The aborigines of Arizona in 1863-4 numbered about 25,000, slightly less than two thirds belonging to the friendly tribes as distinguished from the Apaches. In 1886 there are left about 18,000, not including in either estimate the Navajos, treated in this volume as a New Mexican tribe, though their home has always been partly in Arizona. I may state at the outset that it is not my purpose to attempt any index or classification of the sources for Indian affairs. The principal of these are named in the appended note; and only for special purposes shall I make more minute references or cite additional authorities. In considering modern annals of the Arizona Indians, let us first glance at the friendly tribes.

When the territory was created, Charles D. Poston came as superintendent of Indian affairs in 1864, making a tour with Ross Browne, but supplementing his report with his resignation in September. George W. Leihy then held the office until November 1866, when he was killed by Indians. G. W. Dent served in 1867-9; George L. Andrews in 1869-70; and H. Bendell in 1871-2. After 1872 the office was abolished, agents reporting directly to the commissioner at Washington. Special inspectors were, however, sent by the government from time to time to visit the agencies.

The Yumas were formerly a numerous and power­ful tribe, of fine physique and war-like nature. My readers will remember their old-time thirst for Christianity, and their massacre of the padres and settlers in 1781. Their home was about the Gila junction on both sides of the Colorado. In Spanish and Mexican times they were alternately hostile and friendly, but suffered much in wars with other tribes. Later the tribe was kept in order by the American garrison at Fort Yuma, but its strength was broken in 1857, when its grand ‘army’ was almost annihilated in a war with the Pimas. Since that time the Yumas have been worthless but harmless vagabonds, though cultivating small patches of ground in the Colorado bottoms, catching fish, and doing odd jobs for the whites. Pascual has been their most famous chief; and their number is now about 1,000. They have never been willing to settle at the up-river agency, but in late years a reservation has been set apart for them on the California side at Fort Yuma. The Mojaves—Yamajabs or Amajabas of early times—living originally on both sides of the Colorado above Williams fork, a people whose intercourse with Padre Garcés in 1774-6 will be recalled, and who sometimes appear in the Spanish annals of California, were also a brave tribe, whose good qualities have for the most part disappeared. Their hostility to Americans ended with their defeat and the founding of Fort Mojave in 1858-9. In 1864 Poston selected a reservation on the river bottom at Half Way Bend, in latitude 34°, and the land was set apart by act of 1865. It was intended for all the river tribes, and for the Hualapais and Yavapais; but only the Chemehuevis and half of the Mojaves could ever be induced to occupy it permanently. Agriculture depended on the annual overflow of the river, and crops often failed. A canal was dug in 1867-74 for nine miles at a cost of $28,000, but was not a success; and a system of water-wheels proved likewise a failure. The Indians took much interest in these experiments, and even did a large amount of hard work; but the outside tribes, gradually losing their confidence in the white man’s ability to control the elements, declined to come in; and the Mojaves—about 800, under Iriteba down to his death in 1874—learned to depend chiefly on government aid. The rest lived near Fort Mojave and fared somewhat better, a crowd of them being still seen at the Atlantic and Pacific railroad stations in this region. In all they number from 1,000 to 1,200, addicted to gambling and intoxication, nearly all tainted with syphilitic diseases, a hopelessly wretched and depraved race, or at least past regeneration by any methods yet applied; yet they are peaceful, and in a sense honest and industrious. A school was in operation at times from 1873, and a native police from 1881. No real progress has ever been made, though the agents have occasionally reported encouraging features, generally not visible to their successors.

The Hualapais, or Apache-Yumas, and Yavapais, or Apache-Mojaves, were, before 1864, tribes of 1,500 and 2,000 souls, allied in race and character to the river tribes on the west and the Apaches on the east. For some years, during the flush times of the Colorado placers, they were friendly, living at times on the reservation; but in 1866-8, being suspected of certain depredations, they were the victims of several disgraceful outrages, and went on the war-path until 1871-2. The Yavapais became identified with the Apaches, and with them were transferred to the San Carlos reservation in 1874. The Hualapais, after submission, did good service against the Apaches, were gathered at Beale Spring, and were moved against their will to the Colorado agency in 1874. Running away the next year, but professing friendship, they were permitted to live in their old haunts, living on the country’s natural products, and more than once saved from starvation by the charity, of settlers. A tract of 2,000 square miles on the Grand Canon bend of the Colorado was set apart for them in 1881-3, and there they now live, 600 to 800 in number, mustering in force at Peach Spring at the passage of each railroad train. Though superior to the reservation Mojaves, they are a destitute and vicious lot of beggars, wholly non-progressive.

