Apache Indians -- Fiction; Historical fiction; Western stories
Shoz-Dijiji picked up some loose stones and arranged them in a line
pointing toward the village of Casas Grandes. He leaned them one against
another with the sides that had been down, and were marked by contact
with the earth, turned upward; that any who might arrive later could
read plainly that he who had laid the signal needed assistance in the
direction of Casas Grandes. He placed more fuel upon the fire and
withdrew to a little distance, followed by the other warriors. There
were older warriors and sub-chiefs among them, but they came and
listened to Shoz-Dijiji; and when he had finished speaking they
signified their willingness to follow him, for not only was he a war
chief among them, but he had conceived the plan that he had just
explained to them and was therefore entitled to lead whoever agreed to
accompany him.
The village of Casas Grandes slept, perhaps a less troubled sleep than
it had enjoyed for many a long month, for had not the feared Apaches of
the north been routed, had not many of them been killed and many taken
prisoner? No wonder the village of Casas Grandes slept in peace as the
barefooted soldiers of the guard paced their posts about the prison
corral of the Apaches, as a dozen silent forms crept down out of the
hills, slinking into the shadows of the little buildings of Casas
Grandes, as _el general_ rode swiftly from the south to witness the
execution at the coming dawn.
From hidden places about the corral a dozen pairs of savage eyes watched
the sleepy sentries pacing to and fro, watched the building that the
soldiers were quartered in, waited for the signal from Shoz-Dijiji. At
last it came—a figure rushing through the dark, a figure that threw
itself upon the nearest sentry with the savage ferocity of a wounded
jaguar, wrenching the rifle from astonished hands, striking down the
poor peon with brutal savagery. At last Shoz-Dijiji was armed again!
This was the signal! From all sides other men, terrible men, leaped upon
the sentinels; but not until the shouts of the Mexicans had alarmed the
soldiers in their barracks did the attackers utter a sound, for such had
been the orders of Shoz-Dijiji. As the first of the guard turned out
they were met by the savage war whoops of the Apaches and a volley of
rifle fire that sent them stumbling into momentary retreat. A few
braves, detailed by the war chief, leaped into the corral and cut the
bonds of the captives. There were a few scattering volleys directed
toward the barracks and then silence, as, like the smoke from their own
black powder, the Be-don-ko-he merged with the darkness of the night.
Scattering again, the better to throw pursuers off the track, the
Apaches were far away from Casas Grandes by morning; and though _el
general_ pursued them he lost their trail within two miles of the
village, nor ever picked it up again.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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