Page:The Pima Indians.pdf/44

] bloom of cacti further transformed them into gardens. "Our people worshiped the gods in grateful recognition for their protection; we danced unmolested by the murderous Apaches; we looked after the welfare of our households."

Gila Crossing, Salt River. One summer afternoon when only women and old men were at home, the Apaches came and killed two Pimas, a man who was irrigating his field and a boy who was hunting doves. That morning the younger men of the village of Rsânûk had planned to have a rabbit hunt toward the north, but when the crier gave the final announcement it was to hunt toward the south. Thus it was that one side of the village had been left unprotected, and when the fighting men returned it was too late to follow the raiders and the revenge was postponed.

Salt River. At the beginning of this year the fruit of the giant cactus was gathered and a large quantity of liquor prepared from it. All the men became intoxicated—too drunk to be on their guard against an attack from the Apaches. Early in the morning a woman started toward the hills to gather cactus fruit. She had not gone far when she saw a man mount a horse and start toward her. She suspected danger and walked backward for some distance before turning to flee. She got halfway to the village before she was overtaken by the Apache, with whom she struggled so desperately as to raise a cloud of dust. Those who were somewhat sober hastened toward the place, but too late to rescue the woman from being roped and dragged to death. However, they overtook the party of Apaches and killed five of them. Upon examining the dead Apaches it was found that their bodies were protected with rawhide armor; then the Pimas understood why their arrows had glanced off or jumped back.

Gila Crossing, Salt River. A year passed without a visit from the marauding Apaches, "We tilled our fields, danced our war dances, sang songs, kept up target practice, and exercised in the use of the shield."

Gila Crossing, Salt River. One cold night in the spring a Pima at Rsoʼtûk was irrigating his wheat field by moonlight. Without thought of enemies he built a fire to warm himself. This the Apaches saw and came about him in the thicket. Hearing the twigs cracking under their feet, he ran to the village and gave the alarm. The Pimas gathered in sufficient numbers to surround the Apaches, who attempted to reach the hills on their horses. Two horses stumbled into a gully, and their riders were killed before they could extricate