A TYPE OF APACHE INDIAN

Geronimo, Chief of the Apaches

E. A. BURBANK

Elbridge Ayer Burbank, the author of this article, is one of the most noted painters of Indians in America. He has visited 106 different tribes, and has made a careful study of their personalities and peculiarities of dress. He is without a rival among painters of Indians, in his faithfulness of line, color and detail, and his work aside from its artistic value, is of ethnological importance. Mr. Burbank was born in Harvard, Illinois, and began his art training in the old Academy of Design, Chicago, in 1874. From 1886 to 1892, he studied in Munich. Burbank combines artistic conception with historic value.

I KNEW Geronimo. He was in many respects, the Sitting Bull of the Southwest. One day I said to him at Fort Sill: Would you like to make one hundred dollars, Geronimo? Yes, he answered hotly as an eagle after its prey. But when I told him I would give him this sum if he would relate his adventures and life he shook his head and answered: No, no, that would not do, me get killed. I assured him that great white chiefs had done this without harm to themselves, General Grant even writing a book. This moved him and he finally consented to talk. At the time he was lying on his bed.

A long time ago, he began, when I was a little child, the first thing I saw was naked Indians dancing. I watched them dance, and when I was old enough I danced. Pretty soon they gave another dance, and I danced. Pretty soon they gave another dance, and I danced

I interrupted his catalogue of dances, of which he was telling one by one, and found that he had danced about one hundred times in his life. He continued:

I went with my people on many raids. When I was only sixteen years old, we traveled for days down into old Mexico, taking ponies and killing our enemies. We had many desperate fights. In those days the Apaches fought with bows and arrows and long - spears. One - day, another Apache and myself - were in hiding when a single man passed by on horseback. I threw my spear into the horse, and my companion killed the man.

Another time a band of Apaches stole upon a village and, hid in the rocks close by. Several warriors threw stones at the doors which caused the people to come out, then the other Indians rushed into the houses and cut off the retreat of the white people, all of whom were slain. Once I had a hand to hand fight with a white man, and came near getting killed. I struck at the man with my spear, but missed and fell to the ground. The man hit me on the head with a heavy club, and I went to sleep. I did not wake up for four days. The man was killed by other Indians.

One time another Indian and myself went to steal a horse from some Mexicans. We were leading the horse away when the Mexicans fired their guns at us, and my friend was killed. I ran, with the Mexicans in close pursuit, and hid among the rocks. They could not find me, but called my name and said, Geronimo, you devil, weve got you now, and you will never see the sun rise again. But I was strong and escaped. A long time ago the Apaches had made up their minds to be friendly with the white men. We were in camp enjoying ourselves playing games, when suddenly a band of Mexicans rode up and dismounted. They told us they had heard that the Apaches had made up their minds to be friendly and were glad of it, and had come to talk about it. The Mexicans had plenty of whiskey, and made the Apaches drunk. The Mexicans then drew their guns and began shooting. They killed forty-seven Apaches and wounded many more.

In relating this last incident, Geronimo became greatly excited. He sprang from the bed, his eyes glared, and he paced up and down the room. After becoming calmer he continued: I was eighteen years old at the time and swore that I would have revenge. He hesitated, and then said that he was tired of talking, but would wait until another day. He, however, never again talked about his past life. His story was coming too close to his later exploits.

As a painter of Indian portraits I began my work by accident. While preparing to visit the South in search of unique subjects - for pictures of negroes, I was commissioned by my uncle, Edward E. Ayer of Chicago, to paint a portrait of Chief Geronimo, the noted leader of the Chiricahua band of Apache Indians, who was a prisoner of war at Fort Sill, Oklahoma. Mr. Ayer for many years had taken great interest in the life and history of the North American Indians.

I left in March of 1897, for Fort Sill, which was established during the days of Indian warfare in the Southwest, and upon reaching Rush Springs, Indian Territory, the nearest railroad station, took passage on a stage coach for the thirty mile drive to the fort. Letters of introduction from General Merritt to army officers secured comfortable quarters for me.

