Though a ranger was forced to supply his own mount, the state undertook to pay for the animal if it were killed or lost in an Indian fight. To establish the impartial value of our animals, Captain Roberts marched us into Menardville and asked three citizens of the town to place a value on each man's mount. This was done, and I was highly gratified when old Coley, my mount, was appraised at $125. This formality over, the company was moved from Little Saline to Camp Los Moris, five miles southwest of Menardville, Texas. We were now ready to begin scouting for Indians. As is usual under the same circumstances the new recruits came in for their share of pranks and mishaps. One raw rooky in my mess, fired with love of economy, undertook to cook ten days' rations for the whole mess at one time. He put a quantity of rice on the fire. Soon it began to boil and swell, and that surprised ranger found his rice increasing in unheard of proportions. He filled every cooking vessel in the mess with half-cooked rice, and still the kettle continued to overflow. In desperation he finally began to pour it on the ground. Even then he had enough rice cooked to supply the entire company. Another recruit, anxious to test his new weapons, obtained Captain Roberts' permission to go hunting. He had not gone far from camp before he began firing at some squirrels. One of his bullets struck the limb of a tree and whizzed close to camp. This gave an old ranger an idea. He hastened after the hunter and gravely arrested him, declaring that the glancing bullet had struck a man in camp and that Captain Roberts had ordered the careless hunter's arrest. The veteran brought in a pale and badly scared recruit. One of the favorite diversions of the old rangers was to make a newcomer believe that the state furnished the rangers with socks and start him off to the captain's tent to demand his share of free hosiery. The captain took these pranks in good part and assured the crestfallen applicant that the rangers were only playing a joke on him, while his tormentors enjoyed his discomfiture from a safe distance. When they had run out of jokes the rangers settled down to the regular routine of camp. Each morning the orderly sergeant had roll call, at which time he always detailed six or eight men with a non-commissioned officer to take charge of the rangers' horses and the pack mules until relieved the following morning by a new guard. The guard was mounted and armed and drove the loose stock out to graze. The horses were never taken far from camp for fear of being attacked by Indians, and also to keep them near at hand in case they were needed quickly.