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“In the year 1869 several hundred Indians came to Fort McDowell to make a treaty with the soldiers. They were mostly from the ranges of the Four Peaks and the Matazal Mountains, and also from the Tonto Basin, the country of the Tontos. The Tontos always went with the Mo-have-Apaches, being always willing to risk their lives with them. I remember one incident in connection with this. My grandfather was so old that he could hardly see the way to walk, and I had to go with him to lead him. We had one big dog which would always kill little game and even catch young deer or fawn. On our way to the camp where there was a great council to be held, we had nothing to eat, and my grandfather killed my poor old dog which always caught rabbits and young deer for our sustenance. He said that it couldn't be helped, that we had to live on something. So he told me to get wood while he was digging a hole after he had skinned the dog, and after I got the wood I had to get

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some stones and grass, some green grass and green brush, and he made afire and put some stones on it. Then he waited until the fire burned down to the level of the hole, and then put my dog on the hot stones and covered him all up with the grass and brush so that no steam could escape. We then went to sleep and towards morning we woke up and uncovered the little mound where the dog was, and found it well cooked. My grandfather gave me all I wanted, and we could not tell the difference between the dog's flesh and that of any other animal. We had all we wanted to eat that morning, and plenty to take along for that day until we reached the camp, which we did towards morning. That night there was a great crowd at the camp, and they danced almost all night, and a few days afterwards they all moved off towards Fort McDowell, I was among them, but I was so young that I can hardly remember anything about it. I can remember, however, that some Indians, men and women, brought in some gramma grass on their backs and took it to the soldiers' stables, and the soldiers gave the Indians a cup of corn for each bunch of gramma grass. The hay must have been worth but very little at that time, for each bundle of green gramma hay must have weighed from seventy-five to eighty-five pounds, and the Indians only got a cup of corn for each bundle of hay. A cup full would not weigh more than a couple of pounds, it being measured with a soldiers' tin quart cup.

“Everything seemed very friendly at this place, the Indians having dances every night. The camp was across the Verde River, and some

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of the soldiers used to come over and look on at the dances. The Indians, however, broke away to the hills again, and this was the way it came about: There was a Tonto woman at the post who had been captured some years previous, and married to a packer by the name of Archie McIntosh. She told the Apaches that the soldiers had sent for the Pimas and Maricopas to come to the fort and kill off the Apaches in the same manner it had been done at Fort Grant on the San Pedro River some years previous. That afternoon the chiefs got together and agreed to leave the camp and go back to the hills. The old people and the children were to go first before the sun went down, leaving only the warriors and young men, who were to keep singing and beating the drums so that the soldiers would not notice that anybody had left the camp or intended to leave, and, in the evening, Bar-gin-gah, with about six young men, would creep up around the stables after dark, take what horses they could get, and light out with them to the hills. By that time nearly all the rest of the Indians would be near the hills. About midnight Bar-gin-gah, with his young men, went to the stables, creeping on their hands and knees, watching the soldier who was walking around the stable. They noticed that there was only one soldier on guard, and when he turned to go the other way, they crept up and untied the horses in the stables, and each one came out with a horse and got away unnoticed by the soldiers until they crossed the river, when the horses made so much noise that they alarmed the camp and, the sentinel fired some shots at them, which, however, did no harm. The men who had been left in the camp singing

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and beating the drum, had already gone to the hills. The young men drove the horses over the hills and mountains, and next morning when they were near the top of a mountain, they looked back and saw soldiers coming across the valley. Many more Indians joined them and it was decided to kill the horses, which was done, and the meat was held up to the view of the soldiers, and they were invited by signs to come and have some of it. They did not do this, however, but stayed in the foothills and fired a few shots, some of which struck the dead horses, but none of the Indians were struck. We did not mind the shooting, being more interested in getting our shares of the horse meat. So the soldiers went back to Fort McDowell, nobody was hurt, and we Indians got our fill of horse meat.

“In 1867 some New Mexican volunteers, under Lieutenant Abeyta, had a fight at a point of rocks about twenty-five miles north of Prescott with some of the Apaches. The Indians whipped the soldiers, and drove them out over the rocks. A white man, named Willard Rice, who was a guide and scout for the soldiers, and several soldiers were killed and wounded. It was never known how many were killed and wounded, but the Indians whipped the soldiers and drove away the stock into the hills towards Bill Williams' Mountain. The story of these fights, when told by the white man, all have the same beginning, which is that the Indians steal stock, as, at Skull Valley some parties of Indians stole some stock from some freighters who were on their way to Fort Whipple, and a few days afterwards a great many more Indians came to the very spot where the animals had been stolen. The soldiers who

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were out scouting for the parties who took away the stock attacked the astonished Indians without any warning. The Indians were unarmed, as they were on their way to the Post to make a treaty and had a letter to show the soldiers and to the whites, but they were shot down without mercy.

