# Life among the Apaches/Chapter 24

CHAPTER XXIV.
Apache Endurance.—Inroad.—Extensive Traveling.—Wild Horses.—El Cupido.—Passes in New Mexico.—Heavy Snow.—Cold Weather.—Change Base.—Indians Break Cover.—Continued Snow-storm.—Go in Pursuit.—Rough Ride.—Indians Overtaken by Mr. Labadie.—Navajoes Whipped and Plunder Recovered.—Overtake and Protect Labadie.—Hunt for Navajoes.—Labadie Arrives Safely at Fort Sumner.—Conchas Springs.—Intense Cold.—Indians Indifference to Cold.—Apache Method of Running Sheep.—Great Distances Accomplished.
Allusion has been made to the wonderful endurance of the Apache race, and it now remains to give some proofs of the fact. Having received orders to make a scout of not less than thirty days duration, I sallied out with thirty-four men in December, 1863. Having learned that a large band of Navajoes and Apaches had crossed the Rio Grande and invaded New Mexico, where they had subdivided into small parties of eight and ten each, in order to carry on their operations with more security, and devastate a greater range of country, it became necessary to wait until the scattered companies had reassembled, and were about to leave the Territory with their plunder before operations presenting any decisive result could be inaugurated with reasonable hope of success. It was known that the district upon which they had entered offered only two direct modes of egress, one or both of which must be selected, or the band would be compelled to make a circuit of twelve hundred miles before regaining home, and a considerable portion of this extensive march was to be passed over the Llano Estacado, which ​was frequently favored with the presence of Comanche war parties, from whom no favor could be expected on any terms. Instead, then, of pursuing the scattered fragments of the invaders, our march was directed toward a point from which the two passes, that of the Alamo Gordo Viejo, and that of the Pajaro, could be watched, so as to intercept the savages when leaving with their accumulated plunder.
Our guide was the best in the country. He united an intimate knowledge of localities with an excellent sense of Indian character, and their modes of operating. The first portion of our march was over an extensive rolling prairie, deeply seamed with gulches, which compelled us to make wide detours. Several bands of wild horses were met on this excursion, but would bound off with great speed at our approach. On one occasion, however, a fine herd, headed by a superb black stallion, came directly toward us, nor halted until within thirty yards. They threw up their heads, snorted and seemed to regard their visitors with intense curiosity, mingled with doubt and fear. It was strictly forbidden to shoot those animals, whose presence and unexpected proceedings were a source of pleasure, and after a good survey of some five or six minutes, their leader stamped his hoofs with violence, and being followed by the herd, circled our little party several times, and then galloped off with incredible speed and grace of movement. All these signs were proofs positive that no Indians had been there for some time, for the introduction of horse-flesh as a delicate article of food is properly due to the Apaches, and not the Parisians, although the latter may have refined upon the original system of cooking.
The guide led us to a smooth hill, perfectly free from wood or brush of any sort, but richly covered with the ​finest grama grass. After ascending this moderate elevation we beheld, just below, and occupying the intermediate vale between it and the next height, a delightful and thick wood, no portion of which could be perceived from any other point except the opposite hill. In the the center of this wood was a never-failing spring of delicious water, easy of access, and immediately adjoining a first-rate camping ground. This spring was aptly named Cupido, or Cupid. Here our little party came to an anchor, nearly midway between the two passes already mentioned. The Alamo Gordo Viejo Pass was three miles south, and the Pajaro Pass five miles north-west from the Cupido. Three men were sent to watch each pass, and to give the earliest possible information of the approach of the savages.
