I was born in No-doyohn Canon, Arizona, June, 1829. In that country which lies around the head waters of the Gila River Iwas reared. This range was our fatherland; among these mountainsour wigwams were hidden; the scattered valleys contained our fields;the boundless prairies, stretching away on every side, were ourpastures; the rocky caverns were our burying places. I was fourth in a family of eight children-- four boys and four girls. Ofthat family, only myself, my brother, Porico, and my sister,Nah-da-ste , are yet alive. We are held as prisoners of war in thisMilitary Reservation (Fort Sill). As a babe I rolled on the dirt floor of my father's tepee, hung in mytsoch (Apache name for cradle) at my mother's back, or suspendedfrom the bough of a tree. I was warmed by the sun, rocked by thewinds, and sheltered by the trees as other Indian babes. When a child my mother taught me the legends of our people; taughtme of the sun and sky, the moon and stars, the clouds and storms.She also taught me to kneel and pray to Usen for strength, health,wisdom, and protection. We never prayed against any person, but ifwe had faught against any individual we ourselves took vengeance.We were taught that Usen does not care for the petty quarrels of men. My father had often told me of the brave deeds of our warriors, of thepleasures of the chase, and the glories of the war path. With my brothers and sisters I played about my father's home.Sometimes we played at hide-and-seek among the rocks and pines;sometimes we loitered in the shade of the cottonwood trees or soughtthe shudock (a kind of wild cherry) while our parents worked in thefield. Sometimes we played that we were warriors. We would practicestealing upon some object that represented an enemy, and in ourchildish imitation often perform the feats of war. Sometimes we wouldhide away from our mother to see if she could find us, and often whenthus concealed go to sleep and perhaps remain hidden for ma...
