Haskay-bay-nay-natyl

                                                ("the tall man destined to come to a mysterious end")

                                         Apache Kid Begins Bloody Career.

                                             To Read more on Apache Kid Click Here

“I have said that the surrender of Geronimo terminated the many years of bloody warfare with the Apaches as a tribe, but the Indian tribes may, and do, have outlaws in their own tribe, outlaws for whom as a tribe they are in no way responsible, and for whose acts the individual and not the tribe should alone be held amenable. Even the white tribe is not altogether immune from this infliction. In this class, among others, was the "Apache Kid", who, following the surrender of Geronimo, with a few lawless followers made independent warfare on isolated, helpless settlers, leaving the footprints of his bloody work wherever he went. The Kid, sometimes called the Apache Kid, and at others simply Kid, was an Apache scout occupying the position of sergeant under Al Sieber, chief of scouts. On June 1, 1887, the Kid shot Sieber on the San Carlos reservation, wounding but not killing him, and this marks the beginning of Kid's series of bloody crimes. Immediately following the shooting of  Sieber, Kid, his squaw and sixteen other Indians, left the reservation.

An interesting old-time scout is Captain John D. Burgess, who came to Arizona in 1873 to look after some mining interests for General Kautz and Colonel Biddle of the army, subsequently becoming a guide and scout for the government, and in 1882 was chief of Indian police at San Carlos. At the time the Kid started out on his career, Captain Burgess was working some mines of his own at Table Mountain, in the Galiura mountains. The officer in command of the troops sent out from San Carlos in pursuit of the Kid and his followers, knowing Burgess, immediately secured his services as guide and trailer. Following the Kid and his band, they trailed them through to Pantano, where they had crossed the railroad, and going up Davidson's canyon, and passing E. L. Vail's ranch had accommodated themselves to a bunch of his horses. Passing down the east side of the Santa Ritas, they killed Mike Grace, an old miner, near old Camp Crittenden. Here Captain Lawton, with a troop of the 4th Cavalry, heading them off and forcing them to turn back, they passed by Mountain Springs, near the present Vail station, and were run over the Rincon mountains, where they were so closely pursued that while in camp they lost all the horses they had stolen. They now headed for the reservation, which they succeeded in reaching before Lieutenant Carter Johnson, who was immediately behind, could over take them, and here they surrendered, and in due course were tried and sent first to San Diego barracks, passing through Tucson on September 3rd, and subsequently, in February, 1888, were transferred to Fort Alcatraz, in the bay of San Francisco. Subsequently, the United States Supreme Court, having decided that the trial of an Indian devolved on the county in which the crime was committed, ordered that all Indians sentenced by other than the territorial courts should be returned to the Territory and tried by such courts. Under this order the Kid and several others were returned and tried by Judge Kibbey, at Globe, and on October 30, 1889, sentenced to imprisonment at Yuma, and were being taken there by Sheriff Reynolds and his Deputy, "Hunky-Dory" Holmes. They were being conveyed by stage over the Final mountains, via Riverside and Florence. In the stage were Reynolds, Holmes, a Mexican who was also being taken to Yuma, the Kid and seven other Indians, and Eugene Middleton the driver of the stage, making twelve in all.

Killing of Sheriff and Deputy and Escape of Kid

The Indians were handcuffed together, two and two, and had shackles on their ankles. They stopped over night at Riverside, about half way between Globe and Florence. Leaving Riverside early on the morning of November 2nd, while passing up a heavy sand wash, the pulling being quite heavy, in order to relieve the team, the two officers and six of the Indians got out to walk, the Indians probably having had their shackles loosened from at least one ankle to enable them to do so; the Kid and one of the Indians still remaining in the stage. Suddenly the six Indians that were walking seized the two officers, whom they overpowered and killed with their own guns. As soon as Middleton discovered what was taking place, drawing his own revolver and covering the Kid and the other Indian still in the stage, he ke'pt them quiet until, on standing up to look back, he was shot through the face by one of the other Indians. In the meantime the Mexican, taking advantage of the opportunity, escaped. Middleton, although badly wounded, was not killed ; the Indians, however, evidently thought he was dead. He was, however, sufficiently conscious to realize what was taking place and avoided disabusing their minds of their belief, and in due course was rescued and taken to Globe, where he finally fully recovered.

"Walapai" Clark and the Kid

One of our early frontier characters was E. A. Clark, familiarly known as "Walapai", having gained the title years ago when in the government service as chief of the Hualapai scouts. Clark was a giant in stature, measuring six feet three, absolutely fearless and in those olden times epually tireless. Coming to the Territory in '69, his life and experiences here would fill a volume of intensely interesting reading, but in this limited article I can mention only a few of his closing Indian experiences, the culminating one the one of the greatest service to the Territory resulting in the death of that outlaw and terror of the border, this same Apache Kid. Clark's first experience with the Kid was on June 3, 1887, two days after his shooting of Al  Sieber. At the time, Clark was living at his ranch, the Oak Grove, in the Galiura mountains, about twelve miles east of the San Pedro river, but was absent, his two partners, John Scanlan and William Diehl, being at home. The Kid and his followers coming across the country from San Carlos, stole fifteen horses from William Atchley, then came on to Clark's place, three miles further on. At the time, Diehl was about 150 yards from the house, cutting some poles for a corral, when Scanlan, who was in the house, heard three shots, and, seizing his gun, ran out, and as he did so saw three Indians coming towards the house, and firing at them, they immediately sought shelter. When Scanlan fired at the Indians one of them lost a big sombrero which he was wearing, and which, probably very much to his regret, he was unable to recover. They then rounded up a number of Scanlan's horses, not far away, and seemingly tried to get Scanlan to come out to protect his horses, and thus enable them to get a shot at him; but being unable to do this, they left, taking the horses with them. As soon as they had  gone, Scanlan went to where Diehl was and found him dead, the Indians having shot him.

