← Harold's Old Time Radio
Harold's Old Time Radio
The Lone Indian - The Apache Kid
00:12:13
The Lone Indian - The Apache Kid - Aired 1937
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Indian. Another Robert E. Callahan story of Indian Trail as told by the old Trapper now we hear a story of Apache Kid. Well folks, Apache Kid was the most elusive and daring half breed of Indian history. His clever trick on the Apache trail while waiting death is proof of what I tell you. It was in the El Paso bar one night many years ago that Apache Kidd told a half drunken crowd of cow hands that a French outlaw was in town, wicked with a gun and no man had ever beaten him to a draw. But after boasting of what he would do if the count appeared, Apache Kidd left the place. He hardly had departed, however, when a strange man in a black frock coat, patent leather shoes, wearing a monocle and a French goatee entered the bar room and before any cowhand could think, the fellow shouted, monzee. Quartile. Hands up. He said in French, well sir, he had shot a cowboy's hat off with one hand, a seating light out with another, and as all hands went up in the bar, the outlaw leaped behind the money till then he fired three shots as he ran out the back way and the Durin robbery was over before the cow hands knew what had happened. You know, a minute later however, Apache Kid came dashing through the front way and two guns cocked, his eyes roving. Go for the sheriff. He shouted. If the sheriff will loan me his white horse and give me a deputy badge, I'll bring that durned count back within the hour. Well folks, Bill Cook, a sober old ranch owner, hurried out of the saloon and he came back pretty soon with his sheriff, a deputy badge and the white horse. Apache Kid was full of fire when he mounted that white horse and rode away and as victims of the hold up stood around trying to sober up. You know how they do after a shooting scrape. The sheriff went for a rope because he knew the courage of Patrick Kidd. But when morning broke the cowhands were sober and empty handed and the sheriff was waiting. But Apache Kid had not come back. And you know, as time went on, no word came from Apache Kid. A month later, however, a poster came through the mail one day offering 5,000 reward for any outlaw and especially the Outlaw who had robbed a Denver bar and the outlaw who had ridden away on a beautiful white horse. Three weeks later, a man wearing a frock coat, monocle and goatee robbed his stage on the Santa Fe Trail. And when the El Paso sheriff was notified, he sort of concluded the French count had killed Apache Kidd. But another week went by, folks, and the much wanted French outlaw was picked up by Texas Rangers. Yes, sir, and a durned fellow was riding a white horse and he had a deputy badge. But the man was not the much counted outlaw of French nobility. No siree. I guess you know he who he was. He was Apache Kid. Well, sir, en route to jail, Apache Kid laughed and told how in disguise he had robbed the El Paso bar and how by quick change of attire he went around the building to enter the front way while the cowhands were trying to touch the old ceiling with their nervous fingers. But the jig was up. Now, as far as the law went in those days, a sunrise necktie party was in order. Yes, sir, we that durned old Apache Kid would be hung by the cowboys. But do you know, folks, in less than one hour after Apache Kidd had been locked up in some. Some old cardier passed a file into the calaboose. You know, they had calabooses in them days, not jails. Anyway. The calaboose bar was cut and Apache Kid and four of his cronies and two more were on the outlaw tail again. Well, sir, folks, a week went later. Yes, yes, I guess it was a leak. I kind of got excited myself in telling this kind of a story. But the Catcher Kid was arrested and he was handcuffed. And it sure looked like a while, as though his time had come. But while in the hands of another sheriff and while speeding along to the scene of another hold up one day, he waited for an opportune moment when nearing a roadside adobe near El Paso. Yes, sir, he. That's the kind of fellow Apache Kidd was. He called the guard's attention to the adobe and of course the guard looked away. And then, like a cat, the Apache Kidd rose to his feet and shoving the heavy iron handcuff down on the guard's head, knocked him down, knocked him out. He took his gun and belt and then he leaped from the train going 40 miles an hour. I know you may not believe it, but that's what happened. After making his way to the adobe, a friend, of course, filed the handcuffs off. And durn my red skin if old Apache Kid was not on the outlaw trail again. You know, a Lot of folks are still talking about that during the escape of Apache Kidd. But the most cunning trick Apache Kidd ever did was how he cheated Jess while a band of Mojave Indians had him tied to a stake and the women folks were piling firebrush about his body. You see, Apache Kid had stolen the wife of a Mojave chief and the Mojaves were on the war path. He can't blame a fellow for doing that. Well, the law of wife cheating among most any Indian tribe is death. But apparently death didn't mean much to Apache Kid. He had been in a lot of close escapes before. So he turned to the chief of the Mohaves and he made Indian signs which the Mojave chief fully understood. Sir, Chief, he said, do you know I am an eagle child? Yes, sir, an eagle child. The Apache witch. The eyes of the Mohave chief flickered for a moment. He turned to his sub chiefs. Then he hesitated as Apache Kid continued. The day I was born, a white man killed my mother and took my. Five years later, that same white man died. And his wife told me how I was taken from my people. She said I was her boy and I would never go back to the Apaches again. But one night I had a dream. And I saw myself sitting up on a hillside beside an eagle. And the Great Spirit kept telling me, you are an Indian, not a Worrit boy. You are Indian, an Apache. The son of the Apache witch. And back among the patches you must go. So when I awoke, Chief, I knew the Great Spirit had made me dream in order to make me realize what I should do. So that night, while the pale faced women slept, I threw off the blue nightgown she had put on me. I crept out a bit and went up the hillside and I sit down on a rock. Yes, sir, as nude is the day I was born. The moon was full and bright and pretty soon I heard the eagle. Well, sir, you know, it swooped down and with heavy claws about my body it rose and soared away, far, far away. Until I was back in the Apache village, empowered with the evil of an Apache witch. Well, sir, you know, for a moment the Mojave chief tried to figure it out. He became sort of restless and nervous and the hands of the Mojave women were shaking. They had not started the fire which they intended should put Apache Kidd to death. And they were now standing and staring at the half breed outlaw as he continued, ever since the eagle took me back to the Apache village. The Great Spirit will do as I command. Right now, as you are ready to make a fighter kill me. I can give the eagle call and Eagle war dances will be heard and every one of you Mohavers will drop dead. The Eagle call. The eagle call. Also. You know, it is not strange folks to know that white man deception had created a bigger feeling and a better feeling between the Apaches and the Mojaves. The Mojaves had a great love for the Eagle, but they held the Apache witch in great fear. The living spirit of an eagle child and the vivid kidnapping story of Apache Kid threw the Mohawks in a state of fright. Hearing the wrath of the Apache God, they tore the bonfire brush away. They cut the thong which had bound Apache Kid to the death stake. And without stopping to carry blanket or weapon away, the Mohaves disappeared into the mountain forest and Apache Kid was free, soon to be with his cronies and on the outlaw trail again. Well, folks, you know I've been offered a turkey dinner tonight, so I kind of hurried through this story, but I hope you enjoyed the story. And I got some more coming up. One about Sitting Bull, another about the magic cave in the Black Hills of South Dakota, and one about the Delaware Indians in Pennsylvania, and still a good one about the Indian mounds in Ohio. So I hope you will follow me with the stories on Indian trails. And I now say this is the old trapper. As the Indian said, farewell. Yo ho yo.
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