This tribe was quiet at that time, only a few renegades escaping into
the hills on their wild adventures: but I never felt any confidence in
them and was, on the whole, rather afraid of them. The squaws were shy,
and seldom came near the officers' quarters. Some of the younger girls
were extremely pretty; they had delicate hands, and small feet encased
in well-shaped moccasins. They wore short skirts made of stripped bark,
which hung gracefully about their bare knees and supple limbs, and
usually a sort of low-necked camisa, made neatly of coarse, unbleached
muslin, with a band around the neck and arms, and, in cold weather a
pretty blanket was wrapped around their shoulders and fastened at the
breast in front. In summer the blanket was replaced by a square of
bright calico. Their coarse, black hair hung in long braids in front
over each shoulder, and nearly all of them wore an even bang or fringe
over the forehead. Of course hats were unheard of. The Apaches, both men
and women, had not then departed from the customs of their ancestors,
and still retained the extraordinary beauty and picturesqueness of their
aboriginal dress. They wore sometimes a fine buckskin upper garment, and
if of high standing in the tribe, necklaces of elks teeth.

The young lieutenants sometimes tried to make up to the prettiest
ones, and offered them trinkets, pretty boxes of soap, beads, and small
mirrors (so dear to the heart of the Indian girl), but the young maids
were coy enough; it seemed to me they cared more for men of their own
race.

Once or twice, I saw older squaws with horribly disfigured faces. I
supposed it was the result of some ravaging disease, but I learned that
it was the custom of this tribe, to cut off the noses of those women who
were unfaithful to their lords. Poor creatures, they had my pity, for
they were only children of Nature, after all, living close to the earth,
close to the pulse of their mother. But this sort of punishment seemed
to be the expression of the cruel and revengeful nature of the Apache.

CHAPTER XII. LIFE AMONGST THE APACHES

Bowen proved to be a fairly good cook, and I ventured to ask people to
dinner in our little hall dining-room, a veritable box of a place. One
day, feeling particularly ambitious to have my dinner a success, I
made a bold attempt at oyster patties. With the confidence of youth and
inexperience, I made the pastry, and it was a success; I took a can of
Baltimore oyste