“The raids of the Indians against the whites were all for the purpose of securing vengeance. No history of Arizona can truthfully state that the Apaches have committed the crimes which have been charged to them. All that they have done was to steal stock, which they did to secure vengeance for the wrong done them.

“My mother was killed by the soldiers. We had been camping at the top of the Superstition Mountains, gathering the cactus fruit, and were returning to our home. My father said that he would go ahead of us to be on the lookout in case the enemy should ambush us. The country we were travelling over had been raided many times by the soldiers and the Pima and Maricopa Indians, and we were afraid of being ambushed. We were deathly afraid of the Pimas, Maricopas and Papagoes of the Gila Valley. I remember that day as well as if it happened a few years ago, and I was then only a very small lad. We came down from a high mountain trail to a creek. Each side of the creek was covered with cactus, mesquite, and every other kind of a tree, and the cactus and mesquite trees were loaded to the full of their bearing. My mother saw the fruits and the mesquite beans so she wanted us to stop, and left us children, (I was the oldest of three, there being a baby sister and a little brother who could just walk, but not very much). My mother hurried

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off, taking her large basket which she carried on her back. My aunt and uncle (who had five children with them) were getting ready to follow my mother's trail, she having been gone about a half hour, when all at once we heard someone give a loud yell, and in a few minutes there were some gun shots, and we heard my poor mother's death cry. My aunt and uncle told me to take the baby, and lead the little boy, and hurry over to a thick brushy canyon, and my grandmother followed me, but after going a few yards I looked back and could not see my grandmother any more, but I kept on my way, carrying the baby on my back and keeping hold of my little brother by the arm. I was walking up a thick brushy gulch, and so was not seen by the soldiers or any of our enemies who might be following me. I was walking on the side of a hill when I heard my uncle calling me, and he came to assist me with the children. They had already reached the top of the mountain and when I reached them I could hear my father fighting the soldiers. He only had a bow and arrows to fight the soldiers with, and they had guns. My father was always on the lookout for dangers when we were on our journeys, and the reason that he could not see the ambush this time was that the soldiers travelled in a deep narrow canyon, in between two ranges of rocky hills. My father was looking farther away in the direction of the roads, and could not see a soul, and was sure there was no danger. He came back over the hill, saw us in the valley, and rested for the noon. After the soldiers had killed my mother, they saw my father on the hills, so they chased after him, but he had climbed a high rocky

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mountain and rolled rocks down on them, so they did not dare climb up the hills. He was shooting down on them with his bow and arrows and rolling rocks-down on them and in this way he kept them from climbing the mountain. The soldiers had not seen us, for they took after my father instead of charging up the canyon. If they had not done this they would have gotten the rest of us. After the soldiers had marched away, my father joined us, and said that the soldiers must have killed my mother because he saw her running along on the side of the hill, and the soldiers were shooting at her, and then he could not see her any more. We all came down from the mountain then and camped in a cave, and early the next morning my father and uncle went back to try and find the body of my mother. They found her dead in a cave, full of bullet holes.

“My grandfather and grandmother were not able to run for their lives, but they hid under some thick grass all day, and when night came they came out of their hiding place and it just happened that they saw our tracks and they followed us until they overtook us.

“I cannot recollect much of what took place of just what places we went to after my mother was killed. This must have been in the year 1870. It was such actions as this on the part of the white people which led the Indians to seek vengeance on all the whites and their Indian allies, who they persuaded to go with them and kill off all the other Indians they could find. My father and uncle had never killed a soul in their lives before this happened, and had never even seen a white man, but this outrage sent them out to take vengeance. Before this we were always

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in a country where we never had any fear of danger until the white man came. It was only a few miles from this place (Phoenix) where my mother was killed, and a great slaughter took place there a few years previous by the soldiers and the Pima and Maricopa Indians. The soldiers, several hundreds of them, with the Pimas and Maricopas, accompanied by an Indian who knew the country, and who could speak the language of the Indians of that part of the country, came there under pretense of making a treaty, and camped a few miles from where there was a camp of Indians. The soldiers sent this Indian guide out to our people, and he came close to the camp and called out to the Apaches, and told them that the soldiers and the other Indians came not to fight, but wanted to make peace with the Indians who were living out in this country, and had brought many presents to them, such as calico, blankets, tobacco, and many other things which were new to them, to assure them of their friendship. Many warriors and subchiefs agreed to go down and have a talk with the soldiers and get presents from them. Only men went, and nearly all the men in the camp went down. The big chief, Dela-cha, stood on a large rock and talked to those who went across the valley to where the soldiers and Pimas and Maricopas were, and told them that they would be lucky if any one of them came back alive. I had never talked friendly with any strange people, or no one who I never saw before, and did not care for any presents from anybody, and I stayed with Dela-cha with a few men, his relations. His camp was a little ways off from the rest of us, as the custom of the Indians was for all relations to