The Suppai, or Ava-Supies, 200 or 300 in number, of whom little is known, but probably renegades originally from other tribes, have, since 1880, a reservation of 60 square miles on Cataract Creek, just above latitude 36º, a fertile tract on the creek bottom between precipitous cliffs, accessible only at two points by a narrow trail. Here they raise fruits, grain, and vegetables, trading with the Moquis and Hualapais, prosperous and contented, but rarely visited by white men.

Of the Moquis much has been recorded in this volume. The Mexicans had little if any intercourse with them; but several American explorers visited their towns, beginning with Ives in 1858. An agency was maintained from 1869, the agent living at Fort Defiance down to 1875, but later at buildings erected fifteen miles east of the first town. These peculiar, superstitious, and childishly variable Indians were always friendly, except that the Oraibe chief was sometimes, as of old, reserved and sulky. There was a school in several years, and in 1882 a missionary was preparing to get ready to begin his teachings. The Moquis were always temperate, chaste, and industrious, tilling their barren lands, where crops often failed for want of water, keeping a few sheep and cattle, gladly accepting the meagre government pittance, and sometimes disposed to the theory that the ‘great father’ at Washington should and perhaps would support his Moqui children in idleness. They would never listen to proposals of removal from their cliff homes of so many centuries, but they were sometimes induced to cultivate fields at some distance; they farmed on shares with the Colorado Chiquito Mormons; and it is even said that the saints have made some Moqui converts. Their reservation of 4,000 miles was set apart in 1882, adjoining that of the Navajos; and their numbers since 1869 have perhaps increased from 1,500 to 2,000. There is no more interesting aboriginal people in United States territory.

Turning again to the south, we find the Pimas living on the Gila, where their home has been for centuries, and on a reservation set apart for them and the Maricopas in 1859. They have always been foes of the Apache and friends of the American, it having been their boast for years that they had never killed a white man. They are an industrious agricultural people, producing a large surplus of grain for sale. Living in a dozen villages of conical willow huts, they have never changed materially their manner of life, but there is no improvement, except that some children have learned to read; and in many respects there has been a sad deterioration during forty years of contact with civilization, notably by acquiring habits of intemperance, prostitution, and pilfering; yet they are still vastly superior to most other tribes. For several years, from 1868, serious troubles with them seemed imminent. Presuming on their military services and past immunity from all restraint, they became insolent and aggressive, straying from the reservation, robbing travellers, refusing all satisfaction for inroads of their horses on the settlers’ fields, the young men being beyond the chiefs’ control. Swindling traders had established themselves near the villages to buy the Indians’ grain at their own prices, and even manipulate government goods, the illegal traffic receiving no check, but rather apparently protection from the territorial authorities. Whiskey was bought at Adamsville or from itinerant Mexicans; the agents were incompetent, or at least had no influence, the military refused support or became involved in profitless controversies. Worst of all, white settlers on the Gila used so much of the water that the Pimas in dry years had to leave the reservation or starve. General Howard deemed the difficulties insurmountable, and urged removal. Had it not been for dread of the Pima numbers and valor, the Apaches still being hostile, very likely there might have been a disastrous outbreak. But from 1874, for reasons only partially apparent, there was a marked improvement. Copious rains for several years prevented clashing with the settlers; several chiefs visited the Indian territory and talked favorably of removal; there was less friction between authorities. In 1876-82 the Pima reservation was considerably extended, and a new tract on Salt River below Fort McDowell was finally set apart, making the whole extent about 275 square miles. A school has been kept up with some success, a little missionary work was done, and a native police, until disorganized by whiskey, did something to prevent disorder. Yet the old troubles are sleeping rather than dead. There is still much popular dissatisfaction on various phases of the matter; and in view of the non-progressive nature of the Indians, the large extent of their lands, the growing white population, and the agricultural prospects of the Gila and Salt valleys under an extensive system of irrigation, there can be little doubt that difficulties will increase, and the Pimas sooner or later will have to quit their old home.

The Pápagos have been regarded as the best Indians of Arizona. They were of the same race and language as the Pimas; but there is no foundation for the theory that they were simply Pima converts to Christianity, Pápago meaning ‘baptized.’ They were, however, converts, retaining a smattering of foreign faith, with much pride in their old church at Bac. They differ but little from Arizona Mexicans, if of the latter we except a few educated families and a good many vicious vagabonds. More readily than other Indians they adapt themselves to circumstances, tilling the soil, raising live-stock, working in the mines, or doing anything that offers. As the reader knows, they sometimes had trouble with the Spaniards and Mexicans, but they have always been friends of Americans and deadly foes to Apaches. Without having escaped the taint of vice, they are not as a rule addicted to drink, gambling, or licentiousness. They have received very little aid from the government. In 1874 a reservation was set off for them at San Javier, and in 1882 another at the Gila bend, 200 square miles in all. From 1876 their agency was consolidated with that of the Pimas. Their number has remained at about 5,000, some 2,000 living on the reservations or near Tucson, while the rest are scattered through Papaguería or live across the Mexican line.

