ad a lot of tin-types taken in New York, which I distributed freely
among the chiefs, so they might know me if we should meet again. Many
years afterwards an Apache girl told me they could have killed me often
from ambush, but they remembered the treaty and would not do it. I have
generally found the Indians willing to keep faith with the whites, if
the whites will keep faith with them.

After leaving the camp at the Mimbres, we crossed the Chiricahua
Mountains, and camped for noon on a little stream called the San Simon,
which empties into the Gila River. We had scarcely unlimbered when the
rear guard called out, "Apaches!" and about a hundred came thundering
down the western slope of the mountain, well mounted and well armed.
Their horsemanship was admirable, their horses in good condition, and
many of them caparisoned with silver-mounted saddles and bridles, the
spoil of Mexican foray.

A rope was quickly stretched across the road, the ammunition boxes got
out, and everything prepared for a fight. The chief was a fine-looking
man named Alessandro, and as a fight was the last thing we desired, a
parley was called when they reached the rope.

When asked what they wished, they said they wanted to come into camp and
trade; that they had captives, mules, mescal, and so on. We told them we
were not traders, and had nothing to sell. They were rather insolent at
this, and made some demonstrations against the rope. I told the
interpreter to say that I would shoot the first man that crossed the
rope, and they retired for consultations. Finally they thought better of
it, or did not like the looks of our rifles and pistols, and struck off
for their homes in the north.

I had a stalwart native of Bohemia in the company who was considered
very brave; but when the attack was imminent he was a little slow in
coming forward, and I cried out somewhat angrily, "Anton, why don't you
come out?"

He replied, "Wait till I light my pipe." And that Dutchman stalked out
with a rifle in his hand, two pistols on his sides, and a great German
pipe in his mouth.

The Apaches did not trouble us any more, and after crossing high
mountains and wide valleys we arrived on the Santa Cruz River, and
camped at the old Mission Church of San Xavier del Bac.

Three leagues north of the Mission Church of San Xavier del Bac (Bac
means water) is located the ancient and honorable pueblo of Tucson. This
is the most ancient pueblo in Arizona, and is first