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always camp together. The soldiers were drawn up in lines with their arms or guns when the Indians came in, and the Indians were told to sit down one by one in a row. The Pimas and Maricopas told the soldiers that they would give a piece of tobacco to one of the Apaches who would be a chief, and that that one should be shot first by the soldiers and then all the others would be shot or be killed by the Pimas and Maricopas with the clubs and knives, and that is just what happened.

“There was a woman relative of mine whose name is Chaw-A-Thay-Jah, meaning ‘Wash off a calico,’ who was captured by the White Mountain Apaches when she was a child, and was kept by her captor until she reached womanhood, when he married her. He was a cripple, having both legs paralyzed, and couldn't walk or stand. This woman told me that she was chosen the wife of this man so that she could carry him on her back every time they had to move camp. He could only move from place to place by using his elbows and his heels. He was a good singer, however, and for this reason he was chosen to attend a gathering at a certain place where many were camped on a small creek. At this place there were all kinds of trees, walnut, sycamore, willow and pine trees, and they were green almost the whole year round. There were two small streams of water which never dried up, and all along the valley they planted corn, watermelons, pumpkins, and everything they wanted, and they never failed to have a good crop. They were Cibicu Apaches, different from the real White Mountain Apaches.

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“This band of Cibicu Apaches lived therefor years; they made their living there, and they never asked any aid from the Government. At one time they were visited by some bands of Apaches from the northern part of the Tonto country, and one morning some one in the camp made some tizwin, which is made of sprouted corn, fermented, and when it is right to drink it will foam, and you can smell it off some distance the same as beer. One of the visiting party, a good looking young man, was told to go over where they were drinking tizwin, so he went over there and stopped on the outside of a tepee, or wigwam instead of going inside to where many were drinking. Nearly all of the Indians carry their guns no matter where they go, and this young man leaned up against the tepee, and started to roll a cigarette, holding his gun between his legs. When he went to light his cigarette, he dropped the gun on the ground. It exploded and the noise so frightened a child who was playing close behind him that she fell over on her back as though shot. The mother of the child rushed out of the crowd shouting that the child had been shot to pieces, and called to her husband to go and kill the man who shot her child. Everybody had been drinking of the tizwin, and nearly everybody was boozed up. The husband came and picked up the gun, which was still lying on the ground, and struck the owner of it on his breast several times. The young man made no effort to defend himself, but stood absolutely still, smoking his cigarette. When the father was through striking him, he threw the gun at the young man, who picked it up and started back to his own camp. Before reaching

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that place, however, he turned back, holding his gun under his arm and walking very fast. Some one noticed him coming and gave warning, and the father of the child got his gun and came out of the crowd to meet the man coming towards him. Neither of them stopped until they were within easy shooting distance of each other, when each one shot so close together that their clothes were set on fire. One was shot through the forehead, and the other through the stomach, the bullet breaking his back. The whole camp of course was very excited, but it was decided that there should be no further trouble over the affair. The Indians did not even move their camps as was customary after an affair of this character.

“In the camp there was a medicine man who had announced that a great spirit came to him saying to call all the people together and tell them to dance day and night for forty-five days, until the two men who had been killed should come to them again, and those who had parents and relatives who had been killed could also have them returned to them if they would call their names and wish them to come back from the dead. This old crippled man sang all the dances all day and night for nearly a month.

“Some trouble maker made a report to the Indian Agent and to the Post Commander, saying that the Indians at Cibicu had called all the other Indians together to make a raid on the soldiers at Fort Apache. The agent and the soldiers believed the stories which were told them about the Indians, and sent out some detachments of soldiers to Cibicu to arrest all the Indians who were engaged in the dances, and to bring them to the fort, especially the medicine man who was supposed to be at the head of the

