The Story of Geronimo Part 8

"Let us do that," Naiche agreed.

They rode into the Chiricahua encampment just in time to see the women and children, with an escort of warriors, leaving. The remaining warriors were looking to their weapons. Naiche and Geronimo made their way to Cochise, who was calmly giving orders to sub-chiefs.

"Why should this be?" Naiche inquired.

"Our scouts bring word that many soldiers from the land to the west, who call themselves the California Volunteers, are marching in this direction. They go to fight in the war that other white men are fighting to the east," Cochise said. "The path they have chosen will lead them through Apache Pa.s.s. I have sent word to Mangus Coloradus to join us.

Then we will kill every soldier!"

At the exciting news of a great battle in store, Geronimo and Naiche forgot all about the two white men whom they had intended to find and kill.

CHAPTER EIGHT

_The Battle of Apache Pa.s.s_

High on the steep and boulder-strewn side of narrow Apache Pa.s.s, Geronimo lay behind a pile of rocks. He had made the little breastwork appear natural by uprooting a cactus and standing it on top of the rocks. His best rifle and all the powder and bullets he had been able to gather lay within easy reach. Now he had only to await the soldiers, who intended to march through Apache Pa.s.s, and to give thanks to Usan, who had created an ambush so perfect.

Apache Pa.s.s was a narrow slit between the Chiricahua Mountains on the west and the Dos Cabezas on the east. It was one of the very few pa.s.ses in the Southwest through which travelers could take wagons. Far more important, in a land of little water it sheltered sweet and cool springs that never failed.

Turning his head, Geronimo saw the stone house built by men of the Overland Stage Company and abandoned since Cochise took the warpath.

Some six hundred yards beyond the house, tall trees and green gra.s.s marked the flowing springs.

Geronimo smacked his lips in satisfaction.

Behind each rock in the pa.s.s, each shrub, each cl.u.s.ter of cactus, crouched an armed Apache. There were almost seven hundred Mimbrenos and Chiricahuas. They were so well hidden that even Geronimo, who knew they were there, could see few of them. He smacked his lips again.

The scouts had reported that there were about as many white soldiers as there were Apaches in ambush, some on foot and some mounted. The soldiers had stopped with their supply train at Dragoon Springs, forty miles west of Apache Pa.s.s. There they could drink to their heart's content, water their stock, and load up with enough water to see them through to Apache Pa.s.s. But their water would be gone by the time they entered the pa.s.s, and they could not get more until they reached the springs beyond the stone stagehouse.

Geronimo glanced with pleasure at the stone breastworks which Mangus Coloradus and Cochise had had built on the heights overlooking these springs. The fortifications were manned by warriors who could shoot without being shot, since the breastworks protected them.

Unable to renew their water supplies, the soldiers who were not killed by bullets would die from thirst. The greatest Apache victory of all time was almost certain.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

Soon two Apache scouts who had gone out to watch for the soldiers'

arrival came into the pa.s.s. One went to Cochise's ambush. The second turned to where Mangus Coloradus lay.

Geronimo burned to know what the scouts had seen and what they were saying, for then he would know how soon he might expect battle. But he did not leave his position.

Presently, Naiche slipped down beside Geronimo. He was grinning.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

"Most of the heavy wagons, without which white soldiers go nowhere, remain at Dragoon Springs," he said. "A few horse and many foot soldiers are coming to Apache Pa.s.s, but they are no more than one to our six.

They wear their foolish uniforms of blue cloth and they reel with the heat. They cannot live without water."

"Nor can they get water," Geronimo's grin reflected Naiche's. "Before they reach it we shall slay them all."

"We shall slay them all," Naiche agreed.

Naiche slipped back to his ambush. A half hour later Geronimo saw the thin cloud of dust that hovered above the marching soldiers.

The soldiers entered Apache Pa.s.s, and most of the cavalrymen led their mounts, for the horses were so desperate for water that they could not be ridden. There were pack animals too, and they carried strange wheels and tubes that were typical of the silly things white soldiers took into battle. But in spite of heat, thirst, and the heavy uniforms, the white men kept a smart military formation as they walked unsuspectingly into the trap.

They were two thirds of the way into the pa.s.s when a shot from the rifle of Cochise rang out. At once firearms blazed from behind the Indians'

breastworks. But the hoped-for ma.s.sacre did not come about.

This was partly because the Apaches were so sure the soldiers could not escape that they did not bother aiming as carefully as they should have.

And it was partly because so many of the Indians were shooting smoothbore muskets that were not accurate at a long distance.

Even as he shot at them, Geronimo could not help admiring soldiers such as these white men. They did not flee in panic, as Mexicans nearly always did, but coolly shot back. In good order, shooting as they went and taking their wounded with them, they retreated from the pa.s.s.

Geronimo swallowed his disappointment. He had hoped all the soldiers might be slaughtered at the first volley. But he knew that those who still lived must reach the springs or die of thirst.

Leaving his position, Geronimo raced to the heights overlooking the springs. He found a place behind the breastworks on the heights and waited.

The white soldiers came again. But they were in battle formation this time, and their rifles were far superior to smoothbores. Every shot from an ambushed Indian drew a quick reply. Soldiers dropped, but here and there an Apache went limp too. Carrying their dead and such wounded as could not help themselves, the soldiers fought their way to the stone stagehouse. Some entered the building, and some sheltered themselves behind it.

Geronimo made ready for the attack on those who would attempt to get to the springs. He had thought not even one soldier would ever reach the stagehouse, but most were there. However, they were still six hundred yards from the water they must have and the deadliest ambush of all.

The soldiers stayed in or behind the stagehouse for almost an hour and a half. When they came out and advanced toward the springs, Geronimo was amazed to see them pulling little wagons with tubes mounted on them.

Only warriors who knew nothing of battle would bother with such clumsy things. Geronimo's confidence rose.

The soldiers neared the springs, and the Apaches loosed a rain of bullets. Again, very few soldiers were hit.

It seemed to the puzzled Geronimo that the others were very busy with their little wagons. One wagon escaped from the men who were handling it and started to roll. Immediately other men pounced upon and halted it. They turned the little wagon about, so that the tube pointed at the breastworks.

[Ill.u.s.tration: _The first sh.e.l.l struck the breastworks_]

The first sh.e.l.l--for the little wagons were really howitzers--struck the breastworks squarely about thirty feet to one side of Geronimo. Dust, dirt, stones, boulders, and Apaches flew into the air.

The rest of the Apaches waited in stunned silence until the second sh.e.l.l exploded. Then the Indians began a panicky scramble up the slope.

When they reached the heights, Geronimo stood with Mangus Coloradus and twenty other Mimbreno braves and looked down on the battle ground. They watched the soldiers drink, fill canteens, and retreat with their horses to the stone stagehouse.

"We would have killed them all, but they shot wagons at us," Mangus Coloradus said wonderingly. "But we are still many more than they are, and we will kill them yet. To do so, we must first kill the messengers they will surely send for help. Come."

The warriors followed Mangus Coloradus to the west end of the pa.s.s. Soon they heard the pounding of horses' hoofs. A moment later they saw the five mounted messengers who were riding to warn those camped at Dragoon Springs of the ambush and to ask for help.

The Indians shot. Three horses went down at the first volley, but two riders were quickly pulled up behind two other soldiers and thundered on. There remained no one to help the rider of the third downed horse.

In the thickening night, the Apaches advanced to kill this lone man. The dismounted trooper crouched behind his dead horse and prepared to sell his life as dearly as possible.

The trooper's carbine cracked. Geronimo and two other warriors caught Mangus Coloradus as he fell and carried him behind an outjutting shoulder of rock.