This experience with the little prospect of promotion in the service decided us on our desire to return to private life, and I wrote to the medical director of the department expressing my wishes in the matter, and my reasons for quitting the service, and received orders to report at the headquarters of the department, Leavenworth, Kansas.

It may be well here to relate an experience of army life that occurred at Fort Sill after we had left the post. The feeling of apprehension regarding the Indians had subsided to such an extent that the officers' wives would take outings in the ambulance, and it became in time considered safe to go to the Washita agency and make purchases and return the same day. Two of the officers' wives had made the trip and were nearing the head of Cache creek on their return, when they saw the Indians coming. The negro driver urged the mules with such good effect that they reached the timber and the driver escaped but the women were carried away to the mountains, and for two weeks were subjected to all the brutal horrors to be expected of savages and then were ransomed. We were well acquainted with one of these women but the other had only been at the post a short time before we left.

I think few of the people of our country today realize how recently such horrors have been committed. For most of them it is a matter of the long forgotten past.

We left Fort Sill about the middle of August, 1871 and had for company Mrs. Harmon, wife of Lieutenant Harmon, who captured the horse thieves and Mrs. Brown, wife of the post surgeon, and their little baby and nurse girl. We had an escort of a half dozen men under command of a sergeant as far as Fort Gibson, Indian Territory, near the junction of the Grand and Arkansas rivers, and from there to the end of the railroad two or three men to help about camp. The M., K. and T. railroad was then only finished to Pryor's creek and we had to take a freight train from there to Chetopa, Kansas, the end of the passenger run. We camped at Stearn's ranch the first night out of Fort Sill. As we were starting the following morning we were informed that a dead man had just been found near the road we were to take, and only two or three miles away. We got some tools at the ranch and stopped long enough to bury him. He had soldier's clothes on and had probably been only recently discharged from the service. A little money was found in his pocket which I told the sergeant to take and on his return to Fort Sill try and have the man identified, if possible, and send the money to his friends. He had not been dead long as the wolves had not disturbed the body.

Our night camp on the Washita was something we shall always remember. Before it got dark the mosquitoes had made our acquaintance in such numbers that we were doubtful of our night's rest, but we had the tent put up and supper over without suffering serious loss of blood. They kept coming in greater numbers until we realized that the first were only installments of the advance guard, and by bedtime they were almost unbearable. We smudged the tent to drive them out but only succeeded in driving out the little nurse girl who was caring for the baby. I tried my usual place in the ambulance for a nap but could not sleep and heard the women talking in the tent until toward midnight when I called my wife and told her that if she would come out to the ambulance I would try and keep the mosquitoes off her until she could get a little rest. We tried that for an hour but had to acknowledge our defeat and we still heard the other women talking in the tent. I was now ready to surrender, so called the sergeant and told him to have the ambulance driver hitch up and we would get out of there and he and the escort could come on when they liked, as we were then away from danger from the Indians. We drove for some time after daylight and found a beautiful camp ground with fine running water and went into camp. The escort was not far behind us—they had also met with defeat. We spent that day and the following night in that camp and had a good rest. The escort had brought a cub bear along and he was a very amusing rascal although a cause of some anxiety to the women. This day after we had sat down to dinner some trash fell on the table and looking up we discovered him out on a limb above us. The women thought best to have the table removed. His home while on the road was in the feed box at the rear of the wagon where he was chained, and the first thing when released was to hunt the water and take a good bath and then he was ready to investigate everything around camp. He would roam around at his own sweet will until away in the night when he would return to his box where we always found him in the morning. We had to keep the commissary supplies well protected, for he was a born thief.

We had a good supply of small game on the way particularly turkeys and prairie chickens. We found the young turkeys at this season of the year to be unusually fine.

When we arrived at Oswego my wife went to visit friends in the country and I went on to the department headquarters at Leavenworth to report. When I got there the medical director was anxious that I should remain in the service and said that he would give me a good post and suggested Camp Limestone in Southeast Kansas in what was then known as the Cherokee neutral lands, about thirty miles south of Fort Scott. It would be close to the railroad and other conveniences and comforts of civilization, and he was sure I would like it, and he hoped there would be an examining board before long for promotions and I had better consider the matter. I asked for two weeks leave of absence to consider his proposition which was cheerfully granted, and I went back to Iowa and looked up the prospects and in ten days was back to continue in the service.

