“And yet you, Geronimo, War Chief of the Apaches, hesitate to take the war trail against them!” Shoz-Dijiji reproached him. “It is not because you are afraid. No man may say that Geronimo is afraid. Then why is it?” “The son of Geronimo speaks true words,” replied the old chief. “Go-yat-thlay,[2] the son of Tah-clish-un, is not afraid to take the war trail against the pindah-lickoyee even though he knows that it is hopeless to fight against their soldiers, who are as many as the needles upon the cedars, because Go-yat-thlay is not afraid to die; but he does not like to see the warriors and the women and the children slain needlessly, and so he waits and hopes—hopes that the pindah-lickoyee will some day keep the words of the treaties they have made with the Shis-Inday—the treaties that they have always been the first to break. ----- [2] Geronimo. ----- “If that day should come, the Shis-Inday could live in peace with the pindah-lickoyee; our women and children would have food to eat; we should have land to till and land to hunt upon; we might live as brothers with the white-eyed men, nor ever again go upon the war trail.” “I do not wish to live with the white-eyed men in peace or otherwise,” cried the Black Bear. “I am an Apache! I was born to the war trail. From my mother’s breasts I drew the strong milk that makes warriors. You, my father, taught me to string a bow, to hurl a lance; from your lips my childish ears heard the proud deeds of my ancestors, the great warriors from whose loins I sprung; you taught me to hate the pindah-lickoyee, you saw me take my first scalp, you have seen me kill many of the warriors of the enemy, and always you approved and were proud. How then may I believe that the words you have just spoken are true words from your heart?” “Youth speaks from the heart, Shoz-Dijiji, as you speak and as I spoke to you when you were a child; but old age speaks from the head. My heart would go upon the war trail, my son; my heart would kill the white-eyed men wherever it found them, but my head tells me to suffer and be sad a little longer in the hope of peace and justice for my people.” For a time after Geronimo had spoken there was silence, broken only by the beating of the es-a-da-ded and the mumbling of the medicine man, as he led the dancers. Presently a figure stepped into the outer rim of the circle of firelight from the darkness beyond and halted. He gave the sign and spoke the words of peace, and at the command of Geronimo approached the group of squatting braves. It was Klo-sen, the Ned-ni. He came and stood before the Be-don-ko-he warriors and looked into the face of Geronimo. “I bring word from the white-eyed chiefs at San Carlos,” he said. “What message do they send?” asked Geronimo. “They wish Geronimo and the other chiefs to come to Fort Thomas and hold a council with them,” replied Klo-sen. “Of what matters would they speak?” demanded the old war chief.