told them long ago
As sure as the water continued to flow,
The sun to shine, and the grass to grow,
They would come again to the Papago.

I installed the priests in the old Mission buildings, and turned over
the goods intended for the Papagos for distribution at their
convenience.

I met an old friend at the Mission called "Buckskin Alick," who had
lived there all through the war without reading a newspaper or changing
his clothes. As nails were scarce, Buckskin Alick had constructed a mill
held together by rawhides, and was grinding wheat for the Papagos. In
the meantime he had taken up with a Papago girl, to the scandal of the
tribe. The priests told him he must marry the girl or leave. He
appealed to me for protection, but I told him I had resigned my
sacerdotal functions to the priest. He married the girl, and kept the
mill.

In 1863 a considerable number of prospectors had come into Arizona,
mostly from the California side, on account of discoveries of gold on
the Hassayamp. Old Pauline Weaver was the discoverer, as he had been a
trapper and pioneer since 1836. His name is carved on the walls of the
Casa Grande with that date.

The gold washers there were doing very well, and ranches began to be
established on the river. But the Apaches were not inclined to leave the
settlers in peace when they had some fine horses and mules, and some fat
cattle. So the Tonto Apaches made a raid on the Hassayamp, and carried
off nearly all the stock.

King Woolsey had come into the country then, and was a prominent man
among the settlers, and undoubtedly a very brave one; so he raised a
company to go after the Tontos. (As every one knows, "tonto" means
"fool.")

There were not more than twenty-five men, including some friendly
Maricopas. They were well armed, but their commisariat consisted
principally of panole and jerkey.

They followed the Indians across the Verde to a place about half way
between Globe and the Silver King, where they came to a parley. The
tanks there are surrounded by rough ledges of basalt rocks, and the
country in the vicinity is covered by scoriae, as though a volcano had
vomited the refuse of the subterranean world to disfigure nature.

The Indians came in slowly for a talk, but were insolent and defiant.
Delshay, the Tonto chief, demanded a blanket and some coffee and whisky.
The Americans had neither coffee nor whisky for their own use, and he
was quite put out about it, but partook of p