was quickly called, which was attended by Sidney R. De-Long, W. S. Oury, Jesus M. Elias and other prominent citizens. It seems that protestsagainst outrages had already been sent both the agent at Grant and to General Stoneman, but no satisfaction had been obtained from either. Now at this meeting a terrible plan of revenge was agreed upon. The Papago settlement at San Xavier had also been raided a short time before, and those usually peaceable Indians were keen for revenge. The result was that a party consisting of ninety-two Papagos, forty-eight Mexicans and six Americans, with Elias and Oury as leaders, started for the Apache camp on the Aravaipa. They reached it the second day just as the dawn was beginning to break, while the Apaches were all still asleep, except a man and a woman on a bluff, presumably guards, who were playing cards. The attack was a complete surprise, and Americans, Mexicans and Papagos slew what Apaches they encountered without mercy. Many of the Indians escaped by flight to the hills, but others were not so fortunate. Some accounts say that eighty-five, others that one hundred and thirty-eight were slain. Bancroft says that all but eight were women and children. Twenty-eight Indian babies were taken prisoners.

One hundred and eight persons said to be implicated in the crime were tried for murder at Tucson but, as might be expected, no jury would convict them. The one thing that made their acquittal absolutely certain was that the dress of Mrs. Wooster and a pair of moccasins belonging to her husband were found on the bodies of the slain Indians.

Nevertheless, whatever justification those six Americans must have had for avenging themselves upon the Apache braves, it is difficult to see how the slaying of the women and children could ever have been anything but a horrible, haunting memory to them.

In 1871, Gen. George Crook, a soldier of proven ability, and a man who combined a high character with much common sense, succeeded Stoneman in his command. The line between success and failure in any field is not necessarily a broad one, so while following a policy that did not differ greatly from those of his predecessors, yet with his keener judgment, with his superior qualities as a leader and his ability to command the confidence of both Indians and settlers, where those who had gone before him had only marked time, Crook made a distinct advance toward arriving at a solution of Arizona's Indian question.

Like other commanders, he set out to teach the Apaches that it was more to their interests to be peaceable than to be warlike, and, differing from his predecessors, to a large measure he succeeded. He also made the Indians appreciate that when he said that Indians as well as white men should work for what they ate, that it was within the range of possibilities for him to enforce his doctrine.

One of the first things that the general did was to organize a band of Indian scouts. These included not only friendly Pimas but Apaches as well. As we have seen, Apaches of different clans were not always on good terms with each other; indeed, some were at war with each other much of the time. In consequence one band was often quite willing to aid Crook's soldiers in fighting another. Then, too, Crook seemed to have been able to give his scouts the point of view of peace officers. They went after the renegades to force them to become good citizens.

To familiarize himself with his field, as well as to educate and harden his troops, soon after his arrival he led five troops of cavalry, with scouts and camp equipment, on a trip that totaled nearly six hundred miles. Their itinerary included much of the Apache country, passing through Camps Bowie, Apache and Verde. Crook finished his journey at Whipple Barracks, which had been made departmental headquarters. The amount of good this swing around the circuit did can scarcely be overestimated. The commander had conferences with different groups of Apaches wherever he found them, and his faculty of making them understand that he proposed to deal with absolute justice with all of them was a continuous matter of wonder to his subordinates.

Although the Apaches had been murdering Mexicans since the eighteenth century and Americans from the time of their arrival in the Southwest, the East in general and Washington in particular had taken but a languid interest in the matter. As a congressman said, after listening to a pioneer's tale, "Well, what do you want to go into such a God-forsaken country for?" However, when such stories as the Pinole Treaty and the Camp Grant massacre reached the sensitive ears of the easterner, he decided that the savagery of the barbarous whites, who were trying to exterminate the Apaches, had gone far enough, and Washington sent out Vincent Colyer, peace commissioner, to settle the matter.

By authority of President Grant, Colyer was given powers which took precedence even over those of the military:

There is no denying that the Indian situation in Arizona needed remedying. Unquestionably, there had been outrages perpetrated by the whites against the Indians as well as Indian outrages against the whites, and sweeping powers in the hands of the right man, or a proper commission, might have resulted in much good; but it soon became apparent to all who were familiar with the situation and acquainted with Colyer that he was anything but the right man. A member of the Church of Friends and a man of strong prejudices and no tact, his only knowledge of Arizona Indians had been gained in a brief visit to the Hopis in 1869. Now, upon again entering the Territory, he brought with him the preconceived conviction that in all troubles between the races the Apache had been the innocent victim and the white man the aggressor.

