next full moon after this event, we had been passing the usual
quiet Sunday in Tubac, when a Mexican vaquero came galloping furiously
into the plaza, crying out: "Apaches! Apaches! Apaches!" As soon as he
had recovered sufficiently to talk, we learned that the Apaches had made
an attack on Canoa, and killed all the settlers.

It was late in the day; the men had nearly all gone to the mines, and we
could only muster about a dozen men and horses; so we did not start
until early next morning, as the Mexican said there were "Muchos
Apaches."

When we reached the Canoa, a little after sunrise, the place looked as
if it had been struck by a hurricane. The doors and windows were
smashed, and the house a smoking ruin. The former inmates were lying
around dead, and three of them had been thrown into the well, head
foremost. We buried seven men in a row, in front of the burnt houses.

As well as could be ascertained by the tracks, there must have been
fully eighty Apaches on horseback. They carried off on this raid 280
head of animals from the Canoa and the adjoining ranches.

There were some companies of the First Dragoons eating beef at Fort
Buchanan. The commanding officer was notified, and sent some troops in
pursuit, but the Apaches were in their strongholds long before the
dragoons saddled their horses.

The pursuit of Apaches is exceedingly dangerous, as they are very
skillful in forming ambuscades, and never give a fair fight in an open
field. Their horsemanship is far superior to American troops, who are
for the most part foreigners, and exceedingly awkward.

The second serious trouble with the Apaches was brought about by a far
more foolish cause than the first, and it was much more disastrous.

In the winter of 1857 a somber colored son of Erin came along on foot to
the presidio of Tubac, and solicited the rights of hospitality, food and
a fire. Whether he had been run out of California by the Vigilance
Committee, as many of our "guests" had been, or was escaping legitimate
justice, was not in question; the imperative cravings of the stomach
admit of very scant ceremony; so I took John Ward in to dinner, and
provided him with all the comforts of home.

At bed-time he asked me if he might sleep in the front room by the
fire; to which I reluctantly consented, taking good care to lock and bar
the door between us.

The next morning after breakfast I gave John Ward some grub, and advised
him to push on to Fort Buc