Wheeling Sunday Register

A BRAVE SCOUT.

Billy Long's Thrilling Adventures Among the Indians.

One of the best known characters in southern Arizona, writes a Tucson correspondent of the New York World, is Billy Long, one of the pluckiest little scouts that ever "pumped lead" into a band of blood-thirsty, throat-cutting Indians. He was with Capt. Lawton, who rounded up that wily red-skinned diplomat, Geronimo, and did such splendid service during the almost endless chase after the Apache chief that he was specially mentioned in the official report of the campaign.

The "Little Scout," as he is sometimes called, is a Texan by birth, and as far back as he can remember he has been on the frontier driving cattle, fighting Indians and playing hide-and-seek with nature in search of precious metals. He is still young, being only 25 years old, yet he has the reputation of being quick on the trigger, and it is said he never misses what he draws on.

Several years ago, when that well-known pioneer, Charles Benham, was making a great effort to develop the silver mines of northern Mexico, he employed Billy to drive a stage running between the city of Hermosillo and one of his mining camps in the Cananea mountains, and also to act as wagon-master for bullion trains coming in from the mines. Billy was employed in this capacity in the spring of 1885, at which time Geronimo and his band of renegade Apaches started on their bloody raid through Sonora. The news of the fresh Indian outbreak was telegraphed from Arizona to Charlie Benham at Hermosillo, and he knew at once that his camp in the Cananea mountains would be one of the first places raided, as it was situated in the very heart of an old Apache stronghold. An Indian outbreak had not been expected, and the men at the mines had only a few guns, and were in utter ignorance of the impending danger. No time was to be lost, as the Indians were known to be heading South and traveling day and night.

Selecting two of the best horses in his corral, Benham had one of them loaded with Winchester rifles, Colt revolvers and ammunition, and begged Bill to make all haste in reaching the unsuspecting miners in the mountains. It was a long, lonesome ride, through a rugged country, but Billy was eager to make the trip. He had passed over the trail so often that every landmark was familiar to him, and he prided himself that he could find his way on the darkest night. He set out from Hermosillo late in the afternoon. All that night he rode and the next day and the next night, never stopping to sleep or give his animals a moment's rest. On the morning of the second day he reached the foothills of the Cananea mountains, twelve miles from the camp. His horses were badly jaded and he was beginning to feel the effects of his long ride himself. A small water-hole was reached, where there was an abundance of grass, and he stopped and let his horses graze an hour or two. Leisurely he saddled up and was just preparing to mount, when he noticed his horse was watching something in the distance. Billy turned in the direction the horse was looking and discovered a band of Indians scarcely half a mile away, coming over a low hill which had hitherto shut them out from view. The Indians were not long in sighting him, and began spreading out to entirely surround him. Billy divined their intention, and, knowing that an open fight against such odds would be certain death, mounted his horse and started on a dead run toward the mouth of a big canyon, through which passed the trail leading up to the mining camp. For some minutes there was an exciting chase, with Billy in the lead and the Apaches rapidly gaining. His horses were too badly tired to hold out long. He knew the animals if left to themselves would make their way to camp, and, dismounting at the mouth of the canyon, pulled the bridles off the horses, and, giving each one a sharp blow with the reins, headed them for camp.

The Indians, who had been watching closely all that was taking place, saw Billy was going to make the fight, and dismounted. Under cover of rocks and bushes they began to close in on the pile of rocks where he had taken refuge. This was by no means Billy's first fight with the Apaches, and he knew just what to expect. He knew they would keep themselves carefully concealed and wait to catch him off his guard, and he determined to fight them according to their own tactics. He succeeded in making his way unobserved to a high pile of rocks further up the canyon, and from this point he got a better view of what was going on below. Soon he discovered an Indian creeping along under cover of a little knoll. The chance could not be missed and, with the sharp crack of the little scout's Winchester, a good Apache died. A volley from all sides answered the shot, but the bullets only flattened on the rocks close around and, without harming him, sang unpleasantly close to his ears. For three hours this trying fight kept up, when the clatter of hoofs up the canyon told that aid was coming, and the Indians, who were not to be taken by surprise, hastily made off, carrying a number of dead bucks with them.