Ever welcoming any stories that would strengthen his position, he listened with avidity to such tales as that of the killing of Mangas Colorado, the Pinole Treaty or the imprisonment of Cochise, but brushed aside as unworthy of consideration evidence laid before him of literally hundreds of the outrages of the Apaches upon the whites.

When the citizens of the Territory realized the stamp of the man that had been sent out to them with such vast authority to settle the Indian question, feeling against him ran so high that Governor Safford was moved to issue orders for his protection. Whether there was need of this the reader may judge from an editorial in the Prescott Courier wherein Colyer is referred to as a "coldblooded scoundrel," and the Arizona citizen was advised, "In justice to our murdered dead to dump the old devil into the shaft of some mine, and pile rocks upon him."

Still Colyer could do but little more than listen to the oratory of the Apache chiefs, and carry out the plan that Crook had already undertaken, which was to place the Indians on reservations and treat them fairly. So he selected Camp Apache for the Coyoteros, Camp Grant for the Aravaipas and Pinals, McDowell for the Tontos, Camp Verde and Date Creek for the Mojave Apaches, and Beal Springs for the Hualpais, and returned to the East, the execrations of all Arizona following him.

Colyer's idea was that the country really belonged to the Apaches, and if the whites didn't like their ways they could leave, or, staying, the least they could do was not to drive the peaceful aborigines into violence by aggravating treatment. The flaws in this theory, even assuming the impossible, that a bar could be put upon the western march of civilization, are that the Apaches themselves had not so long before secured their own title to the hills by driving out previous inhabitants, and that, wanton and cruel as had been the acts of certain degenerate whites to the Apaches, other tribes, like the Pimas and Maricopas, for example, have never been forced to take up murder to protect themselves from outrages at the hands of even the worst of the palefaces.

The bias of Colyer's report must soon have been realized even at Washington, for within a year of the peace commissioner's departure the Apaches had made fifty-four raids and killed forty-one citizens.

However, General Crook was glad to use the reservations Colyer had located, and was backed up by Washington in his purpose to enforce strict discipline upon the interned Indians, and chastise the renegades by unremitting warfare.

A second Indian commissioner visited Arizona in April, 1872, in the person of Gen. O. O. Howard, a very different kind of a man from his predecessor. He was not only a soldier of distinction, but a man whose deep religious convictions were active principles of his life. Also, like Crook, he mixed his theories with wisdom and common sense.

Not contented with listening only to the Indians' side of the case, he also gladly embraced the opportunity of consulting the local citizens. One important thing accomplished by him was the completion of a treaty between the Apaches and their ancient foes, the Pimas and Papagos. He also moved the Apaches quartered at Camp Grant to the upper Gila, where the San Carlos garrison was established.

The children stolen in the Camp Grant massacre had been adopted by Mexican families at Tucson. At a big conference held at Camp Grant, General Howard ordered their return to their kinsmen.

When the general went East he took with him seven prominent Indians from the Apache, Pima and Papago tribes, and returned with them to Arizona in the fall with each chieftain the possessor of a new, blue suit of clothes, a bronze medal and a Bible. Soon after he abolished the reservations at Date Creek, McDowell and Beal Springs, allowing the Indians to change their residences to other reservations.

The most characteristic as well as picturesque thing that the general did was to go practically unprotected into the fastnesses of the Dragoon Mountains and visit the great Chief Cochise.

The only white men accompanying General Howard were his aide, Capt. J. A. Sladen and Capt. Thomas J. Jeffords (Cochise's friend and blood- brother). With them went Chief Ponce and a son of Mangas Colorado. The meeting was held with much oratory and ceremony, with subchiefs and the mighty Cochise all in attendance. General Howard wanted Cochise to take his people to the San Carlos Reservation, but Cochise objecting, it was agreed that the reservation should be established in their own country, the southeastern corner of the Territory where the Government was to provide them rations.

The plan was carried out, Jeffords was made agent, and, in 1872, the Chiricahuas were established therein to the number of one thousand people. In addition to the Chiricahuas a band of Janos came up from Old Mexico, and went in with Cochise's people, eager for the promised loaves and fishes. The chief of this band was Juh. There was also a subchief, oratorical, treacherous and savage, by the name of Geronimo, who was destined to prove as great a scourge to the people of Arizona as old Cochise himself, but without a particle of the big chiefs sense of honor.

