zona.]

We are vanishing from the earth, yet I cannot think we are useless or
Usen would not have created us. He created all tribes of men and
certainly had a righteous purpose in creating each.

For each tribe of men Usen created He also made a home. In the land
created for any particular tribe He placed whatever would be best for
the welfare of that tribe.

When Usen created the Apaches He also created their homes in the West.
He gave to them such grain, fruits, and game as they needed to eat. To
restore their health when disease attacked them He made many different
herbs to grow. He taught them where to find these herbs, and how to
prepare them for medicine. He gave them a pleasant climate and all they
needed for clothing and shelter was at hand.

Thus it was in the beginning: the Apaches and their homes each created
for the other by Usen himself. When they are taken from these homes
they sicken and die. How long[4] will it be until it is said, there are
no Apaches?

FOOTNOTES:

[3] The boundary lines established at different times between Mexico and
the United States did not conform to the boundary lines of these Apache
tribes, of course, and the Indians soon saw and took advantage of the
international questions arising from the conflicting interests of the
two governments.

[4] The Apache Indians held prisoners of war are greatly decreasing in
numbers. There seems to be no particular cause, but nevertheless their
numbers grow smaller.

CHAPTER III

EARLY LIFE

I was born in No-doyohn Canon, Arizona, June, 1829.

In that country which lies around the headwaters of the Gila River I was
reared. This range was our fatherland; among these mountains our wigwams
were hidden; the scattered valleys contained our fields; the boundless
prairies, stretching away on every side, were our pastures; the rocky
caverns were our burying places.

I was fourth[5] in a family of eight children--four boys and four
girls. Of that family, only myself, my brother, Porico (White Horse),
and my sister, Nah-da-ste, are yet alive. We are held as prisoners of
war in this Military Reservation (Fort Sill).

As a babe I rolled on the dirt floor of my father's tepee, hung in my
tsoch (Apache name for cradle) at my mother's back, or suspended from
the bough of a tree. I was warmed by the sun, rocked by the winds, and
sheltered by the trees as other Indian babes.

When a child my mother taught me the legends of our people; t