The next day, after our arrival, was signalized by a heavy fall of snow, to the depth of eight or nine inches, and this was followed by an almost intense cold, my spirit thermometer showing twenty degrees below zero of Fahrenheit's instrument. Four days previous we were in a region where the same thermometer stood at forty degrees above freezing point, making a difference of ninety-two degrees in the short period mentioned. We had been unconsciously rising to a very elevated position, and had left the region of the cotton-wood and the vine for that of the fir and the cedar. Here we passed the New Year of 1864, anxiously waiting for the savage marauders to break cover; and as the snow laid thickly on the ground, it afforded an unfailing means by which to note their advent. Becoming dissatisfied with this state of rest, and knowing that the Pajaro Pass was badly blocked with snow, I determined to move down toward the pass of the Alamo Gordo, and occupy such a position as would afford us a sort of cut-off to any ​movement through that cañon. Camp was accordingly changed, and a fresh position, in the open plain, selected. No man in the command had more than two blankets, and many had only one; wood was scarce, requiring all hands to collect enough for ordinary cooking purposes; the snow was six inches deep, and the weather looked threatening. In no sense could our condition be deemed agreeable. At eight o'clock p. m. another terrible snowstorm burst upon us. The wind howled with fury, and the flakes covered us with such density that it was necessary to throw it from the upper blanket every half hour, its weight being oppressive. In the meantime two men had been stationed at the outlet of the Alamo Gordo Pass, with strict orders to inform me the moment the Indians should make their appearance. Snow continued to fall, but in moderate quantities, all of the next day, and I heard nothing from my spies. The storm rather increased that night, which was also extremely cold, and next morning, at five o'clock, one of my lookout men arrived in camp with the information that the Indians had passed with a large body of sheep, at daylight of the previous morning. He and his comrade had immediately come on to inform me, but the severity of the storm and density of the snow were so great that he could not distinguish objects, even at a short distance; he had lost sight of his companion; had wandered about all night, and was nearly dead with fatigue, suffering and exposure.
The order to saddle up was immediately given and obeyed, without waiting for breakfast, or even a cup of hot coffee, and the command moved in such a direction as would enable it to cut the Indian trail without losing ground. Our rate of traveling was at the trot, and every little while the horses' hoofs "balled" badly, greatly ​impeding our progress. In due course of time we reached the Pecos river, which was frozen over about two inches thick. The bank on our side was about four feet perpendicular descent, but on the other it rose gradually from the river. We plunged in, breaking through the ice, and as the water was only about two feet and a half deep, no damage was sustained further than cutting the forelegs of the advance animals. Half an hour after crossing the Pecos, we struck the broad, fresh trail of the Navajoes, which gave evidence of having been passed over some hours previous, as in many places it was covered with fresh snow two inches deep. The knowledge of this fact was disheartening, especially as night had commenced to close its sable curtains about our vision; but there was such a marked distinction between the virgin snow and that which had been trampled, that there was no difficulty in following the trail, although with greatly lessened speed. The storm had ceased two hours before, leaving us comparatively relieved. About eight o'clock p. m., we were hailed by an Apache, who said: Nejeunee, pindah lickoyee; nuestche shee—which means, "good friend, white eyes; come here." I halted the command and bade the speaker come forward. It proved to be Nah-tanh, accompanied by Nah-kah-yen and Natch-in-ilk-kisn. Upon hearing my voice, they came up and said that the Navajoes in their march, the evening previous, had crossed through the camp of some herders of beef cattle, about fifteen miles above Fort Sumner, where a slight brush occurred between the vaqueros and the Indians, which was terminated by the Navajoes leaving fifteen hundred head of sheep behind, and making the most of their way with the great body of their plunder.
News was immediately conveyed to the fort, when ​Maj. Whalen ordered out Capt. Bristol's company of United States Infantry, while Mr. Labadie, with thirty Apache Indians and seven men of my company, who had been left in camp to care for the horses and company property, immediately mounted and pursued the Navajoes. At three o'clock p. m., they came up with the marauding band, which numbered about one hundred, and at once engaged the enemy, who formed line and made a stand with about two-thirds their force, while the remainder were urged forward with the sheep. The conflict lasted about an hour, during which twenty-five Navajoes were killed, and the remainder routed in all direcions. Bent upon recovering the prey, the victorious party pushed on, but did not succeed in overtaking the sheep until three hours later, when the parties in charge fled and abandoned their hard-earned plunder, which numbered nearly fourteen thousand head. Such was the story told me by the Apaches. I asked Nah-tanh whether his people had remained with Mr. Labadie to guard the sheep, and he replied that he did not know, but supposed some of them had.
