Practically all the Apache were assembled in Arizona in 1865, and waged hostilities with renewed energy for the next five years, being joined by the Walapai in 1868. The close of this period found the situation quite as unsettled as ever.

On June 4, 1871, General George Crook was placed in command. Crook was not an exterminator. In the fall of the same year he said:

"I think that the Apache is painted in darker colors than he deserves, and that his villainies arise more from a misconception of facts than from his being worse than other Indians. Living in a country the natural products of which will not support him, he has either to cultivate the soil or steal, and as our vacillating policy satisfies him we are afraid of him, he chooses the latter, also as requiring less labor and being more congenial to his natural instincts. I am satisfied that a sharp, active campaign against him would not only make him one of the best Indians in the country, but it would also save millions of dollars to the Treasury, and the lives of many innocent whites and Indians."

Crook's policy was one of peace, but he made it plain to the Indians that if they did not agree to peace when liberal terms were offered, they could expect a campaign against them hitherto unequalled in vigor. It was thus that by 1873 the Tontos, Coyoteros, and Apache-Mohave were subdued and the backbone of Apache resistance broken.

The Apache-Mohave and the Tontos were placed on a reservation on the Rio Verde; the Coyoteros were taken to the White Mountain district near Fort Apache; the Pinaleños and parts of other bands surrendered and were established at San Carlos; in all, approximately three thousand Apache had been brought under control. About one thousand hostiles yet remained in the mountains, but by 1874 they had become so nearly subjugated as to make it seem advisable to transfer the Arizona reservations from the War Department to the Office of Indian Affairs, which was done. The policy of the Indian Office from the beginning had been to concentrate the various bands upon one reservation at San Carlos. Disaffection arose between different bands until this became a despicable place to nearly all, while continued adherence to the removal policy drove the Chiricahua from their southern Arizona reservation to seek refuge with the Ojo Caliente Apache in southwestern New Mexico, in 1876, although they had been living in comparative peace for four years. In 1877 these Chiricahua and the Ojo Caliente band were forcibly removed to San Carlos, but while en route Victorio and a party of forty warriors made their escape. In September of the same year three hundred more fled from San Carlos and settler after settler was murdered. In February, 1878, Victorio and his notorious band surrendered at Ojo Caliente, but gave notice that they would die fighting before submitting to removal to San Carlos. The major portion of the three hundred Chiricahua who had left San Carlos surrendered at Fort Wingate, New Mexico, shortly before. All these were taken to the Mescalero reservation in New Mexico.

Haunted by the dread of removal to San Carlos, the appearance of a party of Grant County officials at the Mescalero agency on a hunting tour a few months later caused Victorio and his band to flee with a number of Chiricahua and Mescaleros to the mountains of southern New Mexico.

For two years, until he met his death at the hands of Mexican troops in the fall of 1880, Victorio spread carnage throughout the southern portions of Texas, New Mexico, and Arizona, and the northern states of Mexico, enlisting the aid of every willing renegade or refugee of whatever band or tribe in that section. After him Nané, Chato, Juh, Geronimo, and other doughty hostiles carried the fighting and raiding along until June, 1883, when Crook, reassigned to the Arizona district, followed the Chiricahua band under Geronimo into the Sierra Madre in Chihuahua, whence he brought them back whipped and ready to accept offers of peace. The captives were placed upon the San Carlos and White Mountain reservations, where, with the various other Apache bands under military surveillance, and with Crook in control, they took up agriculture with alacrity. But in 1885 Crook's authority was curtailed, and through some cause, never quite clear, Geronimo with many Chiricahua followers again took the warpath. Crook being relieved at his own request, Gen. Nelson A. Miles was assigned the task of finally subduing the Apache, which was consummated by the recapture of Geronimo and his band in the Sierra Madre in September, 1886. These hostiles were taken as prisoners to Florida, later to Alabama, and thence to Fort Sill, Oklahoma, where, numbering 298, they still are, living as farmers in peace and quiet, but still under the control of the military authorities.

