[page 249]

The Frontiersman's Sympathy With the Peace Policy—Gila River Agency—Tonto Apaches at Camp McDowell—Report of J. H. Stout, Special Indian Agent—Report of Colonel N. A. M. Dudley—Report of Captain James Curtis—Talk With Da-chay-Ya and Shelter Pau—Report of Captain Netterville—Report of Colonel Dudley.


“Camp McDowell, Arizona Territory.

“September 24, 1871.

“We left Camp Grant at 6 o'clock, evening, September 19, preferring a night ride to the hot sun across the desert of fifty miles, from the San Pedro to the Gila River. We arrived at Florence, a new and enterprising town, chiefly occupied by Americans, on the Gila, by noon the next day. Here I met a number of citizens, and a party of miners who had just returned from an unsuccessful tour of prospecting among the Pinal Mountains near by. They all wished me ‘God-speed,’ and said they ‘hoped before God the President would be successful in his efforts to bring in the Indians upon the reservations.’ Nothing could have been kinder than their expressions of hearty good-will toward the present administration. From this I infer that I may have been hasty in my conclusions contained at the close of my last letter, that the ‘peace policy’ toward the Indians was unpopular in Arizona.

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I arrived at that impression from reading the newspapers of Tucson and Prescott. But I am told that these papers only reflect the opinions of the traders, army contractors, barroom and gambling saloon proprietors of these two towns, who prosper during the war, but that the hardy frontiersman, the miner, poor laboring men of the border, pray for peace, and I believe it.

“Our ride down the dusty valley of the Gila, from Florence to the Pima and Maricopa reservation, a distance of twenty-eight miles, in the hot sun, on horseback, the thermometer standing at 135 in the sun, 104 in the shade, was fearful. The men and animals were thoroughly used up.


“The agency building is a good one, though too small for the work to be done. A school house and room for the teacher should be built. Agent Stout and his young wife, the Rev. Mr. Cook, the teacher, and the physician, were at home and attending to their duties. Mr. Stout complained of want of means, the remittances received from Superintendent Bendell being too small to meet the quarterly dues for salaries of the officers.

“The chiefs were called together the next day, September 22, and we had a talk with them. Those present were Antonio Azul, the head chief; Swa-mas-kor-si, chief of Ki-ki-mi village; Ki-o-sot, 2nd chief of Ki-ki-mi village; Ki-co-chin-cane, chief of Shu-uk village; Miguel, chief of Staw-to-nik village; Candela, chief of Stu-ka-ma-soo-satick village; Se-per, chief of Pep-chalk village. I told them that, by the President's directions, I had been sent to

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learn about their troubles, especially with regard to their quarrel with the settlers on Salt River, and the diversion of the supply of water from their acequias, and to inform them that, under your direction, I had set apart reservations for the Apaches. They, in common with the Papagoes, have been in the habit of raiding on the Apaches, and I informed them that this must cease; that if the Apaches came down there and troubled them they were to defend themselves and punish the Apaches; but that they must not go up to the Apache country and make war on them, unless they were requested to do so, officially, by some Army officer, which request would come through their agent. I told them they must also quit their raids on the white settlers on the Salt River, or else they would be punished. They had made several wholly unprovoked attacks on the settlers on the Salt River, destroying their crops of corn and tearing to pieces their houses and furniture; one poor man, now employed as farm hand at the agency, having lost everything he possessed by them.

“The chiefs replied that they had some bad young men in their tribe, as we had among white men. That they go up Salt River, notwithstanding their remonstrances against it; if they got into trouble or were killed they could not help it and no one would be sorry, but that their whole tribe ought not to suffer for it. They have always lived peaceably with the whites and they meant to continue to do so. They said they required more land than the present limits of their reservation allowed.

“In their early days they lived more by hunting; deer abounded in that country before the

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white man came, and that with deer meat and mescal they then got along very well, but that now they had to depend for subsistence almost wholly upon farming, and as they now had schools and were rapidly learning the ways of the white man, they needed more land and larger water privileges.

