As the two parties neared each other at a gallop, Coronado rode to the front of his squad, waving his sombrero.

An Indian who wore the dress of a Mexican caballero, jacket, loose trousers, hat, and boots, spurred in like manner to the front, gestured to his followers to halt, brought his horse to a walk, and slowly approached the white man.

Coronado made a sign to show that his pistols were in his holsters; and the Apache responded by dropping his lance and slinging his bow over his shoulder.
The two met midway between the two squads of staring, silent horsemen.
"Is it Manga Colorada ?" asked the Mexican, in Spanish.
"Manga Colorada," replied the Apache, his long, dark, haggard, savage face lighting up for a moment with a smile of gratified vanity.
"I come in peace, then," said Coronado.

"I want your help; I will pay for it." In our account of this interview we shall translate the broken Spanish of the Indian into ordinary English.
"Manga Colorada will help," he said, "if the pay is good." Even during this short dialogue the Apaches had with difficulty restrained their curiosity; and their little wiry horses were now caracoling, rearing, and plunging in close proximity to the two speakers.
"We will talk of this by ourselves," said Coronado.

"Let us go to your camp." The conjoint movement of the leaders toward the Indian bivouac was a signal for their followers to mingle and exchange greetings.