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affair, and who was to be brought in in irons. These were the orders of the Indian Agent at Fort Apache to the officers who went with the soldiers. Runners came to the camp from Fort Apache and told the Indians and the medicine man, and one morning the Indians saw the soldiers coming over the road by column. There must have been about ninety soldiers or more, and about twenty-five Apache scouts. When the soldiers reached the camp they went right through to the great wigwam where the medicine man and the singer were seated. This great wigwam had four entrances or doors where the dancers came through, and went out, until they had come through all the four entrances. The medicine man was dressed in eagle feathers, and his body was painted with all kinds of paints, as was also the man who sang for the dancers. Most of the Indian men left the wigwam, and got their guns, and went up on the foothills, the women and children having gone up farther on the tops of the hills. No one was left in the medicine lodge but the great medicine man, and when the soldiers came there they took him over to the camp. He had warned the young men not to shoot any of the soldiers, saying that if they took him away they would only put him in the guardhouse for a few months or a year, and he would not be killed because he had not done any wrong. He was taken by the soldiers and a guard put over him, and while he was seated on a rock some of the young Indians tried to get close enough to him to speak to him, but the soldiers pulled out their guns and pistols and drove the young men back three times. The fourth time the Indians were mad, and came right

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down, not minding the threats of the soldiers, and shot down all the soldiers who were there and then they ran off to the hills. The medicine man was still sitting on the rock with his wife and child, but when his wife tried to get him to go away over the hills to where the rest had gone, he told her to go alone; that there was no use for him to go anywhere after there had been so much killing on his account, as they would kill him no matter where he went, and it was just as well for him to meet his fate where he was. Just then one of the soldiers who had hidden among some saddles came out, pulled out his pistol and shot the medicine man through the head while his wife had her arm around him. The soldier, however, did not try to kill the woman and child.

“In the meantime a sister of this medicine man, who was on a fast horse, rushed in and rounded up the whole herd of the soldiers' pack mules, which were loaded with ammunition and so on, and drove them all off through the hills towards where the Indians went. The Indian men came over to the dead soldiers and took off their arms, so that they were well prepared for war. The twenty-five Apache scouts, who were the bravest Indian bucks there were, and who were well armed and trusted by the government for their honesty and reliability as guides for the soldiers in campaigning against the Apaches, instead of fighting with the soldiers, this time turned upon them, killing nearly all of them. The Indians took the horses and pack mules with the loads of ammunition and were ready for war. Some of the Indian women went over to the soldiers' camp, and finding everybody dead, they

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took everything off them, and scalped the officers.

“It was not long, however, before a large number of other Apaches who had enlisted as scouts were hot on the trail of these Indians. They followed them across the Black River, passed a mining camp called McMillen, on the reservation, and followed the Indians down the San Carlos river right into the Agent's building, and took them all prisoners. The soldiers took six of the head men to Fort Grant, where they were hanged, and all the rest of the Cibicu Apaches were scattered among other bands of Apaches at or near the San Carlos agency. The head chief's name was Es-skil-chus-a, meaning ‘Little Heart.’ I cannot remember the names of the other chiefs. That band of Cibicu Apaches was broken up and never went to live at that place again.

“One time in the fall of the year 1873, or perhaps it was 1874, a mail driver came into Fort Whipple and reported to Captain James Burns, who was in charge of the post, that a party of Apaches, who were blamed for everything which happened throughout the country, had attacked him several miles away. Captain Burns took his company, which was company G of the 5th U. S. (Cavalry, and went off down on Granite Creek on the run. I went with the command, but as I was such a little fellow and could not manage the horse, one of the soldiers led the horse I was riding. I could not reach the stirrups with my feet, and the soldier did not care very much whether I was safe or not. He ran his horse hard and the one I was on kept going just as fast. I had to hold on to the saddle with both hands, but every few hundred yards my hat

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would blow off, and the soldier would have to stop and pick it up for me. He finally swore at me and called me clown with all kinds of bad words. I could not understand all he said, but I did understand something he said, and this is what it was: ‘If I have any trouble with the other Apaches you will be the first one I will shoot, and you would better be careful with your old hat,’ so I did not dare wear my hat on my head, but held it in my mouth until we overtook the rest of the company and rode along at a slower gait until we got to the scene of the attack, where we saw where the mail carrier had left the buckboard. He said he had had two horses on the buckboard, but had cut the harness off the one he rode in and left one on the buckboard. All the letters and papers were scattered as far as you could see. Captain Burns took me and all the soldiers to hunt up the tracks of the Indians, or ‘Apaches.’ We scattered around for quite a distance until I happened to go in through a thick brushy place where I found a footprint. I motioned to the soldiers and they came to where I was, and they all saw it. It was very hard trailing; you could not see a horsetrack because the grass was so tall and thick, but I followed the tracks on over the foothills of the Granite Mountains, followed it up the mountains and saw a smoke rising over the gap. The soldiers all got together in a narrow ravine where they could go up to the camp under cover of the thick brush. When we got to the gap, every soldier was ready to fire, we could not see a soul in the camp. The fire was still burning, however, and the camp outfits were still there. We followed on the trail a little distance, and came across a horse that had been left behind.

