from the pocket of his hunting-shirt a slung shot that weighed nearly four ounces, which he always carried to dispatch his game with when it was in the last agonies of death.  With uplifted hand, the Indian hesitated; for, he knew the character of the man who stood before him, as they had hunted together during many moons gone by, on the same mountains and on the same trail.  At last, using his own savage dialect, in order that his words could not be understood by others about him, the savage answered the Mexican hunter by saying, “that by chance they might some day meet again;” a threat which fell harmless at the feet of Sanchez.  As he took his departure, the chief added, in Spanish, “I will tell these things to my father,[20] Kit Carson,” as if further attempting to intimidate the hunter; but Sanchez knew that his own and Carson’s opinions were the same in regard to this man; therefore, he smiled at the rascal’s knavery. Chico Velasques was followed in his chieftainship by Blanco, who did his utmost to walk in the footsteps of his illustrious predecessor; but, he was not so cunning, and was less successful in his encounters with the Americans and Mexicans, and therefore had not that influence with his tribe which the former possessed.  Still, he performed his quantum of mischief, and yet lives to play his part in the great drama of Indian life.  An Apache Indian is rather small in stature, but everything about him denotes symmetry and strength.  His limbs are almost straight, and their muscles are as hard as iron.  The elasticity of his movements, when in the least excited, shows a high degree of physical training.  His coal-black eye exhibits an amount of treachery rarely seen elsewhere, proving the truth of the Chinese adage, that “the tongue may deceive, but the eye can never play the rogue.”

[Footnote 20:  This expression of “father,” with these Indians, means their agent.]

But to return to the narrative.  The commanding officer of the party sent out against these Indians, on arriving again at Taos, reported to Col.  Beall that the reason he had returned was because, at the present time, it was impracticable to cross the mountains.  That brave and experienced officer replied, “that there was no such word as impracticable in the soldier’s vocabulary, and that nothing ought to be impossible for the 1st regiment of United States dragoons to accomplish.”  Suiting his actions to his words, Col.  Beall reorganized the command, took charge of it himself, and employed Kit Carson as his guide.  When everything was in proper trim, this expedition set out, and after surmounting many obstacles and privations, finally accomplished the feat of crossing the snow-clad mountains, and after a long and fruitless search for the Indians, the men were obliged to turn about, because their stock of provisions was running low.  As the command emerged through the “Sangre de Christo Pass,” on their return route, they came suddenly into view of a village of Apaches.