I will come back from Mexico with all my warriors, if you will escort me with soldiers and protect my people." "All right," says the General, being only too glad to get him back at all.
So, then, in ten minutes there wouldn't be a buck in camp, but next morning they shows up again, each with about fifty head of hosses.
"Where'd you get those hosses ?" asks the General, suspicious.
"Had 'em pastured in the hills," answers Geronimo.
"I can't take all those hosses with me; I believe they're stolen!" says the General.
"My people cannot go without their hosses," says Geronimo.
So, across the line they goes, and back to the reservation.

In about a week there's fifty-two frantic Greasers wanting to know where's their hosses.

The army is nothing but an importer of stolen stock, and knows it, and can't help it.
Well, as I says, I'm between Camp Apache and the Mexican line, so that every raiding party goes right on past me.

The point is that I'm a thousand feet or so above the valley, and the renegades is in such a devil of a hurry about that time that they never stop to climb up and collect me.

Often I've watched them trailing down the valley in a cloud of dust.