"Then the young stranger chief was lured out again by Sanchez--his people and mine. They swear to me they did not kill him--that the white man, Case, did that. He, too, hated him. But Sanchez lied to me. He promised to take back the pistol my people found the night I shot his horse, and he never did, nor messages I sent. So I know not who fired the shot, who clubbed him, _but_ Sanchez had that pistol--Sanchez lied to me! I was not that night so near as the Picacho, and when the soldiers came to find me I went farther, with two of my people. We met the Great Chief's couriers. We met more Tontos. We fought them back and I was wounded. They took me to McDowell, and no man was unkind until the night they put me in the iron cell with Sanchez, and he told me I should never see the Great Chief, my father; that I should hang for shooting the white chief, Willett. When I slept he was there. When I awakened he was gone, and the iron bars were gone. I went out into the night--into the mountains--until I found my young chief. Then the truth was told me. Then we followed, and found Sanchez. Then my people heard the story and helped me find the way to the cave where the boys were hidden. The Great Spirit of my fathers knows I have never broken my promise. That is all that 'Tonio can say. I have spoken." And then as he finished and the last word had been translated, all in language far less vivid than his native tongue, all men seemed to breathe a sigh of relief and seek instinctively to rise and gather about him. The general slowly found his feet, rose to his full height, stepped straightway forward to where the Indian stood, placed his left hand on the gaunt and bony shoulder, and with his ungloved right seized and grasped and held that of the elder chieftain, his own eyes twinkling, moistening, as he spoke. "'Tonio--Brother--the Great Father shall know, and if I live, all his people shall know, how deeply you have suffered, how truly you have stood our friend." And then, still clasping the warrior's hand, Crook turned to his officers, for by this time every man was on his feet, every eye was again upon them, every face lighted with interest, and many with emotion. Silently the general glanced about him, and at his signal Archer came forward, his handsome old head bared, his fine eyes filling. At his approach the commander drew back a step, releasing 'Tonio's hand. Then the soldier who but a fortnight back had sought to prison, possibly to kill, this soldier of the desert and the mountain, following his superior's lead, held forth his hand, a thinned and trembling one, yet the clasp in which it took that sinewy brown one was one an Indian could never doubt. Looking straight into 'Tonio's fearless eyes, the veteran spoke: "'Tonio--Brother--I did you wrong. I beg your pardon and I ask your friendship." For a moment, silence, then for answer came but the single word: "_Hermano._"