an attack upon an enemy whom he had followed so far. Manuel wouldn't allow any of the Americans to come near while he made his preparations for peeping over the crest of the "divide." Tying a large wisp of palmilla or bear's grass about his head, he crawled or wriggled on hands and knees to the position giving the best view down the valley, and made all the observations desired.
The night was long and cold and dark, and the men had been at least an hour in position overlooking the smouldering fires of the enemy, and ready to begin the attack the moment that it should be light enough to see one's hand in front of him, when an accidental occurrence precipitated an engagement.
One of the old men—one of the party of mescal gatherers who had joined the returning war-party—felt cold and arose from his couch to stir the embers into a blaze. The light played fitfully upon his sharp features and gaunt form, disclosing every muscle.
To get some additional fuel, he advanced toward the spot where Cushing crouched down awaiting the favorable moment for giving the signal to fire. The savage suspects something, peers ahead a little, and is satisfied that there is danger close by. He turns to escape, crying out that the Americans have come, and awakening all in the camp.
The soldiers raised a terrific yell and poured in a volley which laid low a number of the Apaches; the latter scarcely tried to fight in the place where they stood, as the light of the fire made their presence perfectly plain to the attacking party. So their first idea was to seek a shelter in the rocks from which to pick off the advancing skirmishers. In this they were unsuccessful, and death and ruin rained down upon them. They made the best fight they could, but they could do nothing. Manuel saw something curious rushing past him in the gloom. He brought rifle to shoulder and fired, and, as it turned out, killed two at one shot—a great strong warrior, and the little boy of five or six years old whom he had seized, and was trying to hurry to a place of safety, perched upon his shoulders.
It was a ghastly spectacle, a field of blood won with but slight loss to ourselves. But I do not care to dilate upon the scene, as it is my intention to give only a meagre outline description of what Arizona was like prior to the assignment of General Crook to the command. The captured women and boys stated they