Other reservations that had been established included Camp Ord, afterwards known as Fort Apache, which, in 1870, had its beginning on White River. San Carlos to the south, on the upper Gila, was established in 1872. The northern agency was afterwards discontinued, and the name San Carlos usually applied to the entire reservation.

At Camp Date Creek, in the western part of Yavapai County, in 1870, there were two hundred and twenty-five Indians, mostly Yavapais. At Camp Verde, in 1873, there were two thousand Tonto Apaches, and the Yavapais which had been taken there from Date Creek. At the Verde, under Crook's wise management, the Indians were interested in agriculture, and did a large amount of work on irrigating ditches. However, just as everything was running smoothly, against Crook's vigorous protests the Indians were removed to San Carlos. On the way some of them escaped, others got into a fight with the Yavapais, which resulted in five dead Indians.

Altogether, what with the settlers, the military and the Interior Department, working at cross purposes, ideal conditions were far from being attained. There was an element among the Apaches that had both the desire for the peaceful life and wisdom enough to see the futility of trying to whip the United States, but there were ever turbulent ones whose innate savagery so chafed at the restrictions imposed upon them by the discipline of the reservations that they were ready to grasp any opportunity to escape from their benevolent restrictions and go on expeditions of thievery  and murder.

It was encouraging to note, however, that in pursuit of these renegades the law-abiding Indians showed the sincerity of their professions by giving most valuable service in aiding the soldiers as scouts, and often being as zealous in hunting down the runaways as any of the whites. As will be seen afterwards, there were times when some of these scouts proved treacherous, at terrible cost, and Crook was severely censured for the confidence he placed in this savage soldiery, yet it would have been impossible to have followed trails and to have pierced the heart of apparently inaccessible mountains in pursuit of renegades without the guidance of these trailers, and in spite of mistakes made in the choice of them, their service justified their use.

Convincing the turbulent Apache that the pastime of murder was, after all, an unprofitable business, thoroughly occupied General Crook's time. Depredations in some part of the Territory were going on continuously. Miners were being slain, freighters were being ambushed and ranches raided with exasperating monotony. On November 4, 1871, a stage coach containing seven men and one woman, a Miss Sheppard, left Wickenburg for California. When but nine miles of the journey had been covered a band of Yuma Apaches from Date Creek surprised them, killing all the men but one. Being shielded by the men, Miss Sheppard, too, had escaped death, and after the first volley she and the surviving man, Cruger, though both were wounded, drove back the savages with their revolvers, and finally escaped.

The prominence of one of the murdered men, Fred Loring, a young scientist, again attracted the attention of the East to Arizona, and put emphasis on the theory that there might be bad Apaches in the Territory as well as bad whites.

Encouraged by this successful depredation, the Date Creek Indians now plotted the murder of General Crook himself, but the "Old Gray Fox," as the Indians called the general, being warned, laid his plans accordingly. The deed as plotted was to take place at the usual "peace talk," which would be proposed the first time the chief should visit Date Creek, and at a signal, the lighting of a cigarette, the Apaches were to massacre Crook and whatever other white men chanced to be with him.

Crook, wishing to bring the matter to an issue at once, took the opportunity to make an early visit, and, accompanied only by Lieutenant Ross, sat down with the treacherous chiefs in council. However, behind this circle of potential murderers casually lounged a dozen or so packers of the mule trains, veterans of a hundred frontier battles, and every man, with weapons concealed, watched for the signal. It came. As the cigarette was lighted, a chief snatched a rifle from his blanket and aimed it straight at Crook, but before he could fire the alert Ross had struck up the barrel. Then occurred a grand, Homeric fight, participated in not only by the sinewy packers, but by whatever soldiers there were at the post who came running to the aid of their general. So hot was the fight that the Indians fled to the hills. In a short time Crook, with a detachment of the Fifth Cavalry, engaged the Indians near the head of Santa Maria Creek, and decisively defeated them.

Another picturesque battle fought by Crook's men was what is usually known as "The Battle of the Cave," and was an incident of a general campaign covering middle Arizona east of McDowell and centering at the Tonto Basin. Nataje, an Apache scout, advised Major Brown, the leader of a detachment, that he could undoubtedly find hostile Apaches in a cave he knew about near Salt River, at the end of the southern slope of the Mazatzals. The major sent

Nataje with Lieutenant Ross and twelve men as an advance party. Approaching their destination just before daylight, they discovered a band of braves singing and dancing about fires in front of the cave. Following the orders of the campaign, the soldiers fired. Six of the Apaches fell, the rest fled into the cave, which, though of no great depth, was protected by a parapet of boulders. Soon Capt. John G. Bourke arrived with forty more men, and was later followed by Major Brown with the rest of the command, including Pima scouts. It was soon discovered that there were women and children in the cave, but the commander's assurance that they would receive kind treatment if they came out, was answered with jeers of defiance.

