Shortly after dark Crawford and his command came into camp. They had “jumped” “Bonito’s” and “Chato’s” _rancherías_, killing nine and capturing five--two boys, two girls, and one young woman, the daughter of “Bonito,” without loss to our side. From the dead Chiricahuas had been taken four nickel-plated, breech-loading Winchester repeating rifles, and one Colt’s revolver, new model. The Chiricahuas had been pursued across a fearfully broken country, gashed with countless ravines, and shrouded with a heavy growth of pine and scrub-oak. How many had been killed and wounded could never be definitely known, the meagre official report, submitted by Captain Crawford, being of necessity confined to figures known to be exact. Although the impetuosity of the younger scouts had precipitated the engagement and somewhat impaired its effect, yet this little skirmish demonstrated two things to the hostile Chiricahuas; their old friends and relatives from the San Carlos had invaded their strongholds as the allies of the white men, and could be depended upon to fight, whether backed up by white soldiers or not. The scouts next destroyed the village, consisting of thirty _wickyups_, disposed in two clusters, and carried off all the animals, loading down forty-seven of them with plunder. This included the traditional riffraff of an Indian village: saddles, bridles, meat, mescal, blankets, and clothing, with occasional prizes of much greater value, originally stolen by the Chiricahuas in raids upon Mexicans or Americans. There were several gold and silver watches, a couple of albums, and a considerable sum of money--Mexican and American coin and paper. The captives behaved with great coolness and self-possession, considering their tender years. The eldest said that her people had been astounded and dismayed when they saw the long line of Apache scouts rushing in upon them; they would be still more disconcerted when they learned that our guide was “Peaches,” as familiar as themselves with every nook in strongholds so long regarded as inaccessible. Nearly all the Chiricahua warriors were absent raiding in Sonora and Chihuahua. This young squaw was positive that the Chiricahuas would give up without further fighting, since the Americans had secured all the advantages of position. “Loco” and “Chihuahua,” she knew, would be glad to live peaceably upon the reservation, if justly treated; “Hieronymo” and “Chato” she wasn’t sure about. “Ju” was defiant, but none of his bands were left alive. Most important information of all, she said that in the _ranchería_ just destroyed was a little white boy about six years old, called “Charlie,” captured by “Chato” in his recent raid in Arizona. This boy had run away with the old squaws when the advance of the Apache scouts had been first detected. She said that if allowed to go out she would in less than two days bring in the whole band, and Charlie (McComas) with them. All that