 

INDIANS OF ARIZONA.

 

 

The Apache country proper was that part of Arizona lying east of the Santa Cruz in the south, and of the Verde in the north. In 1864 the Apaches had for several years waged war upon the whites, hostilities being for the most part confined to the south-east, because the north was not yet occupied by Americans. From 1862, however, the Colorado gold placers drew a crowd of miners, who pushed their operations eastward to the Prescott region. They were not much troubled by the Indians at first; but from 1865, as Apache land was penetrated by prospectors, and the frontier became settled, the war was transferred, or rather extended, to the north-west; and with the disaffection of the Hualapais and Yavapais, mainly caused by outrages of the whites, the field of hostilities was widened to a considerable distance west of Prescott. For about ten years this warfare was continuous and deadly. During this period about 1,000 men, women, and children were murdered by the Apaches, of whom perhaps 2,000 were killed, with a loss of probably not over 150 soldiers. The loss of live-stock and destruction of other property was of course great, and all real progress in the territory was prevented. The Apaches did not fight battles, except when cornered; their idea being primarily to steal, and then to kill without being killed. They attacked individuals or small parties from ambush, and fled to their mountain strongholds, often inhumanly torturing their captives. By nature and the education of centuries, they were murderous thieves; and they looked forward to a life-long struggle with the whites as a natural and their only means of subsistence. The people of Arizona, feeling that they were entitled to protection, but appealing for it in vain, became excited and desperate as the years passed by, doing and countenancing many unwise and even criminal acts. The government at Washington, vaguely aware that there were Indian troubles in Arizona, which were very expensive, and not realizing any difference between Apaches and other hostile Indians, simply furnished from 1,000 to 3,000 troops to garrison the posts, made imperfect arrangements for supplies, with an occasional change of commander or military organization, ignored for the most part all appeals, and left the problem to solve itself. Officers and soldiers did their duty well enough, striking many hard blows, which after a long time became in a cumulative sense effective. If any of these parties is to be blamed on the whole, it is not the citizens, the military, the Apaches, or even the newspapers and Indian agents, but the government, for its half-way measures, its des­ultory warfare, and its lack of a definite policy, even that of ‘extermination’, which is sometimes attributed to it. True, a somewhat consistent policy was developed in the end; but I cannot think there was any need of so long and bloody and costly a process of evolution. From the first there was no real difference of opinion among men with practical knowledge of the Apaches respecting the proper policy to be adopted. The Apache must first be whipped into a temporary or partial submission, then made to understand that it was for his interest to keep the peace, and finally watched and taught, if possible, better methods of life. The result might have been effected, so far at least as it ever has been effected, in two years.

I shall not here chronicle the series of Apache atrocities, name the victims, or even summarize the record for places or periods. Neither is it proposed to detail the military record of campaigns, or deal minutely with annals of companies, commanders, or posts. Still less shall I find room for the many controversies that continuously arose from one phase or another of this unfortunate Apache business. To treat all these matters in such a manner as to utilize fully the mass of evidence before me with justice to all interests involved, would require a whole volume. Yet though compelled by limitation of space to avoid particulars, especially in relation to persons, I hope to present all the general aspects of the subject in a clear and impartial manner.

We left the Arizona posts, as part of the department of New Mexico, garrisoned in 1863 by the California volunteers. In 1864, having had much success in fighting eastern Apaches and the Navajos, General James H. Carleton turned his attention to the west, confidently expecting to subdue the foe and remove the humbled survivors to the Pecos reservation of Bosque Redondo. The people were equally hopeful, and for nearly a year active war was waged in different directions. The result was over 200 Apaches killed, but very slight perceptible progress toward permanent success. The general was, of course, severely criticised, and his grand campaign declared a failure; yet there is really little fault to be found with Carleton’s policy or his general management. The radical error was that the means were not supplied for properly following up his blows.

