Close to them cruel eyes looked through a band of white out of a blue face. The Apache Devil, closest to them, watched the pair intently. Suddenly a shot rang above the ringing axes. Manuel Farias clutched his breast and crumpled to the ground. Other shots came in quick. succession, and then the air was rent by wild Apache war-whoops as the savages charged the almost defenseless woodchoppers.
Luis Mariel ran to his father's side. Grasping their axes they stood shoulder to shoulder, for between them and whatever weapons they had left in camp, were whooping Apaches. Some of the other men tried to break through and reach their rifles, but they were shot down. Three surrendered. A huge warrior confronted Pedro and Luis.
"Pray," said Pedro, "for we are about to die." He was looking at the face of the warrior. "It is the Apache Devil!"
"Who is that?" demanded the Indian, pointing to the lad.
"He is my oldest son," replied Pedro, wondering.
"Put down your axes and come here," ordered the Apache. "You will not be harmed."
Pedro was not surprised to hear the Indian speak in broken Spanish, as most Apaches understood much and spoke a little the language of their ancient enemies; but he was surprised at the meaning of the words he heard, surprised and skeptical. He hesitated. Luis looked up at him, questioningly.
"If we lay down our axes we shall be wholly unarmed," said Pedro.
"What difference does it make?" asked Luis. "He can kill us whether we have axes in our hands or not--they will not stop his bullets."
"You are right," said Pedro and threw down his axe. Luis did likewise and together they approached the Apache Devil. "May the Holy Mary protect us!" whispered the father.
The other Mexicans, having been killed or captured, Gian- nah-tah and the balance of the braves came running toward Pedro and Luis; but Shoz-Dijiji stepped in front of them and raised his hand.
"These are my friends," he said. "Do not harm them."
"They are enemies," cried one of the warriors, excited by blood and anticipation of torture. "Kill them!"
"Very well," said Shoz-Dijiji quietly. "You may kill them, but first you must kill Shoz-Dijiji. He has told you that they are his friends."
"Why does Shoz-Dijiji protect the enemy?" demanded Gian- nah~tah.
"Listen," said Shoz-Dijiji. "Many years ago Shoz-Dijiji was hunting in these mountains. He was alone. He often saw this man felling trees, but he did not harm him because the Apaches were not upon the war trail at that time. A tree fell upon the man in such a way that he could not free himself. He must have died if no one came to help him. There was no one to come but Shoz-Dijiji.
"Shoz-Dijiji lifted the tree from him. The man's leg was broken. Shoz-Dijiji placed him upon one of his burros and took him to Casa Grande, where he lived.
"You all remember the time when we made the treaty of peace with the people of Casa Grande and while we were celebrating it the Mexican soldiers came and attacked us. They made us prisoners and were going to shoot us.
"This man came to look at the captives and recognized Shoz-Dijiji. He begged the war chief of the Mexicans to let me go, and he took me to his home and gave me food and set me free. It was Shoz-Dijiji who was able to release all the other Apache prisoners because of what this man did. The other here is his son.
"Because of what his father did for Shoz-Dijiji neither of them shall be killed.We shall let them take their burros and their wood and go back in safety to their home. I have spoken."
"Shoz-Dijiji speaks true words when he says that these two shall not be harmed," said Gian-nah-tah. "Let them go in peace."
"And look at them well," added Shoz-Dijiji, "that you may know them and spare them if again you meet them." He turned to Pedro. "Get your burros and your wood and go home quickly with your son. Do not come again to the mountains while the Apaches are on the war-trail, for Shoz-Dijiji may not be always near to protect you. Go!"
Bewildered, stammering their thanks, Pedro and Luis hastened to obey the welcome mandate of the savage while Shoz-Dijiji's companions fell to with savage ardor upon the hideous business that is the aftermath of an Apache victory.
Uninterested, Shoz-Dijiji stood idly by until the Mariels had hastily packed their few belongings and departed, leaving their wood behind them. No longer did his fellows ridicule or taunt Shoz-Dijiji for his refusal to join them in the torture of their captives or the mutilation of the dead. His courage had been proved upon too many fields of battle, his hatred of the enemy was too well known to leave any opening for charges of cowardice or disloyalty. They thought him peculiar and let it go at that. Perhaps some of the older braves recalled the accusation of the dead Juh that Shoz-Dijiji was no Apache but a white-eyed man by birth; but no one ever mentioned that now since Juh was dead, and it was well known that he had died partly because he had made this charge against the Black Bear.
Back in the camp of the renegades Gian-nah-tah and the others boasted loudly of their victory, exhibited the poor spoils that they had taken from the camp of the woodchoppers, while the squaws cooked the flesh of one of the burros for a feast in celebration. Perhaps they were off their guard, but then, even Homer is charged with carelessness.
Just as a bullet had surprised the camp of the woodchoppers earlier in the day, so a bullet surprised the camp of the renegades. A little Indian boy clutched his breast and crumpled to the ground. Other shots came in quick succession, and then the air was rent by wild Apache war whoops. Apache had surprised Apache. Perhaps no other could have done it so well.
As Crawford's Scouts charged the camp of Geronimo, the renegades, taken completely off their guard, scattered in all directions. Pursued by a part of the attacking force, Geronimo's warriors kept up a running fight until all the fighting men and a few of the women and children had escaped; but a majority of the latter were rounded up by the scouts and taken back to Crawford's camp, prisoners of war. Only the dead body of a little boy remained to mark the scene of happy camp, of swift, fierce battle. In the blue sky, above the silent pines, a vulture circled upon static wings.
That night the renegades gathered in a hidden mountain fastness, and when the last far flung scout had come they compared notes and took account of their losses. They found that nearly all of their women and children had been captured. Of Geronimo's family only Shoz-Dijiji remained to the old War Chief. Sons-ee-ah-ray was a captive.
When their brief council was concluded, Geronimo arose. "Above the water that falls over the red cliff in the mountains south of Casa Grande there is a place that even the traitors who hunt us for the pindah-lickoyee may find difficult to attack. If you start now you will be almost there before the rays of chigo-na-ay light the eastern sky and reveal you to the scouts of the enemy. If Geronimo has not returned to you by the second darkness he will come no more. Pray to Usen that he may guide and protect you. I have spoken." The War Chief. turned and strode away into the darkness.
Shoz-Dijiji sprang to his feet and ran after him. "Where do you go, Geronimo?" he demanded.
"To fetch Sons-ee-ah-ray from the camp of the enemy," replied Geronimo.
Two other braves who had followed Shoz-Dijiji overheard. One of them was Gian-nah-tah.
"Shoz-Dijiji goes with Geronimo to the camp of the enemy;" announced the Black Bear.
Gian-nah-tah and the other warrior also announced their intention of accompanying the War Chief, and in silence the four started off single file down the rugged mountains with Geronimo in the lead. There was no trail where they went; and the night was dark, yet they skirted the edge of precipice, descended steep escarpment, crossed mountain stream on slippery boulders as surely as man trods a wide road by the light of day.
They knew where Crawford's camp lay, for Gian-nah-tah had been one of the scouts who had followed the victorious enemy; and they came to it while there were yet two hours before dawn.