“They were always led to suppose that the white men wanted them to kill the Apaches, but that if they knew the boundaries of the Apache reservation, they would keep off from it. I explained the boundaries of the Camp Grant reservation and told them that the Apaches complained bitterly of the Pimas and Papagoes for their constant warfare upon them and particularly of late of the Papagoes for having assisted at the massacre at Camp Grant and carrying off their children into slavery, and again repeated that these feuds must cease. That the President would have peace. They promised to tell their young men, separated from us on very good terms, and, lingering about the agency for some time, rode off well mounted on brisk looking ponies. Most of the tribe seemed quite prosperous and independent in their manner; indeed, this last quality they carry so far it becomes rudeness. They have a very large idea of their own importance and prowess, and I was informed that on one occasion when Colonel Alexander, who commanded at Camp McDowell, the nearest military post, threatened them with chastisement for some misconduct, they drew up five hundred fighting men of their tribe and dared him to come on. As Colonel Alexander had but one small company of cavalry, he had to forego the chastisement.

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“I fear their young men will need a little disciplining before we shall have things run altogether smoothly on their reservation, and I sincerely hope Congress will make provision to purchase the additional land they really need for their support and comfort.

“The school under Rev. Mr. Cook is hopefully under way, and I think the Government is fortunate in securing his efficient and earnest services.

“On my return to Washington I received the following letter from the agent, showing how much the Pimas and Maricopas are suffering from the want of the water of the Gila River, diverted by the white settlers, and how serious is their dissatisfaction:

’’ ‘‘


“‘Gila River Reservation, Arizona Territory.

“‘October 19, 1871.

“‘Dear Sir: When you were here it was supposed from the amount of water in the bed of the river above here that there would be a sufficient quantity to reach the lower part of this reserve to enable our Indians to irrigate their fields as usual in preparing them for the reception of their crops. Though there was apparently plenty of water for that purpose, and though it continued to rise for a while after you left, it has now fallen to its normal state, and not a drop of it has reached their fields. The time for preparing their lands is now at hand, but having no water they can do nothing.

“‘People who have lived on the Gila for years tell me there never was before such a thing as a dry riverbed on this reserve this time of the year.

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As a matter of course, our Indians are very much dissatisfied and blame the settlers who are above Us for taking away their water. On Sunday morning last, Chin-kum, a chief of one of the lower villages, and one of the best chiefs in the reserve, came to me and said that for many years he and his people had ‘lived from what they planted,’ but now they had no water; white men up the river had taken it from them, etc. After spending a few moments in telling me of his wrongs, he made known the object of his visit, which was to obtain leave to take the warriors of his village, numbering one hundred and twenty-seven men, and by force of arms drive the whites from the river.

“‘I was not a little astonished at this manifestation, but quietly told Chin-kum he must not go. I spent an hour in telling him of the fearful results which must surely follow such a step, and finally succeeded in inducing him not to go. But he told me this, that he would wait one month, and if the water did not come to them then, he would take his whole village, which numbered one hundred families, and move to the Salt River settlements, where, as he said, there is always water. As the settlers of that vicinity are and have been for years at enmity with these Indians, I assured him that trouble would certainly follow such a step as that, and urged him to remain on the reserve. He went away silenced, but not satisfied, and I have not the slightest doubt that in a month from now he and his village will leave the reservation.

“‘Day before yesterday Ku-vit-ke-chin-e-kum, chief of the Va-Vak village, called and said he

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was going to Salt River with his tribe, as there is no water for his fields. I of course told him not to go, but I am afraid it did no good. There are six or seven other villages on that part of the reserve, which is about the only part of it that can ever be reached by the water, the rest of the land being too high; and if the water does not come soon I think they will all leave.

“‘These Indians have always been well-disposed toward our Government, and for years they have served as a protection to travellers on this route from Texas to the Pacific coast. They claim the land lying above them on the Gila, but long since gave it up because they were assured that when they needed it they should have it. It seems to me that that time has come, and while these Indians are still friendly to the whites, it would, in my opinion, be a wise plan to give them a portion of the land they claim. A few thousand dollars would do this now, and may, perhaps, avoid an expenditure of ten-fold proportions, in case there should be trouble between them and the citizens here. The superintendent of Indian Affairs is away on business at San Francisco just now, so I write this to you.

* * * * * * * *

“‘Very respectfully, &c.,

“‘J. H. STOUT,

“‘United States Special Indian Agent.

“‘Hon. Vincent Colyer.’


“We left the Pima agency on the evening of the 22d, preferring night riding to the hot sun

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across the desert to McDowell, arriving at Desert Station, twenty-five miles, at four o'clock in the morning, and leaving there at nine in the morning, reached Camp McDowell at nine at night, meeting with a cordial and hospitable reception from General N. A. M. Dudley and the other officers at the post.