The great war between north and south was now ended, but instead of sending 10,000 troops to Arizona with authority to raise two or three regiments of native volunteers, the government transferred the territory from the military department of New Mexico to that of California. General McDowell sent General John S. Mason to take command, with a reenforcement of California volunteers, raising the force to about 2,800 men. Four companies of Arizona volunteers, two of them composed of Pimas and Pápagos, were also mustered in, doing excellent service. Mason took command in June 1865, but for want of supplies, and by reason of various blunders connected with the change of departments and commanders, preparations were not complete till November; and the following campaign, though including several effective expeditions, was on the whole perhaps even less successful than that of Carleton. Mason was not a very brilliant Indian fighter, and did not escape abuse, yet it does not clearly appear how any officer could have done much better in his place. In April 1866 he reported 900 Apaches on a temporary reservation at Camp Goodwin, and believed that by offering on the one hand food and protection, and on the other incessant attack from all directions, permanent success might be achieved. But the campaign was interrupted by the gradual withdrawal of the volunteers; and in May or June Mason was removed.

Mason’s successors were Colonel H. D. Wallen in the north and Colonel Charles S. Lovell in the south. They were succeeded by General J. I. Gregg and General T. L. Crittenden, respectively, early in 1867. The volunteers had been replaced by regular troops to the number of 1,500 or 2,000, soon considerably increased. In October Arizona was formally declared a military district by order of General Halleck. McDowell visited this part of his department in December. In 1868 General T. C. Devin assumed the command, being succeeded apparently for a time in 1869-70 by General Wheaton. General Ord, the new department commander, visited Arizona in 1869. Meanwhile the war continued much as before in 1866-70, there being no cessation of Apache hostilities, and the troops, though in some respects less efficient than the volunteers, engaging in many expeditions that were by no means without results. I cannot entirely agree with the idea of Dunn and others that the experience of these years was a trial and failure of the ‘extermination’ policy. It seems to me that while none of these officers was the equal in skill or experience of him who finally achieved success, yet their policy did not differ very radically from his, and their efforts contributed in the aggregate very largely to his success. Moreover, Carleton’s efforts to remove the Indians to a New Mexican reservation, and the protection and feeding of hundreds of Apaches at Camp Goodwin and elsewhere under Mason and his successors, show the germs of later success in this direction also. Indeed, as I have said before, in both branches of the matter was success being slowly evolved, where no evolution was really necessary, could the government have been persuaded to do its duty.

In these years the people of Arizona became discouraged, not to say exasperated, and clamorous for various reforms. They declared the force utterly inadequate, and regular troops unfit for Indian service; complained that they were not permitted to raise volunteers and finish the war in their own way desired Arizona to be made a separate department; were indignant at the suggestion of any policy but that of incessant warfare; and protested against all half-way measures. They regarded the temporary reservations and feeding-stations as so many depots of supplies where the Apaches could recruit their strength for new atrocities. Newspapers of Arizona and California reechoed the popular outcry. Governor and legislature were in full sympathy with the people. There was much difference of opinion between military inspectors and other officers as to what should be done. It was a period of excitement and exaggeration, of intemperate expression, of unreasonable views, of numerous outrages perpetrated upon the Indians. And the people as a whole are not to be blamed. It is not easy to be calm and philosophical while one’s relatives and friends are being butchered from week to week.

As a result of this agitation, or at least in the midst of it, in 1869 Arizona and southern California were formed into a military department with headquarters at Fort Whipple; and in the middle of 1870 General George Stoneman assumed command. The war went on as before, and mainly because the change failed to bring any immediate relief, the new general was censured even more severely than his predecessors. He was thought to spend too much time in red-tape details of military organization, in establishing new posts and improving the old ones; while he also looked with too much favor on the feeding-stations where the Indians continued to assemble in increasing numbers. At the same time Stoneman was blamed in the east for his excessive severity in attacking all Apaches for the offences of a few! I find in his theory and practice little ground for censure. He believed that by furnishing rations and blankets to a few he could induce others to come in and thus advance the work of subduing all. The temporary reservations proved that progress had been made, being an essential link in the evolutionary chain; but the people feared, with some reason, such apparent success as might result in a patched-up peace, a suspension of campaigns, and a reduction of force, to be followed inevitably by a new and more disastrous outbreak.

