A SOLITARY APACHE. 365 



had been banking up, and at nine o'clock at night they 

 " turned themselves loose." 



During the storm a solitary Apache, naked, unarmed, 

 with only a small red blanket to protect him from the cold 

 rain of a mountain storm, climbed unperceived the corral's 

 wall. Crouched quietly in a corner he patiently waited 



for day. Bancroft Library 



Morn broke clear and calm, the storm had only lasted 

 five hours, and the light, porous soil was already dry on its 

 surface. Eight well-mounted and armed "vaque'ros" have 

 as usual ranged themselves, waiting for the herd to be 

 turned out. The look-outs have reported "No Indians in 

 sight." The ranch-hands are at breakfast. The gate is 

 opened, the stock commences to pour out ; the gateway 

 gets full of them, to shut it would be impossible. Up 

 springs the Apache, vaults on the nearest horse, with one 

 hand clutches his mane, with the other waves his red 

 blanket in the air, yells like a demon, and en masse every 

 "hoof" stampedes, with the Indian in their midst, the horse 

 beneath him the most terrified animal of all. As they clear 

 the gateway in a frenzied rush, the Indian clasps his arms 

 around the neck of the unbridled, unsaddled steed he has 

 seized upon, throws his head and body under the horse's 

 neck, and disappears from sight, and in clouds of dust, 

 raised by the quick tramp of more than two thousand feet, 

 the herd tear up the valley. Did the vaque'ros attempt to 

 stop that rush ? Not they. The steadiest square that 

 stood at Waterloo would have gone down before that solid 

 column of six hundred maddened brutes. A scattered volley 

 is fired, on the chance of " fetching " that Indian. It only 