“My object in coming here is to open communications with the Tonto Apaches, and for this purpose General Dudley has this morning sent out runners with white flags, and kindled ‘a smoke.’ I am informed that Da-chay-ya, the able chief of the Tontos, has been in at McDowell several times during the past few years, and that on two occasions he has been dealt with very treacherously; at one time shot in the back, and at another time attempted to be poisoned by a post doctor; whether he will answer my call remains to be seen. A party of Indians was reported last evening as having been seen by two straggling soldiers, making signs as if they wished to Come in, a few miles below the post. As I had informed the Indians at Camp Grant that I was coming here, and they had sent runners up this way, the officers here think that the Indians know it and wish to come in.

“4 p.m. The Indians have kindled their answering fires upon the top of the Sierra Ancha— a high mountain twenty miles from here—northward, near old Fort Reno. They are evidently in earnest, as the smoke at times is dense, extending at intervals over a distance of a quarter of a mile. We hope to see some of the Tontos here tonight.

“Two companies of the Third United States Cavalry, being part of Colonel Henry's and General

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Crook's command, are camped below here under waiting orders.

“I inclose copy of my official letter to General Dudley asking for detachment of soldiers to open communications with the Tonto Apaches, and his reply thereto.—V. C.”


“September 27, 1871—11 P. M.

“The party with the flag of truce, sent out at my request, by General Dudley, to try to open communications with the Tonto Apaches, returned this afternoon, having been only partially successful, as you will see by the report inclosed from Major Curtis. He had seen several Indians on the hills; exchanged friendly signals with them, and after spending a day immediately surrounded by them, had separated from them without any indications of ill will or molestation. It is very difficult to obtain their confidence so soon after they have been pursued by the soldiers, and as I am now dealing with another band of Apaches, different in their habits, and living quite apart from the Pinals, Coyoteros, Aravaipas, and the other bands with whom I so recently have held friendly intercourse, I am not in the least discouraged at Major Curtis not having in brought in any of the tribe. As you will see from his report he is quite sanguine that they will come in soon.

“In the event that they should come in I have provided that General Dudley, commandant of McDowell, should feed, protect, and otherwise

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care for them at this post, until such time as he may have a sufficient number, when he can remove them to Camp Grant. Meanwhile, in order that they may be thus looked after, I was compelled to declare this military reservation, five miles square, a temporary Indian reservation, which I did with the advice of the military officers at this place. As soon as we can see how many of them come in, and learn their wishes as to a locality for their home, I have arranged with General Dudley that he should communicate with the Department, and it can order their removal. For the present, I am only anxious to keep them in from the warpath, and to get them to look upon the Government as their friend. Other things will follow.

“That there may be no delay in this, and that every effort may be made to get them in, I requested Captain Thomas McGregor, who commands a detachment of troops in the field, under marching orders (temporarily suspended) from General Crook, to send out another flag of truce in another direction to the Tonto country.

“Although copies of your instructions of July 21, and orders of War Department July 18 and 31, written at the suggestion of the President, were forwarded to General Crook from Camp Apache, September 7, and have been received there, and an express messenger arrived here from there yesterday, yet no copies were forwarded to the officers here. They are much troubled about it and have written to the general. Fortunately it has made no difference in my progress, as I have gone right on with my work, and the officers here as well as at Camps Grant

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and Apache have not hesitated to carry out these orders. I mention it only that you may fully comprehend the situation. Probably General Crook's movements have disarranged his mail.

“Altogether, I feel greatly encouraged and am confident that in Arizona, and among the Apaches, the President's policy of peace will be as successful as it has been in all other portions of the Indian country.

“I leave for Camp Verde (D. V.) tomorrow. —V. C.

“Since my return to Washington I have received the following report of the coming in of the Tonto Apaches to Camp McDowell, Arizona Territory:

“‘Camp McDowell, Arizona Territory,

“‘November 2, 1871.

