to venture singly into that vast unknown domain of rock and forest,
about which lingered such painful memories of bloodshed and terror. [2]
In the early part of our journey a Mexican officer had called on me
to offer, in the name of the Governor of the State of Sonora, his
services as escort and protection against the Apaches; but I declined
the courtesy, preferring to depend rather upon my own men. I am happy
to say that I had no personal encounter with the dreaded "Shis Inday,"
or Men of the Woods, as they call themselves, though on one occasion
we came upon fresh tracks near one of our camps, and also upon small
bunches of yucca leaves tied together in a peculiar way known to the
Mexicans as signs intelligible only to the Apaches.

The only precaution I had taken against possible attacks was to augment
my force of trustworthy Mexican muleteers. Among the new recruits
was an honest-looking Opata Indian, who joined the camp one evening,
clad in the national costume of white cotton cloth, and carrying in
his hand a small bundle containing his wife's petticoat (probably
intended to do duty as a blanket) and a pair of scissors. This was his
whole outfit for a winter campaign in the Sierra Madre. They are hardy
people, these Indians! This man told me that he was thirty years old;
his "senora," he said, was twenty-five; when he married her she was
fifteen, and now they had eleven children.

Finally I succeeded in securing two guides. One of them was a very
intelligent man, who had been several times in the sierra; the other
one had been only as far as Chuhuichupa, and, although he did not
remember the way very well, still he thought that with the help of
the other man he would be able to make out the route. As we could do
no better, we had to take him as the best guide available.

After having received some supplementary provisions from Granados,
I at last, on December 2, 1890, began the ascent. It was a beautiful
day; the air was clear and warm and the sun shone bright, as it always
does at this time of the year in this favoured region. The genius of
spring seemed to hover about, and snow, frost and scarcity of grass
seemed far removed contingencies. Everything looked promising.

As I left the town, following the pack-train after having made the
last settlements with the natives, I passed a little hut, the last
homestead on this side of the sierra. In front of it stood a young
girl, her hand raised to shade her eyes ag