In the spring of 1874 the Texas Legislature, then in session at Austin, passed an act authorizing the formation of a battalion of Rangers for service on the frontier as rapidly as they could be organized, to prevent Indian raids which were frequent occurrences, usually every light of the moon. This battalion was composed of six companies, 75 men to the company, rank and file. Major John B. Jones was appointed by Richard Coke, governor of Texas, to command these troops. Major Jones had seen much service in the army of Northern Virginia during the Civil War. Captain C. R. Perry was also appointed by Governor Coke to a command one of the companies. He was a man who had seen much frontier service. He was living at that time in Blanco county. He had served under General Sam Houston as a courier when he was only fourteen years old, and was at the Battle of San Jacinto. For years he was in continuous service on the frontier of Texas.

At the time of the organization of this Battalion I was residing at Blanco and being acquainted with Captain Perry, I took steps to at once enlist in his company, which was organized in the town of Blanco. On May 25th, 1874, we were mustered into service at the courthouse door by W. S. Callahan, then justice of the peace.

Major Jones had six men detailed from each company to travel with him as an escort. Myself and five others were detailed from Captain Perry's company for this escort service. These six companies were stretched from the Nueces River on the South to the Red river on the north, embracing something over 600 miles of entirely unsettled country. Major Jones' object seemed to be to place these companies 100 miles apart along the frontier. However, these locations were necessarily selected with a view of abundance of grass and water for our horses.

My company was pushed rapidly forward to Menard county, almost due west from our first encampment. The first company south of us was Caldwell's company, to which we went when Major Jones came up. His object was to receive from this company the escort of six and to place Caldwell's company where he thought it could be of most service. Then we traveled north oververy rough rugged country, typical of the Texas frontier, to Perry's company, placing it in Menard county. We went on north, practically another hundred miles to Maltby's company. After placing this company and selecting the escort detail, we again pushed north to the next company, which was Captain Waller's. After the usual procedure of placing this company and selecting the escorts, we continued north to Captain Stevens' company. On our arrival on the evening of July 11, we found almost the entire company out on scout duty. We turned in and camped near this company. While at breakfast the next morning, about sunrise, runners came to our camp bringing the news that Indians were in the country, a large trail having been struck, leading toward the settlement in Cook county. As soon as we could finish breakfast the command was ordered to "saddle up." Taking a portion of his escort, and a part of Captain Stevens' company commanded by Lieutenant Wilson, the others being left to take care of the camp, Major Jones pushed rapidly forward with the guides to strike the trail. Of the combined forces we had probably twenty-five men. For several miles we traveled at a brisk canter until we came to the trail—and a very large trail it was—leading towards the settled country. We put in on the trail at the brisk rate we had been riding, and had no difficulty in following it.For miles and miles we followed it. Occasionally we came to small water holes where we saw moccasin tracks where the Indians had jumped from their ponies to get water; also we found frequently pieces of charred beef about the size of a man's fist. On and on we went, finally coming to the wagon road which ran from Jacksboro or Fort Richardson to Fort Griffin on the Clear Fork of the Brazos river. These two forts were both United States government outposts. At Fort Richardson were stationed what we Texans called the ‘buffalo soldiers"—U. S. negro troops. This road was the main thoroughfare over which all government freight and civilian supplies destined for the west was hauled in immense Chihuahua wagons pulled by from fifteen to twenty mules, driven four abreast. The teamsters who handled these freight teams were all of the hardy frontier type, and were almost generally Mexicans.

As we crossed the road mentioned above, near it we saw a wooden monument which had been erected by some civilians, doubtless cattlemen, in memory of a number of teamsters who sometime previously had been massacred by Indians led by old Big Tree and Satanta, who were on a raid at that time. The Indians far outnumbered the teamsters, about fifteen, and quickly rounded them up. After looting the wagons the trace chins were taken off the mules and the teamsters tied to the wagon wheels and everything set on fire. The entire outfit was burned up, and the charred remains of the unfortunate teamsters were gathered up by civilians and buried.