Unfortunately, the popular feeling led to the commission of a gross outrage. In the spring of 1871 a band of Apaches surrendered to Lieutenant R. E. Whitman at Camp Grant, and being unwilling to go to the White Mountain reservation recently set apart temporarily by Stoneman, they were allowed to live near the post on the Arivaipa, rationed as prisoners of war, performing some useful work, especially in the cutting of hay, behaving well so far as could be known to the officers in charge, and increasing in number to about 300. The citizens were indignant at this feeding of the Apaches, refused to believe that they had submitted in good faith, and found satisfactory evidence that the unceasing depredations in the south-east were committed by these very Indians. At the end of April 40 citizens and 100 Pápagos from Tucson and vicinity marched out to the camp and killed 85, all Women and children but eight, and captured some 30, who were sold by the Pápagos as slaves. The perpetrators of this crime to the number of 108 were tried for murder later in the year and acquitted. Whether the Arivaipa Apaches were guilty of the thefts and murders imputed to them it is impossible to know, strong evidence being produced by the citizens on one side and by the officers on the other; but in any case the massacre of women and children was a crime in justification of which nothing can be said. In June 1871 General George Crook succeeded Stoneman in command of the department. His reputation as an Indian-fighter gained in other fields, his openly expressed condemnation of the vacillating policy and desultory warfare of the past, his idea of a reservation as a place where the Apache must be forced to remain and work for a living, and above all his energetic preparations for an effective campaign against the hostiles, won for him at once the confidence and admiration of the people. For three months Crook carried on his preliminary operations to culminate in a general aggressive movement from which the greatest results were expected by all, when the good work was interrupted in a manner that was most exasperating to all but the Apaches.

In 1867 a board of peace commissioners for the management of Indian affairs had been appointed at Washington, being made permanent in 1869, and the movement being warmly supported by President Grant and many other prominent military men and civilians throughout the nation. The feeling that led to this movement, and that actuated the board in its operations, namely, the desire to protect the Indian from injustice, and to establish a uniform and benevolent policy for his improvement, was worthy of all praise, and of the hearty support it received from all Americans of the better class. The movement resulted, moreover, in great good throughout the Indian country of the far west. Yet in some phases of its practical application, and notably in the theory that the Arizona Apaches could be subdued by kindness or influenced by other motives than those of fear and self-interest, the new ‘peace policy’ was a sad mistake. The commission had exerted an influence in the setting-apart of temporary reservations during Stoneman’s command; but its first direct interference in Arizona was marked by unfortunate blunders on both sides, at a time when prospects were brighter than ever before. On the one side was the Camp Grant massacre; on the other—though prompted largely by that outrage—the sending of Vincent Colyer of the commissioners, an ultrafanatic, with full powers to settle the Apache question.

Colyer, who had visited New Mexico, and even reached the Moqui towns in 1869, arrived in August 1871. Cook, in obedience to his orders, suspended military operations, and Governor Safford issued orders for the commissioner’s protection, with a view to restrain the popular fury. Colyer came fully imbued with the belief that the Apaches were innocent victims of oppression, and the whites wholly to blame for past hostilities; and he would listen to nothing not confirmatory of his preconceived views, scorning to seek information from the rascally citizens, the bloody-minded officers, or anybody else who knew anything about the real state of affairs. Protected by an escort, he visited the posts and met several bands of Apaches, just then disposed by the destitution arising from past reverses to come in, make peace, and be red. From them he got all the testimony he desired on their peaceful and harmless disposition. He approved or selected temporary reservations or asylums at camps Grant, Apache, Verde, McDowell, Beale Spring, and Date Creek; then he went on to California in October, followed by the curses of Arizonans, but fully convinced that the Apache question was settled. If let alone, the Indians would gladly come upon the reservations, eager for peace and civilization. Should there be new troubles, the whites might quit the country, or, staying, comfort themselves for the murder of their families and loss of their property with the thought that all these evils were due to ancient or modern aggressions of their own race. Colyer’s mission did perhaps some good by calling attention in the east to Arizona; its harm was the suspension of Crook’s operations for a long time, and the encouragement of Apache hopes that a new era of protection for their great industry of plunder had dawned

Within a year from Colyer’s arrival, the Apaches are known to have made 54 raids, and killed 41 citizens. The absurdities of his report were somewhat apparent even at Washington; and though his acts were approved, orders were sent to Crook through General Schofield in November 1871, not only to enforce strict measures on the reservations, but to wage war on all who refused to submit. February 1872 was fixed as the date before which all must come in, or take the consequences. In April, however, General O. O. Howard came as a special commissioner to protect the Indians, persuade them to submit, and advance the reservation work in general. While he was not to interfere directly with Crook’s operations, his mission had practically the effect to postpone the campaign till late in the year. Remembering Colyer, the Arizonans were prejudiced against Howard; but the latter was a very different man, his peace theories being strongly tinged with common sense. He consulted the people freely, and found them reasonable, if not very strong in faith, respecting reservation and treaty success. Mutual respect, if not entire agreement of opinion on certain phases of the Apache question, was developed by the intercourse. Howard visited the posts; did much to encourage the submis­sive bands; made treaties between Apaches and their Pima and Pápago foes; changed the Camp Grant reservation to the Gila, naming it San Carlos; and carried away some chiefs on a visit to Washington. In the autumn he came back to complete his work, making several changes. He abolished the asylums at McDowell, Date Creek, and Beale Spring, permitting the Indians to choose homes at the other reservations. But his principal achievement, though as it proved an unfortunate one, was to visit Cochise at his mountain home, receive that chief’s submission, and establish the Chiricahua reservation in the south­eastern comer of the territory.

