CHAPTER XIV.
But short breathing space was afforded me at the San Simon. On the morning of the third day after our arrival, and the trying tests to which we had been subjected, I received orders from Capt. Roberts to escort the train of twenty-six wagons back to the San Pedro, in order to furnish the required transportation for the provision, ammunition, clothing and other supplies of the column. For this duty I was assigned fourteen of my troopers, and seven men of Roberts' company. The intervening country had been well examined through fine field glasses, and on two occasions a thorough reconnissance had been made by the cavalry, which showed that a very excellent passage existed to the north of the Chiricahui range, over nearly a level plain, and that the distance would be only some seven miles longer. This route, with the approbation of Capt. Roberts, was at once selected for our return, and for the following reasons: The safety of our train was of the very first importance, as upon it depended the success of the unprecedented march the " Column from California" was then attempting. In the next place, if the Apaches had given us such a strong and determined fight when we mustered one hundred and twenty-nine men and two mountain howitzers, what great chance would I have of safely conducting a train of twenty-six wagons with only twenty-one men, and without artillery, through such a terrific stronghold? In the third place, nature provided a passage nearly as short, much less laborious for men and animals, well supplied with water, wood and grass, and by its open character, affording the very best field for the operations of cavalry, and the widest range for our splendid breech-loading weapons of long reach. It was not a question whether we should again fight the Indians, but whether we could forward the main object of the expedition. Indeed, strict orders had been given to refrain from Indian broils as much as possible, to suffer some wrong rather than divert our time and attention from the great purpose contemplated, which was to liberate Arizona from Confederate rule and effect a junction with Gen. Canby as soon as possible. Had we been exclusively on an Indian campaign, other means would have been adopted.
Having taken a final survey, I started in the evening just after sundown, to prevent the Apaches from seeing the dust raised by the column, and directed our course over the open plain, north of the Chiricahui range, and between it and the mountains from which it is divided some four miles by an open and elevated piece of clear land, without trees or rocks, and thickly covered with the finest grama grass. We traveled all night with the cavalry covering the front and rear, and the seven infantrymen sleeping in the empty wagons, with their weapons loaded and ready at a moment's warning. Every little while the cavalry were required to patrol the length of the column, to ward off any sudden and unforeseen attack. The infantry were allowed to sleep, in order that they might be fresh to keep guard throughout the day. In this manner we progressed until five A. M., next day, when I ordered a halt, had the wagons handsomely corralled nearly in a circle, with the animals and men all inside, except the guard, and the camp properly prepared against surprise. We were then exactly north of the Chiricahui mountains, and south of another range, each being about two miles distant. I could distinctly see large numbers of Apaches riding furiously up and down the steeps of those heights, and sometimes advancing on the plain, as if to attack. But experience had taught them that our carbines and Minnie rifles were deadly at nearly a mile of distance, and they did not approach within their reach. Our horses were tied to the picket rope which extended across the open end of the corral, and covered by a sufficient guard. Finding that the Apaches did not care to make an onslaught, the cavalry and teamsters, all of whom were well armed, retired to rest, after partaking of a hearty meal. Next evening, at dark, we again hitched up and pursued our journey as before. I was in the advance with Sergeant Loring, when our horses suddenly jumped one side and our ears were greeted by the spiteful warning of a rattle snake, coiled up directly in our path. To avoid this malignant reptile the train diverged about twenty yards from the road, and after a little while entered it again. This sort of thing occurred many times during the night, until we again struck the regular highway nearly due west of Apache Pass. Our next halt was made six miles from Swell's Station, and we had come seventy miles in two nights. That day we saw no Indians, although the same precautions were adopted as if we were surrounded by large numbers. Our next march was to the Ojo de los Hermanos, or the "Brothers' Springs," so as to avoid stopping to water at Dragoon Springs, which were two miles up a deep and dangerous cañon, where the enemy would possess every possible advantage, and where the animals would have to be led to water a mile or more from the wagons, with the delightful prospect of not finding anything like a sufficiency.
In due course of time, we regained the San Pedro river, where Gen. Carleton had arrived with a considerable body of troops. I turned over my train, and was ordered to advance once more with head-quarters. Apache Pass was again entered and traversed; but it seemed as if no Indian had ever awakened its echoes with his war-whoop—as if it had ever been the abode of peace and silence. I rode beside Dr. McNulty for a while, and described to him the terrible conflict which had taken place there only eight days previous. That true soldier and soldiers' friend frequently exclaimed—"By George, I wish I had been here!" "What splendid natural breastworks are these, old fellow!" a peculiar expression of his "I am glad you came out of it all right!" Next day we emerged from the pass without molestation, or seeing an Indian sign; but, instead of directing our course toward the San Simon, diverged by another route toward the Cienega, a flat, marshy place, at the foot of the next easterly range of mountains, of which Stein's Peak is the most prominent. The San Simon creek, as it is called, sinks about a mile south of the station bearing that name, and undoubtedly furnishes the supply of water which is to be had at the Cienega, located on the same plain, and about eight miles south of the spot where the creek disappears.