After a time it was also noticed that rifle bullets shot by the soldiers against the slanting roof of the cave would riccochet among the Indians, and volley after volley was thus fired. Cries from within the cave soon made it apparent that the shots were killing women and children as well as men. A second demand for surrender was made, and, in response, came a weird and eyrie death chant rising defiantly from the throats of the beleagured Apaches.

The battle continued for hours; the Apaches had determined to die, but before dying, to kill every soldier possible. Some time after daylight a detachment of Company G suddenly appeared on the crest of the cliff above the cave. Immediately these men began to drop huge boulders, which, striking the parapet and bounding inward, wrought fearful havoc. It was the end! Just before noon the soldiers entered the cave where a fearful sight met their eyes. All the warriors lay dead but one, and he was dying. But eighteen of the women and children were left alive, and these had saved themselves by hiding under stones.

Carlos Montezuma, college-educated and a practicing physician in Chicago, who has a national reputation as a worker for the betterment of his race, was one of these Apache babies.

General Crook kept up his systematic policy of proving to the renegades that the way of the transgressor is hard until, by 1874, the Apaches had pretty much agreed to be good, and the greater part of the tribe was on the reservation. Crook's good work was appreciated by the people of Arizona, and a vote of thanks was given to him by the Territorial Legislature. It was now hoped that to a great extent the Indian question was settled. Most unfortunately, however, in March, 1875, Crook was sent north to fight the Sioux and was succeeded in Arizona by Gen. August V. Kautz.

Whether or not the new commander was less efficient in military lines than his predecessor, he was undoubtedly less tactful in his dealings with the citizens of the Territory, and soon we find press and people again uniting in bitter criticism of the military. Indeed, open charges of inefficiency were made against Kautz which finally led to his removal.

In carrying out the now adopted policy of placing all the Arizona Apaches on one reservation, the Chiricahuas were transferred to San Carlos in 1876 and the Hot Springs bands in 1877, when the number of Indians in the White Mountain Agency, which included Fort Apache as well as San Carlos, numbered over forty-five hundred. Both the Chiricahuas and the Hot Springs Indians bitterly resented being removed from their old homes, and while the former band was being transferred quite a detachment of them escaped, starting in at once on an orgy of depredations, and by September they had killed twenty persons. As the Hot Springs band was being taken across the country, Victorio and some of his associating villains got away into Mexico.

While from now on there was comparative peace in the northern and western part of Arizona, that part of the Territory extending from the White Mountain Reservation south into Mexico and east into New Mexico was the scene of frequent outrages which Gen. O. B. Wilcox, who sueceeded General Kautz, seemed unable to stop. One reason for this perhaps was that the Apaches were now all armed with repeating rifles, and apparently had no trouble in getting ammunition enough to make them exceedingly dangerous. Vic- torio came up from his Mexican raids, killed seventy-three whites north of the line and escaped again into Mexico, but General Terrazzas was waiting for him down in Chihuahua with a small army. They decisively defeated his braves and, in 1880, slew Victorio himself, upon whose head the Mexicans had placed a bounty of $1,000. That same year Juh and Geronimo, with one hundred and ten of their followers, who now seemed to be considered Chiricahuas, were rounded up to make undesirable citizens of San Carlos.

Towards the end of 1880 a Coyotero medicine man on Cibicu Creek was stirring up trouble with promises to raise their old war-chief, Diable, under whose leadership the Apaches would sweep the white men from the Territory. This started a complicated series of troubles in which the medicine man as well as several soldiers were killed. One most serious feature of the trouble was that a number of Apache scouts turned traitor and opened fire upon unsuspecting soldiers, when one officer and four privates were killed. Later the hostiles attacked Fort Apache itself. New troops were hurried to San Carlos and five chiefs implicated in the outbreak had surrendered to Indian Agent J. C. Tiffany, when, unexpectedly, a band of renegades headed by Juh and Geronimo escaped from the reservation, followed by Loco and his Hot Springs band, and another carnival of crime and horror ensued.

It was then (July, 1882) that General Crook was sent for to relieve General Wilcox, in the hope, doubtless, that the personality of the "Old Gray Fox" would give confidence to the settlers and have a subduing effect upon the Apaches.