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It was then going on to about 5:30 or 6 o'clock, so Captain Burns ordered his men to return to where they had left their horses at the foot of the mountains. We reached the horses at about sundown, and reached the post at about midnight. This was my first scouting trip, and it did not result in much damage to either side. My own opinion is that the people who attacked the mail carrier must have been Wallapais because they made for the north, and at that time all the Apaches were prisoners of war and were held at Camps Verde and Cottonwood under the orders of General George Crook. The Apaches have been blamed for many bloody deeds done by other Indians.

“The Yavapais and the Navajos got to fighting because when the Navajos would come through the country they would always take something, such as a horse, or when they came to a camp of the Yavapais and saw that the Yavapais were inferior in numbers, they would ransack the whole camp and would go on towards Kirkland Valley and come back with a drove of sheep and sometimes a herd of goats. That is the way they got started on sheep and goat raising, and they always gave the white people the impression that they were friendly and peaceful and always had the respect of the government. They did not need any help, however, as they were able to support their children and educate them well, and did not need any aid from the government.

“I have often been told by old Indians how they used to ambush the Navajos when they were seen coming across the valley from Kirkland Valley with bands of sheep. The Yavapais got tired of seeing the Navajos take so much stock,

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and they wanted some themselves, so they would go and lay for the Navajos just as they were coming through the divide, and would shoot them with bows and arrows. They killed three at one time, and the rest escaped, leaving the sheep behind. Some of the Yavapais wanted to drive the sheep back to Kirkland Valley, to where they were raised, or to the owner, but their chief thought the best plan was not to do this because the soldiers might come on them with the sheep, and kill them.

“I want to say something about an Indian by the name of Yum-a-wyl-lah, who belonged to those tribes west of the Yavapais country. This man had lived a long time with the whites in Colorado. When he came back he told a great many things the rest of the Indians could not comprehend, and some of them thought he was foolish to talk about having all the land taken away from them, because they all thought then that the Indians could fight any number of soldiers. This Indian, however, said that he had been asked a great many times about the country, what kind of a country it was, whether it was open for travel, and whether it was good for camping and settling. He told the whites that there was no way for wagons to go over, and no good camping places, no grass, and no wood to burn, but the white men said, ‘We will go and see for ourselves; it is no use to tell us that there is no way for anything to go through your country, and if we cannot go there peacefully, there are many soldiers we can call on to drive the red devils away. We are going to settle your country and it is no use to resist us, and you need not ask us to pay you either. Uncle Sam has got lots of people. They are just as

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easy to count as the leaves of the trees and you would soon get tired of counting them. The only thing to do is to be good and show the new comers that you want to be their friends. Just go over to their camps and hold out your hands to them, and they will know that you want to be friendly.’ Yum-a-wyl-lah said: ‘It breaks my heart to think of our beautiful country, the fine green grass, the timber, the valleys, all being taken away from us. If we resist or try to fight these new comers, many soldiers will come and destroy our homes, so we will have no homes. There will be no game, and we will not be able to go anywhere as we used to do with all our freedom once the soldiers get us in one place. Then we will not be able to say anything but will have to do just what we are told. After we are conquered we will have no more hunting country to roam in. All these things, my brothers, make me shed tears, There will be no more signal fires on distant mountains like those we used to see at nights.’

“I have often heard some of the old Indians relate the stories which were told to them in olden times before they were driven on the reservation, about how true this talk of Yum-a-wyl-lah's was. The strong men used to shed tears when they told me about their homes in the woods and the freedom that they had to do with as they pleased.

“The first white men who went through the country were friendly to the Indians, but they warned them not to be too friendly to the parties who might follow them, as they might not be so friendly as they were.

“One time three young husky Indians went out on a hunt and came to a camp, supposing it

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to be an Indian camp, but it was a soldiers' camp, and the first thing they knew they were surrounded and led into the camp. They were led to the commander, twelve soldiers guarding them. None of the Indians could speak English, and the soldiers could not speak Indian language, but the soldiers led the Indians to a place where a large fire had been built and some of the soldiers laid out a large wagon sheet and motioned the Indians to lie down on it. When this was done the soldiers covered them up and shook their fingers at them as much as to say that they should not pull the covers off or they would shoot. The three Indians lay there without moving until one of them raised his head to see if all the soldiers were still watching them, or were going to bed. He saw they were all lying down and could hear some of them snoring. He whispered to the others that it must be getting time for them to make ready for a flying escape, and told them that when he raised the canvas they were to make a run for a creek nearby which had a very wide stream flowing through it. When they were ready the cover was rolled off so noiselessly that no one noticed it, and they moved out the only entrance there was, jumped over the soldiers and were across the creek and over the bluffs before the soldiers knew they were gone.

