I witnessed one shocking fire at Bayard which broke out in a small private stable attached to the post-trader’s house. It had made such headway that when discovered three beautiful horses were already enveloped in flames: they were fairly roasted alive before the eyes of the assembled garrison. Most pathetic cries proceeded from the helpless animals before death mercifully released them from their sufferings. While the ladies sorrowfully looked on, the men spread wet blankets over an adjoining roof in order that it might be saved; for if a tiny spark had fallen on the dry shingles they would have immediately ignited and the flames spread rapidly. After three happy years had been passed at that post, orders were received to march into Texas and exchange with the Ninth Cavalry. Christmas Day was celebrated in camp, and in a double sense, for we had that morning a narrow escape from almost instant death. On reaching the Rio Grande, we found the river fairly booming. It was a glorious sight, swelled to a huge flood that swept past in majestic grandeur. A primitive flat-boat worked by ropes and pulleys—nothing but a rude raft with no railing or chain either fore or aft—was called into requisition to ferry us across, and we sat quietly in the ambulance while it was driven aboard. A superb dog that belonged to one of our friends, and had been our pet for years, was inadvertently left standing on the bank. Some one on the boat tried to induce him to swim across, making the same sound in calling the dog that would have been used to start the mules. Our four mules, supposing it was a signal to them, immediately started, and the leaders’ fore feet were actually on the very edge of the boat when a man seized them by their heads. Another second, another step, and our heavy ambulance would have been overboard. So rapidly had the occurrence passed that almost before realizing an accident was seemingly inevitable, we had been saved from a watery grave. The river at that point was at least twenty feet deep, and had the mules plunged in, sudden and swift death would have followed. I have never since been able to sit quietly in a carriage while crossing a ferry; though of course no such rude craft, without even a rope guard, can be found in civilized parts of the world. After all was over, I looked at my little children, so unconscious of danger, and shuddered at the thought of the horrible fate we had escaped. If people should dwell continually on the perils of Western life they would be wretched. That journey embraced every element of danger, and yet I actually became callous.