When the morning came Geronimo set out with a party of chiefs and warriors for the meeting place. Mangas was with him and Na-chi-ta, and there were Shoz-Dijiji, Gian-nah-tah, Chihuahua, Nanáy, and Kut-le in the party. General Crook was awaiting them in the Canyon of Los Embudos. The two parties exchanged, salutations and then seated themselves in a rough circle under the shade of large sycamore and cottonwood trees. General Crook addressed Geronimo almost immediately. “Why did you leave the reservation?” he demanded. “You told me that I might live in the reservation the same as white people live,” replied Geronimo, “but that was not true. You sent soldiers to take my horses and cattle from me. I had a crop of oats almost ready to harvest, but I could not live in the reservation after the way you had treated me. I went away with my wife and children to live in peace as my own people have always lived. I did not go upon the war trail, but you told your soldiers to find me and put me in prison and if I resisted to kill me.” “I never gave any such orders,” snapped Crook. Geronimo glanced at Shoz-Dijiji but did not reply. “But,” continued Crook, “if you left the reservation for that reason, why did you kill innocent people, sneaking all over the country to do it? What did those innocent people do to you that you should kill them, steal their horses, and slip around in the rocks like coyotes? “You promised me in the Sierra Madre that _that_ peace should last, but you have lied about it. When a man has lied to me once I want some better proof than his own word before I can believe him again.” “So does Geronimo,” interrupted the war chief. “You must make up your mind,” continued Crook, “whether you will stay out on the war path or surrender unconditionally. If you stay out I’ll keep after you and kill the last one if it takes fifty years.” “I do not want to fight the white man,” replied Geronimo; “but I do not want to return to the reservation and be hanged, as many of the white people have said that I should be. People tell bad stories about me. I do not want that any more. When a man tries to do right, people should not tell bad stories about him. I have tried to do right. Does the white man try to do right? I am the same man. I have the same feet, legs, and hands; and the sun looks down upon me, a complete man. “The Sun and the Darkness and the Winds are all listening to what we say now. They know that Geronimo is telling the truth. To prove to you that I am telling the truth, remember that I sent you word that I would come from a place far away to speak to you here; and you see me now. If I were thinking bad, or if I had done bad, I would never have come here.” He paused, waiting for Crook to reply. “I have said all that I have to say,” said the General; “you had better think it over tonight and let me know in the morning.”