The returning commander found affairs in a bad state. The Interior Department seems to have chosen as Indian agents friends of politicians rather than men of probity and ability. The record of Agent Tiffany at San Carlos, who was supposed to have been a minister of the gospel at one time, seems to have been especially bad. The Federal grand jury at Tucson in 1882 reported: "We feel it our duty as honest American citizens to express our utter abhorrence of the conduct of Agent Tiffany and that class of reverend speculators who have cursed Arizona as Indian officials and who have caused more misery and loss of life than all other causes combined. . . . Fraud, peculation, conspiracy, larceny, plot and counter plot seem to be the rule of action upon this reservation. With the immense power wielded by the Indian agent almost any crime is possible. . . . Rations can be issued ad libitum for which the Government must pay, while the proceeds pass into the capacious pockets of the agent."

General Crook had a conference with the Indians at San Carlos and told the chiefs that he was going to place the responsibility directly upon them, and that they must not only keep the peace at the agency, but themselves punish offenders. He then established his old disciplinary rules of metal tags and frequent roll calls.

The reservation was to be policed, as of old, with native guards. A better feeling was apparent at once, and a number of the Apaches were allowed to leave the river agency and go into the northern part of the reservation where soon about fifteen hundred of them were self-sustaining.

But still the Indian question was not settled. In March, 1883, Chatto, one of the most infamous murderers who ever went unhung, came up from Mexico, and killed among others Judge and Mrs. McComas, prominent Arizona people, taking their little boy, Charley, into captivity, and later killing him.

It was now evident that to secure peace on either side of the border the Apaches must be rounded up in Mexico as well as in Arizona, and after a conference with the governor of Sonora, Crook sent a well-organized expedition under guidance of an Apache called Peaches (who claimed to be an enemy of Chatto) to the Apache stronghold in the Sierra Madre Mountains. Although the expedition did not accomplish all that was hoped for, Crook succeeded in penetrating to the heart of the Apache rendezvous, waged a successful battle at a half-deserted rancheria, and, after a conference, induced about four hundred of the Apache outlaws, including Geronimo, Chatto, Nachis and Loco, to return with him. In order to persuade them to do this, however, Crook was obliged to concede that past offenses should be forgotten, that they were to march much as they pleased and keep their arms and whatever horses, mules and cattle they had, all of which, it may be mentioned, had been stolen from the Mexicans. On the way Nachis, Chatto and Geronimo disappeared, leaving the soldiers to escort the squaws and the stolen property safely back to the reservation. However, Chatto came back the following February, and Geronimo, under charge of Lieutenant Davis, came in March.

One reason why these brave bucks were willing to return to their rations at San Carlos may have been that the Mexican Government had fixed a market price of $250 each for male Apache scalps. At the White Mountain Reservation history repeated itself with monotonous inevitableness, and in May, 1885, the old, murderous band led by Geronimo, Chihuahua and Nachis again went on the warpath and soon had twenty-one more victims added to their infamous list. The southeastern part of Arizona was now completely terrorized.
Home guards were organized at Tucson, Clifton, Bisbee and Tombstone, but their efforts were not effective. Grant County, New Mexico, offered $250 for every renegade Apache killed, and an Arizona board of supervisors offered $500 for Geronimo, dead or alive. It must now have been apparent to Crook himself that his policy of trying to conciliate such savage criminals as Geronimo was destined to be wholly fruitless. By inheritance and ingrained habit their fingers perpetually itched for murder, and as long as they had the opportunity they would not change their ways. In December, 1885, General Crook organized his last campaign into Mexico. His force included a detachment of Apache scouts, under Capt. Emmett Crawford, who was destined to be killed by treacherous Mexican soldiers. The renegades were driven into southeastern Sonora, and when the pursuit grew too hot the hostiles calmly asked for the usual peace talk.

It was arranged that they were to have a conference with General Crook at Funnel Canyon, Sonora, twenty-five miles below the line. The big talk took place as arranged. With Crook and his guard of friendly Apache scouts were Captains Bourke and Roberts, Lieutenants Faison, Maus and Shipp, with a few citizens and interpreters. Among the Indians were Nachis, Geronimo and Chihuahua.

