he told me
her story. She said she was up in the walnut-tree when an Indian shot
her mother, and coming up, forced her to go with him. He trailed and
picked up the mare, bound her on its back, and drove it along. The colt
whinnied, whereupon he cut its throat. He made straight for Alcashay's
camp, which he circled, and then turned sharply to the east, where he
made the big twisting through the mountains which my scouts found. After
going all night and the next day, he made the first camp. After killing
and cooking the mare, he gave her something to eat, tied her up by the
feet, and standing over her, told her that he was getting to be an old
man, was tired of making his own fires, and wanted a woman. If she was a
good girl he would not kill her, but would treat her well and always
have venison hanging up. He continued that he was going away for a few
hours, and would come back and kill her if she tried to undo the cords;
but she fell asleep while he was talking. After daylight he returned,
untied her, made her climb on his back, and thus carried her for a long
distance. Occasionally he made her alight where the ground was hard,
telling her if she made any 'sign' he would kill her, which made her
careful of her steps.

"After some miles of this blinding of the trail they came upon a white
horse that was tied to a tree. They mounted double, and rode all day as
fast as he could lash the pony, until, near nightfall, it fell from
exhaustion, whereupon he killed it and cooked some of the carcass. The
bronco Indian took himself off for a couple of hours, and when he
returned, brought another horse, which they mounted, and sped onward
through the moonlight all night long. On that morning they were in the
high mountains, the poor pony suffering the same fate as the others.

"They stayed here two days, he tying her up whenever he went hunting,
she being so exhausted after the long flight that she lay comatose in
her bonds. From thence they journeyed south slowly, keeping to the high
mountains, and only once did he speak, when he told her that a certain
mountain pass was the home of the Chiricahuas. From the girl's account
she must have gone far south into the Sierra Madre of Old Mexico, though
of course she was long since lost.

"He killed game easily, she tanned the hides, and they lived as man and
wife. Day by day they threaded their way through the deep canons and
over the Blue Mountain ranges. By this time he had become fon