It seems that the Regular Infantry sent by Major Whalen had obtained this intelligence, and believing that the affair was ended, had retraced their steps to the fort. Feeling it my duty to protect Mr. Labadie and his diminished force, we hurried on until half-past ten o'clock p. m., when we saw a very dim fire on the plain, toward which we directed our course, and shortly arrived in his camp, having accomplished sixty-eight miles through a snow-storm. It is needless to add that he was delighted to find himself so perfectly reinforced, as all his ammunition had been expended, and he only had the seven men of my company and twelve Apaches with him, and was apprehensive that the Navajoes would ​make another attempt to regain their plunder and revenge the death of their slaughtered comrades. Mr. Labadie also gave me the gratifying intelligence that a soldier of my company, Peter Loser, had contributed more than any other person toward the success of his expedition, having killed five Navajoes, and being always in the front during the fight.
That night was extremely cold; the thermometer fell to twenty-two degrees below zero. We had not a particle of wood, but in that locality, strange to say, there was no snow whatever upon the ground. The earth was frozen as hard as a rock, and the keen, cold blasts swept over an unbroken expanse of plain for a hundred miles. Our sufferings were dreadful, but there was no chance for relief. In their panic and eagerness to escape death, the Navajoes had thrown away their blankets, and were literally without any protection from the exceedingly severe weather, whereas our Apache allies had gathered up these much-needed trophies and were comparatively well to do. Next morning, at daylight, an alarm was given to the effect that the Navajoes had re-assembled, and were coming down upon the camp. My command was mounted in less than five minutes, and led out at the gallop toward the point from whence the signal came, which, by the way, had been given by an Apache; but after spending two hours in the most active search, we failed to perceive any sign whatever of their presence. Convinced that there was no ground for the alarm, I returned to Mr. Labadie, and offered to escort him sufficiently far on his way to insure the safety of his command and their prize, which offer was gratefully accepted. Having seen Mr. Labadie out of danger, we directed our course toward the route that it was probable the Navajoes had taken, as it would be their first ​effort to reach water, but our search was in vain; not a soul of them ever came under our observation. Subsequent arrivals of Navajo prisoners at Fort Sumner contained several who had been engaged in the affair just narrated, and they told me that it had been their intention to attack Mr. Labadie the night of the engagement, but that our opportune arrival, of which they had become aware, completely changed the prospects of success, and that instead of coming back next morning, they hurried off with all possible speed, and at the time we were hunting for them they must have been at least forty miles distant. Mr. Labadie arrived safely at Fort Sumner with fourteen thousand head of re-captured sheep, which would have fallen to us, but for the fact that my sentinels at the Alamo Gordo Pass lost their way in a snow-storm for twenty-four hours after the Indians had left the pass with their plunder. His comrade did not rejoin us until I again returned to Fort Sumner, whither he had gone, after discovering that the command had left for parts unknown.
Several of my men, being quite indisposed, were sent back to the fort by this opportunity, while the remainder continued the scout. Once more our direction laid to the northeast, but with little hope of finding more Indians. After several days we arrived at the Conchas Springs, about one hundred and eighty miles east-north-east from Fort Sumner, and encountered a severity of cold surpassing anything I had ever before experienced, although a native of Maine, and a visitor to its northern-most borders in the heart of winter. In my command were nine men from the same State, and none of them had ever known anything to compare with the intensity of the cold we suffered. The deepest part of the Conchas Springs is about seven feet, and the men cut through ​six feet of solid ice in the vain effort to obtain water for their horses. Six hundred yards to the east was a slight elevation crowned with stunted cedar trees, from four to twelve feet high, and there I determined to pitch my camp. The snow was eighteen inches deep and frozen hard, so that it required the weight of the horses to break through. We had no grain, and the only subsistence for the animals was the hardy grama grass which laid covered with ice-bound snow to the depth mentioned. It became absolutely necessary to uncover this sole magazine of feed, and the horses were trotted about until a considerable surface was broken, enough to enable them to gather some fodder. In the meantime, a small quantity of dry wood was collected, and a goodly fire got under way, which was enlivened from time to time by the resinous branches of the green cedars and firs about us, which yielded a lively, hot, but evanescent blaze. Green branches and trunks of trees were cut down and carefully baked under the hot ashes until they became combustible, and in their turn did like service for others. On the night of January 5th, 1864, my spirit thermometer declared forty degrees below zero of Fahrenheit. No man could go three hundred yards from camp and return at an ordinary walk without having his moustache covered with icicles, and if he wore a beard in addition, the two would be frozen together. Large quantities of snow and ice were melted in the camp-kettles to provide water for the horses, but the animals were always led up to the fires, for if the water were carried to them it would freeze hard before the soldier could reach his horse.
