20 Western Novels You Should Read

Chapter 5

Instantly there was projected upon the screen of memory a sun

scorched canyon, bowlder strewn, through which wound a dusty wagon

road. At the summit of the canyon's western wall a young Apache

brave crouched hidden beneath a grey blanket that, from the

canyon's bottom, looked but another bowlder. He was watching for

the coming of the soldiers of the pindah-lickoyee that he might

carry the word of it back to Geronimo.

Presently three bearded men rode into view. The Apache gazed

down upon them with contempt. His fingers, resting upon his rifle,

twitched; but he was scouting and must forego this Usen-given

opportunity. The men were not soldiers; so they were of no concern

to Shoz-Dijiji, the scout.

Suddenly the Apache's attention was attracted by a sound coming

from the south, a rhythmical sound that announced the approach of a

loping horse. Two of the three men drew quickly behind a great

bowlder, the third behind another upon the opposite side of the

road. Silence once more enveloped the seemingly deserted

canyon.

The Apache waited, watching. The loping horse drew nearer. It

entered the lower end of the canyon and presently came withinrange

of Shoz-Dijiji's vision. Its rider was a girl - a white girl. As

she came abreast of the three whites they rode directly into the

trail and barred her passage, and as she sought to wheel her horse

one of them reached out and seized her bridle rein.

The girl reached for a six-shooter that hung at her hip, but

another of the three had slipped from his saddle and run to her

side. Now he grasped her wrist, tore the weapon from its holster,

and dragged the girl to the ground. It was all done very quickly.

Shoz-Dijiji watched. His hatred of the men mounted.

He heard the conversation that passed between the men and the

girl and understood it—understood that the men were going to take

the girl away by force. He saw one of them— the one that he was

facing now in the back room of the Hog Ranch—jerk the girl roughly

and order her to remount her horse.

Then the barrel of a rifle slid quietly from beneath the edge of

a grey bowlder at the top of the canyon's wall, there was a loud

report that resounded thunderously, and the man whose hand lay upon

Wichita Billings dropped in his tracks.

From that moment to this Shoz-Dijiji had thought "Dirty" Cheetim

dead, yet here he was in the flesh, looking him straight in the eye

and smiling. Shoz-Dijiji knew that Cheetim would not be smiling if

he had recognized Shoz- Dijiji.

"How, John!" exclaimed the white man. "Mebby so you want

red-eye, eh?"

In no slightest degree did Shoz-Dijiji register by any changed

expression the surprise he felt at seeing this man alive, nor the

hatred that he felt for him, nor the terrific urge he experienced

to kill him. He looked at him just once, briefly, and then ignored

him as he did his greeting and his question. Instead he turned to

the Apache standing behind Cheetim.

It was Gian-nah-tah. In one hand he held a glass of whiskey, in

the other a bottle. Shoz-Dijiji looked straight into the eyes of

his friend for a moment, and those of Gian-nah-tah wavered and

dropped beneath the steady, accusing gaze of the Black Bear; then

the latter spoke in the language of the Shis-Inday.

"Gian-nah-tah, you are a fool!" said Shoz-Dijiji. "Of all the

things that the white-eyed men have to offer the Apache only their

weapons and their ammunition are of any value to us—all else is

vile. And you, Gian-nah-tah, choose the vilest. You are a fool!

"Our own tizwin and the mescal of the Mexicans is bad medicine,

but this fire-water of the white-eyed men is poison. To drink it is

the madness of a fool, but even worse is the drinking of it in

friendship with the white- eyed dogs.

"You are a fool to drink it- you are a traitor to drink with the

enemies of your people. Put down the glass and the bottle, and come

with me!"

Gian-nah-tah looked up angrily now. Already he had had a couple

of drinks of the vile concoction, and they had had their effect

upon. him.

"Gian-nah-tah is a warrior!" he exclaimed, "not a child. Who are

you to tell Gian-nah-tah to do this, or not to do that, or to come

or go?"

