anch, killed his wife and a
man named Charles Owens and carried off Peck's niece. Apparently
satisfied with this, they turned Peck loose, after burning the ranch
house. The unfortunate man's step-niece was found some six weeks later
by Mexican cowpunchers in the Cocoapi Mountains in Old Mexico.

The famous massacre of the Samaniego freight teams and the destruction
of his outfit at Cedar Springs, between Fort Thomas and Wilcox, was
witnessed by Charles Beck, another friend of mine. Beck had come in with
a quantity of fruit and was unloading it when he heard a fusilade of
shots around a bend in the road. A moment later a boy came by
helter-skelter on a horse.

"Apaches!" gasped the boy, and rode on.

Beck waited to hear no more. He knew that to attack one of Samaniego's
outfits there must be at least a hundred Indians in the neighborhood.
Unhitching his horse, he jumped on its back and rode for dear life in
the direction of Eureka Springs. Indians sighted him as he swept into
the open and followed, firing as they rode. By luck, however, and the
fact that his horse was fresher than those of his pursuers, Beck got
safely away.

Thirteen men were killed at this Cedar Springs massacre and thousands of
dollars' worth of freight was carried off or destroyed. The raid was
unexpected owing to the fact that the Samaniego brothers had contracts
with the government and the stuff in their outfit was intended for the
very Indians concerned in the ambuscade. One of the Samaniegos was slain
at this massacre.

Then there was the Tumacacori raid, at Barnett's ranch in the Tumacacori
Mountains, when Charlie Murray and Tom Shaw were killed. Old Man
Frenchy, as he was called, suffered the severe loss of his freight and
teams when the Indians burned them up across the Cienega. Many other
raids occurred, particulars of which are not to hand, but those I have
related will serve as samples of the work of the Indians and will show
just how it was the Apaches gained the name they did of being veritable
fiends in human form.

* * * * *

After the expiration of my contract with Paola Ortega I remained in a
state of single blessedness for some time, and then married Gregoria
Sosa, in the summer of 1879. Gregoria rewarded me with one child, a boy,
who is now living in Nogales. On December 23, 1889, Gregoria died and in
October, 1890, I married my present wife, whose maiden name was Donna
Paz Paderes, and who be