The first thing of special interest on this march was when we had gone into camp about sixty miles north of Fort Sill, which was the second day out. This was about four o'clock in the afternoon, to give the horses and transportation mules a chance to graze. I happened to look back in the direction of our march and saw a small black object far in the distance that I could not make out. I borrowed field glasses of one of the captains and discovered it to be a horse and buggy. I became quite curious about it, as I did not think any sane man would travel through that Indian country alone for any consideration. I would not have done so for all the money in the mint unless in military dress. He came directly to our camp and I walked out to meet him. He proved to be Father Poncelona of Osage Mission, now St. Paul, Kansas, who had been down to Fort Sill to baptise the children and give what comfort he could to the followers of his faith at that post. He was very tired for he had started before daylight, and had driven all day hoping to find our camp somewhere, but he did not know where. I took him to my tent and insisted on him lying down on my cot, which he did under protest, and I brought him some brandy which he drank with seeming relish, and by the time dinner was ready he was ready to join us. I asked him how he came to take such chances alone. He said it was part of his work and that there was a higher power (pointing his finger upwards) that would take care of those who were doing God's service. He was past middle age and had spent most of his life since taking orders as a missionary among the Indians. He had a benign faith-abiding expression of face, such as I have never seen on any other man, and his voice was low and musical, and his manner most winning. I had some difficulty in getting him to take my cot for the night, he insisting that he was used to sleeping on the ground and did not mind it. I finally told him that I was boss of the ranch, and he must do as I told him. To this he smilingly assented, and said that if it was orders he would have to obey. We always had breakfast and broke camp early in the morning and aimed if a suitable campground could be found to go into camp by four o'clock in the afternoon. The priest had expressed a wish for an early start, and I had ordered his horse and buggy to be ready for him, and he had breakfast with us and went his way across the prairie and was soon out of sight in the direction of Camp Supply where he intended going. I have often thought of this and wondered at it. Why did he do it? It was not for money for he was poor and had spent years at the work. What motive had he? What guardian angel accompanied him and kept him from harm? If it is true that there is a divinity that shapes our ends, why are they shaped so differently, and why is it that some are immune where others fear to tread? Right here I think it proper to say that the Catholic priests have always been the