One of the last hostile movements of note was the so-called Cibicu fight in 1882. In the spring of that year an old medicine-man, Nabakéltĭ, Attacking The Enemy, better known as Doklínĭ, started a "medicine" craze in the valley of the Cibicu on the White Mountain reservation. He had already a considerable following, and now claimed divine revelation and dictated forms of procedure in bringing the dead to life. As medicine paraphernalia he made sixty large wheels of wood, painted symbolically, and twelve sacred sticks, one of which, in the form of a cross, he designated "chief of sticks." Then with sixty men he commenced his dance.

One morning at dawn Nabakéltĭ went to the grave of a man who had been prominent in the tribe and who had recently died. He and his adherents danced about the grave and then dug up the bones, around which they danced four times in a circle. The dancing occupied the entire morning, and early in the afternoon they went to another grave, where the performance was repeated. In each instance the bones were left exposed; but later four men, specially delegated, went to the graves and erected a brush hut over the remains.

Nabakéltĭ told the people that they must pray each morning for four days, at the end of which time the bleached bones would be found clothed with flesh and alive again. By the end of the second day the Apache band on the Cibicu became excited almost to the degree of frenzy. They watched the little grave-houses constantly and gathered in groups about other graves.

Some of the Apache employed as scouts with the detachment stationed at Fort Apache heard of the craze and obtained leave of absence to investigate. They returned and informed the commanding officer, then acting as agent, that their people were going mad, whereupon a number of scouts and troopers were sent to learn the cause of the trouble and to ask Nabakéltĭ to come to the fort for an interview. Though angered by the message, the old man agreed to come in two days. Meanwhile he had the little brush houses over the bones tightly sealed to keep out preying animals and curious Indians. He then explained to his people that, owing to the interruption by the whites, it was probable that the bones would not come to life at the end of four days, as predicted, but that he would make a new dance later and prove the efficacy of his creed.

Then he started for the fort with his entire band of dancers, sixty-two in number, each with his "sacred medicine"—wheels, sticks, and drums. They journeyed afoot, stopping occasionally to dance, and reached the grounds of the fort late in the afternoon of the second day. On they passed, dancing in a spectacular manner, and camped that night on the flat a little above the fort, where they waited for someone to come over to interview them. The agent did not send for Nabakéltĭ that night, so at daybreak he started up White river with his band, passing by the present agency site, and crossing into Bear Springs valley. Thence they took the trail toward the Cibicu again, reaching the Carrizo in the evening, where they camped for the night and performed another dance. The following morning they took the trail for their home, which they reached rather early in the day.

As soon as the band had reached its destination, another summons was delivered to Nabakéltĭ to appear before the agent at the fort. This time the old man sent back word that he would not come: he had gone once, and if any had wished to see him, they had had their chance.

On receipt of this reply, sixty mounted soldiers, armed and provisioned, were sent over to the Cibicu to put a stop to the dancing. Apache scouts had been stationed to watch the manœuvres of the Indians and to keep the officials informed. They met the troopers, who made a night ride to the stream, and informed them where the old medicine-man was encamped. Early in the morning the soldiers reached the Cibicu at a point about two miles above Nabakéltĭ's camp, whence a detachment was despatched to arrest the medicine-man and bring him to the place where headquarters were being established. It was the intention merely to arrest and hold him while the troops rested for the day, preparatory to taking him back to the fort; but it was deemed necessary to send a force sufficiently large to cope with the Indians should they attempt resistance.

Nabakéltĭ yielded without hesitation to the demands of the soldiers, and forthwith rode up to headquarters. Everything seemed very quiet. There was no demonstration against the soldiers, who stacked their arms and unloaded the pack-trains. The mules were hobbled and turned loose, and the cavalry horses tethered and fed.

While this apparently peaceful condition prevailed, a brother of the medicine-man, angered because of the arrest, dashed into camp on a pony and shot and killed the captain in command. Instantly, hardly realizing whence the shot had come, one of the troopers struck Nabakéltĭ on the head with a cudgel, killing him. Assured that a fight was imminent, the soldiers receded to higher ground, a short distance back, where they hurriedly made preparations for defence.

On learning that Nabakéltĭ had been killed, and deeming the soldiers wholly to blame, a small party of Apache attacked the troopers while retreating to the higher ground. Six of the soldiers were killed, the mules stampeded, and the provisions burned, all within a short space of time. The hostiles made their escape, practically all of them leaving the valley.