Crook had been instructed by President Cleveland himself, through General Sheridan, to consent to nothing but the unconditional surrender of the Indians, and to take every precaution against the escape of the hostiles. It is possible that Crook might have succeeded in his undertaking had not a man by the name of Tribolet brought fifteen gallons of whisky into the camp of the Indians, which he sold to them for $100. Geronimo, Nachis and other chiefs immediately got drunk. That night Geronimo disappeared, and although eighty Apaches returned with Lieutenant Faison to Fort Bowie, the conference was a failure. Heartbroken at the outcome of the affair, which had involved much hostile criticism on the part of his military superiors, as well as from the people of Arizona, General Crook tendered his resignation as commander, which was promptly accepted.

It was now definitely decided that all of the renegade Apaches must be deported from the Territory. On April 10,1886, Chihuahua's band of fifteen men, thirty-three women and twenty-nine children were started for Fort Marion, Florida.

Immediately upon his arrival, April 11, 1886, Gen. Nelson A. Miles, Crook's successor, started in on a vigorous campaign against Nachis, Geronimo and their followers. Appreciating doubtless that former failures had come about through insufficient troops, the War Department furnished General Miles with six thousand soldiers, which he distributed at strategic points throughout the southeastern part of the Territory. In the meantime Nachis and Geronimo, with bravado and impudence, secured a following of all the renegades, and were raiding across southern Arizona and northern Mexico, from the Santa Cruz eastward, leaving a bloody trail behind them. In pursuing the renegades no troops ever saw more active service or followed more closely a trail than did the command of Capt. H. W. Lawton, which consisted of thirty-five men of Troop B, Fourth Cavalry; twenty men, Company A, Eighth Infantry; twenty friendly Apache scouts and two pack trains. Also accompanying Captain Lawlon were Lieutenants Johnson, Finley and Benson. Their surgeon was none other than Leonard Wood, now major general in the regular army.

A hot trail of Geronimo's band was picked up on the Penito Mountains, Sonora, and thereafter the soldiers hung on to the trail of the fleeing outlaws like wolf hounds after a pack of wolves. Over deserts, where the heat rose to 120 in the shade, went the renegades, up rock gulches, over mountain tops, dodging through this canyon and that, resorting to every Apache trick to throw their pursuers off the trail. But with the Indian scouts leading, the little column of soldiers, ever loyal, ready to cover seventy miles a day if need be, kept doggedly to the chase, covering over three thousand miles during the brief campaign. Finally, on July 20th, all but spent, the Apaches were driven into a pocket near the old presidio town of Fronteras, Sonora. One account says that, realizing that capture must come sooner or later, and believing that surrender at worst would mean nothing more disastrous than a resumption of high living and plain thinking at San Carlos, Geronimo, in a roundabout way, let word come back to General Miles at Bowie that he was ready to return to the fold. In anyevent, Lieut. C. B. Gatewood of the Sixth Cavalry, with two friendly Chiricahuas, was sent from headquarters to Sonora to communicate with Geronimo, and, on August 25th, taking his life in his hands, Gatewood entered the camp of the hostiles and talked with Geronimo, whom he well knew. How-ever, the old villain declined to surrender unconditionally and wanted further negotiations with General Miles. The day following he wandered unconcernedly into Lawton's camp  talk with that officer concerning the preservation of his rascally skin. The first thing that Lawton advised him to do was to bring his followers down from the mountains and camp nearby. The old chief complied. There were Mexican troops in the vicinity, only too anxious to hang Geronimo and the rest of the chiefs, and Lawton had no trouble in getting the consent of the Indians to start north with him. Before going to Bowie, however, where General Miles was still waiting, Geronimo wanted General Miles to meet him at some intermediate station where they could hold one of the old-time, friendly little conferences. However, the style in conferences had undergone a radical change, and when the message reached General Miles, he sent back word that he would not see the Indians at all unless they agreed to surrender and in the meantime give some evidence of good faith. As Lawton practically had the renegades surrounded with his cavalry, there was little else for the Indians to do but to agree, and Geronimo's brother was sent to Bowie as a pledge of their sincerity. On the march north, owing to Lawton's vigilance, there was none of the usual, casual dropping out of Indians en route.

General Miles met the expedition at Skeleton Canyon, in the San Simon Valley, where, on September 3, 1886, the hostile Indians, including Nachis and Geronimo, surrendered, and the leaders were hurried to Bowie. Within a week the band, under close guard, was aboard a train en route for San Antonio, from which place they were afterwards sent to Fort Pickens, Florida. The "Indian Question," as such, was settled.

