Shoz-Dijiji nodded and without more words turned and retraced his steps toward the camp of the renegades, while Crawford stood watching him until he had disappeared beyond a rise of ground. Not once did the Apache glance back. The cavalry officer shook his head. “It is difficult,” he mused, “not to trust a man who has such implicit confidence in one’s honor.” That afternoon, January 11, 1886, promised to witness the termination of more than three hundred years of virtually constant warfare between the Apaches and the whites. Captain Crawford and Lieutenant Maus were jubilant—they were about to succeed where so many others had failed. The days of heat and thirst and gruelling work were over. “Geronimo is through,” said Crawford. “He is ready to give up and come in and be a good Indian. If he wasn’t he’d never have sent the Black Bear with that message.” “I don’t trust any of them,” replied Maus, “and as for being a good Indian—there’s only one thing that’ll ever make Geronimo that”—he touched the butt of his pistol. “That doctrine is responsible to a greater extent than any other one thing for many of the atrocities and the seeming treachery of the Apaches,” replied Crawford. “They have heard that so often that they do not really trust any of us, for they believe that we all hold the same view. It makes them nervous when any of us are near them, and as they are always suspicious of us the least suggestion of an overt act on our part frightens them onto the war trail and goads them to reprisals. “It has taken months of the hardest kind of work to reach the point where Geronimo is ready to make peace—a thoughtless word or gesture now may easily undo all that we have accomplished. Constantly impress upon the scouts by word and example the fact that every precaution must be taken to convince the renegades that we intend to fulfill every promise that I have made them.” Shoz-Dijiji came and stood before Geronimo. “What did the white-eyed chief say to you?” demanded the old war chief. “He said that if we lay down our arms and surrender he will take us to Nan-tan-des-la-par-en,” replied Shoz-Dijiji. “What did Shoz-Dijiji reply?” “Shoz-Dijiji told the white-eyed man that Geronimo would not surrender, but that he would hold a parley with Nan-tan-des-la-par-en. At last the white-eyed chief agreed. We may retain our arms, and he promises that we shall not be attacked if we accompany him peaceably to the parley with Nan-tan-des-la-par-en.” “What did you reply?” “That we would come and make camp near him this afternoon. He has promised that his scouts will not fire upon us.” “Good!” exclaimed Geronimo. “Let us make ready to move our camp, and let it be understood that if the word made between Shoz-Dijiji and the white-eyed chief be broken and shots fired in anger the first shot shall not be fired by a member of my band. I have spoken!”