On another occasion, the Indians had fired the prairie to hide their trail. The officer in despair went to camp. Espinosa, after working over the ground carefully on his hands and knees, blew away the light ashes until sufficient prints were found to show the direction of the trail. He was compelled to make several circuits, covering a total of six or seven miles, and after weary hours spent in this work, the troops were able to pursue and capture the Indians. Espinosa and the Apaches once found a trail after dark by feeling of the ground with their fingers. This remarkable man, at the outbreak of the Civil War, was selected to carry dispatches from Union men in San Antonio to Colonel Reeve. He was captured and shot to death. The account presented by Dodge of Espinosa is very interesting and indicates that this unknown man in Plains knowledge was far in advance of the white scouts of which we have heard so much. The Apaches recognized that their only weakness lay in their trail, and they tried by every means to conceal it. The next few years Geronimo led several expeditions into Mexico, sometimes being defeated, on other occasions returning with much plunder and many scalps. During his career as a fighting man he was wounded seven times. Once, he was left for dead, on the field. In 1861 the Mexicans attacked an Apache winter village, killing men, women and children. In 1864, while raiding in Mexico, Geronimo’s people captured a mule pack train. Some of the mules were loaded with mescal—an intoxicating drink of the Mexicans. The Apaches began drinking this and Geronimo, fearing the consequences, poured out all of the liquor. On this occasion he captured a herd of cattle, drove the cattle to Arizona, killed them, and dried the meat for winter use. Geronimo emphasizes in his book something unknown to the general public. Many outlaws, both Americans and Mexicans, stole cattle and committed robberies during these troublous years and the blame was always placed on the Apaches. In spite of all that has been said, the latter were not without their virtues, as the following anecdote attests. In 1883 two young men from the East, while prospecting in the mountains, saw an old Apache and a young man, apparently his son. In attempting to retreat to camp, one of the white men fell and broke his leg. The old warrior examined the broken limb, removed the shirt of the uninjured youth, tore it up and carefully bound the broken member. Then the old warrior, indicating the direction with his finger said: “Doctor—Lordsburg—three days,” and silently rode away. Up to 1870 the Apaches had had little trouble with the white people, although in 1841, according to testimony presented by Mrs. Jackson, they had abundant grounds for hostility.[45] It was not until the 30th of April, 1871, that the real trouble began, The massacre at Camp Grant, in Arizona, of several hundred friendly Apaches, men, women and children, brought on hostilities.