The Government probably never lost money faster in an Indian campaign than it did as a result of its interference with Nabakéltĭ's harmless medicine craze. Had he been left alone his inevitable failure, already at hand, to bring the dead to life would have lost him his following, and in all probability his ill-success would have cost his life at the hands of one of his tribesmen. As it was, the hostilities that followed extended over several months, costing many lives and a vast sum of money.

The four sat upon that still cloud for a time as if in reverie, the first to break the silence being he who commenced the creation: "What shall we do next? I do not like this cloud to live upon, but we are to rule and must stay together. How dreary it is here! I wish we had some place to go." And then he set to work again, creating Nacholécho, the Tarantula, who was later to help in completing the earth, and Nôkusé, the Big Dipper, whose duty it would be to befriend and to guide. The creation of Nĭlchídĭlhkĭzn, the Wind, Ndídĭlhkĭzn, the Lightning Maker, and the clouds in the west to house Ndísâgochan, Lightning Rumbler, whom he placed in them at the same time, next occupied his attention. Then turning to Stĕnátlĭhăn, Kútĕrastan said, "Truly this is not a fit place in which to live; let us make the earth." And so saying he at once began to sing, "I am thinking of the earth, the earth, the earth; I am thinking of the earth," which he repeated four times. As he ceased, Stĕnátlĭhăn, Chuganaái, and Hádĭntĭn Skhĭn each shook hands with him. Sweat from their hands adhered to his. He at once began rubbing his palms, when suddenly there slipped from between them a small brown body, no larger than a bean. Kútĕrastan kicked it and it expanded; Stĕnátlĭhăn then kicked it and its size further increased; Chuganaái next gave it a severe blow with his foot and it became larger still; a kick from Hádĭntĭn Skhĭn made it greater yet. Nĭlchídĭlhkĭzn, the Wind, was told to go inside and blow outward in all directions. This he did, greatly expanding the dimensions of that body, now so wide that they could hardly see its edge. The Lightning was next directed to exert his strength, so with a terrific flash and roar he penetrated the body to its centre, spreading it still wider. Then Tarantula was called on to assist, and accordingly he started off to the east, spinning a strong black cord, on which he pulled with all his might; another cord of blue was spun out to the south, a third of yellow to the west, and a fourth of glistening white to the north. A mighty pull on each of these stretched the surface of that dark brown body to almost immeasurable size. Finally Kútĕrastan directed all to cover their eyes with their hands, and when they opened them a moment later they beheld Nigostú̆n, the Earth, complete in extent. No hills or mountains were there in sight, nothing but a smooth, treeless, reddish-brown plain.

Nĭlchídĭlhkĭzn, the Wind, scratched his chest and rubbed his fingers together, when out from between them flew Dátĭlyĕ, the Humming-bird. Dátĭlyĕ was told to make a circuit of the earth and report what he saw. He started off toward the east, circled south, west, north, and back from the east. All was well; the earth was most beautiful, very smooth, and covered with water on the western side.

But the Earth was not still; it kept shifting and rolling and dancing up and down, so Kútĕrastan made four great posts—colored black, blue, yellow, and white—to support it. Then he directed Stĕnátlĭhăn to sing a song. She sang, "The world is made and will soon sit still." These two then stood and faced Chuganaái and Hádĭntĭn Skhĭn, when into their midst came Nĭlchídĭlhkĭzn, who dashed away to the cardinal points with the four posts, which he placed under the sides of the earth; and upon them it sat and was still. This pleased Kútĕrastan, so he sang a song, repeating, "The world is now made and sits still."

Then Kútĕrastan began another song, referring to the sky. None existed as yet, and he felt there ought to be one. Four times he chanted the song, at the end of the fourth time spreading his hands wide before him, when lo! there stood twenty-eight men and women ready to help make a sky to cover the earth. He next chanted a song for the purpose of making chiefs for the sky and the earth, and at its close sent Ndídĭlhkĭzn, the Lightning Maker, to encircle the world. Ndídĭlhkĭzn departed at once, but returned in a short time with three very uncouth persons, two girls and a boy, whom he had found in the sky in a large turquoise bowl. Not one of them had eyes, ears, hair, mouth, nose, or teeth, and though they had arms and legs, they had neither fingers nor toes.