“It must have been morning when they made their escape because when they reached the top of the hill above the camp, the living sun appeared in a glare of gladness to them, its freshness filling them with new life, and as they gazed over the mountains and valley, which they had thought they never would see again, it said to

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them that some great spirit had taken pity on them. At that time it seemed that God was more in readiness to help those who needed it than nowadays.

“A long time afterward an old man who was a member of the said party said that he noticed while he was asleep what seemed to be a white cloud come down from above with a young baby in the midst of the cloud, who said to him: ‘Rise and run, and do not fear for nothing will hurt any of you.’ This man's name was Won-wongan, which means, ‘His head Like a Mound.’ This party was from a camp on the west side of the Jerome Mountains.

“Another time word was sent around to every village of the Yavapais to meet for a council, and they all gathered at a place called Ka-hon-ga-te-lap-a, meaning ‘Scrub Piney Spot.’ This place is just above the station of Dewey, a little above the wagon road from Camp Verde to Prescott. There they came by families, all gowned in feathers and painted, with the women dressed in the same style. They danced for several days, and during the day the men went hunting deer and antelope for their feasts during the dancing times. The women prepared all kinds of food and packed it for the men to carry along when they went to war. In those days there was plenty of fresh meat to be had, and plenty of plants, also plenty of all kinds of wild seeds which the Indians ground when they were ripe. At that time the Lonesome Valley was full of animals, deer and antelope. You could see droves of antelopes for miles, and sometimes they would come to the camp. After the Indians had danced and feasted for about two

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weeks, they set out towards Kirkland Valley to the place where many of their people had been slaughtered some months previous. They scattered off towards the north and saw a camp of their enemies, and waited until nearly dawn, when they made a raid upon the camp, killing nearly everyone in it. They were very much surprised to find when they attempted to take the scalps of their victims, that there was no hair upon their heads. They found their victims' faces were painted to resemble the warpaint of Indians, and they were dressed in Indian costume, but it turned out to be a party of white men disguised as Indians who had been killing everybody they came across, both whites and Indians, and throwing the blame upon the Arizona Indians. The party must have come across the Colorado river from California, and gotten the Piutes and Wallapais to show them across the country. These rascally white men made raids through here disguised as Indians, and threw the blame upon the Apaches. Much more could be told of such happenings where the Apaches had to take all the blame, and were called bloodthirsty people by the white men. But could it be wondered at? They had been ill-treated from the start, and made to fight for vengeance and protection for their families and their homes. Is there any man who will not try to protect his own home?

“The Castle Creek Hot Springs was a paradise for the Indians because there was a nice meadow of green grass, plenty of large trees for shade, and it was a place where they used to plant corn, watermelons and pumpkins. One time after the Indians had planted, and in the

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fall when they were returning to gather their crops, some young men who were ahead of the party saw a camp of soldiers and the soldiers' horses were in the places where the Indians had their corn. The women and children were sent to the hills and the men waited until next morning, when they shot into the soldiers and stampeded the horses. They could not tell whether they had killed any of the soldiers or not, but the soldiers fired at the bluffs where the Indians were, and scared them away, so the Indians did not make any further attempt to trouble the people who took possession of their crops.

“Once at the head of Black Canyon, now called Turkey Creek, at the mouth of the wash that leads from Bumble Bee, there was a party of white men camped, and three Indians who were out hunting for deer saw the white men's camp, and two of them decided to go to the camp and ask for presents and tobacco. The third and older man tried to persuade them not to go to the camp but without success. The two young men left their bows and arrows with the older man so as to show the white men that they were friendly. When they got to the camp they shook hands with most of the white men, but there were some there who refused to shake hands with them and went and got their guns and shot one of the Indians down. The other ran for his life, receiving only a flesh wound through the leg, but he paid no attention to the wound and made his escape. The third Indian who had refused to go to the camp saw the whole affair from the top of the bluff, and went to his own camp for assistance for the wounded man. After the wounded man had recovered there was

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quarrelling as to who first proposed going to the white men's camp, and thus causing an Indian to be killed. A lot of the Indians wanted to kill the two who had returned, believing that they were the cause of the other's death, but they finally decided to allow them to live. This was the first blow received by the Indians on the east side of the Bradshaw Mountains, and I believe it happened in the year 1864.