"We had progressed about two miles beyond the pass, when we suddenly came upon the bodies of thirteen persons, pierced in many places with bullet and arrow holes, and some with the arrows still sticking, driven deeply into their frames. After some examination, the verdict was that they were the bodies of white men killed by the Apaches but a short time before. This conclusion proved correct, as was afterward ascertained beyond all doubt, and as their destruction was compassed by a trick peculiarly illustrative of Apache character, I will relate it in extenso.
My readers will bear in mind the place described as Santa Rita del Cobre, where the Boundary Commission remained for several months, where Inez Gonzales and the two Mexican boys were rescued from captivity, where Delgadito made his attack upon Mr. Hay, and where he got handsomely seamed by Wells. The gold mines worked by Mr. Hay at that period, twelve years prior, had proved to be very rich, and attracted many bold adventurers, among whom were a number of celebrated Indian fighters, who had passed years upon our frontiers, and were universally dreaded by all the wild Indian tribes of Arizona and New Mexico. In a short time the mining population at that point amounted to something like two hundred, of whom one hundred and fifty were well armed, fearless and experienced men. The presence of such a party was far from pleasing to Mangas Colorado and his band, as they claimed exclusive proprietorship to that whole region, which was their main fastness. They also regarded the miners as the legitimate successors of the Boundary Commission, with whom they had. parted in deadly enmity after a short season of simulated friendship. Mangas made many skillful efforts to dislodge the miners, and divert their attention from the Copper Mines, but without effect. He privately visited some of the more prominent among them, and professing the most disinterested friendship, offered to show them where gold was far more abundant and could be obtained with less labor, accompanying his promises with something like the following style of inducement:
"You good man. You stay here long time and never hurt Apache. You want the 'yellow iron;' I know where plenty is. Suppose you go with me, I show you; but tell no one else. Mangas your friend, he want to do you good. You like 'yellow iron'—good! Me no want 'yellow iron.' Him no good for me—can no eat, can no drink, can no keepee out cold. Come, I show you."
For a while each person so approached kept this offer to himself, but after a time they "began to compare notes, and found that Mangas had made like promises to each, under the ban of secrecy and the pretense of exclusive personal friendship. Those who at first believed the old rascal, at once comprehended that it was a trap set to separate and sacrifice the bolder and leading men by gaining their confidence and killing them in detail, while their fates would remain unknown to those left behind. The next time, after this éclaircissement, that Mangas visited that camp, he was tied to a tree and administered a dose of "strap oil," well applied by lusty arms. His vengeance was more keenly aroused by this deserved treatment, and from that time forth every sort of annoyance was put into operation against the miners. They were shot at from the cover of trees and rocks, their cattle and horses were driven off, their supply trains robbed and destroyed, and themselves reduced to want. But Mangas desired their utter extirpation. He wanted their blood; he was anxious for their annihilation, and feeling himself unable to cope with them single handed, he dispatched emissaries to Cheis, the most famed warrior of the Chiricahui tribe, to come and help him oust the Americans.
Just at that time news was received by Cheis that the Americans were advancing from the west, and were about to overrun his country. "Charity begins at home," was the motto of that prominent Apache, and, instead of going to the relief of Mangas, notified him of the newly threatened invasion, and asked his assistance, promising to help Mangas, in his turn. The proffer was accepted, and Mangas joined Cheis at the Apache Pass with two hundred warriors, which accounts for the large force against which Roberts had to contend in that formidable gorge.
While these united forces were occupying Apache Pass, waiting our arrival, they descried a small band of Americans approaching from the east, across the wide plain intervening between that place and the Cienega, and determined to cut it off. Those wily Indians soon recognized in the new-comers a small, but well armed, party of the hardy and experienced miners from the Santa Rita del Cobre, and knew that such men were always on their guard and prepared to defend their lives with the greatest courage and determination. They also knew that they would be specially on the qui vive after having entered the pass, and that any attack upon them would probably result in the loss of several of their warriors. How to compass their ends and obviate this last possibility, became the chief objects of their attention. Two miles east of the pass, right in the clear and unobstructed plain, there is a gully, formed by the washing of heavy rains through a porous and yielding soil. This gully is from six to eight feet deep, a quarter of a mile long, three or four yards wide, and cannot be seen from horseback until the rider is within fifty yards of the spot. With consummate cunning a large body of the Apaches ensconced themselves in this gully, knowing that the travelers would be somewhat off their guard in an open plain, apparently without place of concealment, and awaited the approach of their victims. The scheme proved eminently successful. Wholly unapprehensive of a danger they could not see and had no reason to suspect, the hardy miners rode forward with their rifles resting in the slings across their saddle bows, their pistols in scabbards, and their whole attention absorbed in the pass they were about to enter. When they had arrived within forty yards of the gully or ditch, a terrific and simultaneous fire was opened upon them by the concealed Indians, which killed one-half their number outright, and sent the remainder wounded and panic stricken to seek safety in flight. They were immediately pursued and massacred to a man. Theirs were the bodies discovered by us soon after emerging from Apache Pass, and although we grieved over their death, as brave men grieve for each other, the circumstance taught us another and most instructive lesson in Apache character, and the wondrously shrewd calculations made by those people when determined to effect a desired object.