Once in the Indian country, I was fascinated by the wildness and freedom of the West, and delighted with the rich and abundant material which I found at hand, practically untouched. I abandoned all idea of going South and decided to make a study in portraiture of the picturesque children of nature, the Indians. I was soon in search of Geronimo, who lived three miles from the post.

The Apache Indians dwell in villages from one to seven miles apart and which are all cleanly and neatly kept. The houses are wooden structures of two rooms each, built by the government to induce the Indian to follow the ways of civilization. At some of the villages wickiups have been put up, in which the Indians live part of the time, perhaps as a reminder of their former savage life.

Upon reaching Geronimos village, I met, fortunately, an Apache who spoke English, He had graduated from the government school at Carlisle Pennsylvania. He directed me to Geronimos house. I hesitated to knock, fearing I might disturb his afternoon nap, but finally rapped several times, without arousing anyone. I suggested to the Apache who accompanied me that possibly Geronimo was not at home, and he said: Yes, yes, I remember now, he is on the prairie hunting his ponies.

We sat down and waited and presently saw Geronimo coming toward us. He rode directly to me and I greeted him as Chief Geronimo, which pleased him. He dismounted from his horse and shook hands with me, and said How. I gave him a box of cigarettes, and he presented one to me, and one to my guide. We sat down and smoked the cigarette of peace.

Geronimo looked me over carefully and, with the aid of the Apache Indian as interpreter, asked several questions. He wanted to know all about me, where I came from and where I was going. I told him about Chicago, which seemed to interest him. When I told him the height of some of the buildings in Chicago he would not believe me. He wanted to know how long I intended to remain and what I came for. I replied that I came to see him, but said nothing about painting his portrait. After a few moments conversation, he invited us to his house.

When we entered he went to a trunk, unlocked it, and took from it a photograph of himself which be showed me and said, One dollar. He is always eager to make money. I bought the photograph and thought this an opportune time to speak of my object in visiting Fort Sill. I directed the interpreter to tell Geronimo that I wanted him to sit for me for a portrait; that he could sit in one place and I opposite him and I would look at him and paint his picture in colors. Geronimo seemed to understand, and readily consented, but asked if I was a Chief, to which I replied Yes, This was a fortunate answer, as some time before, when another artist wished to paint his portrait, the artist was asked if he was a chief, and answering that he was not, Geronimo would have nothing to do with him. After telling him I was a chief he replied, All right, when you come? Tomorrow, I said, and after shaking hands with him I returned to the fort.

APACHE CHIEF OF THE MESCALERO GROUP

I have seen an Apache lope for fifteen hundred feet up the side of a mountain without showing any sign of fatigue, there being neither an increase of respiration or perspiration.

Genera1 Crook

Captain H. L. Scott, who had charge of the Apache Indians, was absent, and it was necessary for me to have his consent before I could commence work on the portrait. He returned next day and sent for Geronimo to come to his house that evening. Captain Scott had just returned from a cattle convention in Texas and the Indians had gathered at his house to hold a council, as they raise cattle and wished to know what the captain had learned on the subject. Geronimo and I were invited to sit in the council. Each Indian took his turn in speaking and I was surprised at the respectful attention they paid one another. When one speaker had finished, several moments would elapse before another Indian rose to speak, as if giving his predecessor a chance to express afterthoughts which might have occurred to him. One Indian, addressing Captain Scott, said: We have known you for some time and have found that you are a man of your word and have the welfare of the Indians at heart. Another old Indian said: I have never shaken hands with a white man, but I wish to shake hands with you.

Captain Scott readily gave his consent to my painting Geronimos portrait and pointed out to the chief the advantage it would be for him to sit for me. I was at the chiefs house the next morning. He wrapped a red blanket around his shoulders and tied a red cloth around his head. The latter is always worn with an Apache costume. I posed him on the edge of the bed, taking for myself a box, as he had no chairs. Before he would consent to my beginning the work he sent for an interpreter, who spoke with Geronimo for a moment. Turning to me, the interpreter said, This man (meaning Geronimo) wants to know how much you pay him. I told him I had not thought about the price, but wished him to ask Geronimo how much he desired. I said nothing, but waited for him to continue. He finally said: You get anyway five dollars for the picture, so I want two dollars and fifty cents. The bargain was quickly made.