My wife and I together went to our new station at Camp Limestone and arrived there September 9th, 1871. At that time the railroad was finished to Baxter Springs but there had been trouble with the settlers when crossing the Cherokee neutral lands, an area embracing Cherokee and Crawford counties and the southern tier of townships in Bourbon county. The land had been sold for the Indians by the government to James F. Joy, representing what was then known as the Kansas City, Fort Scott and Gulf railroad. The settlers thought they should have the right to homestead the land, and resisted the construction of the railroad, caught and whipped the engineers and threatened their lives and burned their instruments, the result being that troops were sent to protect the purchasers and their employees in the construction of the road.

There were three camps established along the line of the railroad on these lands, one at Drywood, one at Limstone creek, and one near Columbus, and occupied by one company at each post. Temporary buildings were constructed and the troops made as comfortable as possible where they were not expected to remain permanently. Fort Scott was the headquarters, General Neal being in command, but there was a company commander at each camp. We arrived late in the afternoon and went to a house close by and remained there until the mail messenger from the camp should return and report our arrival. In the course of an hour an ambulance came, and we made our way across country to camp and I reported to Captain Fenton of the Sixth cavalry in command of the camp, and we remained at his quarters over night and had our own quarters ready for occupancy the following day. The country was fairly well settled immediately around the camp and along the streams, and there was a schoolhouse less than a mile away.

Part of the settlers had been there for some years and were getting things about them to look quite home-like. Fruit trees growing, peach trees bearing, and hedge-fences set out, and while there was always a seeming scarcity of money and farm products brought low prices, the people seemed contented and hopeful. This was a very comfortable contrast with our experiences among the Indians. Small game, particularly quail and prairie chickens were plentiful, and wild fowl abundant in season. There being very little to do in a professional way I had plenty of time to indulge in my favorite sport with dog and gun. We had not been at that camp long until Captain Fenton's company was replaced by another company of which Captain (Brevet Major) Upham was in command and Mr. Gordon, first lieutenant and Mr. Kerr, just recently from West Point was second lieutenant, and this company remained at Fort Limestone during my service there, and until the spring of 1873 when all the camps on the neutral lands were discontinued, the Supreme Court having decided the title of the land in the railroad company.

When General Neal was assigned to another post, Major Upham took his place at Fort Scott, leaving Mr. Gordon in command at our camp. The officers of the different camps had transportation or yearly passes on the railroad from Fort Scott to Baxter Springs and Fort Scott being then the principal town in the southeast part of the state we were frequently there to make purchases or for any purpose our wishes might suggest. We boarded the train at a place called Engleton, since changed to Beulah although there was no station or side-track and only one house close by, and trains only stopped on signals or to let off passengers. Take it altogether it was very much like living on a farm in a new country that was fairly well settled, but we had many comforts that farmers could not afford and did not have to work as they did to earn a living.

Most of the farmers belonged to what was called the Settlers' League and those of them who did not belong from choice did so from fear. I got acquainted with a number who felt no way in sympathy with some of their doings such as burning bridges and other unlawful acts. They were all civil enough to the officers and men of our camp and quite a number were disposed to be friendly. Some of them had contracted their land from the railroad company considering their investments, which in many cases embraced good improvements, too valuable to take chances but kept their contracts a secret. I frequently took their payments to the land offices in Fort Scott, they preferring to send it rather than go themselves.

Eighteen hundred and seventy-two was a bountiful crop year and we could get all the peaches and many other things we needed very cheap. The quartermaster contracted his corn that year at 14 cents a bushel and the farmers who furnished it were greatly pleased at getting such a good price for shelled corn. Early in the spring of the year I received orders to take charge of the surgical needs of the camp near Columbus and to make a trip three times each week and as much oftener as I though it necessary. This I could do and return to my own camp the same day. This was a pleasant duty for it gave me more to do and I was taken to and from the railroad in the ambulance each trip.

Captain Bennett of the Fifth infantry was the commanding officer at Columbus, a dignified, courteous, soldierly gentleman, to whom I became very much attached. In a letter from General Miles he speaks of Captain Bennett as follows: "Captain Bennett who was in command of the camp at Columbus was a very gallant officer. He had an excellent record during the Civil war and went with the regiment to Montana. He was engaged in several Indian campaigns and in 1879 was killed in an engagement with hostile Bannock Indians at Clark's Fork of the Yellowstone. He was an ideal officer and one of the many heroes who gave his life in protecting the homes of the defenseless settlers and maintaining the supremacy of the government." This duty continued until late the following fall when another surgeon, Doctor Gray, was sent to take charge of that camp.

