It was reported that the audacious and savage Apache chieftain, Manga
Colorada, or Red Sleeve, under pretence of wanting to make a treaty with
the Americans, had approached within sixty miles of Santa Fé to the west,
and camped there, on the route to the San Juan country, not making
treaties at all, but simply making hot beefsteaks out of Mexican cattle
and cold carcasses out of Mexican rancheros.

"We shall have to get those fellows off that trail and put them across the
Bernalillo route," said Coronado to Garcia.

"The pigs! the dogs! the wicked beasts! the devils!" barked the old man,
dancing about the room in a rage. After a while he dropped breathless into
a chair and looked eagerly at his nephew for help.

"It will cost at least another thousand," observed the younger man.

"You have had two thousand," shuddered Garcia. "You were to do the whole
accursed job with that."

"I did not count on Manga Colorada. Besides, I have given a thousand to
our little cousin. I must keep a thousand to meet the chances that may
come. There are men to be bribed."

Garcia groaned, hesitated, decided, went to some hoard which he had put
aside for great needs, counted out a hundred American eagles, toyed with
them, wept over them, and brought them to Coronado.

"Will that do?" he asked. "It must do. There is no more."