While sitting for the first portrait Geronimo became very tired, as he had no chair, and I frequently let him lie down. He was patient and good natured, although he had a stern and ugly expression. Before painting a second picture, a profile, I bought a chair for him, which made his position more comfortable. While he was sitting, the least noise seemed to startle him. He had built a dove-cote and placed it on top of a pole near his house. When the doves lit on the roof over our heads, he would jump as though frightened. He was extremely curious, and if anyone passed near the house, he would get up and go to the window to see who it was.

He had another trait, which Americana would call cheek, and it made him unpopular with the white people at the post.

If a trader passed the house, Geronimo would buy corn, flour, or anything he happened to fancy, thinking I would pay for it and make him a present of it. I allowed him to do this but once, as I knew it would become an expensive nuisance.

Geronimo had a fierce, wrinkled face, and I did not like the idea of his seeing the portrait, fearing that he might not like it, but when he looked at it, he said, Bueno (good). You heap big chief, He called in other Indians to see the pictures, and all seemed pleased with them.

One day at noon his wife brought dinner in on a board. The dinner consisted of boiled meat, bread and coffee, but no sugar and milk. No knives, forks or spoons were used, their fingers taking the place of the last named articles. He sat with his wife and papoose on the floor. I was invited to join them and ate a little bread and meat. I always took a good lunch with me, and occasionally asked him to eat with me. He would smell of everything before eating it, and refused to eat bread with butter on it. He was inordinately fond of pie.

Geronimo was kind to his people, giving them money and food when they were in need, and occasionally sending money to relatives whom he had left behind at his old home in Arizona. Letters which I wrote at his dictation to these relatives were filled with affectionate words. He always closed by saying that when they were in need of money they should write to him. He signed his name to his portraits, printing each letter laboriously and with difficulty, as he is near-sighted. He did not know the alphabet, only being familiar with the letters in his name.

Geronimo is short in stature, rather heavily built, and has a splendid physique. His small black eyes shine piercingly from beneath bushy eyebrows. His nose is well shaped, lips thin and firmly set, his chin protruding and cheek bones high. By nature he is courageous, bold, and subtle. At first he was reserved but gradually this gave way to geniality and we became the best of friends. Geronimo, being fond of a joke and having a keen sense of humor, was an entertaining companion. The soldiers took delight in teasing him. Often they would go out of their way to meet him and ask, as if he were a stranger, Where is Geronimo? He would reply, Here! me Geronimo. Pretending to doubt, they would continue to bait him. No, no, you are not Geronimo. We are looking for the great chief, Geronimo. Then the old man, patting himself on the chest, would declare with much feeling, Me Chief Geronimo. Me big chief, big chief.

Geronimo had a wife and four children, and he seemed deeply attached to them. He was domestic in his tastes, and had a horror of anything untidy or disorderly. Not only was there a place for everything in his house but everything was always in its place. Sometimes his children tracked mud into the house, and this never escaped his eagle eye. It was amusing to see him go to the corner where his broom was always kept and carefully sweep out every particle of the dirt. When I saw him fussing about in this fashion I could not but think how changed he was. Once a murderous warrior, now a peaceful man. The railroad, the farmer, the irrigator and the cattle raiser have taken from Othello his occupation forever.

II.

I had determined to obtain another picture of the grim old warrior Geronimo and with that end in view, journeyed from Ignacio to Fort Sill, arriving there July 20th, 1898 I called on Geronimo and his hearty greeting showed that he had not forgotten me. He good naturedly assented to my proposal and the next morning I went out to his house and the picture was soon under way. I requested him to paint his face in the manner of Apache chiefs while on the war path. A physiognomist would have delighted in the study which his stern impassive countenance afforded. The war paint seemed to accentuate the austere lines of his face. During the day Geronimos squaw same into the room. She looked at him and began to laugh heartily, telling him he had painted his face like that of a woman. The addition of a stripe or two painted on an Indians face would seem a trifling matter, but each figure or stripe has a symbolic meaning. Geronimo quickly washed off the squaw lines, and painted his face in masculine style. Since my first visit to Fort Sill, the old chief had made rapid strides in civilized methods of living. He invited me to take dinner with him. This time instead of sitting on the floor we were seated in chairs at a table neatly covered with a table cloth, on which plates, knives, forks, and spoons were laid. The dinner consisted of roast beef, potatoes, gravy, apple pie and coffee. The dinner was well cooked and everything was clean.