Then, in 1872-4, General Crook waged a continuous and effective war on the hostiles. For the first time all departments were working in harmony under a definite policy. As the governor put it in his message, Howard had offered the olive-branch, and Crook, with the sword, was enforcing its acceptance. Half-subdued bands often left their reservations to resume their raids, but such were hard pressed, not only by the troops, but by Apache warriors, whose submission was evidently not all pretence, and whose services were most profitably utilized. As before, I attempt no record of the campaign in its complications. By the middle of 1873, the last of the Tontos, Hualapais, and Yavapais had submitted; and in 1874, with the defeat of several renegade bands, the war was regarded as at an end. In a sense, and for large portions of the territory, the peace proved lasting. The great mass of the Apaches was now under military control on the reservations. The people and territorial authorities regarded Indian troubles as practically at an end. General Crook was deservedly the hero of the time.

Notwithstanding this peace, which in a sense, as already remarked, was permanent in the north and west, the south-eastern frontier region in Arizona and New Mexico, after a few years, was for another decade to be the scene of Apache warfare, several times devastated with deadly results by renegade bands from the reservations. This result was due, not only to the savage instincts and ineradicable hostility of some of the worst Apache tribes, but also and largely to mismanagement. An outline of reservation annals is given in the appended note, including brief mention of the principal outbreaks. In 1874 control of the reservations passed from the war department to the Indian bureau, with unfortunate results. General Crook should have been left for several years at least in full control. From 1875 the policy of concentrating all the Apaches at San Carlos was enforced. Those of forts Verde and Apache were transferred in March and July; the Chiricahuas in June 1876; and the Hot Spring bands in May 1877. While in a general way this policy of concentration may have been well founded, while some changes were probably necessary—notably at the Chiricahua reservation on the Mexican border—and while no policy would have entirely prevented the subsequent troubles, yet there can be no question that nearly all the later outbreaks and disasters may be traced directly to these transfers. The Indians were naturally unwilling to quit the regions in which they had been born or which they had chosen, which, as they understood it, the government had given them for permanent homes, and where in some instances they were making progress; many of them objected particularly to the San Carlos tract; besides their aversion to any change and their special objections to the new home, there was much fear of their new neighbors; and the mingling or near approach of so many distinct and hostile bands—which had never agreed on any proposition except that of hostility to the whites—was sure to make serious trouble. With the special reasons assigned for the change, the misconduct of certain renegade bands or turbulent characters, the masses of the Apaches at each point had little to do; and in some cases the influence of whites coveting the reservation lands was a controlling motive. General Crook protested earnestly against the first transfer, that of the Verde Indians; but he was removed to another department to fight the Sioux, and was succeeded in March 1875 by General August V. Kautz. This officer also opposed the changes, and in connection with the removal of the Chiricahuas and resulting depredations of renegades, he became involved in serious controversies with Governor Safford, which finally led to his removal in 1878, his successor being General O. B. Willcox.

On the transfer of the Chiricahuas in June 1876, a considerable number escaped, went on the war-path, and in four months killed 20 persons. On the transfer of the Hot Spring bands in May 1877, Victorio and party escaped to Mexico; and in September 300 escaped from San Carlos. The ensuing pursuits, fights, surrenders, and reescapes are too complicated for detailed record here; but large numbers of the renegades, while sometimes submitting in New Mexico, refused to be removed to San Carlos, and ran away every time was attempted. Resulting depredations, sometimes exaggerated by the citizens and the newspapers, and perhaps underrated by the military, were constant and serious on the border, especially in New Mexico; and for years the warfare was almost as deadly as ever. From this time the Indians were well armed with repeating rifles, and pursuits by the troops were generally fruitless. In 1879 Victorio came from the south, was reinforced by various renegade bands, and killed 73 victims before he could be driven back into Mexico. He was killed in 1880 by Mexicans, while Juh and Gerónimo, with 110 Chiricahuas, were brought in to the reservation. In 1881 occurred the Cibicu Creek outbreak, as mentioned elsewhere; Nané, Victorio’s successor, made a bloody raid from across the line, and part of the Chiricahuas, under Juh and Nachez, ran away from San Carlos. In April 1882 these were followed by Gerónimo and the rest of the renegade Chiricahuas, with Loco and his Hot Spring band. Further trouble occurred on the reservation, and the general outlook was very discouraging. Mili­tary men were nearly unanimous in the opinion that all these later troubles were due to the disturbance of Crook’s plans, the turning-over of the reservations to the Indian bureau in 1874, the unwise concentration of the Apaches at San Carlos, and subsequent mismanagement on the part of civil agents with the resulting controversies. It is clear that this view of the matter is to a considerable extent well founded.

