I have not the power of language to describe Lieutenant Baylor's bravery, because he was as brave as it is possible for man to be. He thought everyone else should be the same. He did not see how a white man could be a coward, yet in a fierce battle fought with Apache Indians on October 5, 1879, I saw some of his rangers refuse to budge when called upon to charge up a mountainside and assault the redskins concealed above us in some rocks. George Harold, one of the attacking party, said, "Lieutenant, if we charge up that hill over open ground every one of us will be killed." "Yes, I suppose you are right," declared Baylor, a contemptuous smile on his face. Then, pointing to some Mexicans hidden behind some boulders below us, he added, "You had better go back to them. That is where you belong." Lieutenant Baylor was as tender hearted as a little child and would listen to any tale of woe. He frequently took men into the service, stood good for their equipment and often had to pay the bill out of his own pocket. All men looked alike to him and he would enlist anyone when there was a vacancy in the company. The result was that some of the worst San Simone Valley rustlers got into the command and gave us no end of trouble, nearly causing one or two killings in our camp. Baylor cared nothing for discipline in the company. He allowed his men to march carelessly. A scout of ten or fifteen men would sometimes be strung out a mile or more on the march. I suppose to one who had commanded a regiment during the Civil War a detachment of Texas Rangers looked small and insignificant, so he let his men have pretty much their own way. To a man like myself, who had been schooled under such captains as Major Jones, Captain Coldwell, Captain Roberts, and Lieutenant Reynolds, commanders who were always careful of the disposition and conduct of their men, this method of Baylor's seemed suicidal. It just seemed inevitable that we would some time be taken by surprise and shot to pieces.