Geronimo is sometimes called Goi Yachtly. The custom of using several names for one person prevails in Indian tribes.

Since my first visit to Fort Sill three of Geronimos children had died, and grief had aged him considerably. Geronimo has had ten children and but one is now living, a little girl about six years of age, named E-wa, of whom he is very fond. He wished me to paint her portrait. The weather was intensely hot, the thermometer being 110 degrees in the shade. The old chief suffered from the heat, and while I was painting E-was portrait, he would walk about the room growling like a bear. One day he filled his mouth with water, and blew it up in the air saying, Rain, rain, hot, hot. Geronimo went away one afternoon, leaving his little nephew with me, asking the child to amuse me. The boy sat on the floor and rolled a stone toward me. I rolled it back to him, and we kept this up until he grew tired.

E-ney, a young woman sixteen years of age, was called the belle of the Apaches. She was pretty and very bright and made a pleasing picture, clad in Apache costume with her face striped with red. When an Apache maiden reaches her sixteenth year she is considered of marriageable age. The event is celebrated by a dance which has many odd features. This dance is equivalent to the coming-out party of an American girl. There was the usual big bonfire, which led me to think the Indians must have a saying, What is dancing without a bonfire? The Indian spectators were seated in groups, each family having built a small bonfire of its own. Very few took part in the dance. Some were dressed to represent clowns, and wore queer looking objects on their heads which whirled around as the clowns turned their heads from side to side while dancing. Many objects found by the Indians when out hunting were used in this dance. Music was made by drumming on a skin, stretched tight on the ground. Geronimo was present with his wife and little daughter, but did not dance. E-ney, the dusky maiden in whose honor the dance was given, wore full Apache costume. A young Apache girl, who was soon also to be given a coming-out dance, was E-neys partner. Those who took part danced slowly round in a circle. The merriment was kept up all night and the next day the Indians partook of a feast which lasted all day. When this was over, the head-dresses which had been worn were buried.

I renewed my acquaintance - with Chief Naiche. He is an Indian to be admired and respected, and is a good man in every sense of the word. He has a marvelous gift for whittling. I have a handsome cane which he whittled from a single piece of wood. It represents a serpent entwined around the entire length of the cane.

The Apache Indians at Fort Sill are intelligent, progressive, and easy to govern. They take pride in growing good crops and in raising fine herds of cattle, and not only keep what land they own in cultivation, but told me they would like more land, as they did not have occupation enough to keep them busy all the time.

The Kiowas, Comanches and Apaches live on the same reservation at Fort Sill. The contrast between these tribes is very marked, the Apaches being more industrious than the others. From each Apache family a man is chosen who serves the government as a scout. These men are paid twenty five dollars a month. I was present at an inspection of them. They were thirteen in number, and, dressed in uniform and mounted on horses, presented a fine appearance, and seemed very proud of their position.

All Indians show great kindness toward their children and very seldom punish them; never severely. Geronimo is kind and considerate toward his family and people and in some respects is generous almost to a fault. I have seen him give his little papoose E-wa a dollar and tell her to buy anything at the Indian traders store that she wished. Once, Geronimo asked me to read a letter written him in English by his nephew Nak-kis, who lives in San Carlos, Arizona, and whose portrait I painted while there. The letter was well written. Geronimo wished me to answer it at his dictation. In the letter which I wrote, the old chief stated that he was very well but that three of his children had died. He wished two kinds of medicine, red and white, sent him and closed by saying that if his nephew needed any more money he would send it to him. Geronimo is always spoken of as a cruel, bloodthirsty Indian, but the opportunity I had to become well acquainted with him, showed me another side of his character. I learned that he was kind and tender-hearted, and had many redeeming qualities. He was honorable, truthful, and honest, and always kept a promise.

