May 21st was one of the busiest days of the expedition. “Hieronymo,” at early dawn, came to see General Crook, and told him he wished for peace. He earnestly promised amendment, and begged to be taken back to San Carlos. He asked permission to get all his people together, and said he had sent some of his young men off to hurry them in from all points. He could not get them to answer his signals, as they imagined them to be made by Apache scouts trying to ensnare them. Chiricahuas were coming in all the morning,--all ages, and both sexes,--sent in by “Chihuahua” and his party; most of these were mounted on good ponies, and all drove pack and loose animals before them. Early in the day there was seen winding through the pine timber a curious procession,--mostly young warriors, of an aggregate of thirty-eight souls,--driving steers and work cattle, and riding ponies and burros. All these were armed with Winchester and Springfield breech-loaders, with revolvers and lances whose blades were old cavalry sabres. The little boys carried revolvers, lances, and bows and arrows. This was the band of Kaw-tenné (Looking-Glass), a young chief, who claimed to be a Mexican Apache and to belong to the Sierra Madre, in whose recesses he had been born and raised. [Illustration: APACHE WARFARE.] The question of feeding all these mouths was getting to be a very serious one. We had started out with sixty days’ supplies, one-third of which had been consumed by our own command, and a considerable percentage lost or damaged when mules rolled over the precipices. The great heat of the sun had melted much bacon, and there was the usual wastage incident to movements in campaign. Stringent orders were given to limit issues to the lowest possible amount; while the Chiricahuas were told that they must cut and roast all the mescal to be found, and kill such cattle and ponies as could be spared. The Chiricahua young men assumed the duty of butchering the meat. Standing within five or six feet of a steer, a young buck would prod the doomed beast one lightning lance-thrust immediately behind the left fore-shoulder, and, with no noise other than a single bellow of fear and agony, the beef would fall forward upon its knees, dead.