In 1882 General Crook came back to relieve General Willcox, to whom, however, no special fault was imputed. A treaty was made by which Indians might be pursued across the boundary by United States and Mexican troops, respectively. And with Crook’s return there came about rather mysteriously, as Dunn remarks, “a reasonable harmony between representatives of the Indian bureau and war department in Arizona.” He found the reservation Indians sullen, suspicious, and discontented, complaining of wrongs at the hands of their late agent, distracted with rumors of intended attack, disarmament, and removal, and dis­posed to go again on the war-path as a choice of evils. With his old tact the general made them understand that war was just what their enemies desired, and peace their only means of saving their reservation. The old system of strict discipline, metal tags, and frequent roll-calls was restored, and the native police reorganized. Confidence being restored, Crook permitted a large number of the Indians to leave the river agency and live in the northern part of the reservation without rations. They succeeded so well that about 1,500, or one third of the whole number, were soon living in the north and almost self-sustaining.

Meanwhile, Gerónimo and the rest were raiding in Mexico; and in March 1883, Chato with fifty Indians crossed the line and killed a dozen persons in Arizona including the family of Judge McComas. With about 50 soldiers and 200 Apache scouts, having fortunately secured the services as guide of a chief who had deserted from the foe, and having made arrangements for the cooperation of the Mexican forces, Crook marched in May to the Apache stronghold in the Sierra Madre—a place never reached by troops before, and which could not have been reached without the services of the guide. A complete surrounding and surprise of the foe was prevented by the hasty firing of the scouts; but Chato’s band was defeated with a loss of nine killed and five captives; and the rest entered into negotiations. Finally, they offered to surrender on the condition that past offences should be forgotten, and all be settled on the reservation. Because a successful prosecution of the campaign at this time and in this country was impossible, because to withdraw and await a more convenient opportunity of surprising the foe would involve renewed disaster to the scattered settlers, and because the Chiricahua outbreak had been caused to a considerable extent by unfair treatment, Crook accepted the terms and brought back to San Carlos nearly 400 renegades, including Gerónimo, Chato, Nachez, Loco, and all the chiefs except Juh, who had escaped. For two years these Indians under military management behaved well, and it was hoped that the Apache question had been at last settled.

Yet once more in the early summer of 1885, Gerónimo and Nachez, with a part of their Chiricahua warriors, fled from the reservation, and resumed their deadly raiding on the settlers on both sides of the line. No definite reason for the outbreak is known, though the chief’s detection in the illicit manufacture of tiswin, the native liquor, has been suggested; and later Gerónimo has talked vaguely of plots against his life. This occurrence, while not affecting the wisdom of Crook’s general policy, or proving that past troubles had not been largely due to reservation changes and mismanagement, or even justifying the suspicion that the general had been so far carried away by his theories as to become a dupe of Apache cunning—yet shows clearly enough that even with just and careful treatment under military auspices the Apache could not be trusted, that the problem had not been so near an easy solution as Crook had believed, and that past outbreaks were due in part to inherent savagism. Again, with his accustomed vigor, and with the aid of Apache scouts, under Captain Crawford—who was killed in an unfortunate encounter with Mexicans—Crook pursued the renegades into Sonora, and in March 1886 forced them to promise surrender. But before entering Arizona, not obtaining satisfactory guaranties of restoration to reservation life, and fearing the punishment his crimes deserved, the wily Gerónimo and his companions effected their escape to ravage the frontier with death and desolation for five months more. This misfortune, or blunder, brought upon Crook a storm of abuse which resulted in his removal; and General Nelson Miles was appointed to take his place. Under the new commander and his subordinates, notable among whom was Captain Lawton, the campaign was continued; and after various delays and contretemps that did not fail to arouse a clamor of popular criticism, the Chiricahua band of some 20 warriors was in August forced to surrender without conditions.

