Some of the rangers had captured young bear cubs, and we had them in camp with us as pets. They grew rapidly and were soon big fellows and immensely popular with the boys. Sometimes a bear would break loose from its chain, and then all of us would turn out to hunt the escaped pet. Most often we would soon find him seated in a tree which he had climbed as soon as he had broken his shackles. And I cannot here forbear mentioning the useful little pack mules that served the rangers so long and so well. When the battalion was formed in 1874 a number of little broncho mules were secured for packing. They soon learned what was expected of them and followed the rangers like dogs. Carrying a weight of one hundred and fifty to two hundred pounds, they would follow a scout of rangers on the dead run right into the midst of the hottest fight with Indians or desperadoes. They seemed to take as much interest in such an engagement as the rangers themselves. These little pack animals had as much curiosity as a child or a pet coon. In traveling along a road they sometimes met a bunch of horses or several campers along the highway. Immediately they would run over for a brief visit with the strangers and when the rangers had gone on a thousand yards or more would scamper up to us as fast as they could run. Later, when the rangers drew in from the frontier and scouted in a more thickly settled country the mules with their packs would march right up to strange horses and frighten them out of their wits. Once, in Austin, one of our mules calmly trotted up to a mule that was pulling a street car. As the pack burro would not give right of way the street car mule shied to one side and pulled its conveyance completely off the track to the surprise of its driver. The tiny animals pulled off several stunts like this and caused so much complaint that Adjutant-General Jones issued an order for all rangers to catch and lead their pack mules when passing through a town.