Clark, returning home a day or two later and finding his partner dead, vowed vengeance on the Kid, and this, several years later, he found opportunity to gratify. A few months later, Clark and Scanlan having occasion to be away, left a young engineer, J. A. Mercer, at the house, with a caution to be on the lookout for the Indians. Soon

after, Mercer discovered three of them crawling up towards the house, but was in time to seize a rifle and fire at them, and as he did so they broke and ran. However, they took five of Clark's horses in exchange for three of their own, which they killed before leaving. For several years Clark impatiently bided his time. To him the mills of the gods were, indeed, grinding slowly, but they were grinding, and the time was approaching when the grist should be delivered. In the meantime the Kid was continuing to lengthen his trail of blood. Now here, now there, the wily outlaw was ever at his work.

            The opportunity that 'Clark has been waiting all these years is nigh at hand. The Apache Kid's race is about run. Clark had been away from home, and when returning, on February 4, 1894, passing by the house of Emmerson, a neighbor, about a mile from his own home, he noticed the tracks of three Indians about the house, and going inside, found they had robbed it of its contents. Going on home, he found his partner, Scanlan, whom the Indians had not disturbed, and said to him, "Scanlan, your old friend the Kid has been around again".

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. Clark had been there for probably twenty minutes, when, looking off across an intervening canyon, he noticed three Indians approaching his horse where it was grazing, about 1500 yards away. The Indians not having discovered Clark, who, knowing it would be impossible to get across the canyon in time to save his horse, raised the sights of his gun, and fired at them, not expecting, however, to hit any one of them at that distance, but hoping to frighten them away from his horse. On firing, Clark immediately ducked into the canyon, out of sight of the Indians, who were evidently frightened by the shot. Waiting there until dusk, he cautiously crawled towards his horse for the purpose or taking him to the house, and was within about seventy-five yards of him, it being too dark to see an object distinctly at any distance, when he saw two Indians approaching the horse, and only a few steps from the animal and about 50 yards from where Clark was. Owing to the darkness it was impossible to more than distinguish the two Indians, who were but a few feet apart, one ahead of the other. These were sub-sesequently found to be the Kid and his squaw, the squaw in front and nearest to Clark, but owing to the darkness it was impossible to distinguish one from the other. Clark instantly raised his gun and fired at the one nearest to him, but, being unable to see the sights, could only take a quick aim along the barrel. By his long experience with a gun he knew the danger of overshooting in the dark, and made allowance accordingly. As Clark fired there came a simultaneous report from the Kid's rifle and an outcry from the squaw, and from the character of this outcry, Clark knew that he had made the mistake of firing at the wrong Indian. The ball from the Kid's gun whistled alarmingly close to Clark's head, but fortunately did no harm. Following the shots, the two Indians immediately dropped to the ground, and as fast as the old scout could work his rifle he "pumped the lead" into where they had dropped, firing several shots. The Indian, however, fired but the one shot. Clark then made a run for his horse, but the animal being frightened, he was unable to catch him. Not knowing how many of the Indians there might be about, Clark immediately set out for Mammoth, on the San Pedro, where he procured a small posse, and was back at the scene of the shooting by morning, finding the squaw dead a short distance from where she had been shot. Following the Kid's trail, they found that he had hopped on one foot to where he had left his horse, one of his legs evidently being broken. Scouts from San Carlos, following his trail, found some bloody rags where he had built a little fire, and probably dressed his wounds.

      Thus ended the murderous career of the Kid, the terror of the Southwest.Clark had undoubtedly hit him with one or more of his shots. Where or how soon after he may have died, no white man knows, Clark being the last one to see him, as the two shots simultaneously rang out on the silence of that night. 'Had it been the Kid instead of the squaw, Clark would have earned the large reward that was offered for him dead or alive. Tom Horn, an old scout, who spoke the Apache language like a native, came from Denver subsequently, hoping that by some chance the Kid might still be living somewhere and that he might earn the reward. The mother and the sister, however, both assured him that the Kid was dead, but beyond this would say nothing.

                        This narrative is taken from ‘The Dread Apache That Early-Day Scourge of the Southwest ;By DR. M. P. FREEMAN Tucson, Arizona November 14,1915.”

The Apache kid grew up in Globe Arizona, the son of Togo-de-Chuz, he was born in the  1860’s, some say in New Mexico. Others say Arizona. Though Clark may have wounded the Apache Kid, as erroneous as the reports of his life and death, we may never know the real demise of the Kid.  For years many sought the Apache Kid, hoping perhaps to reap the reward the government had placed upon his capture, dead or alive.

Below is a copy of an article ran in the Arizona Weekly Journal-Miner, 02 28, 1894.

Hualpai Clark who recently shot and killed the squaw belonging to the renegade Apache Kid, thinks he wounded the latter also. In speaking of his encounter to the Tucson Citizen. He said; “I am of the opinion the kid is not in the reservation. That is the last place he would be now. Kid is wounded, how badly I can’t say, but he is surely wounded. In the first place we found blood where he had thrown out his shells. Farther on we found where he got off his horse and there was only the track of his right foot. There was no track of his left foot anywhere. We found rags, too, that had been torn up

And  used as bandages. “ I think kid is either in the Galliura mountains, or in Mexico--- Probably in the  Galliura’s. He is probably with the gang of Chiricahuas  We followed his trail in there to where we found the track of a boy about six years old, who was of that party I think. The track was of a little moccasin. We lost the trail of the Kid in that big snow storm some time ago.”