Billy's timely arrival saved many miners who were scattered around through the mountains from being surprised and murdered. The Indians continued to hover around the place, and it was unsafe for anyone to venture outside of adobe walls. Soon after the first Indian raid Benham was murdered in Hermosillo by one of his drivers, and this event, coupled with the uncertainty of life in the mountains, caused the Cananea mines to be abandoned. Billy, being out of employment, asked for and received a position as scout and guide for the forces which had been sent in pursuit of Geronimo. While serving as courier for Lawton's famous B troop, of the 4th cavalry, he attracted the attention of army officers by the daring rides which he made alone through mountain ranges which were known to be full of hostile Indians. He was sent on many dangerous missions, and, although he had some very narrow escapes, he was fortunate enough to pass through the campaign unharmed.

On one occasion Billy, with two other scouts and four soldiers, was sent from Fort Huachuca, in Pima county, Arizona, to join Lawton's command, which was supposed to be somewhere in the Azul mountains in Sonora. One of the soldiers was a half-breed Sioux, who had just enlisted in the northwest and been sent down to join the fourth cavalry. At the post the fellow was so unruly that everybody was glad to get rid of him, and it was hoped that some hard experience in actual service would quiet him down. He had hardly got out of sight of the fort before he became very boisterous, refused to recognize anyone's authority, and made himself generally disagreeable. He carried along with him two bottles of whisky, which he frequently sampled, and at the end of the first day's journey he was in a beastly state of intoxication. He did not change his conduct next day or the day following, and everybody began to feel that matters were fast approaching a crisis.

The heart of the Indian country had been reached, and there were fresh signs on every side. The utmost caution was necessary, but Billy's best-laid plans were continually frustrated by the half-breed. He was jeopardizing the lives of the whole party. To quiet matters down Billy ordered him to fall back in the rear of the party and to keep that position during the remainder of the way. He obeyed with evident reluctance and it could be easily seen that he was bent upon mischief of some kind. Presently he gave a loud Sioux war-whoop which could have been heard a mile away, and, putting spurs to his horse, dashed past Billy, and as he did so discharged his carbine almost full at his breast. Billy knocked the muzzle of the weapon up just in time to save himself, and, riding close in on the half-breed, slapped a revolver to his head and forced him to drop his revolver and dismount. The whole party was so exasperated at the half-breed's conduct that it was with difficulty that Billy could save him from being summarily disposed of. He was, however, deprived of his arms, and forced to travel on foot until so thoroughly tired out that he became submissive.

In the summer of 1885 Billy had a romantic and thrilling experience down in the district of Sonora, some three hundred miles south of the border line. Accompanied by another scout, he had been sent to gather up some government stock which had been left behind. Their route was south to the town of Sonora, capital of the district, and from there to Bacanora, a little town in the mountains about forty miles further to the west. It was their intention to locate all the stray stock on their way down and to pick them up as they returned by the same trail. Arriving at Sonora, they put up at the house of an old American physician who had lived in the place many years. The old gentleman had been a surgeon in the Confederate army during the civil war, and, in common with many others who fought on that side, had emigrated to Mexico after Lee's surrender. He was full of life and vigor, and he insisted that all Americans who visited the town should enjoy the hospitality of his home.

Billy and his partner were handsomely entertained, and in the evening the doctor called in a few of his neighbors to have a frolic in an inner courtyard of his place. A number of Mexican girls came to enjoy a moonlight dance with the two gringos, who spoke very little Spanish, but who knew all about a Mexican dance. Billy looked his best in a suit of buckskin, and his graceful bearing was enough to captivate any woman's heart. He impressed all present, but there was one in particular who showed very plainly by her actions that she had seriously fallen in love. This was Senorita Carolina, a tall, graceful girl not more than 18 years of age. She had an abundance of glossy black hair and great big lustrous eyes; but a low, receding forehead and very large mouth gave her face a peculiar expression.

She danced several times with Billy, and appeared perfectly happy as long as he remained by her side; but the moment he left her to dance with anyone else she seemed to give way to a fit of melancholy. The old doctor, who was watching with evident interest all that was going on, noticed the girl's actions and twitted Billy about his "monkey-faced" sweetheart. When the crowd dispersed Billy was still joked by his companions, and poor Carolina was invariably spoken of as "monkey face."

Early next morning the two scouts set out for Bacanora, and arrived there late in the afternoon. The trail between the two towns leads through an exceedingly rugged range, which has always been a favorite hiding place for roving bands of Apaches. As they passed over the trail Billy and his partner counted eight new wooden crosses which had been erected on spots where travelers had lately been killed by Indians. They were not on the lookout for Indians, as Geronimo's band had been seen only a few days before on the Bavispe river, nearly two hundred miles to the north.

