ment, where he lay in wait for weary travelers who
passed that way in search of water and a pleasant camp ground. If
attacked by a superior force, as sometimes happened, he invariably
retreated across the Sulphur Spring valley into his stronghold in the
Dragoon mountains.

Because of the many atrocities that were committed by the Indians,
white men were afraid to go into that country to settle. Even as late
as in the early eighties when that prince of rascals, the wily
Geronimo, made his bloody raids through southern Arizona, the men who
did venture in and located ranch and mining claims, lived in daily
peril of their lives which, in not a few instances, were paid as a
forfeit to their daring.

The Butterfield stage and all other overland travel to California by
the southern route before the railroads were built, went through Apache
Pass. Although it was the worst Indian infested section in the
southwest, travelers chose that dangerous route in preference to any
other for the sake of the water that they knew could always be found
there.

The reputation of Apache Pass, finally became so notoriously bad
because of the many murders committed that the Government, late in the
sixties, built and garrisoned Ft. Bowie for the protection of travelers
and settlers. The troops stationed at the post endured much hardship
and fought many bloody battles before the Indians were conquered. Many
soldiers were killed and buried in a little graveyard near the fort.
When the fort was abandoned a few years ago, their bodies were
disinterred and removed to the National cemetery at Washington.

Railroad Pass is naturally a better wagon road than Apache Pass, but is
without water. It was named by Lieut. J. G. Parke in 1855 while
engaged in surveying for the Pacific Railroad, because of its easy
grade and facility for railroad construction.

I timed my visit to correspond with the arrival at Bowie station on the
Southern Pacific Railroad, of a consignment of ranch goods that had
been shipped from St. Louis. I was met at the depot by the ranch
force, who immediately proceeded to initiate me as a tenderfoot. I
inquired of one of the cowboys how far it was to a near-by mountain.
He gave a quien sabe shrug of the shoulder and answered me in Yankee
fashion by asking how far I thought it was. Estimating the distance as
in a prairie country I replied, "Oh, about a mile." He laughed and
said that the mountain was fully five miles distan