E-text prepared by David Edwards, Martin Pettit, and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net) from page images generously made available by Internet Archive (http://www.archive.org) Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this file which includes the original illustrations. See 35973-h.htm or 35973-h.zip: (https://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/35973/pg35973-images.html) or (https://www.gutenberg.org/files/35973/35973-h.zip) Images of the original pages are available through Internet Archive. See http://www.archive.org/details/littlepillsarmys00mckaiala LITTLE PILLS An Army Story by R. H. McKAY Formerly Acting Assistant Surgeon United States Army Being Some Experiences of a United States Army Medical Officer on the Frontier Nearly A Half Century Ago [Illustration] 1918 Published by Pittsburg Headlight Pittsburg, Kansas FOREWORD BY R. H. McKAY This little sketch of army life on the frontier was first written, merely for the pleasure it might bring to my children in looking it over in after years. It remained in the form of a manuscript for that purpose, until some of my friends urged its publication. The merit of the story itself, if it has any, lies in the fact of actual experience, but probably a matter of more importance is to call attention to the wonderful changes that have taken place in the fifty years just passed. The term frontier today would be a misnomer. There is no frontier. The immense areas of wild and waste country that then existed has vanished before the tide of civilization and settlement. The present generation can never realize the vast changes. Possibly this little book may bring to mind, by way of contrast, at least some of the conditions then and now. LITTLE PILLS CHAPTER I. My children have often asked me to write out some of my experience while a medical officer in the United States Army on the frontier, and I have often resolved to do so. But for many years after leaving the service my time was so thoroughly taken up in an effort to make a living and educate the children that my good resolutions received scant attention. Now in my 78th year the apathy of old age is such a handicap, that great effort is required to do things that at one time I could have done cheerfully but did not.