We continued following the trail until we reached the timbered country. Then going on, the trail led up to a high hill, and it seemed so fresh that the dust raised by the Indians was actually in circulation. As we pushed on this hot trail, leading towards the valley, our men became much scattered, every one trying to find the trail himself, as the Indians had scattered in different directions, making many trails. I, like the rest of the escort, got scattered too, hunting the trail "on my own hook," along the edge of the timber. The command passed on ahead of me towards Lost Valley. As I came out of the timber on the edge of the valley I had my first real sight of the Indians. I Was very much astonished and reined up my horse and sat looking at them. They were in such great numbers it was difficult for me to believe they were redskins. I thought for a few moments that it was a large body of cowmen on a scout to apprehend the Indians. As they were coming in my direction, when they came nearer, I could see their lances and I realized positively that they were Indians, and there were approximately 300 of them. It was then I threw my gun in their direction and fired, more as a warning to our boys far below me in the valley. As soon as I did this the Indians saw me and came rushing toward me with yells and wild shooting. I started, keeping on the edge of the timber for some distance, in the direction I supposed the command to be. When I came out into the valley the real race began, the Indians riding like the devil, shooting every jump and yelling like demons. I threw myself forward in my saddle, resting my head on my horse's neck, one hand clutching his mane, the other swung back over the cantle of the saddle and holding my "45." To say that I was very much frightened would he putting it mildly, but truly I was more frightened for my horse than for myself, well knowing that if he went down what would become of me. I had made up my mind to take as many of the redskins with me as I could to the "happy hunting grounds" when I went. The chase covered about a mile before I reached Major Jones and what of the outfit he had assembled, which consisted of not more than half a dozen men. The major was sitting on his horse calmly facing the direction from which the Indians and I were coming, placing his men in some kind of formation as they came up, which they were now doing from every direction. When I reached them they were formed up to the right or left with instructions not to "bunch”. There were not over eighteen or twenty of us present when we opened fire on the Indians who had begun to ride in a circle around us which was their favorite system of fighting. We soon pushed them back toward the timbered hills, and retook position in a large mesquite flat or valley, known as Lost Valley. A small stream which ran there was known as Salt Creek. The Indians continued to fall brick as we advanced, keeping up a steady fire. Passing through a belt of timber, the Indians took position on a couple of rock-capped hills which were very close together, and which afforded almost complete protection. We advanced to near the foot of the hills and when Major Jones saw the position of the enemy, he ordered us to fall back. Here is where we lost our first man. We were to take position in a narrow skirt of timber running parallel with the Reds' position, with instructions to dismount, hitch our horses and occupy a dry ravine running along the edge of this timber. This ravine was about a hundred yards long and four or five feet in depth, naturally affording us considerable protection. As we turned to fall back, the Indians followed, yelling and shooting at every jump. To me the situation looked very bad, as though we were going to be swamped. When we dismounted and left our horses and scrambled into the ravine we were fighting with our six-shooters, as action was much too rapid for our carbines which carried no magazines but were loaded from our belts. Major Jones called for volunteers to go out and bring in our wounded man, who was crawling towards us and calling piteously for us to not allow him to fall in the hands of the Indians. Three men went out for him under a very heavy fire from both sides and brought him to the ravine. This rescue party was in as great danger from our men as they were from the savages. With the exception of Major Jones, none of our men had ever been under fire before. They, like myself, were little more than beardless youths, and very naturally a great deal of promiscuous shooting ensued. The confusion and noise by this time was tremendous. Major Jones was the only man in the command who did not go into the ravine. He was constantly walking up and down behind the line and encouraging us as much as possible. I noticed him and became very much concerned. At one time he leaned against a post oak tree directly behind me, while the Indians' bullets were cutting the limbs off the trees all around like a mowing machine. I remarked to him that I thought he was exposing himself unnecessarily, but he said he thought not, simply saying somebody had to be outside to observe the enemy actions. I was afraid he would be killed there, fully realizing that he was the only one holding us in the ravine, and that if he went down we couldn't hold fifteen minutes. Occasionally he would say, "Steady, Boys," or "fire low," or tend strictly to business and all the Indians there can't pull us out of this ravine." Owing to the great din and confusion it was almost impossible to hear us speak. About this time the Major doubtless realizing our condition, concluded to try to get a dispatch through to the commander at Fort Richardson requesting immediate aid.