"I am his best friend," said Shoz-Dijiji, simply.

"Then go away and mind your own business!" snapped Gian-

nah-tah, and he raised the glass to his lips.

With the swift, soft sinuosity of a cat Shoz-Dijiji stepped

forward and struck the glass from his friend's hand and almost in

the same movement seized the bottle and hurled it to the floor

.

"Here, you damn Siwash!" cried Cheetim; "what the hell you think

you're doin'?" He advanced belligerently. Shoz-Dijiji turned upon

the white man. Towering above him he gave the fellow one look that

sent him cowering back. Perhaps it was fortunate for the peace of

San Carlos that "Dirty" Cheetim had left his g*n behind the bar,

for he was the type of bad-man that shoots an unarmed

adversary.

But Gian-nah-tah, Be-don-ko-he warrior, was not thus a coward;

and his finer sensibilities were numbed by the effects of the

whiskey he had drunk. He did not shrink from Shoz-Dijiji. Instead,

he whipped his knife from its scabbard and struck a savage blow at

the breast of his best friend.

Shoz-Dijiji had turned away from Cheetim just in time to meet

Gian-nah-tah's attack. Quickly he leaped aside as the knife fell

and then sprang close again and seized Gian-nah- tah's knife wrist

with the fingers of his left hand. Like a steel vise his grip

tightened. Gian-nah-tah struck at him with his free hand, but

Shoz-Dijiji warded the blow.

"Drop it !" commanded the Black Bear and struck Gian-nah-

tah across the face with his open palm. The latter struggled to

free himself, striking futilely at the giant that held him.

"Drop it!" repeated Shoz-Dijiji. Again he struck Gian-nah-

tah—and again, and again. His grasp tightened upon the other's

wrist, stopping the circulation—until Gian-nah-tah thought that his

bones were being crushed. His fingers relaxed. The knife clattered

to the floor. Shoz-Dijiji stooped quickly and recovered it; then he

released his hold upon Gian-nah-tah.

"Go!" commanded the Black Bear, pointing toward the doorway.

For an instant Gian-nah-tah hesitated; then he turned and walked

from the room. Without even a glance in the direction of Cheetim,

Shoz-Dijiji followed his friend. As they passed the bar the girl

called Goldie smiled into the face of Shoz-Dijiji.

"Come down and see me sometime, John," she said.

Without a word or a look the Apache passed out of the building,

away from the refining influences of white man's civilization.

Sullenly, Gian-nah-tah walked to where two ponies were tied.

From the tie-rail he unfastened the hackamore rope of one of them

and vaulted to the animal's back. In silence Shoz-Dijiji handed

Gian-nah-tah his knife. In silence the other Apache took it,

wheeled his pony, and loped away toward the Be-don-ko-he village.

Astride Nejeunee Shoz- Dijiji followed slowly—erect, silent,

somber; only his heart was bowed, in sorrow.

As Shoz-Dijiji approached the village he met Geronimo and two

warriors riding in the direction of the military post. They were

angry and excited. The old War Chief beckoned Shoz-Dijiji to join

them.

"What has happened?" asked the Black Bear.

"The soldiers have come and driven away our herd," replied

Geronimo.

"Where are you going?"

"I am going to see Nan-tan-des-la-par-en," replied Geronimo,

"and ask him why the soldiers have stolen our horses and cattle. It

is always thus when we would live at peace with the white-eyed men

they will not let us. Always they do something that arouses the

anger of the Shis-Inday and makes the young braves want to go upon

the war trail. Now, if they do not give us back our cattle, it will

be difficult to keep the young men in peace upon the reservation—or

the old men either."

At the post Geronimo rode directly to headquarters and demanded

to see General Crook, and a few minutes later the four braves were

ushered into the presence of the officer.

"I have been expecting you, Geronimo,,' said Crook.

"Then you knew that the soldiers were going to steal our herds?"

demanded the War Chief.