A WARRIOR OF THE GERONIMO WAR

For eighteen months twenty-two Apache warriors were pursued by General Miles. The Geronimo war cost the Government more than one million dollars. - Norman B. Wood.

I visited Fort Sill the third time. The day following my arrival, I went out to see Geronimo and met him on the road riding horseback, with his little girl sitting behind him, and his nephew back of E-wa. The three sitting on one horse was rather a comical sight. Geronimo looked very well, and appeared several years younger than when I last visited the fort. We shook hands, but he appeared to be in an ugly humor, and pointing his finger at me, said, You lie. I could not understand the cause of this outburst, but determined to find out, and grasped the bridle turned the horse around and said, You come with me. We went to his house, where an Indian woman interpreted for us. I told her to ask Geronimo how I had deceived him. He told her that I had promised to send him a suit of clothes, which I had worn during my last visit to the post, and that I had failed to keep my promise. This in a measure was true, but at the time I had asked him to try on the coat to see if he could wear it. It was much too small for him and he could not put it on, and as he could not have worn the clothes, I did not send them. I explained this to Geronimo. He remembered the circumstances and he was very sorry for having spoken to me so sharply. He shook hands with me, and the matter was dismissed.

I then said that I wanted him to pose for another portrait. How much you give me? he asked. I replied, Same that I gave you before. To this he very emphatically said Toda, which meant No, and added, Me savey, you make heap lot of money from my pictures. Me been Omaha, You must pay me so much, holding up both hands twice, then one band again, which meant twenty-five dollars.

Geronimo said he wished to take his little girl to a doctor as she was not well, but that he would see me again. The next day (Sunday) I spent with him. He had visited the Omaha Exposition as an attraction for the exposition and showed me the various articles he had collected and others that had been given him while there.

The attention he received while at Omaha had increased his self-esteem, and widened his knowledge of worldly affairs. Accordingly he had raised the price of the articles which he made to sell. Formerly he had charged two dollars and a half for a bow and arrow; he had advanced the price to seven dollars. I had my rifle with me, and he suggested shooting at a mark. Every time he hit the mark, he wished me to give him ten dollars and he would give me the same amount each time I was successful, but the old fellow appeared to be too eager and I would not agree to it, and told him we would shoot just for our own amusement. The mark at which we shot was about seventy-five yards distant, the mark itself being a piece of paper so small that we could hardly see it. He asked me to shoot first, which I did and missed. I had heard that the old chiefs eye-sight was failing. I looked at his eyes and they seemed bleared. He took the rifle from me, and at first it shook, as though his hands were unsteady, but he slowly took aim and fired, hitting the mark squarely in the center. This proved that his eye had lost none of its keenness. Geronimo shot a number of times after that, always hitting the mark. This I considered quite a feat for an old man seventy years of age, and I silently congratulated myself on refusing to take his bet.

Afterward we went hunting prairie dogs and it was amusing to see him sneak up behind them, as if he were tracking an enemy. I have been told an Apache is so expert at shooting prairie dogs with a bow and arrow that he can gauge the speed of the arrow so that it will pass half way through the prairie dog, making escape into its hole impossible.

In the afternoon we visited a place where the Comanche, Kiowa and Apache Indians were gathered for the purpose of indulging in gambling and horse-racing. I did not understand their game of cards, but any number could play, and they dealt the cards in turn. Geronimo is an inveterate gambler and usually lucky. No one can bluff him. He took part in the games which became very exciting at times. They seemed to bet on the turn of a card. Quite often when Geronimo was dealing, three or four Comanches would try to bluff him, but the wily chief would cover their money every time. One deal he made was particularly exciting. After the cards were dealt, the Indians began betting, and each time Geronimo would meet their bet until at last all his silver was gone. He gave a significant look and I concluded that he wanted to borrow some money, but instead of asking for a loan, he pulled from the bosom of his shirt a large roll of bills, and from them placed on the ground the amount covering all the other bets. He dealt more cards, dealing from the bottom of the pack, with cards face down, but would turn a corner of each one back and look at it before laying it down. Finally one which he dealt to himself proved to be the winning card. After raking in the pile of silver and bills he showed the winning card, then jumped to his feet and yelled at the top of his voice.

