Summary

Merrill Pingree Freeman The dread Apache: That early-day scourge of the Southwest (1915)

Soon after, Clark, taking his gun, went out of the house for the purpose of “scouting the country around” and seeing whether he might get sight of the Indians. Going to the top of a peak near by, where he could overlook the surrounding country without unduly exposing himself, he awaited events, not realizing what an approaching one should mean to himself, and to an old enemy on whom he had vowed vengeance for the death of his old-time partner, and that this event would mark an era in a life ever filled with its dangers, not one of which had ever been shirked, but always bravely met.
Source: Gutenberg

Merrill Pingree Freeman The dread Apache: That early-day scourge of the Southwest (1915)

For many years the relentless foe of the pioneer, wary, tireless, cowardly and treacherous, he was the very incarnation of fiendishness, if possible, more pronounced in the squaw than in the man. Never meeting you in the open, always in ambush, concealed behind the big granite boulder, the point of a hill or a clump of brush, he and his fellows patiently awaited your solitary coming, all unconscious of danger, then—the crack of the rifle and it is all over.
Source: Gutenberg

Merrill Pingree Freeman The dread Apache: That early-day scourge of the Southwest (1915)

Johnny was sinking a well on his ranch, some distance from the house, and had just ridden to where his two men were at work, one in the well and the other on top. Suddenly a number of Indians came in sight, approaching the well. Recognizing them as Apaches, he naturally assumed them to be the Kid and some of his followers, and obeying the instinct of human nature, that of self-preservation, cried out, “Here comes the Kid!” quickly mounted his horse and started to escape.
Source: Gutenberg

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