My brother, Anson Mills, was then a cavalry captain in the army, but I had not heard from him for many months, and had not the slightest idea in what part of the country he might be. One very cold day, about noon, when approaching the Arkansas River, we met a train of wagons bound for Santa Fe, and the wagonmaster informed us that he had the day before been attacked by a party of Indians at the crossing of the Arkansas, but had stood them off, and had moved on, uninjured. He advised us to return to Santa Fe, but, incredible as it may seem, we decided to proceed on our journey. I do not call this courage; to me, after so many years, it appears more like foolhardiness! Nearing the river, but before we could see down into the valley, we saw, far to our right, and apparently flanking us, two men with rifles, whom we supposed might be Indians. The coach was halted, we four male passengers, with our arms, moved toward the strangers and beckoned them to approach. They did so, and I soon recognized the familiar uniform of United States soldiers! I asked, “Where are you camped?” Reply: “Down yonder at the crossing.” “Who is in command?” “Captain Mills.” “What Mills?” “_Captain Anson Mills._” The ladies slept that night in the captain’s tent and we brothers, by the camp fire, told each other our adventures since we had separated at El Paso, five years before, each to take his chances in the desperate game of war. Captain Mills gave me his application for promotion to present at Washington, and after the stage had started he called to me: “Get me a leave of absence, and I will go to Washington and return your visit.” Arrived in Washington, I presented the application for promotion to Gen. John B. Steedman, who indorsed it thus: “Captain Mills served on my staff for three years. He is the best officer of his rank I ever knew; intelligent, efficient and fearless. I recommend him for promotion.” A few days later I went with some New Mexican friends to call on General Grant, who was then Secretary of war. I told the General about meeting my brother, and asked a leave of absence for him. The General replied that such applications must come through the regular channels. I showed the Secretary the application for promotion, with Steedman’s indorsement, and told him something of our troubles at El Paso at the outbreak of the Rebellion. He read the papers and seemed pleased, but continued talking with my friends and dispatching business. On rising to take our leave, I told General Grant that I was sorry not to meet my brother at Washington, but I could not complain, as I saw good reasons for the refusal. To which he replied: “The telegram has gone, sir; your brother will be here in a few days.” He came, and got his promotion also.