“Shortly afterwards about sixty or seventy Indians had a council and decided to make some raids on the white ranchmen and prospectors along the foothills of the Bradshaw Mountains, so they went to a place on the Big Bug Creek, about four or five miles above the present town of Mayer. The Indians were up on a hill, looking down into the valley, and saw a man go into a house. They did not see any more white men so some of them went down close to the house. Some of the Indians said that the white man must have seen them first, and for that reason he went into the house and could see them through the window. Some of them said no, that it was not so, and they wanted to kill that man, and that if there was anybody afraid to go down to that house, they could stay away; they were out to fight any enemy they came across and they were going down to get that white man. So about twenty-five Indians went towards the little house. Three of them got to one end of it and were looking in through some cracks in the wall, but the white man was in an upper room and raised a window and shot down at the Indians. He killed one and wounded another, and the others ran off. They held quite an argument as to whether or not they would try to kill just

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that one lonely man. He was in a place where he could stand off many men all day long, and the Indians only had two or three firearms among them, and the rest being armed with bows and arrows.

“It was finally decided to return to their camp at Government Gap, and there was much dissatisfaction among the people because one man got killed and the rest did not stop to see to his body. Those who had first proposed making war and raids did not care to go any farther, and finally the relatives of the man who got killed were given presents and they got over their hard feelings, but the old camp was broken up. Some of the Indians went south some went across the Verde River, and some went over towards Squaw Peak towards the ranges of the Ball Mountains. The parents and relatives of the Indian who was killed were the only ones left in the old camp, and they burned up everything belonging to the dead man. This is the way the Indians did when any persons were killed or died. Everything belonging to the dead was destroyed. It is a religious belief among the Apaches, and there are other tribes that do more than destroy the clothing of the dead and kill the animals owned by him, they even try to kill some one else. It may look strange, but it is true that the Indians used to burn their dead and everything that the person owned, whether he died a natural death or got killed in battle. If he owned several head of horses, every one of them must be killed and burned. Should he get killed by someone belonging to another tribe his relatives must have vengeance and will go out and make a raid on the other tribe. For many

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years after a man or woman died or got killed, no one dared to mention his or her name. It is an insult to the relatives of the dead person to mention the name before them, and if it is done it often causes trouble. If a young man is married and dies and the woman is left alone, she must live with the family of the deceased until the mother or father of the dead person selects some young man to give her to. This must not be done within a year after the time of the death of the man, and the widow must be strictly good in all her life until she goes to marry some one else. If there is a boy in the family the widow has to stay close with the family until the little one is old enough to get married, and if she should become a bad woman, or marry some one else without the consent of her father-in-law or mother-in-law, then the old mother-in-law will get her and will cut off her nose, which will spoil her looks and she will be no more respected. It is the same with a widower. He has to keep in close touch with his father-in-law and his mother-in-law, and if there are any other girls in the family he is supposed to take one of them for his wife, but if he happens to get another woman outside of his deceased wife's family, there will be great trouble about it. Among the Apaches a girl is given to a man for a wife when she is quite young, maybe only about six years old, and when a man is seen carrying a child on his back when travelling or driving, that girl is supposed to be his wife, and will be some day, and it is the same way yet among certain classes of the Apaches.

“Dela-cha was a great warrior, and the Apaches under him were a brave band. He, his

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son-in-law, Dar-ka-gia-ya, meaning ‘His Body Big and Fat that it Shakes,’ and another young fellow went off down towards the Gila River, where there were many settlements of the Maricopas. They were gone three days and returned with twelve head of ponies. They drove them all night and finally reached their mountains, the Superstitions. There was a gap there that they went over, and they came to a deep gulch and some caves. They drove the horses all night and did not rest all the way. The chief told the young men to go back to the gap and look out over the country to see if there were any enemies on their trail, for they had stolen the horses, and somebody might have followed them. So the young man, Bar-as-ka-yat-yat-a, meaning, ‘Small Greasy Man,’ soon returned from his watch and reported that he could see nothing and thought it would be safe to take a little sleep as they had had hard work driving the ponies and were very sleepy, so they all agreed to go and lay down and take a rest. The old chief was just warning the young men to not sleep too sound, as he said there was no telling just when their enemies would jump them. The young men went to sleep but before the chief did he heard the sound of horses' hoofs and some talking. In a few moments the enemy came in sight, yelling at him. He had tried to wake the young men but they were sleeping so sound that he had to shake them well before he could wake them. He told them to run for their lives but to keep together so that they could stand off their enemies. The chief had a pistol and his son-in-law had a gun, and they told the young men not to get far away from them because the Pimas,

