Apache Indians -- Fiction; Historical fiction; Western stories
All this they did in silence, speaking only when directly addressed by a
warrior. They ate only what they were told they might eat and that was
little enough, and of the poorest quality. In every conceivable way were
their patience, nerve and endurance tried to the utmost, and always were
they under the observation of the warriors, upon whose final report at
some future council would depend their acceptance into the warrior
class.
On the third day they entered Mexico, and faced a long, waterless march
upon the next. That morning Shoz-Dijiji filled a section of the large
intestine of a horse with water and coiled it twice over his left
shoulder and beneath his right arm. Presently the water would become hot
beneath the torrid rays of chigo-na-ay, and the container had been
cleaned only according to Apache standards of cleanliness, yet its
contents would in no way offend their palates. In quantity there was
sufficient to carry them far beyond the next water hole.
Shoz-Dijiji hated to carry the water. The container sloshed about his
body and ever had a tendency to slip from his shoulder. With the
thermometer 118 in the shade, a hot water bag adds nothing to one’s
comfort, and, too, this one was heavy; but Shoz-Dijiji did not complain.
He stepped lightly along the trail, nor ever lagged or sulked.
Always he watched every move that the warriors made and listened with
strict attention to their few words, since the procedure and terminology
of war are sacred and must be familiar to every candidate for warrior
honors. The familiar names of articles used upon the war trail were
never spoken, only their war names being used and the observance of
every act, however trivial, was tinged with the hue of religion.
Perhaps during the long span of man’s existence upon Earth there has
never been produced a more warlike race than the Apaches. They existed
almost solely by war and for war. Much of their country was a semiarid
wasteland, producing little; their agriculture was so meager as to be
almost nonexistent; they owned no flocks or herds; they manufactured
nothing but weapons of war and of the chase and some few articles of
apparel and ornament. From birth they were reared with but one ambition,
that of becoming great warriors. Their living and their possessions
depended almost wholly upon the loot of war; and for three hundred years
they were the scourge of a territory as large as Europe, a thickly
settled portion of which they entirely depopulated.
Upon such facts as these had Shoz-Dijiji and Gian-nah-tah been raised,
and now they were taking the first step toward becoming one of these
mighty warriors, the very mention of whose names was sufficient to bring
terror to an entire community of white men.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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