“‘Sir: As you will remember, just before you left McDowell I sent Major Curtis out with a white flag to old Fort Reno; he was at the time unsuccessful in his attempt to open communication with them notwithstanding he saw several Indians on the bluffs and hills near him, none of whom showed any hostile demonstrations, He left his flag in the old ruin of a chimney of the stockade, returning to McDowell. This expedition had its good results, as events since have proved. The Tontos saw the soldiers with an emblem of peace. It was a strange sight. Days passed and no Apache visited the post; signal fires were constantly kept burning during the night at the garrison for some time. At last a party of four came in. I received them

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warmly, took them to my quarters, and had a long talk with the principal man among them, ‘One-Eyed Riley.’ He had been twice in at McDowell two or three years since, and was recognized by Lieutenant Grant, who had, I think, met him at Reno. He said the Tontos wanted to know what the soldiers were going to do; that he had been sent in to find out what the white flag meant in the hands of the soldiers; that if we said peace, they were ready. I assured him that the President wanted all fighting to cease; that he was ready to feed and reasonably to clothe all good Indians who would come in with their families and do right; that I could not talk with him more fully as I wanted to see some of the great men of the tribe; that I would clothe him, give him a good supply of provisions for his party, and he must go out and bring in a good number of chiefs. He asked for six days. I gave him the time, and faithful to the hour he sent in a principal man, who possessed most excellent sense. He said they were all ready for a peace; they were tired living in holes and on the tops of mountains; now their women and children had to pack all their water two and three miles; they could not go down to the streams at all except at night, for fear of the soldiers; that they had to scatter in parties of two and three to sleep in safety; that they hid their infants and small children away in the holes among the rocks for safety; even the rabbits were safer than the Indians; that their people were all nearly starving; that they must steal or starve; that the soldiers had driven them away from their corn-fields;

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game was scarce; they were afraid to go out and hunt. He spoke of his children, four of whom had been killed by the soldiers, with tears running down his cheeks. He wanted to make a big peace, roll a rock on it, and make it last till the rain came and washed the rock level with the land; that God told him he must come into McDowell that day and do all he could to make the big soldiers' hearts like his—ready to do what was right. He said he did not want any blanket that day for he was satisfied that the soldiers now wanted to do right, and he wanted to go back and induce Da-chay-ya and all his captains to come in, and the blankets and clothes would retard his rapid travelling. I have been present at a great many talks with Indians on the plains the last seventeen years, but I have to acknowledge that I have never seen more feeling or good sense exhibited by an Indian than this Apache showed. He asked for five days to go and see all his people; said they would take different directions, and get as many to come in as possible. He expressed great fear of the Pimas; did not want them allowed to come into camp while the Apaches were here. I sent a military escort out in their rear, and fortunate that I did, for some lurking Pimas were lying in wait for them out on the trail, all of whom were brought into camp and told if they even fired at an Apache on the reservation I would shoot them as readily as we had been shooting the Apaches. Up to the time I was relieved (Major Curtis has succeeded me in command), I would not permit the Pimas to come

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near the garrison when I could prevent it. I consider it unfortunate that the Pimas are allowed by their agent to come to McDowell at present. This party brought in some eighty or more Indians of the Tonto Band. Major Curtis was much engaged at the time they came in and did not have the opportunity to give them the attention they expected.

“‘The Indian ration was reduced to one pound of beef and one pound of flour, or rather corn, upon which an Indian cannot subsist, and of course will not be content with it, as they have neither roots, game, nor fruit here to eke out the ration. I do not believe it requisite to keep them near McDowell. All that I have talked with express a desire to be allowed a reservation near Reno or Sunflower Valley; these points are away from the Pimas, from settlements, and need have only one company of soldiers near them with their agent. There is not a particle of doubt in my mind, all the stories to the contrary, that they, at this moment, are anxious for a peace, and a lasting one. No man can talk with them an hour without being convinced of this fact.

“‘Captain McNetterville, who has been out by direction of Major Curtis, and had a talk with Da-chay-ya, on his return seemed to have been most favorably impressed with their sincerity; before, I believe, he never had any confidence in them, and was in favor of exterminating them if possible. Dr. Howard, the medical officer who accompanied Captain McNetterville, expressed

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great surprise at the intelligence and earnestness shown by their talk and manner.

“‘It must not be expected that a peace made with these various bands, scattered all over a great, wild territory like Arizona, New Mexico, and Sonora, will be perfect for a long time. Many bad Indians win refuse to come in. These will have to be hunted down; and if the good ones are now cared for, properly fed, reasonably clothed, and kindly treated, they can easily be induced, in my opinion, to help catch this class of renegades and bring them to proper punishment. It is going to take a good deal of patience, careful judgment, forbearance and humane treatment; but I have the strongest belief it can be accomplished. If we fight them one or two years, it has to be done in the end; for it is not to be supposed the Government is going to keep up a perpetual war on them.