Accomplishing their mission at Bacanora, the two men started on their return trip, driving three or four horses before them. They had covered about half the distance to Sonora and were jogging leisurely along through the mountains when they reined up short on hearing the report of guns not very far ahead. Immediately afterward they saw a woman mounted on horseback dashing up the trail toward them.

"What in the h-- do you reckon that is?" exclaimed Billy in astonishment, as he and his companion hastily dismounted and got their Winchesters ready.

"It's some greaser tryin' to kill his wife, I guess," was the nonchalant response, but a moment later, as the woman came near enough for her features to be distinguished, Billy cried out:

"If it ain't my monkey-face you can have my hat."

"Yes, and here comes the whole cussed Apache tribe right behind her," chimed in his companion.

The woman was now only a few yards away, and it could be plainly seen that the bosom of her plain calico dress was saturated with blood. Billy sprang forward to catch the frightened horse, which she was evidently too weak to manage, and as he did so heard her murmur faintly:

"Cuidado! Los Indios! Los Apaches!"

and the next instant she fell heavily forward into his arms. Billy eased the girl gently to the ground, and tearing open her dress tried to stanch the blood which flowed from two gaping wounds in her breast, but he soon saw that she was dead, and he turned to assist his companion, whose Winchester had already begun to talk. The two scouts "pumped lead" lively for a few minutes, and the Apaches, who were completely taken by surprise, could not take to the rocks before three of their number had been killed outright and several others wounded.

Once under cover it was next to impossible to get a glimpse of an Apache again, and, after waiting in vain for several minutes for something to shoot at, Billy's partner exclaimed:

"Look here, Billy, we'll have to git out'n this mighty quick. The cusses are slipping up on us all around."

"And leave that girl's body here to be torn to pieces by the breech-clouted devils?" remarked Billy; "not much. I'm going to take her with us or die trying."

He meant just what he said, and, regardless of the heavy fire which was opened on him whenever he was exposed to view, he succeeded in lifting the girl's body to the back of the horse she had rode and securing it to the saddle with his lariat. When this was done the two men, with their animals, commenced to retreat rapidly toward Bacanora, stopping only to return the fire of the Apaches, so as to keep them at a respectful distance.

Night set in before they reached the town, but the darkness helped them to make good their escape, and when they arrived at the little place, bringing with them the dead body of the girl, words can hardly describe the excitement and confusion which followed. The presidente of the town called on every able-bodied man, and soon a motley crowd, armed with every conceivable kind of weapon, was organized to go in search of the Apache band.

The next morning a sad procession of several hundred men set out on the trail for Sonora, escorting poor Carolina's remains. Billy was gloomy and despondent all during the journey, and recalling all the events of the dance at the doctor's house he could not help thinking that he was in some way to blame for Carolina's death.

At Sonora he learned the truth. The Indians had suddenly turned about and taken the back trail. They reached the vicinity of Sonora the day Billy left and killed several people close to the town. Carolina heard of the depredations which had been committed, and knowing that the Indians would head for the mountains through which Billy would have to pass on his return, she resolved to ride to Bacanora and warn him of the danger in time to save his life. Hers was a heroic act, but the Indians reached the mountain ahead of her, and she died, as many other women have done, while trying to perform a mission of love.

Billy has never forgotten this tragic event, and while he never loved the girl, whom he only met on the one occasion, yet it would be as much as a man's life is worth to lightly refer to "monkey-face,"

Soon after the Apache war had ended Billy went to Nogales, Arizona, and there became involved in a shooting scrape with a desperate negro, who tried to kill him in a difficulty and had purposely kept him under surveillance for several days. The rumor he had tried in every way to avoid without cause. With his usual good fellow feeling Billy had imagined that the little scout was afraid of him and followed him around with a double-barreled shotgun.

The two met at last in a saloon, and before the negro could raise his gun Billy had drawn his deadly six-shooter and sent a bullet through his heart. The case was so clearly in Billy's favor that he was never arrested or tried.

Billy is now engaged in prospecting and ranching in the mountains of Sonora, not far from the old Cananea mines, but he is often seen on the streets of Nogales and Tombstone, and is a welcome guest wherever he goes.