comrades in the camp compelled us to act with, caution. The first object of the savages was evidently to destroy the weapon which they believed to be killing the moon; but its loss would have been irreparable, and their vengeance would not have stopped there.
"What are we to do without the moon?" inquired the Chief. "How are we to note time? How shall we know when to plant and when to reap? How can we pass all our nights in darkness, and be incapacitated from preventing Apache raids? What have we done to you, that you should do this thing to us?" To these questions, asked with vehemence and rapidity, I replied, "Wait until I consult my superior," and immediately acquainted Mr. Whipple with all the facts. That officer had left the telescope in alarm; but immediately replaced himself with the greatest sang-froid, and, in an undertone, said:
"Tell them that, if they will keep quiet and promise not to make any hostile movement, we will restore the moon again, as full and as bright as ever."
His coolness, courage, and undisturbed self-possession excited my highest admiration, and I immediately translated his words to Culo Azul, who again made them known to his people. Under the direction of Mr. Whipple, I added:
"We can hit the moon, as you may see for yourselves,"—at this time that luminary was obscured one-half by the earth's shadow—"and it is also in our power to restore it to health and strength; but if you harm us or injure our instruments, then the moon must remain dead, and can never be restored. We have only the kindliest feelings toward the Pimos and Maricopas, and we only wished to destroy the moon in order to prevent its light from guiding the Apaches and Yumas to your villages.