In 1901 we saw Geronimo at the Pan-American Exposition, where he was being exhibited by a sentimental Government as a type of the noble redman. Around the old scoundrel was a crowd of sympathetic females, who were eagerly buying his autograph at ten cents a piece. With the writer was a pioneer Arizonan who knew personally more than one of Geronimo's victims, and what that pioneer said concerning the scene we were witnessing, while illuminating and picturesque, is scarcely printable.

At the close of the Mexican War, the Navajo Indians, who numbered about ten thousand, comprised by far the largest tribe in the Southwest. These notable Indians occupied the plateau country in the northeastern part of Arizona and the northwestern part of New Mexico. While the original stock was Athapaccan, various other tribes were undoubtedly grafted into it, including, at one extreme, the half-civilized Pueblans, and at the other the warlike Apaches. As a result there was produced a people versatile and adaptable, skillful in crafts, and cunning and aggressive in war. They had no chiefs in the usual sense of the word, and whatever influence the head men had upon the rank and file of the tribe seemed to be derived solely from their personality.

Almost from the lime of the arrival of the Spaniards into New Mexico there was hostility between them and the Navajos, but in their warfare he Navajos seemed to take no pleasure in the murderous brutality that was so characteristic of the Apaches. Soon learning the value of flocks and herds, the principal object of the Navajo raids would be to steal sheep and horses. On their part, when the Spaniards made warfare against the Navajos, they would make slaves of their captives, when in retaliation the Navajos would often enslave the Mexicans. Indeed, it was a common custom of all of the tribes of the Southwest, and especially of the Navajos, in their warfare with other tribes to make wives of captured women and slaves of tractable captured young men.

The original flocks and herds stolen from the Spanish colonists, under the care of the Navajos, who took with surprising aptitude to the vocation of herdsmen, multiplied until at the time of which we write, they number about two hundred thousand sheep, ten thousand horses and not a few cattle. Also, like practically all of the Arizona Indians, they practice agriculture, raising as much as sixty thousand bushels of corn a year.

They undoubtedly learned the art of weaving from the Hopis, who manufactured cotton blankets and garments from the earliest times. With their originality and marked aptitude for craftsmanship, the Navajos soon became very skillful weavers and marked their blankets with an individuality that is very notable. It may not be without interest to mention that with the Hopi it is usually the man who does the weaving. In the case of the Navajo it is the woman.

Pueblan influence is seen also in what little pottery the Navajos make, as well as in their woven plaques. In nothing is the adaptability and natural skillfulness of hand of the Navajos shown more clearly than in the excellent work of their silversmiths, who are especially fond of taking Mexican silver coins and fashioning them into buttons or ornaments for their person or saddles or bridles.

The theory that with primitive people the woman was always held as distinctly inferior to the man is disproved by the Navajos. Consultation between husband and wife is a necessary prelude before a sheep may be sold, divorce is by mutual consent, and incompatibility of temperament is wholly adequate grounds for such a separation. It is said that if the lady tires of her spouse, she sets his saddle and bridle outside the door of their hogan, which is a gentle hint for him to take himself off. The hint is seldom disregarded.

Should a wife prove unfaithful, it isn't etiquette for him to cut off the end of her nose, as is the cruder Apache custom; instead, if he wants to "save his face," his proper recourse is to prove himself a man by going off and slaying a member of some other tribe.

One cause for trouble between the Americans and the Navajos had been that the tribe had no definite civic organization. Until late years every man was a law to himself, and answerable to no one. Promises made in behalf of the tribe by the chiefs or head men were nonchalantly annulled by their constituents at will, and while those who had acquired property naturally wished the stability of government that goes with peace, the sheepless and the lawless were ever ready to go raiding.

The treaty, as recorded, that was made between the Navajos and Colonel Doniphan, in 1846, was soon broken, as was the one with Col. J. M. Washington, military governor of New Mexico, in 1849, and another made by Governor Calhoun and Colonel Simmer soon afterwards. It was in the spring of 1852 that Colonel Sumner built Fort Defiance, which derived its name from the fact that it was built in defiance of the mandate issued by the Indians that it should not be built.

A characteristic bit of trouble was had at Defiance, in 1854, when a Navajo killed one of the soldiers; Major Ken d rick immediately demanded that the murderer be produced. The Indians agreed with surprising alacrity, going so far in their zeal as to insist upon not only apprehending the culprit, but in hanging him themselves, which they did with all military ceremony, the entire garrison being assembled to see the act performed. But when dealing with the Navajo, things are not always what they seem. Two years later it was discovered that the man executed was not the guilty Navajo at all, but a Mexican captive. The murderer was still living, a distinguished and honored member of the tribe.

