They stopped the ——th Cavalry that day as they had stopped other troops before and without the loss of a man, and with the coming of night had vanished among the rocks of their beloved mountains and rejoined their women in the new camp by the burned pine at the first water beyond the summit. Stern, grim, relentless, the cavalry pursued. Coöperating with them were the troops of Governor Torres of Sonora. The renegades were hard pressed. Skirmishes were of almost daily occurrence now. And then Lawton came with his hand picked force of seasoned veterans. It was May again. For a year this handful of savage warriors and women and children had defied, eluded, and ofttimes defeated the forces of two civilized nations. The military strategy of their leader had been pitted against that of a great American general and proved superior. A score of West Pointers had exhausted their every resource and failed, but they were at last nearing their goal—victory seemed imminent. Miles and Lawton would receive the plaudits of their countrymen; and yet, if the truth were known, Miles and Lawton might have continued to pursue Geronimo and his band to the day of their deaths, and without success, had it not been that Apache turned against Apache. The Shis-Inday may date the beginning of the end from the day that the first Indian Scouts were organized. Hunted relentlessly, given no opportunity to rest because their every haunt, their every trail, their every hiding place was as well known to the scouts who pursued them as it was to themselves, they found themselves at last practically surrounded. With no opportunity to hunt they were compelled to kill their ponies for sustenance until at last only Nejeunee was left. Geronimo sat in council after a day of running battle. “The warriors of the pindah-lickoyee and the Mexicans are all about us,” he said. “If we can break through and cross the mountains into Chihuahua perhaps we can escape them. Then we must separate and go in different directions. They will hear of us here today and there tomorrow. They will hurry from one place to another. Their horses will become tired and their soldiers footsore. Their force will be broken up into small parties. It will be easier for us to elude them. Tonight we shall move east. A camp of the enemy lies directly in our path, but if we can pass it before dawn we shall be in mountains where no cavalry can follow and tomorrow we shall be in Chihuahua. “There is one pony left. Its meat will carry us through until we can find cattle in Chihuahua.” There was silence. Every warrior, every woman knew that Shoz-Dijiji had repeatedly refused to permit the killing of the little pinto stallion for food. “Nejeunee is more than a war pony,” Shoz-Dijiji had once said to Geronimo. “He is my friend. I will not eat my friend. I will not permit anyone to eat my friend.” Glances stole around the circle in search of Shoz-Dijiji. He was not there.