As I write, not only these captives, but all the Chiricahuas and Hot Spring Indians at San Carlos have been sent to Florida. Arizona is again joyful in the belief that her Indian troubles are forever at an end. General Miles is the hero of the day, naturally, and justly to the extent that he has well performed his duty, but unfairly in so far as his service of a few months is made to outweigh the still more valuable work of Crook for years. Whether Gerónimo will be hanged, as he should be, is not yet settled, and for the welfare of Arizona it is immaterial. There is no reason to doubt that there will be other troubles with the Apaches; but they should not be very serious, especially if the policy of exiling all renegades shall be strictly enforced.

As to the general prospects of the reservation Indians of all tribes, they cannot be said to be encouraging. A mountainous mining country on the national frontier, where white men can hardly be made to behave themselves, is not fit for an Indian reservation. It would be better for Arizona that all should be removed; and better for the Indians, if there be any region where success with other tribes is at all encouraging. Yet the removal would be very difficult, perhaps impossible. Though no real progress has as yet been made, reservation annals furnish many items to indicate seemingly that the seeds of advancement might easily be made to take root. The Indians often show traits of docility, patience, industry, and ambition to improve, of which it would seem advantage might be taken; but with these traits are inextricably mingled others of stupid perversity and savagism that practically bar the way to all improvement; and the monumental capacity for blundering, the rascality, the bigotry, the lack of skill, the fondness for controversy on the part of agents, teachers, missionaries, and all who undertake the management of Indians, have thus far cooperated most effectually against success. Probably no radical change is to be expected in either red men or white; probably a foreign civilization cannot be ingrafted on aboriginal stock; apparently the Indians, non-progressive savages, ever the victims of injustice, must dwindle in numbers and finally disappear; or, at best, the germs of civilization be planted in a few individuals surviving the tribal annihilation. Yet the line of our nation’s duty is clear in the matter. The Indians must be fully protected in their rights. Outrages upon them must be promptly and severely punished. Every attempt at improvement must be encouraged. As fast as possible the tribal relation must be broken up. Lands must be given in severalty to all who are capable of utilizing them. Government aid must be mainly in the form of implements and instruction and protection. Primary schools must be liberally supported; but religion must be made a secondary matter. Above all, earnest, honest, practical men must be put in charge and paid for their services. The survival of the fittest must be encouraged. If any must perish, let it be the good-for-nothing; if any are to be helped, let it be those who are disposed to help themselves.

Apaches have not been the only outlaws who have afflicted Arizona. Acts of lawless violence, including murders, robberies, and lynchings, have been but too common throughout the territory’s history. Yet such irregularities have not been greater but rather much less than was to be expected under the peculiar circumstances, in consideration of which Arizona’s record is not worse than that of the other western regions. The Indian wars in themselves, during which every citizen’s life was in constant danger, tended strongly to establish the habit of reliance on force rather than legal forms for protection from other foes. Desperadoes might always commit outrages with a fair chance of their being attributed to Indians. The geographic position of the territory contributed to the same result. Mexican outlaws of a peculiarly vicious class frequented the frontier districts, easily escaping after the commission of crimes into Sonora, where their punishment, by reason of endless complications of international red tape, was generally impracticable. These Mexicans, bad as they were, had like the Indians to bear the responsibility for hundreds of offences they never committed. The native population of Spanish race, here as in other border regions of the United States, has often been the object of most unfair treatment. Too often has there been a popular clamor for the expulsion of all Mexicans from some mining camp, innate race prejudice being aggravated by the acts of a few outlaws, and the result being utilized by designing desperadoes or politicians of another race for the carrying out of their various designs. A sparsely settled mining country is never a favorable field for the proper enforcement of law; and Arizona for many years, by reason not only of its Indian troubles, but of its undeserved reputation as a desert unfit for homes, was chiefly attractive to the least desirable class of adventurers from California, Nevada, Colorado, and Texas. Again the long and unprotected stage and express routes over which rich bullion prizes were carried, have furnished especial temptations and facilities for highway robbery. And it must be admitted that the combination of national and territorial authority has not always been favorable to the administration of justice; and that locally the qualities of energy and bravery required in officers of justice have been too often sought in men more or less identified with the criminal element. It is not my purpose to present a chronicle of Arizona crimes and criminals, though I append some items and references in a note. While it can hardly be hoped that troubles of this class are at an end, yet constant progress in the right direction and growth of proper public sentiment are to be noted. With railroads, agricultural development, and increase of law-abiding population, scenes of violence will be more and more confined, as they have been for the most part in late years, to new mining districts and isolated frontier settlements.