“‘If I remain in the Territory, I only ask that I may be stationed at a post overlooking a reservation; for I know a race of beings possessing the intelligence so prominently exhibited by the Apaches can be taught to appreciate the advantages of living at peace with the whites, whom they frankly recognize as every way superior to themselves. But this desirable result can never be brought about by following two directly opposite policies at the same time—one war, the other peace.

“‘With best wishes, &c.

“‘N. A. M. DUDLEY,

“‘Brevet Colonel, United States Army.



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“‘Headquarters Camp McDowell, Arizona Territory.

“‘November 3, 1871.

“‘Sir: Since your departure I have been steadily engaged in trying to open communication with the Tontos and Apache-Mohaves. They sent in a messenger about October 14, and by the 20th I had in over eighty of them, from the two different bands above stated. Es-cal-la-tay, the head of the Four Peak Indians, came with his band, and the Apache-Mohaves with their own chief. I had only a short talk with them at the time, they being willing to wait until others would get in, so as to have a grand council and settle the whole matter. Da-chay-ya, with his Indians, had not yet arrived. At this juncture of affairs, and after they had been camped near me for three days, they suddenly disappeared about midnight, and went back to their mountain homes.

“I found upon inquiry that some rascally Mexicans had been talking to them, and, as near as I could learn, frightened them out by telling them that the Pimas were coming after them. I cannot prove this, but I believe it. That these Indians have a great dread of the Pimas is well known. I have written the Indian agent at Sacaton, Mr. J. H. Stout, telling him that he must keep his Pimas and Maricopas away from this post. These Mexicans are many of them guides, &c., and are well aware of the fact that if we make peace their occupation will be gone.

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“‘Two days after these Indians left I sent Captain Netterville, Twenty-first Infantry, to Sunflower Valley, thirty miles from here, to renew communications and find out what was the matter. Inclosed please see his order, private instructions, and copy of report.

“‘They do not wish to come here and stay, for two or three very strong reasons: 1. They are afraid of the Pimas and Maricopas, and the latter can readily reach this place. 2. They are too far from their mountains to gather fruit or mescal or to hunt, and without some such aid they cannot subsist on a pound of beef and one of flour. 3. They have a natural indisposition to leave a country where they have always been accustomed to live. 4. They say that they can plant and get plenty of water on Tonto Creek (near Reno). It is, however, difficult to supply Camp Reno, as the road is very bad. Troops were stationed there at one time, but the post was broken up on this account.

“‘It seems to me that there ought to be a trusty agent constantly on the spot here to attend to all these things. I have but $400 that I can expend for them, which is but a drop in the bucket, when they all need blankets and clothing. All that I can do is to give them a little manta, calico, and tobacco. Then, again, I am peculiarly situated. If I take the responsibility of declaring a temporary reservation, my action may be disapproved by the department commander, or I may not be able to get the means of supplying it. Troops should be with them wherever they may be, and I have not the power to put them there. One thing seems to me certain, that

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they will never be contented near this post. I believe that it is better to so shape things as not to crowd them. The whole country around Reno, Tonto Creek, and Greenback Creek is unsettled by the whites, and they never go there. It seems to me that Tonto Valley is the place for them. It can be supplied with flour by pack trains, and beef can be driven there.

“‘Tonto and Greenback Valleys (the latter about twenty miles southeast of Reno) are said by those who have been there to be the best adapted places for this purpose in this whole Territory. Greenback Valley is small, but very pretty, and has plenty of timber and grass and fine bottom land for cultivation with but little irrigation. The road from here to Reno, as I said before, is very bad, but Reno can be supplied, as stated, by pack trains for the present.

“‘I hope that you will take some action in this matter without delay. In the meantime I shall try and collect these Indians here or at Sunflower, and let them, if there, send for their rations. It is impossible for me to send out there, for I have not the means of so doing. You can see that I am so situated that I cannot promise them anything, and the whole thing may fall through for this reason. I think they mean to make a lasting treaty of peace if they can be made to feel that they are not being deceived.

“‘I will advise you further when the grand council is held.

“‘I am, sir, very respectfully,


“‘Captain Third Cavalry, Commanding Post, and ex-officio Indian Agent.



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“‘Camp McDowell, Arizona, Territory,

“‘November 2, 1871.

