The Forrest City times., 1900-11-30
They did not transpire until som.

tradition ran that whosoeyer should ind and wear that garment again would be impervious to the bullets of the White-Eye, would become the greatest of medicine-men, and rule not only over his own people but over all the Apache tribes and those of the plains of the north. And the very founder of that family to which Ciego belonged was reputed to have been the white chief in the coat of iron.
 Ciego looked the White-Eye officer over from his scalp to his toes, and up again, and then with no sound, save just one grunt, went out from the quar- ters and from the post.
 Hartpole told of it at the mess that night, and forgot all about it after that. But Ciego did not-as Hartpole ought to have foreseen.
 One night an Indian, his body naked as 1t was born, poisoned knife in his hand, stole across the sandy parade ground when the moon was under the clouds of a coming storm. and slipped, as silently as none but a savage can, under the ramada of Hartpole's quar- ters, and thence through the open door. The Indian had missed nothing when he had been in that one small room a month before. He knew where every thing in it was, from the ehromo in a blue frame on the wal to the cot in the corner, across from the fireplace. He hid himself behind the piece of calico that curtained off the nook where Hartpole's clothing hung, and waited until the moon showed for a moment through a break in the clouds and he could see the figure on the cot beneath the mosquito net. When the room was dark again he slid out; and the blade of the knife in his hand went straight through the heart of the man asleep. Then he took the rattling ar- nor from its nails and wrapped it in the calico curtain and fled through the night, as silently and swiftly as only an Apache can.
 Now it happened that Hartpole had gone to another post good many miles to the east that very day. and he had left his striker to sleep in his quarters and keep guard over his things. So it was into the luckless soldiers heart that the knife was driven. and the next day telegram apprised Hartpole that his striker was murdered and his suit of mail was gone.
 The day after that all the depart ment knew that the Coyoteros were on the warpath, and, having cut the reservation, were killing right and left. They were led by a, medicine man called Ciego, and the scouts reported that he was dressed in garment of white iron which no White-Eye's bull let could pierce. They also reported that the Chiricahuas and the Pah-Utes and the Sierra B.ancas were joining him. It promised. to be an interesting time for the territories.
 Hartpole began to have dim idea of why the medicine man had wanted his Spanish mail, now. He was ordered out, of course. Most of the department was. Trouble of the sort that this promised to be had to be checked at once if at all. It was serious already; but there was one thing in favor of the troops, which was that the hostiles showed no desire to get away. Their fanatical faith in their medicine man led them to seek battle rather than to shun it. And twice, having done so, they beat off the troops, because there were, as usual, too few. But the third time they were caught in a pocket of the Mogallons, and there were no less than six troops against them. Hart po.e's was of the number.
 The Indians fought from dawn of the first day until twilight of the second, in the open at first, then from behind shelter, then at last they retreated to shallow cave high up on a hillside, and there was no getting them out. A mountain howitzer might have done it, but there was none with the com mand. All day the troops fired volleys into so much of the mouth of the cave as showed between the pine trunks and the walls of rock. They knew that the slaughter within must have been pretty severe, but there were no. signs of surrender, nevertheless. The hos tiles might hold out until the last one was dead; they certainly would until
 
 medicine man could be seen from time to time, a gleaming figure, moving clumsi,y among the trees and under- brush. And for all that it went so slowly and was so bright, no bullet seemed ever to hit it Even the white men began to consider it with awe.
 At sunset of the second day, when the sounds from the cave had all but ceased and the Indians within it were without ammunition and at bay, the glistening form came clambering de- liberately to the top of high rock, whooping and yelling, calling the rem nant of it's followers on. It stood so for moment, the red sun rays striking through the pine branches on the dented steel, weird sight in the depths of the mountain fastnesses of the New World; so odd and strange that the