The Stark County Democrat. [volume] (Canton, Ohio) 1833-1912, 1899-05-19
DIED AT SAN JUAN.
The Mystery Of a Rough Rider Who
Was Glad to Die.
His Pretty wife Was Stolen from
"Apache George" While a Mem
ber of 40 Camp at
Chicago.

Many Chicagoans remember well that
odd collection of western types and
characters, which flourished out on the
South side four years ago-"the 40
camp"-and many of the old camps
one-time visitors have often wondered,
in an idly curious way, what became
of the camps most romantic and pa
thetic character-"Apache George"
apache George"-nobody In the
camp knew him by any other name, and
so the payroll bore his signature-waa
combination of scout, Indian and
"bullwhacker." He had served under
Crook and Miles, he had lived with
red men, white men and Mexicans, and
he had driven stage coaches over the
Nevada plains. He used to shoot Gig
!arettes from the mouth of his compan-
ion, or, by way of variety, flick them
away with q bullwhip % feet long.
Aside from his wild-west accomplish
ments, he was a gentle, lovable fellow,
,everybody's friend, and the most pop
ular individual in the camp.
His companion-his wife, he ever
claimed-was a singularly handsome
young girl, whom he called "Tex," and
whom he had taken away from some
wandering Apache tribe many years
before. She was evidently American
or very light Mexican, extremely
graceful and pretty, shy, quiet and
seemingly devoted to apache George"
The pair, dressed in buckskin and
sombrero, and wandering arm In arm
about the camp, were both picturesque
and handsome, fit for the cover-picture
of regulation western story.
One day an aetor-not cookbook
Ing actor, either, but one of the cheap
and stilted breed-wandered into the
camp and met the bucksldn-clad pair
in front of cabin. After that the
actor haunted the camp and spent In
terminable hours chatting with
apache George" watching his feats OF
craftsmanship and skill
One morning "Tex" was gone, the
actor, too. No man of old "camp 40"
has seen either of them since, and their
fate and whereabouts remain a mys-
terry.
George sat around the camp for sev.
eral days, quiet, moody, gazing at the
ground and the toes of his Apache moe
casins. One day he, too, was gone,
and the camp moved on its routine way
without him.
A few days ago rough rider, Fred
Little by name, once a member of camp
40, and a wandering adventurer
through recent years, was walking
down Dearborn street, Chicago, leading
the famous mascot bulldog of the Roose,
velt regiment. An acquaintance stopped
him, and questioned him as to the fate
Of sundry people. Soon the converse
tion turned to apache George"
George was In the regiment" said
the rough rider. "Quietest man in the
whole outfit-never had word to say
to anybody. Just lugged his gun and
sawed wood. Wouldn't talk about
anything-'Tex' last of all. When we
went up, the hill he was in front of me,
He whirled around, and dropped. Much
hurt, GeorgeT said I. 4 hope so, Fred!
said he, and never spoke again. Hei
buried down there, and that was the
finish of Apache George!'"
Possibly "Tex" has long forgotten
the Apache rifleman. Possibly he wal
one of those men who can be set aside,
but can never be forgotten.-Ch Chicago
Evening News,