Along late in the afternoon, after we had been in action several hours, the thirst among our men became terrible. I think there is nothing to equal the thirst created from inhaling the explosion of fresh gunpowder. Two of the boys gathered up all the canteens they could get and started to Salt Creek for water. It was positively against orders, but go they would. Our thirst was so great our tongues were swollen in our mouths. We had but little water since early morning. One of my comrades, a boy about eighteen years old, fighting nearest me, threw aside his gun and with his Bowie knife dug a hole in the sand almost an arm's depth. Out of this he would gather handfuls of moist sand and cram it into his mouth, which was now swollen out of all proportions, and his eyes bulged from his head like balls of fire. Although he could scarcely articulate he was alternately praying and "cussing."

We could see those boys, mounted, when they reached the creek, which was about a half a mile distant. One of them sat on his horse while the other filled the canteens. The firing in our front began to slacken, the Indians evidently drawing off for the purpose of getting water. We could not see where they were going owing to the heavy timber, but they were drawing around the creek, unobserved by us. We could still see our mounted boy by the side of the creek, and endeavored by shooting to attract his attention. Finally we saw him wheel suddenly and attempt to get back to our ravine. His mount was one of the swiftest and I believe had he detoured instead of coming direct all would have been well. However, by his time fully twenty-five Indians were in pursuit shooting at him and his flying horse. Suddenly his horse stopped and we saw the Indians crowding around him. The boy filling the canteens jumped into the creek as soon as his comrade rode off. He continued walking down the creek up to his neck in water, for several miles when he came upon another one of our boys who had been shot seriously in one of his arms earlier in the day. The wounded boy had made a rude tourniquet of his handkerchief and got into the creek up to his neck to aid in staunching the blood as well as for protection from the Indians. These two boys were members of Captain Stevens' detachment and were thoroughly familiar with the country. Eventually they made their way to a ranch house some twelve miles away, where we found them on our arrival the following morning.

About sundown the Indians having withdrawn, Major Jones ordered us to move. With us there were a few other boys well acquainted with that part of the country, and after rounding up two or three Indian ponies, we strapped our dead man on one and a badly wounded man on the other, and horseless and almost naked we set out. Our entire outfit of horses had been killed or wounded, except three or four. These we packed with saddles and equipment. The entire outfit was afoot. It would be difficult indeed to picture a more forlorn and desperate looking crew than we appeared as we silently filed down through that post oak timber. We kept to the timber to prevent the Indians from knowing we had left our position. As we made our way to the nearest ranch, twelve miles distant, we came to some small pools of stagnant water covered with about six inches of green scum and mud about two feet deep. The boys ran into these pools like thirst-maddened cattle, scooped the vile stuff with their hands and drank it, sometimes almost too thick with mud and scum to swallow. After having streamed this filth from their mouths down, together with their almost naked smoke-blackend bodies, they were hardly recognizable as white folks, resembling more, mudcats. It was in this condition, toward morning, we reached the ranch. Our first object was to attempt to find something to eat, in some shape or another, which we soon succeeded in doing. Immediately afterwards we buried our dead comrade on the ranch, and then laid down to get a little much needed rest. Early in the morning our courier returned with the relay of U.S. cavalry from Fort Richardson. As it was still very dark both commands remained at the ranch until daylight, when we started back to where the fight had occurred. Major Jones' plan in going back was to get on the main trail leading west out of the settled country. So we rode back and once more viewed the grounds over which we had fought the day. before. In going over those positions we came to the body of the boy who had been killed while riding back from the creek where he had gone for water. Poor fellow! There was little of him left. His clothing was all gone and his body was terribly mutilated. He had been lanced and cut with Bowie knives until it was with difficulty one could recognize the remains as being those of a human. Even his head had been taken entirely away. It was a sandy location where he lay, and we dug a grave with our Bowie knives and drinking cups and wrapping the body in a blanket we laid it away in the shallow grave. We then resumed our efforts to find the main trail of the Indians, as we were very anxious to get those troops on it but the surrounding country was so cut up with so many trails, all leading in different directions that, we found it impossible. This was one of their favorite methods after an attack being to scatter in all directions, traveling possibly for miles paralleling each other but finally all trails converging at a given point previously agreed upon, perhaps some twenty-five miles distant. We scouted for the greater part of the day trying to locate this trail for the black troops but with no success whatever.

During the day of action there was two objects which attracted my attention particularly and which I remember very forcibly. They were two large trees standing out in advance of their position a hundred yards or more. They were possibly two feet in diameter. From behind them during the greater part of the action then was a continuous fire. Next day while we were going over the battleground I rode up to the trees and saw from 250 to 300 empty cartridges still laying at the base of each tree. Many was the time, the day previous I took a shot at the redskins behind those trees, but as far as I know, without result, the trees being so large there was practically none of the redskins exposed.

