“Maus and the Mexican could combine forces against us,” suggested Geronimo, nervously. “Both the Mexicans and pindah-lickoyee have tricked us before. They would not hesitate to do it again. We are few, they are many—they could wipe us out, and there would be none left to say that it happened through treachery.” “Let us attack them first,” suggested a warrior. “They are off their guard. We could kill many of them and the rest would run away. Come!” “No!” cried Geronimo. “Our women are with us. We are very few. All would be killed. Let us withdraw and wait. Perhaps we shall have a better chance later. Only fools attack when they know they cannot win. Perhaps Nan-tan-des-la-par-en will come and we shall make peace. That will be better. I am tired of fighting.” “Let us go away for a while, at least until the Mexicans have left,” counselled Shoz-Dijiji. “Then, perhaps, we can make terms with Maus. If not we can pick our own time and place to fight.” “That is good talk,” said Geronimo. “Come! We shall move away slowly.” Maus and Perez, engaged in arranging terms for the removal of Crawford’s body and exchanging notes that would relieve one another of responsibility for the tragic incident of the battle between the troops of friendly nations, paid little attention to the renegades; and once again Geronimo slipped through the fingers of his would-be captors, and as Maus’ and Perez’ commands marched away together toward Nacori the scouts of the old war chief watched them depart and carried the word to Geronimo. “They have marched away together—the Mexicans and the pindah-lickoyee?” demanded Geronimo. “That is bad. They are planning to join forces against us. They will return, but they will not find us here.” Again the renegades changed camp; this time to a still more remote and inaccessible position. The days ran into weeks, the weeks to months. The band scattered, scouting and hunting. At all times Geronimo knew the location of Maus’ command; and when he became reasonably convinced that Maus was waiting for the arrival of Crook and was not planning a hostile move against the renegades he made no further attempt to conceal his location from the white officer, but he did not relax his vigilance. It was late in March. Geronimo, Shoz-Dijiji, Gian-nah-tah, and several others were squatting in the shade of a sycamore, smoking and chatting, when two Apaches entered the camp and approached them. One was one of Geronimo’s own scouts, the other wore the red head-band of a government scout. When the two halted before Geronimo the war chief arose. “What do you want in the camp of Geronimo?” he asked, addressing the government scout as though he had been a total stranger. “I bring a message from Maus,” replied the other. “Nan-tan-des-la-par-en has come. He is ready to hold a parley with you. What answer shall I take back?” “Tell Nan-tan-des-la-par-en that Geronimo will meet him tomorrow in the Canyon of Los Embudos.”