“‘Sir: I have the honor to report that, in compliance with Special Orders No. 170, dated Headquarters Camp McDowell, Arizona Territory, October 25, 1871, I left this post and proceeded to Sunflower Valley, and complied as near as possible with special instructions given me by the post commander. I arrived at Sunflower Valley at 5:30 P. M. on the 27th of October, and went into camp at Stockade. On the morning of the 28th I commenced building fires and kept them burning during the day as signals. On the morning of the 29th my signals were answered from a hill near camp. At 10 o'clock four Indians came into camp: I gave them something to eat and sent them out at once to tell their chief, Da-chay-ya, to come in; that I wanted to have a talk with him. In the evening two more Indians came in from another direction, who said they belonged to Shelter Pau's band. I also sent them out with the same instructions. On the 30th four Indians and two squaws came into camp with a message to me from Da-chay-ya and Shelter Pau that they would come and see me the next day. I gave these Indians something to eat, and sent them out of camp to come in again when their chiefs came. On the 31st, about twelve o'clock, Shelter Pau and forty warriors arrived. In the afternoon of the same day Da-chay-ya, with twenty of his warriors, and four or five squaws, with children, arrived. I

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had a talk with both chiefs that afternoon, and told them my mission; they appeared to be well pleased with what I said to them, and would reply to me the next morning. They were in a very destitute condition, being nearly naked and apparently, suffering very much from the cold. They both appeared to be anxious for peace, and expressed a desire to live happily with all mankind. I gave each band a sack of flour and issued them some beef. The next morning, November 1, both chiefs came into camp, and desired to have a big talk. The following is what Dachay-ya said: ‘I don't want to run over the mountains any more; I want to make a big treaty; I will live with the soldiers if they will come to Sunflower Valley or Camp Carroll, if Government will establish a camp there; I will make a peace that will last; I will keep my word until the stones melt; I cannot go to Camp McDowell because I have no horses and wagons to move my women and children, but at Camp Carroll I can live near the mountains and gather the fruit and get the game that is there. If the big captain at Camp McDowell does not put a post where I say, I can do nothing more, for God made the white man and God made the Apache, and the Apache has just as much right to the country as the white man. I want to make a treaty that will last, so that both can travel over the country and have no trouble; as soon as a treaty is made I want a piece of paper so that I can travel over the country as a white man. I will put a rock down to show that when it melts the treaty is to be broken. I am not afraid of the white man or the Mexican, but I am afraid of the Pimas

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and Maricopas, who steal into my camps at night and kill my women and children with clubs. If I make a treaty I expect corn and wheat, pumpkin and melon seed, and I will plant near old Camp Reno. I want the big captain to come and see me; see how I get along; and will do whatever he wants me to do. If I make a treaty I expect the commanding officer will come and see me whenever I send for him, and I will do the same whenever he sends for me. If a treaty is made and the commanding officer does not keep his promises with me I will put his word in a hole and cover it up with dirt. I promise that when a treaty is made the white man or soldiers can turn out all their horses and mules without anyone to look after them, and if any of them are stolen by the Apaches I will cut my throat. I want to make a big treaty, and if the Americans break the treaty, I do not want any more trouble; the white man can take one road and I can take the other. I will send some men with you to the big captain at Camp McDowell, and when they return I want him to put on a piece of paper what he promises, so that I can keep it. Tell him that I am sick now, but will go to see him in twelve days if I have to crawl on my hands and knees to get to him. Tell him that I will bring in all the wild Apaches that I can, and if any will not come I will tell the captain who they are and where they live. I have got nothing more to say.’

“‘I then asked Shelter Pau what he desired to say. He said he had nothing more to say than Da-chay-ya; he wanted the same as Da-chay-ya did, and that he would come into the post the same time as he did. I then gave each chief

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one beef and left the camp at Sunflower Valley at 10 o'clock, accompanied by sixteen Indians belonging to the two bands, and arrived at this post this a. m. at seven o'clock, having marched a distance of sixty miles.

“‘I have reported the loss of one mule, which was kicked by a horse and so badly disabled that he had to be shot, after which the Indians ate him.

“‘I am, sir, very respectfully, your obedient servant,


“‘Captain Twenty-first Infantry.

“‘First Lieutenant A. D. King, U. S. A.

“‘Post Adjutant, McDowell.’


“‘November 17, 1871.

“‘Dear Sir: I thought you would be glad to hear how your policy was working at this point. Major Curtis has done all in his power, and consulted my views in nearly all his actions. It has been slow work, however, the responsibility having to be taken for everything done.