Finally the black troops went on back to their fort, and we collected the rest of our command, composed of the remainder of Major Jones' escort left in camp July 12th, which included the quartermaster's outfit and traveled on to Jacksboro. Our main purpose now was to refit our boys with horses, which we did on reaching Jacksboro. This having been accomplished we again started north, camping the first night at the Buffalo Springs, some distance from Jacksboro. I remember this place very well from the fact that we had a stampede of our horses there. We thought at first the Indians were passing through, and as we came rolling out of our blanket, we expected to see the reds on the run, and to hear their yells once more and see the fireworks. But nothing of the kind occurred. Almost all of our horses were gone, only four being left for us to mount and hunt up the others. We never knew just what caused the stampede, but thought very probably it was a wolf running through our camp. It took us the greater part of the following day to round up our horses, some being miles away when found. At one point, fifteen miles from our camp we came upon a dozen of them. In their desperate efforts to escape during the stampede, these horses had uprooted saplings as large as a man's thigh, to which they had been tethered and when we found them their rope ends were so entwined that these twelve were completely tied together.

Once more we proceeded north to the last company, commanded by Captain lkard, which was stationed on the Pease River. On our arrival we changed the location of this camp, and after remaining some time there, we started back, down the line, south. In conclusion: We would all like to know the Indian casualties of battle, but when Indians are left in possession of the ground over which any fighting has taken place, they invariably carry away all of their dead and wounded. This is a custom from which they never deviate. Our boys, as before stated, were raw and unaccustomed to any fighting, and as might be expected, there had been a great amount of wild and reckless shooting. The same, however, seems to have been the case with the Indians. Their fire was always too high—and well for us it was, too.

The Indians, as we afterwards learned, were commanded by Lone Wolf, the great Kiowa chief from the Nation. His braves were also from there. Major Jones estimated their number at 300, and all a picked war party. There was no doubt but that these Indians were from the reservation, as all blankets we captured—and there were many—along the line of our company which was 300 miles south of this point, were all stamped in the center with I D (Indian Department), conclusive proof that these were Indians to whom our government had issued blankets.

We rangers, as well as Indians, fought under the black flag. We asked no quarter and gave none. Whenever we met it was simply a case of outfight or outrun 'em, whichever could be done the best. Ours invariably turned out one way— we outfought 'em. When we fell into their hands they scalped us and frightfully mutilated our bodies, frequently cutting and hacking us to pieces. We didn't do as bad as that but scalped them just the same. Indian scalps in ranger camps were as common as pony tracks, whole scalps hanging from trees with hair sometimes three feet long. Some of our boys would have their bridle reins and browbands plumed with them, the long hair on the reins, standing erect when being held high by the rider, and making what the rangers considered a pleasing sight. My own horse wore a browband trimmed in Indian hair cut straight across like a girl's bangs.

I believe I can safely say our command (Captain Perry's), being stationed in as bad an Indian country as was on the entire frontier, killed more Indians than any two or three other companies, having taken only one prisoner.

This event occurred after one of our scouts had followed a band of Indians. After following them about two days they discovered they were being followed and they detoured, passing back out almost the same way they came in. Two of our boys, out on beef detail, sighted them, and while one remained to watch the other brought the news to our camp which was not a great distance away. Lieutenant Roberts, being in camp at that time, called a scout as quickly as possible and went after them. As the Indians' horses were ridden down it was little trouble to overtake them. A running fight ensued, covering eight or ten miles. All of the Indians were killed except two—one left his horse and made his escape into a cedar brake on foot, the other being overtaken and made a prisoner. The Indians have a custom, when a rider's pony is killed or played out he will run behind a mounted Indian holding to the horse's tail. When he becomes tired the mounted Indian changes places with him. It is difficult to believe how far and how fast the Indians can run in such a manner. The prisoner mentioned above had been riding behind the Indian who abandoned his horse and finally escaped into the cedar brake.

(Editor's Note—Ed Carnal, the writer of the above sketch was born September 30, 1849, and died in San Antonio February 18, 1921. He was a member of the Old Time Trail Drivers' Association, and was well known among the early cowmen of the state. His three nephews, W. H. Carnal, Scott Carnal and Joe Carnal, are employees of the San Antonio Express.)