While the card game was in progress a white man approached Geronimo, and putting a ten dollar bill under his nose, said he would bet ten dollars that his horse would beat Geronimos in a race. The chief left the game and carefully examined the white mans horse, no good or bad point escaping his observant eye. He then accepted the bet. The pony which Geronimo wished to race was out grazing and nowhere to be seen. The chief stooped down, and looked for the horses trail, a crushed blade of grass, and other marks as trifling which no white man would have noticed showed to this wonderful trailer the direction the pony had taken. We followed the trail and after going a long distance finally found the pony. Preparations were then made for the race. When Geronimo thinks he has an easy horse to beat in a race, he usually rides the horse himself, but when he is doubtful of the outcome, he selects a boy for the rider. This time he chose a small Apache boy, who with others happened to be playing baseball.

Geronimo walked over to speak to the boy, who was batting, and not noticing that the pitcher had just thrown the ball the old chief barely escaped being hit. The Apache boy batted the ball out into the field and ran to first base. Geronimo, who did not understand the game, doubtless thinking that the boy wished to escape, ran after him, and before the chief had a chance to speak the boy was off for second base closely pursued by Geronimo. This race continued until the home base was reached. The boy dodging back and forth and Geronimo bobbing after him was a very comical sight. When he had recovered his breath the old chief explained what he desired, and the boy was glad of an opportunity to ride the pony.

The money bet on the race was tied in a handkerchief and laid on the ground for the winner to take. A white boy was mounted on the white mans horse. The Apache boy rode bareback, and was seated, firmly on the horses back as though a part of it. The horses seemed evenly matched. Kiowas, Comanches, Apaches, soldiers and cattlemen gathered around them. At last all was ready, and the word Go was given. The horses were off like the wind, both boys being splendid riders. The quarter mile course was soon covered. The spectators, wildly excited, whooped and yelled, as the Indian boy, riding at furious pace, came in winner by half a length. The race ended the exciting events of the day.

III

As Geronimo insisted on an exorbitant price for the sittings I concluded not to again paint his portrait, but all the other well known Chiricahua Apache chiefs at Fort Sill sat for portraits. I learned that Chief Nachez had a talent for drawing, and so I had him decorate a buckskin for me. On this he painted medicine signs, Apache hunting deer, Apaches in war paint dancing war dances, and Indian women in costume. As a whole, the painted buckskin was very artistic. Artists to whom I have shown it could hardly believe that the work was done by an Indian, who had never received any instruction. Nachez was very modest about his work, and it was only by chance I learned of his talent.

Chief Chi-hua-hua, a well preserved Apache of fifty years, was an Indian dandy. At the time I painted his portrait he was a government scout. He was immaculate and very fastidious in every detail of dress. I could not induce him to wear a blanket and as his hair was cut short, he wore his scout uniform when I painted his picture. Chi-hua-hua was eprightly and gay and inclined to be gallant, always doffing his hat when he met a lady. He was peaceable and faithful, but I was told in younger days he had been a terrible fighter.

Chief Loco, a Warm Springs Apache living at Fort Sill, was, in his younger days a renegade Indian. He was now old and infirm, and I painted his portrait at his home five miles from the fort. At the time Victoria left San Carlos, without government consent, Chief Loco accompanied him.

Chief Mangus, who was an interesting subject for a picture, once led a wild, free life, having been one of Geronimos band of renegades. He was captured with the others and while en route to Fort Pickens, Florida, jumped from the train while it was moving and, escaped. He was eventually recaptured.

Another of these fearless renegades was Chief Chato. He formerly had great influence, and was much feared by white people. As he patiently sat for me while I painted his portrait, I thought of the contrasts in the life of this chief, once a savage and a renegade, now a farmer tilling the soil. Chief Mangus, Nachez and Chato were government scouts.