Another treaty was made with the Indians by Governor Merriwether in 1855, but the Navajos were firm believers in the doctrine that treaties were mere scraps of paper, so the plundering went on just the same. In July, 1858, there occurred another Navajo murder, full of typical local color. A prominent man of the tribe wanted his wife to visit his relations with him, but she, frivolous lady, insisted upon going to a dance instead. Really annoyed by the action, for the moment forgetting the courtesy a true gentleman should show to even his wife under the most trying of circumstances, the husband not only followed her but, in an impetuous moment, laid hands on her, decidedly disarranging her wardrobe, whereupon the lady tartly announced the termination of their conjugal relations.

There was just one thing left for the flouted husband to do, he must find some one to slay. On the day following, he, wandered up to Fort Defiance and, noticing Jim, the negro boy who belonged to Major Brooks, not at all from any ill feelings toward the youth, but simply as a matter of high principle, shot an arrow through him and fled. The boy died and the military authorities promptly demanded the murderer, but he was not produced. As a result, there was soon warfare between the soldiers and the Indians. Chief Sandoval, who had always been friendly to the Americans, said that although all of the others might fail he would catch the murderer, and to prove his zeal sent out every scout he could command.

Every day the trail grew hotter. The villain had been seen at Ojo del Oso, later heard of at a cave near Laguna Negrita. Finally he was caught, but so desperate was his resistance that his captor had been forced to kill the man. The next day the corpse was brought in, but alas, though Chief Sandoval swore he was the Navajo murderer, and Chief Sarcillo Largo swore he was the Navajo murderer, the officers of the garrison recognized him as a Mexican prisoner of the Navajos whom they well knew, and a second vicarious sacrifice had been committed at Defiance.

In a number of skirmishes that ultimately grew out of this affair fifty Indians and seven or eight soldiers were killed and an officer was seriously wounded. The soldiers had killed much of the Navajo live stock, and, as it occurred to the Indians that paper was cheaper than mutton, the chiefs decided to make another treaty. So on Christmas Day, 1858, all wasforgiven, if not forgotten, in a brand new covenant wherein Colonel Bonneville acted for the Government. Its terms required the return of all prisoners on both sides, Pueblans, Mexicans and Navajos, which had been taken during the several campaigns. Also, it was stipulated that the Navajos should indemnify the Pueblo Indians for all depredations since August, 1858. A boundary line was fixed beyond which the Navajos were not to go. The producing of the slayer of Jim, the negro, which all the trouble was about, was waived. As the Navajos said, the gentleman had left the country. The treaty was quite elaborate and executed with due solemnity, but nevertheless Navajo depredations did continue just the same as they had before. In 1860 the Navajos actually attacked Fort Defiance itself, when they were repulsed without any great losses on either side. The report of this seems to have been noted even at Washington, and in the winter of 1860-61 Colonel Canby, with regular troops, aided by a large force of volunteers, including many Pueblons and Ute Indians, marched to Navajo territory. The principal result of the campaign was losses in Navajo live stock, which hit the tribe in a tender spot, and led them to again sue for peace. In February, 1861, an armistice of three months, which afterwards was extended to a year, was agreed upon. Then came on the Civil War, and with the withdrawing of the troops from Arizona the Navajo resumed his raiding with even more hilarity and abandon, if possible, than before.

In our story of Arizona we have been able only occasionally to give our readers glimpses of the Pima and Papago Indians. We have told you how friendly they have always been to the whites. We wish we had room to tell you more of their battles with the war-like Apaches and Yumas, when, more than once, they signally defeated them. We must take space, though, to mention one thing about the Pimas. They had their own historian who kept the tribal chronicle, not on the written page or even by hieroglyphics etched on rocks, but by marks and notches on cane-like sticks. The historian, like old Owl Ears, of the Salt River Reservation, would take the stick in his hand, run his fingers along the notches and, with a far-away look in his eyes, begin: "Long time ago, one winter, many stars fall down in the sky; have big rabbit drive at Sacaton. Next summer two Apaches steal one
Pima woman at Blackwater. She kill Apache man with rock, and come back pretty soon. Next fall lots of mesquite beans on desert. Next winter at Suhuaro fruit harvest have big drunk at Gila Crossing. Juan Rignose fall off his kee (house) and break leg." In news interest, at least, not wholly unlike the items we used to read in the Windy Corners Weekly Bulletin back on the farm.