Another peculiarity of this wonderful man was his indifference to time. He would strike an Indian trail, take his time and follow it to the jumping off place. He would say, "There is no use to hurry, boys. We will catch them after a while." For instance, the stage driver and passenger killed in Quitman Canyon, January, 1880, had been dead two weeks before the lieutenant returned from a scout out in the Guadalupe Mountains. He at once directed me to make a detail of all except three men in camp, issue ten days' rations, and have the men ready to move early next morning. An orderly or first sergeant is hardly ever called upon to scout unless he so desires, but the lieutenant said, "You had better come along, Sergeant. You may get another chance to kill an Indian." It seemed unreasonable to think he could start two weeks behind a bunch of Indians, follow up and annihilate the whole band, but he did. Give Comanches or Kiowas two weeks' start and they would have been in Canada, but the Apaches were slow and a different proposition with which to deal. Baylor was one of the very best shots with firearms I ever saw. He killed more game than almost the entire company put together. When we first went out to El Paso he used a Winchester rifle, but after the first Indian fight he concluded it was too light and discarded it for a Springfield sporting rifle 45-70. He always used what he called rest sticks; that is, two sticks about three feet long the size of one's little finger. These were tied together about four or five inches from one end with a buckskin thong. In shooting he would squat down, extend the sticks arm's length out in front of him with the longer ends spread out tripod-fashion on the ground. With his gun resting in the fork he had a perfect rest and could make close shots at long range. The lieutenant always carried these sticks in his hand and used them on his horse as a quirt. In those days I used to pride myself on my shooting with a Winchester, but I soon found that Lieutenant Baylor had me skinned a mile when it came to killing game at long distance. I never could use rest sticks, for I always forgot them and shot offhand. I cannot close this description of Lieutenant Baylor without mentioning his most excellent wife, who made the long, tedious journey from San Antonio to El Paso County with us. She was Sallie Garland Sydnor, born February 11, 1842. Her father was a wholesale merchant at Galveston, and at one time mayor of that city. Mrs. Baylor was highly educated and a very refined woman and a skillful performer on the piano. Her bright, sunny disposition and kind heart won her friends among the rangers at once. How sad it is to reflect that of the twelve persons in that little party that marched out of San Antonio on August 2, 1879, only three are living: Gus Small, Miss Mary Baylor, and myself.