At that time, thirty years ago, small bands of marauding Indians might be expected almost anywhere, and particularly as we approached the Rio Grande, and our chief care was to guard against surprise, which was almost our only danger. We saw none on this journey, but we passed several scenes of bloody tragedies, some of them quite recent. When we descended into the valley of the Rio Grande I pointed to a Mexican “jacál” and told Mrs. Mills that was the style of house we were to live in. She was silent for a long time, but when we drove up to my comfortable, well-furnished little home on San Antonio street, with the shade trees in front, and she set her feet upon the first plank floor ever laid down in El Paso, and saw the preparations which my good friend and neighbor, Mrs. Zabriskie, had made for her reception and comfort, she brightened up wonderfully. Yes, other families also crossed these plains, but they were either army people for whom the Government furnished teams and provisions and attendants and protection, or others who traveled in the dusty rear of some freight train at a speed of about ten miles a day. Our voyages were mostly made independently, comfortably, and speedily, and without a single accident. All depends upon thorough preparation, good judgment and constant vigilance. Mrs. Mills’ reception by the people of both races and on both sides of the river was very flattering, and I am sure it was sincere, and we spent nearly a year very happily at El Paso, but now (November, 1869) it was thought best that I should return to Austin to assist General Hamilton in his contest for the Governorship and control of the State. We returned with the same outfit with which we had come, except that we had no military escort, and Colonel Zabriskie went as our guest. Soon after we left Fort Davis we saw far to our right a party of mounted Indians, how many we could not tell, but certainly too many for our small party. A company of infantry soldiers had left Fort Davis, going eastward, an hour before we did, and we had passed them on the road, so we knew they could not be far behind us, and we halted to await their arrival. The Indians also halted and gave us a free exhibition of fancy horsemanship and curious antics, until the gleaming rifles of the troops appeared on the road, when they scurried away around the mountain. We traveled in company with the soldiers until we reached Fort Stockton. A year before I had sent five hundred gallons of wine of my own manufacture to each of the military posts, Davis and Stockton, and on arriving we found that it had all been sold at $5 per gallon, and Mrs. Mills stuffed the greenbacks into her little handsatchel for future use.