red men can make, appear very astonishing to one not accustomed to them. The Apaches, as an Indian race, are not wanting in bravery, the best evidence of which statement is, that nearly all their warriors _die in battle_. Their country is the healthiest in America. Besides waging war against the whites and Mexicans, they have their differences to settle with their neighboring tribes, with whom they are punctilious in vindicating their national honor. Colonel Beall commenced his operations against these Indians by dispatching a junior officer, backed by a strong force, with orders to pursue, overtake, and chastise them. This expedition started; but, on coming to the mountains, the guides reported that there was too much snow on them for the command to pass through in safety; so the undertaking was given up, and the men were marched back to Taos. The most famous war chief of the Apaches, during these troubles, was called by the Mexicans _Chico Velasques_, and his name, for many years, was a terror to the surrounding country. His savage brutality knew no bounds, and he was truly in his element, only when he was tearing the bloody scalp from his half-lifeless victim. He was the sworn enemy of the Americans and Mexicans, and his hunting-knife was rarely clean of human blood, until his cruel life, by the wise decrees of an all-seeing Providence, was suddenly cut short. He fought against his disease (small pox) with that rashness that had been his ruling spirit through life, and thus ingloriously terminated his days. The pride of this man was to strut through the Mexican towns and gloat over his many crimes. To the gazing crowd, he would point out the trophies of his murders, which he never failed to have about him. To his fringed leggins were attached the phalanges (or finger bones) of those victims whom he had killed with his own hands. On the one side, he proclaimed to his auditors, were the fingers of the Mexicans, while on the other, were the same tokens from the Americans; and it gave him great delight, ironically, to dwell upon the latter name. With whip in hand, he struck out right and left when anything displeased him. He met one day more than his match in the person of the famous Mexican hunter, Armador Sanchez, of whom we have previously spoken. The circumstances of this rencounter were as follows: The bold Indian, with but few followers, was on a visit of pleasure to the Mexican town of Culebro. He had agreed to a temporary peace, to suit his convenience and ends; and, taking advantage of it, he made his appearance in the settlements, to lord it over the peaceable inhabitants. After indulging in a little fire-water, his wicked propensities could be controlled no longer, and broke forth in minor cruelties. At last he found himself in the house belonging to Sanchez, who was quietly conversing with his aged father, for whom he had great veneration, and also with his son. The Indian peremptorily demanded that some whisky should be given him.