Such a scourge did this tribe become that the Governor of Chihuahua had a law passed through the Legislature, which put a certain price upon the head of every Apache.  But this law had soon to be repealed, as the Mexicans, eager to get the reward, took to killing the peaceful Tarahumares, whose scalps, of course, could not be distinguished from those of the Apaches.

It was not even now safe for a small party to cross the Sierra Madre, as dissatisfied Apaches were constantly breaking away from the San Carlos Reservation in Arizona, and no Mexican could have been induced to venture singly into that vast unknown domain of rock and forest, about which lingered such painful memories of bloodshed and terror. [2] In the early part of our journey a Mexican officer had called on me to offer, in the name of the Governor of the State of Sonora, his services as escort and protection against the Apaches; but I declined the courtesy, preferring to depend rather upon my own men.  I am happy to say that I had no personal encounter with the dreaded “Shis Inday,” or Men of the Woods, as they call themselves, though on one occasion we came upon fresh tracks near one of our camps, and also upon small bunches of yucca leaves tied together in a peculiar way known to the Mexicans as signs intelligible only to the Apaches.

The only precaution I had taken against possible attacks was to augment my force of trustworthy Mexican muleteers.  Among the new recruits was an honest-looking Opata Indian, who joined the camp one evening, clad in the national costume of white cotton cloth, and carrying in his hand a small bundle containing his wife’s petticoat (probably intended to do duty as a blanket) and a pair of scissors.  This was his whole outfit for a winter campaign in the Sierra Madre.  They are hardy people, these Indians!  This man told me that he was thirty years old; his “senora,” he said, was twenty-five; when he married her she was fifteen, and now they had eleven children.

Finally I succeeded in securing two guides.  One of them was a very intelligent man, who had been several times in the sierra; the other one had been only as far as Chuhuichupa, and, although he did not remember the way very well, still he thought that with the help of the other man he would be able to make out the route.  As we could do no better, we had to take him as the best guide available.

After having received some supplementary provisions from Granados, I at last, on December 2, 1890, began the ascent.  It was a beautiful day; the air was clear and warm and the sun shone bright, as it always does at this time of the year in this favoured region.  The genius of spring seemed to hover about, and snow, frost and scarcity of grass seemed far removed contingencies.  Everything looked promising.