The Pimas and the Papagos had long been enemies of the Apaches, so they stayed together. The Tontos and the Apache-Mohaves had been enemies of everybody, so they stayed together. The Mexicans had been enemies of the Tontos and the Apache-Mohaves and the Arivaipas and Pinals, so they stayed together. The Americans――the Tucson citizens and the scouts and ranchers――were ready to back up the guard of soldiers, in case of trouble. But General Howard’s purpose was to make peace between all the peoples of the Southwest. “Will there be a fight, you think, Jeem?” inquired little Francisco. He and Jimmie had ridden over early on one of the ranch mules, to see and hear whatever might happen. “The Arivaipa will fight to get their children, and the Pima will fight the Tonto, and the soldiers will shoot; won’t they, Jeem?” “Who knows?” replied Jimmie. “No, they won’t!” he quickly added. “It is all right, chico. Here comes General Howard. And see who is with him! That is General Crook! Hooray!” “Hooray!” echoed Francisco, who always tried to do what Jimmie did. For with its six mules at a gallop, and with General Howard upon the seat beside “Dismal Jeems,” the army ambulance had swung into the pretty green valley along the Arivaipa Creek. Behind the ambulance followed, in the road, a cavalcade of officers on horses and mules. The first two were Colonel Crittenden of Camp Grant, and a sinewy, powerful man, in a brown canvas suit, on a mule. General Crook himself! He had come over with General Howard from Fort Whipple. So had Lieutenant Bourke, and Lieutenant Ross, and Lieutenant George Bacon of the First Cavalry, and others of Jimmie’s old-time officer friends. General Howard and party climbed out of the ambulance; the other officers left their mounts with the orderlies; and all crossed to the stools and benches reserved for the “chiefs,” on the sod in the center of the waiting circle. “No Es-kim-en-zin yet,” whispered little Francisco. “They stay away. I am afraid, Jeem.” That was true. Only old short-legged Santos and a handful of decrepid men and squaws were here; Chief Es-kim-en-zin and his warriors had not appeared. General Howard and General Crook and Colonel Crittenden sat, waiting. So did the governor and the district attorney. So did the Pima and Papago and Apache-Mohave chiefs. Everybody waited. Agent Jacobs plainly was worried, but it would not do to show any sign of impatience. “Dismal Jeems,” the ambulance driver from Fort Yuma, circulated about, wagging his head and prophesying that nobody would leave the spot alive! Yes, a cheerful man was “Dismal Jeems.” In about an hour, there was a sudden murmur of interest. From the mouth of the Arivaipa Canyon emerged Chief Es-kim-en-zin, leading his band of Arivaipas and Pinals. They were in their best paint, and advanced with much dignity to the place assigned to them. Now the circle was complete.