Geronimo made me frequent visits and would gaze on the pictures of the other chiefs. One day he said When you paint me? I told him I did not intend to paint his picture. All right, he said. Soon after he asked me How much you give? I replied two dollars and a half a day. He said, No good, you give me one picture, ten dollars. I finally agreed that if he would sit for eight pictures I would give him ten dollars apiece, so the bargain was made. Geronimo and all the other Apaches were very prompt in keeping their appointments and the old chief sat for me this time, better than he had before. The weather was very warm, but he was usually good tempered. Sometimes when resting, he would lie on the bed humming Indian songs. A little white boy who was in the room watching me paint, was much amused at Geronimos singing and would giggle and laugh, but the chief did not seem at all disturbed by the boys merriment.

A MOTHER OF APACHES

In May of 76, while moving the submissive Chiricahuas from Bowie Reservation to San Carlo, a squaw asked permission to fall out. When the column reached Cedar Springs that night, she had overtaken us with a new-born babe strapped to her back - Capt. J. D. Burgess.

One day the old chief was not feeling well. He asked me to lie down on the floor, and said he would show me how to give him a treatment. I did so and he doubled up his fists and went at me as if I were a piece of dough he was kneading. After his instruction I gave him a treatment, which was much like rude massage. When I had finished, he said, Apache all do that, heap good, make Indian well.

At this time Geronimos little girl, E-wa, was ill in the hospital. He made her daily visits, always taking an orange or something nice to eat. He was pleased when attention was shown her. When she was at home I would pick her up and carry her around in my arms. At this he was delighted and would say, Bueno, bueno.

I found by experience that Geronimo was honorable and could be trusted. He knew that I paid him more than the other Indians, and if I was about to pay him when others were in the room, he would motion for me to come outside the house, so that they would not see how much money I paid him, and he never told the other Indians that he received more than they.

Geronimo sat for five portraits. When these were finished, he could not sit for the other three as he had work to do which could not be longer delayed. He insisted on having one of the portraits painted of himself in scout costume. He said I had painted the other chiefs, who were scouts, in their uniform, and that he must have one painted in the same way.

The old chief had about ten acres of land under cultivation. One day he went to Lieutenant Beach, who has charge of the Apaches, and said, Me, Geronimo, old man, too old to work, The lieutenant told him if he was too old to work he was too old to be a scout and had better retire, but if he did so, would not be paid the twenty-five dollars a month which he received for scout duty. Geronimo continued to work.

The old man had a pet cat to which he seemed very attached. For some reason he kept the cats whiskers cut close. He had a nice bed for her to sleep in and when he went away would always leave food for her.

Geronimo was well liked by the Indians He was companionable, and always ready to gamble or take part in any of their sports.

At the present time the Apaches are more misunderstood than any other tribe of Indians. It is true in earlier days they were fierce and war-like, but the civilizing process has completely transformed them.

The Chiricahua Apaches derived their name from the Chiricahua Mountains in Southeastern Arizona. During the wars with the Apaches and earlier, the Chiricahua Mountains were the refuge and stronghold of some of the wildest bands, and they gave their name to that band of the tribe which has become famous in the outbreak since 1880.

Geronimo became a war chief when sixteen years old and for almost fifty years he was the leader of a band of wild and lawless Indians who were a constant terror to the settlers. In 1880 the Warm Spring Apaches and Chiricahua Apaches, driven from their reservations by the inroads of white settlers, made a home for themselves in the Sierre (sic) Madre Mountains in Old Mexico.

They devastated the country and before the troops could reach them the wily Apaches were safely back in their almost inaccessible stronghold. So frequently were these depredations committed, that General Crook, who was almost unequaled as an Indian fighter (and whom the Indians had named Gray Fox), went in pursuit. Geronimo, returning from a successful raid, was amazed to find American soldiers in the hitherto impenetrable mountains. The great Apache war chief and his braves made a wild dash for their camp, only to find General Crook in possession.