"They have not stolen them, Geronimo," replied the officer. "It

is you who stole them. They do not belong to you. The soldiers have

taken them away from you to return them to their rightful owners.

Every time you steal horses or cattle they will be taken away from

you and returned. You promised me once that you would not steal any

more, but yet you went out and killed and stole."

"We did not go upon the war trail against the white-eyed men,"

replied Geronimo. "We were going down into Mexico, and your

soldiers attacked us and tried to stop us."

"It was the Apaches who started the fight at Apache Pass," Crook

reminded him.

"It was the Apaches who fired the first shot," corrected

Geronimo, "but they did not start the fight. You started it by

sending troops to stop us. We are neither fools nor children. We

knew why those troops were marching to Apache Pass. Had they seen

us first they would have fired the first shot. you cannot say that

we started the fight just because our chiefs and our warriors are

better soldiers than yours. You would have been glad enough to have

surprised us, but you were not wise enough."

Crook smiled. "You say you are not a fool nor a child,

Geronimo," he said. "Well, neither am I. You went out with a bad

heart to kill innocent people and rob them. It got too hot for you

in Mexico, and so you came back here and brought your stolen herds

with you. You are no fool, Geronimo! and so I know you were not

foolish enough to think that we would let you keep these cattle. I

do not know why you did it, unless you just wanted to make more

trouble."

"I did not want to make trouble," replied the chief. "We were at

war with the Mexicans. We took the horses and cattle as spoils of

war. They belong to us. They do not belong to you. They were not

taken from your people but from Mexicans. Your own country has been

at war with Mexico in the past. Did you return everything that you

took from them at that time?"

"But we are not at war with them now. We are friends. You cannot

steal from our friends. If we let you they will say that we are not

their friends."

"That IS not true," replied Geronimo. "The Mexicans are not

fools, either. They know the difference between Apaches and

white-eyed men. They know that it was the Apaches, with whom they

are at war, who took their herds. They do not think that it was

you. If you take the herds from us and return them to the Mexicans,

both the Mexicans and the Apaches will think that you are fools. If

you took them and kept them, that would be different. That is

precisely what I, we did and what we would do again. You say that

you do not want to be at war with the Apaches—that we are good

friends! How then can you make me believe that it is right to take

cattle from your friends?" Crook shook his head. "It's no use,

Geronimo," he said. "How can we live if you take our herds from

us?" demanded the Apache. "With these cattle and horses we were

rich. We did not intend to kill them. We were going to breed them

and thus. become richer, so that we would not have to go out

raiding again. It was our chance to live comfortably and in peace

with the white- eyed men. Now you have taken this chance from us.

We cannot live here and starve."

"You do not have to starve," replied Crook. "The government

rations are ample to take care of you."

"We do not get them. You know that we do not get them. The Agent

robs us. Every man knows that. Now you rob us. I told you that I

wished to live in peace with the white-eyed men, but I cannot

control the young men when they learn that you will not return

their cattle and horses. If they make trouble do not blame me. I

did not do it. You did it. I have spoken!"

"There will be no trouble, Geronimo," said Crook, "if you do not

start it. I cannot give you back the cattle. Go back to your camp

and tell your people that. Tell them that the next time they go out

and kill and steal I shall not be as easy with them. The next time

they will be punished, just as any murderers are. Do you hear?"

"Geronimo hears, but he does not understand," replied the War

Chief. "Usen seems to have made one set of laws for the Apaches and

another for the white-eyed men. It is right for the white-eyed men

to come into the country of the Apaches and steal their land and

kill their game and shut the Apaches up on reservations and shoot

them if they try to go to some other part of their own country; but

it is wrong for the Apaches to fight with the Mexicans who have

been their natural enemies since long before the white-eyed men

came to the country. It is wrong for the Apaches to profit by their

victories against their enemies.

"Yes, Geronimo hears; but he does not understand."