These facts, of which many witnesses exist in California, will serve to furnish some idea of Apache capacity to endure intense cold, especially when we bear in mind ​that they were at that time running about with nothing on save a breech-cloth. When they succeed in stealing sheep, a warm suit is immediately improvised by stripping the skin from the animal and investing their own bodies within its fleecy folds. A few thin strings of hide serve to connect the skins and form a robe. When the rascals have time to make their arrangements, the sheep are formed in a parallelogram, the width of which never exceeds thirty feet, with a length sufficient to accommodate the flock. The strongest sheep are then selected and their horns lashed together in couples, and these couples are ranged along either side of the main flock, forming a sort of animal fence which prevents the inclosed animals from wandering, especially while running by night. Along each side of the mass are stationed a string of Apaches on foot, who preserve regular distances, and animate the sheep to maintain a regular rate of speed. Immediately in front, a small body of select warriors and keen runners lead the way, while the main body of Indians follow in the rear to push forward and urge on the plunder. In this manner the Apaches will run a flock of twenty thousand sheep from fifty to seventy miles in one day, gradually lessening the distance, until they deem themselves tolerably safe from pursuit. They have been known to accomplish the distance of fourteen or fifteen hundred miles in the manner above described. These data, are sufficient to determine the Apache's capacity for endurance.
The term for our scout having nearly expired, I determined to seek the warmer region of the Pecos without delay, especially as the horses had become very weak and thin. Fort Sumner was one hundred and eighty miles distant, and for two-thirds of the road the snow averaged from one foot to one inch in depth. We ​reached the fort after five days marching, being at the rate of thirty-six miles per day. On arriving, my thermometer was again consulted, and showed five degrees below zero, which, although a severe cold, was nevertheless a very grateful change in temperature. I was in formed that the morning previous to our arrival the thermometer at the fort stood at ten degrees below zero, and it was then that the action took place between a few troops and a small band of Apaches, on one side, and one hundred and eighty Navajoes, as already recounted. The day before our arrival we came suddenly upon a very large band of antelopes, and the men were given permission to ride in among them for a hunt. We had them fairly corraled in such a manner as to compel their passage through our line close enough to pass within pistol range. On they came, probably to the number of two thousand, and dashed by with wonderful speed. The cavalry closed upon them and opened a rapid fire, which terminated in giving us ten fine animals in less than ten minutes. The scene was very exciting, as the men were all splendid riders and excellent marksmen. Had their horses been in good condition, we might have procured many more. Just at the time of the liveliest shooting, an ambulance, containing Lieut. Newbold and another officer, escorted by four cavalrymen, hove in sight and halted on the road about four hundred yards from the theater of operations. They thought, at first, that we had engaged a body of Indians, but catching sight of the scampering herd, they rode forward and were given a fine buck, which was lashed on top the ambulance.
It was curious to remark the immense numbers of ravens which daily directed their course toward the recent battle field, below the fort. Regularly, about the ​time of "reveille," immense numbers of them would wend their way right over the camp toward the south, and as regularly return at the time of "retreat," flapping their wings in a sluggish manner, as if gorged with food. Curiosity impelled me to visit the ground and see these birds at their feast. The field was literally black with them, and every corpse was thickly covered with a fluttering, fighting flock of scavengers. This regular flight of crows and ravens was regarded by the Apaches with unmistakable satisfaction, which was indignantly resented by the Navajoes, and served to keep alive the feud which had arisen between them. So soon as this feeling evinced itself it was pressed into service by the Post Commander, who contrived to make the tribes mutual spies upon each other's actions. Any misdeed of an Apache was sure to be detected and exposed by a Navajo, and vice versa; but the trouble of keeping them in order was much simplified.