Chuganaái at once sent for Doh, the Fly, to come and erect a kaché̆, or sweat-house. It took but a short time to put up the framework, which Stĕnátlĭhăn covered closely with four heavy clouds: a black cloud on the east, a blue one on the south, a yellow one on the west, and a white one on the north. Out in front of the doorway, at the east, she spread a soft red cloud for a foot-blanket after the sweat. Twelve stones were heated in a fire, and four of them placed in the kaché̆. Kútĕrastan, Stĕnátlĭhăn, Chuganaái, and Hádĭntĭn Skhĭn each inspected the sweat-house and pronounced it well made. The three newcomers were bidden to enter and were followed by Chuganaái, Nĭlchídĭlhkĭzn, Ndídĭlhkĭzn, Nôkusé, and Doh. The eight sang songs as their sweat began. Chuganaái led, singing four songs, and each of the others followed in turn with the same number. They had had a good sweat by the time the songs were finished, so Stĕnátlĭhăn removed the black cloud and all came out. She then placed the three strangers on the red-cloud blanket, and under the direction of Kútĕrastan made for them fingers, toes, mouth, eyes, ears, hair, and nose. Then Kútĕrastan bade them welcome, making the boy, whom he called Yádĭlhkĭh Skhĭn, Sky Boy, chief of the sky and its people. The second he named Nigostú̆n Nalí̆n, Earth Daughter, and placed her in charge of the earth and its crops; while to the third, Hádĭnĭn Nalí̆n, Pollen Girl, was assigned the care of the health of the earth's people. This duty also devolved upon Hádĭntĭn Skhĭn, but each looks more to the welfare of his own sex than to that of the other.

The earth was smooth, flat, and barren, so Kútĕrastan made a few animals, birds, trees, and a hill. Then he sent Ágocho, the Pigeon, to see how the world looked. Four days later Ágocho returned and said all was beautiful, but that in four days more the water on the opposite side would rise and flood the land. Kútĕrastan at once created a piñon tree. This Stĕnátlĭhăn skilfully tended until it grew to be of gigantic size at the end of four days. Then with four great limbs as a framework she made a very large water bottle, tus, covering it with gum from the piñon. When the water appeared as predicted, Kútĕrastan went up on a cloud, taking his twenty-eight helpers with him, while Stĕnátlĭhăn summoned all the others and put them into the tus, into which she climbed last, closing the mouth at the top.

The flood completely submerged the earth for twelve days. Then the waters subsided, leaving the tus on the summit of the hill Kútĕrastan had made. The rush of the waters had changed the once smooth, level plain into series of mountains, hills, rivers, and valleys, so that Stĕnátlĭhăn hardly knew where they were when she opened the tus and came out. Tázhĭ, the Turkey, and Gấgĕ, the Crow, were the first to make a tour of the land. At the base of the hill they descended into a small muddy alkaline creek, in which the Turkey got the tips of his tail-feathers whitened, and they have been white ever since. On return they reported that all looked beautiful as far as they had travelled. Stĕnátlĭhăn then sent Ágocho to make a complete circuit and let her know how things appeared on all sides. He came back much elated, for he had seen trees, grass, mountains, and beautiful lakes and rivers in every direction.

Directing the others to remain where she left them, Stĕnátlĭhăn summoned Hádĭntĭn Skhĭn, Hádĭntĭn Naln, Ndídĭlhkĭzn, and Ágocho, and took them up in a cloud, in which they drifted until they met Kútĕrastan and his band of workers, who had completed the sky during the time of the flood. The two clouds floated to the top of the hill on which stood the tus. All descended to the valley below, where Stĕnátlĭhăn marshalled them into line, that Kútĕrastan might talk to them. He briefly told them that he was going to leave them and wished each one to do his part toward making the world perfect and happy. "You, Ndísâgochan, shall have charge of the clouds and the water. You, Yádĭlhkĭh Skhĭn, I leave in charge of the sky. Nigostú̆n Nalí̆n, you are to look after the crops of our people; and you, Hádĭntĭn Skhĭn, must care for their health and guide them." He then called Stĕnátlĭhăn to him and placed her in charge of all.