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who were chasing them, liked to get a man by himself so that they could fight him alone, but if three or four kept together and shot back at them, the Pimas and Maricopas would never get close enough to harm them. One of the young men, however, was half asleep when he started to run, and he soon found himself alone, and about fifty Pimas surrounded him and got him into a bunch of rocks from where he kept shooting at them for a while until he had used all his arrows, then the Pimas rushed in and killed him. The chief and his son-in-law succeeded in reaching a high point where they could look down at the Pimas, and kept shooting at them until they had killed ten or fifteen of them. The Pimas finally went away, and after they had gone the chief and his son-in-law went down and found the dead body of the other man in the rocks. There was a narrow ravine near the gap and as the Pimas had left and taken the horses back with them, the two men hastened to get to this ravine. On each side of the ravine there were steep rocks that gave much advantage for an ambush. When about fifteen or twenty of their enemies who had dismounted and were leading their horses had crept up to within a few yards of them, they made sure shots at them with their pistols, and after they had emptied their pistols they used their rifles. They saw six lying on the side of the road and the rest were busy getting on their ponies to get out of the way as fast as they could. The horses were left behind and the Pimas did not try to protect their wounded. The chief's son-in-law ran down and recaptured six of the horses. The chief kept up the shooting at the Pimas until they were about half a

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mile away. There were at least seventy-five Pimas and Maricopas, and only two Mohave-Apaches drove off that many men. The chief's son-in-law drove the horses, and Dela-cha stood on top of the hill calling to the enemy, saying: ‘I am here; come to me if you dare; be men!’ He could hear them crying and he said that they st have been a lot of old women crying about some of their comrades being killed and wounded, and he said that when any of his men were killed he did not cry. So the two of them drove the horses across the hills to their old camp, and told the rest that they had lost one man. The brother of the young man who had been killted threatened to kill Dela-cha, but to satisfy him Dela-cha gave him three of the horses, and told him that they had killed many of their enemies, and if the dead man had heeded his orders he probably would not have been killed, and finally the brother of the dead man was quieted.

“About a year after that many of the Indians gathered together and agreed to go out and wait for soldiers on the road between Fort Reno and McDowell, so they went to the same place where Dela-cha and his comrades had had the fight with the Pimas and Maricopas, and kept watch over the road and finally saw some soldiers coming, about eight or ten of them leading their horses. A runner was sent back to the camp to get the brother of the man who had been killed the previous year, because they knew that when he saw the soldiers he would go right after them, no matter whether he got killed or not. He was lonely over the loss of his brother and did not care whether he got killed or not. It is this way

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with the Indians, when one is killed they want to end their own lives, or kill someone of their own people and be killed themselves.

“In this band there were about sixty-five strong young men, good brave warriors, and three big chiefs. Some were from the Tonto Basin country, and two of the chiefs were of the Mohave-Apaches from the Superstition Mounrains and Four Peaks, and Salt River. When the runners brought word that the soldiers were near the gap, the ambush was placed and it was decided who were to shoot first. Almost all of the Indians were armed with guns and pistols. About fifteen men were stationed close to the road behind the bushes. The runners had brought word that the soldiers had no guns with them and were only leading the horses. Before they reached the ambush, however, some of the soldiers mounted their horses; the word was given to fire on the soldiers, and four of them dropped dead and two were wounded. One of the soldiers ran his horse past the whole line and escaped. The Indians soon got the soldiers who were wounded, and chased the one who had escaped on his horse, but could not catch him. Some of the Indians who had chased him said when they came back, that he was wounded with an arrow in the back, and that his horse was also wounded. All the rest of the soldiers were dead except one who was in a deep gulch or hole, and only had a pistol and was shooting at the Indians with it. The Indians all said to each other to count the shots because a pistol only had six bullets and when the soldier had fired the last one they would rush in and kill him. Just at this moment, however, an Indian who had been sent

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out with a party to watch the road from McDowell, was seen running down the hill towards where the soldier was. He was told that the soldier only had two or three shots, and that as soon as his pistol was empty, they intended to rush him. He would not listen to them, however, but rushed in on the soldier and attempted to kill him with a spear. He missed his man, struck the spear into the ground, and fell on the soldier's back. The soldier was knocked down, but reached under his arm and shot the Indian right through the breast. At that shot all the Indians rushed in and killed the soldier. The Indians got eight guns, seven pistols and four horses. They did not dance over the dead soldiers as they had one dead also, although some of the Indians said that they ought to dance anyhow and not mind the one Indian's death as it was his own fault that he lost his life; that he just got what he was looking for.

“A party followed the mounted soldier who had gone on the road towards HeDowell and when they returned they said that they had found the horse dead, with the saddle on, but that the man must have gone to Fort McDowell on foot. Some wanted to follow him but the chief said that they had killed enough without much loss, and if they undertook to follow the soldier who had escaped, he might hurt some more of their men.”


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