“‘Captain McGregor's command has never sent out the white flag you arranged for; I believe he intended to, but for some reason unknown to me he did not do it. The company of Mexicans enlisted as soldiers are still here, as worthless a set and as idle as I want to see.

“‘Major Curtis and myself compared notes night before last, and we counted up about two hundred Indians in all, who have come into camp since you left, representing the Apache-Mohaves,

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Four Peak, Da-chay-ya and Tonto Apaches. Da-chay-ya, with fully eighty males, a few boys included, but no women, came into garrison and was warmly received by Major Curtis. He fed them the scanty allowance prescribed, clothed up Da-chay-ya and three other principal men, and gave the four good blankets. The first two days they appeared quite happy and pleased. On the afternoon of the 14th the major had a talk with them. All expressed a desire for peace. Da-chay-ya said he was sick; his breast, where he was shot by an infamous surgeon, most foully, gave him great pain. He appeared earnest for peace; said they were poor, starving, but that his people could not come into McDowell and live on the half ration allowed by the Government; that there was no mescal, no game, no chance to obtain anything beyond the pound of corn and pound of beef. His people would not be satisfied; the soldiers had no right to expect an Indian to live on less than a white man. Some of the points put by Da-chay-ya were discussed at length. He seemed to comprehend the situation. It was explained to him that no officer here was authorized to locate them on a reservation in their own country; that there was no authority to increase his ration or give blankets to his people. (Your order for blankets had not come to hand approved; at the meeting of this council.) He appeared somewhat dissatisfied, but did not express it in words. Up to the breaking up of the talk he asserted his wishes for peace, and a good long one.

“‘He wanted to go out for a few days; said he would come in again in four or five days.

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Major Curtis told him that he would send off a written treaty for the approval of the great chief at Washington, the President. In it he would recommend that a large tract of country near Reno, including Tonto Bottom and Sunflower Valley, be reserved for their sole occupation; that he would try and get an agent sent among them for the purpose of instructing them how to cultivate the soil and use the implements which the Government would undoubtedly furnish them; that the Government would in all probability locate a company of soldiers near them to protect them from the Pimas and whites who might attempt to hunt or locate on their grounds. These points they seemed to be pleased with; but they could not live upon what they were getting now.

“‘The council for the day was ended. They sent their parties up to the wood yard at dark, as they had been doing two nights previous, for their night's supply of fuel, built their fires and commenced cooking their beef. About seven p. m. they suddenly left in a body, Da-chay-ya, the Mohaves and all. That they were frightened off by some parties or person no doubt can exist, inasmuch as they left their meat cooking on the fire; besides, they left several of their bows and quivers filled with arrows hanging on the trees where they were encamped.

“‘At the council in the afternoon Da-chay-ya stated that he would leave some of his men back in garrison till he returned. What should have so suddenly changed his mind none of us is at all able to tell; the Mexican soldiers and citizen packers had free access to their camp, as well as

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soldiers. No insult was offered or injury done them that we know of.

“‘I feel very much disappointed at this result; everything promised so fair. I heard Dachay-ya say two or three times that all his people would come in soon; that the Four Peak Apache-Mohaves were all in Sunflower Valley talking about coming in; that he thought they would come to the post with all their families in the course of ten days, when they heard what the soldiers had to say.

“‘They have more warriors than I gave them credit for; nearly all that came in with Dachay-ya were able-bodied men, only one or two very old men in the party.

“‘I believe an influence was brought to bear upon him by outsiders which frightened him off. His former treatment made him suspicious and fearful of some treachery, notwithstanding he was assured that if no understanding was come to, he should be allowed to go unmolested back to his family, providing no depredations were committed by his band. Not a thing was taken by one of them that I have heard of, and there were hundreds of soldiers' shirts hanging on the clothes lines of the laundresses near their camp. There is a singular mystery regarding their sudden departure that I cannot understand.

“‘The robbery of the mail stage and the killing of five citizens, a week ago, by an unknown party, near Wickenburg, of course is laid to the Indians. At first even the Prescott papers partially admitted that it was a party of Mexican bandits from Sonora. Indians, when they attack a stage, are not apt to leave the horses, blankets, and

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curtains of the coach behind; in this case they did. I do not believe there was an Apache near the scene of the murder. All honest men have the same opinion, if they dared to express it.

“‘Yours truly, &c.,

“‘N. A. M. DUDLEY,

“‘Brevet Colonel United States Army.



’’ ’’


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