I subsequently learned that the victims had with them a considerable sum in gold dust, nearly fifty thousand dollars' worth, all of which fell into the hands of their slayers, who had become well acquainted with its value. Their bodies were as decently interred as circumstances would permit, after which we moved forward toward the Cienega, in mournful and somewhat vindictive mood.
Mangas Colorado returned with his diminished band to the Pino Alto country after his disastrous defeat in Apache Pass, but he returned with a carbine ball in his chest, fired by John Teal, whose gallant conduct has already been described. It was owing to this chance shot that the Apaches abandoned their attack upon Teal, in order to give succor to so prominent a man as Mangas. He was carefully conveyed to Janos, in Chihuahua, where he received the enforced attendance and aid of a Mexican physician, who happened to be in that place at the time. It was a case of the practice of surgery under unique circumstances. If the patient survived, well and good; he would return to his native wilds to again renew his fearful devastations; but if he died, the doctor and all the inhabitants were assured they should visit the spirit land with him. The ball was extracted, Mangas recovered, and the people were saved; but his was a short lease of life, for he was soon afterward captured by Capt. E. D. Shirland, of the First California Volunteer Cavalry, and killed while attempting to effect his escape from the guard house. In this manner perished Mangas Colorado, the greatest and most talented Apache Indian of the nineteenth century. In truth, he was a wonderful man. His sagacious counsels partook more of the character of wide and enlarged statesmanship than those of any other Indian of modern times. His subtle and comprehensive intellect enrolled and united the three principal tribes of Arizona and New Mexico in one common cause. He found means to collect and keep together, for weeks at a time, large bodies of savages, such as none of his predecessors could assemble and feed. He quieted and allayed all jealousies and disagreements between different branches of the great Apache family, and taught them to comprehend the value of unity and collective strength. Although never remarkable for personal prowess and courage, he knew how to evoke those qualities in others, and appropriate the credit to himself. Crafty and skilled in human nature, he laid plans and devised schemes remarkable for their shrewdness of conception and success in execution. In council he was the last to speak, in action he was the last to come on the field, and the first to leave if defeated; yet he had the reputation among all his people of being the wisest and bravest. That he was the wisest has never been denied; that he was the bravest has never been proved. But, take him for all in all, he exercised an influence never equaled by any savage of our time, when we take into consideration the fact that the Apaches acknowledge no chiefs, and obey no orders from any source. They constitute a pure democracy, in which every man is the equal of every other. Each is sovereign in his own right as a warrior, and disclaims all allegiance. But this subject will be treated at length in another portion of this work.
The life of Mangas Colorado, if it could be ascertained, would be a tissue of the most extensive and afflicting revelations, the most atrocious cruelties, the most vindictive revenges, and widespread injuries ever perpetrated by an American Indian. We read with sensations of horror the dreadful massacre at Schenectady, the bloody deeds at Wyoming, the cruelties of Proctor's savage allies, and others of like character; but they sink into absolute insignificance beside the acts of Mangas Colorado, running through a series of fifty years, for Mangas was fully seventy when sent to his last account. The northern portions of Chihuahua and Sonora, large tracts of Durango, the whole of Arizona, and a very considerable part of New Mexico, were laid waste, ravished, destroyed by this man and his followers. A strip of country twice as large as all California was rendered almost houseless, unproductive, uninhabitable by his active and uncompromising hostility. Large and flourishing towns were depopulated and ruined. Vast ranches, such as that of Barbacomori and San Bernardino, once teeming with wealth and immense herds of cattle, horses and mules, were turned into waste places, and restored to their pristine solitudes. The name of Mangas Colorado was the tocsin of terror and dismay throughout a vast region of country, whose inhabitants existed by his sufferance under penalty of supplying him with the requisite arms and ammunition for his many and terrible raids. He combined many attributes of real greatness with the ferocity and brutality of the most savage savage. The names of his victims, by actual slaughter or by captivity, would fill a volume, and the relation of his deeds throughout a long and merciless life would put to shame the records of the "Newgate Calendar." I dismiss him with disgust and loathing, not unmingled with some degree of respect for his abilities.