The people stood in line facing their god, with hands extended as if in supplication. Kútĕrastan and Stĕnátlĭhăn stood facing each other. Each rubbed their thighs with their hands, then cast their hands downward, and there arose between them a great pile of wood. Stĕnátlĭhăn knelt and slipped a hand under it, and as she did so Kútĕrastan passed his hand over the top. Great white billowy clouds of smoke at once issued forth, rising straight skyward. Into these Kútĕrastan disappeared. All the other gods and goddesses soon followed, leaving the twenty-eight whom Kútĕrastan had made to build the sky to remain upon the earth and people it. Chuganaái went east to travel with the sun; Stĕnátlĭhăn departed westward to make her home in clouds on the horizon, while Hádĭntĭn Skhĭn and Hádĭntí̆n Nalín sought homes among the clouds in the south, and Nôkusé may still be seen in the northern sky at night.

The Apache is inherently devoutly religious; his life is completely moulded by his religious beliefs. From his morning prayer to the rising sun, through the hours, the days, and months—throughout life itself—every act has some religious significance. Animals, elements, every observable thing of the solar system, all natural phenomena, are deified and revered. Like all primitive people, not understanding the laws of nature, the Apache ascribe to the supernatural all things passing their understanding. The medicine-men consider disease evil, hence why try to treat evil with drugs? Disease is of divine origin, so to the beneficent and healing gods the Apache naturally make supplication for cure.

The Apache, even if willing, could not directly impart their religious beliefs or their philosophy. It is only by study of their myths, myth songs, and medicine practices, and by close observance of their life, that a comprehensive idea of such beliefs can be gained.

A concise outline of the mythology of the Apache is given in the following description of the painted medicine skin

This medicine skin was owned by Háshkĕ Ní̆lntĕ and was considered one of the most potent belonging to any of the medicine-men. During the lifetime of Háshkĕ Ní̆lntĕ it was impossible for any white man even to look upon this wonderful "medicine." After reaching extreme age he was killed, presumably by his wife, from whom this valuable and sacred object was procured.

Many of the medicine-men have some knowledge of the medicinal properties of plants and generally make use of them in the treatment of disease, but their treatment consists more of incantation than aught else. Even in collecting the plants they invoke the deities, usually facing the cardinal points in turn. In case the prescription calls for a combination of herbs or other vegetal products, the number four is always strictly adhered to; it might be a decoction made of four roots of one variety or of a single root from each of four varieties of plants.

Every Apache medicine-man has a medicine skin, his ĕpú̆n ezchí, inscribed with the symbolism of the tribal mythology. With his prayer wands he rehearses the symbolic figures, praying to the mythical characters who are regarded as most efficacious in the particular ailment under treatment. In his own little kówa, or dwelling, with the painted deerskin spread before him, on which are delineated the symbolic representations of a score of gods comprising the Apache pantheon, a medicine-man will sit and croon songs and pray all day and all night in the hope of hearing the voices of celestial messengers.

Many of the prayers and songs of the Apache medicine-men are very beautiful. The following is an example:

1 Stĕná pĕhí̆nda nzhóni, tógonĭl ádahĕ bé̆oĭshkan.

2 Inaté̆sh nzhóni bé̆oĭshkan.

3 Ĕnŭdé̆tsos nzhóni bé̆oĭshkan.

4 Ĭnyátĭl nzhóni bé̆oĭshkan.

5 Bé̆hnandahĭ ĭnkéhĭ tógonĭl ádahĕ bé̆oĭshkan.

6 Ĭndú̆h bĭnandáhĕ bé̆oĭshkan.

7 Bĕh nashálolĕzh ndĕ; nashéyo shĭchí̃sĭgon zhóndolĕzh.

8 Ndĕ shĭnklóho bĕh sanandáhĕ bé̆oĭshkan.

9 Bĕh sanashádo bé̆oĭshkan.

10 No oskóngo adĭshní daházhĭ bĕhnashádo ti ndĕ ta nashéyo gonzhódo.

11 Shágocho paógo násha.

12 Akúd ndĕ sa nzhóni yé̆sĭtchĭ yé̆atido.

13 Pídi yú̆gga sa nzhóni yé̆kĭssĭn shí̃dĭl é̆ndo.

14 Shĭtú̆h gozhóndolĕzh pógo hádĭshndi.