Geronimo surrendered, and the renegades were taken to a reservation in Arizona. Their restless natures chafed in captivity. The agricultural work to which they were unused, became irksome and they longed for their wild, free life again. In 1881 about one hundred and ninety Apaches escaped from the reservation and returned to their old homes in the mountains. General Crook, disgusted by their craftiness and unreliability, asked to be relieved and was succeeded by General Miles.

Geronimo told me that often when the soldiers were in close pursuit he would bury himself in the sand, sometimes remaining several days in his temporary grave. The soldiers would pass close by, and he could hear them talking while the Apache lay hidden almost at their feet. At night he would stealthily leave his hiding place and obtain nourishment and sufficient moisture to allay his thirst by chewing cactus plant. After a long and discouraging pursuit Geronimo and his renegades were surrounded by the soldiers in command of General Miles, and to this brave general, the white settlers of Arizona owe the fact that they are now able to live in quiet and safety.

Geronimo with sixteen Apaches and the principal chiefs were transported by rail to Fort Pickens, Florida. On May 1st, 1887, some of the captives were taken to Mount Vernon, Alabama, and later were joined by Geronimo and his band. Not one of his people appeared to greet the leader of a hundred raids when he entered the gate of the barrack wall. He paused and calmly looked about him. While he was silently gazing on the scene, a squaw emerged from one of the tepees, hurried to the old chief and throwing her arms about his neck wept bitterly. Not a muscle of the Warriors face relaxed under the softening influence of his daughters arms about his neck, though what his thoughts were, when he realized that he and his family were from that time to be prisoners of war can only be imagined.

WOMANS WORK IN APACHE LAND

There are over five thousand Apache Indians in Arizona, attached to the San Carlos and White Mountain Agencies. They still lead free, natural lives and are unaffected by civilizing influences.

There were three hundred and ninety captive Apaches, and the task of teaching them to work was at first a difficult one. Work was considered undignified by the warriors, and they offered as a substitute the squaws of the tribe. On being told men and not women were wanted, they unwillingly began the first lesson of civilization. They went about it very awkwardly at first. So simple a thing as rolling a wheelbarrow was far from easy. Oftentimes the load would fall over and the Apaches would laugh heartily at this.

They persevered in their work, and after a time lumber was cut, and one hundred and fifty rude houses were built. In these they took up their residence. In the early days there were no clothes lines on which to dry the laundry and the squaws would dry their clothes after washing by putting them on, and walking back and forth. Geronimo and his band were finally transferred to Fort Sill, Oklahoma Territory, where they have remained ever since as United States prisoners of war.

As a ferocious fighter Geronimo has an unequalled reputation. Crook said that he was a great general. He seems resigned to his fate. He is treated with kindness and is allowed to go anywhere on the reservation and is generally contented and happy. He has been made a government scout and usually wears an old blue army overcoat with a cape. He derives a small income from selling bows and arrows which he makes and also from selling his autograph which he prints on cards.

After the first strangeness of their new life and its consequent labor had worn off, they showed remarkable adaptation to their surroundings, and proved themselves amenable and easy to govern. It is doubtful if white men could have wrought so complete a change in their lives, and accepted with the same patience and resignation, a mode of life which to the Indians free and roving nature could not but be hateful, even though it was tempered with kindness. When these Indians were first taken to Fort Sill the government gave them a few head of cattle; they now have a large herd and recently an Apache sold two hundred head of cattle to a white man. The Apaches are progressive and keep well informed as to prices. If any fences are to be built on the reservation the Apaches build them. They grow all the vegetables and melons used by the soldiers and people who live at the fort, and have corn and wheat to sell. Two Apaches were offered seventy-five dollars a month and all expenses paid, it they would travel with a show, but they refused to go, as their farms needed to be worked and they would not neglect them. The Apaches are very neat and clean. Their houses and yards are clean, and everything is kept in good order.

Geronimo takes great pride in the work the Apache Indians are doing, and for an old man does his share. All those living at Fort Sill are today virtually self-supporting, and this has been accomplished in a few years.