When the open season for chicken shooting began we had frequent visitors who were fond of the sport. Major Upham, commanding at Fort Scott, would come often and bring friends from Fort Scott, generally Mr. Drake and Mr. McDonald and sometimes others, to spend a day with dog and gun. Captain Butler from the camp on Drywood would come for a day. Colonel Delancey Floyd-Jones of the Third infantry came down from Fort Hayes for two or three days, and brought with him an excellent setter dog, that could not stand the heat as well as the pointers, but was much more easily controlled. I was a bit amused at his experience while there. When asked at the dinner table the first day if he would be helped to both beef and chicken he replied, "No beef for me while I'm here, I can get all the beef I want at Fort Hayes, I came down here to eat prairie chicken." The last morning he was there I said, "Well Colonel, how is it this morning, prairie chicken or steak, or both?" "Well, he said, I believe I will try a little steak this morning." He went away delighted with his experience and promised me another visit in the fall, but for some reason we did not see him again. He was a fine type of the old army officer, dignified, courteous and cordial.

I had done my first chicken shooting on the way in from Fort Sill, and was by no means a good shot. Mr. Kerr, the young lieutenant, who was stationed here, was the best wing-shot I have ever seen on the sporting field. He had his gun made to measure and although he was six feet tall and finely proportioned he had ordered his gun to be only 6½ pounds in weight. Up to that time I had thought the bigger the gun the more deadly the weapon. I found I had a good deal to learn about guns and how to shoot them. I must tell you about one of my first experiences in chicken-shooting with Mr. Kerr. I happened to see one on the ground and could not resist the temptation and I will never forget the disgusted expression on his face as he turned to me and said, "For God's sake, are you hungry." That one precipitation cured me of shooting birds on the ground, unless I was hungry. Time and practice finally made me a fairly creditable shot but I was never steady in the field or at the trap. Mr. Kerr on the other hand was always steady and reliable. I remember one day just before Christmas when the snow was several inches deep he asked me to count out one hundred loaded cartridges for him while he attended guard mount. The ambulance was at the door and he started promptly when guard mount was over. He brought back eighty-four quail and nine loaded cartridges. Poor old Dick, his faithful pointer had retrieved them all, and was an invalid for two or three days thereafter.

Mr. Kerr's quarters and ours were just across the corner of the parade ground from each other, his facing north and ours east, and he was at our house a great deal, especially in the evenings. The conversation generally turned to guns and their different makes and merits; to dogs and their different breeds and training; the loads to be used and the proper proportion of powder and shot. All these things were discussed until we felt we were authorities on the subject but for fear we might be wrong about the powder and shot, we experimented to find if any of the powder left the gun-barrel unburnt, and with target we settled at least to our own satisfaction, the amount of shot and powder to be used. My subsequent hunting experience has not materially modified our conclusions. In those days we used black powder and loaded our own shells, the smokeless powder and machine loaded shells being then unknown.

One of the interesting things at this camp that year was Mr. Gordon's company garden, some four or five acres in extent with everything imaginable planted in it. The company did the work of planting and cultivating but the rabbits did a large part of the eating. There would be days when all the company would be out shooting rabbits and it was much like the picket firing I had become familiar with in the volunteer service. This was kept up until the rabbits were comparatively few around camp, and the garden produced abundantly and was a great help in rounding out the men's rations. One of the enlisted men was an expert with the rifle and caught many of the rabbits on the run.

While here I had an opportunity of observing for the first time the variableness in area of rainfall at different seasons of the year. The latter part of winter and early spring I observed that if it was cloudy or raining at Fort Scott, it was the same way at Columbus fifty miles away and I presume over a much greater area. But as the season advanced, I would find it raining at Limestone, while on my arrival at Columbus the weather would be clear and dry only twenty miles away. Sometimes a heavy shower would fall between the camps and both camps would be dry. This was a surprise to me because I had not thought of it before, and I think the feeling generally is if it is raining where you happen to be, it is raining everywhere else.

Before this camp was abandoned I had some hospital property on hand for which I was responsible, and that had ceased to be of service, and I had applied for its inspection and condemnation. Soon afterwards Colonel Nelson A. Miles of the Fifteenth infantry and inspector general of the department came and condemned the property. After dinner we played chess until time for him to be taken to the northbound train, and I have often wondered since that time if he remembers victory as well as I do defeat. Since then he became a distinguished officer in our Indian warfare and finally attained the rank of lieutenant general and commander-in-chief of the army.

Most of the officers who served at the different camps on the neutral land while I was at Limestone have since died. So far as I know, General Kerr—the Mr. Kerr of our camp life there—and myself are the only ones remaining. Mr. Kerr became a captain in 1885 and was wounded in the assault on San Juan ridge July 1, 1898, promoted to major in October, 1898, was military attache at Berlin in 1900 to 1902, promoted to colonel in 1903 and to brigadier general in 1908 and retired from active service in 1909 as brigadier general in the United States Army. He saw much Indian fighting on the frontier, and received numerous medals and honorable mention, in orders from different departments and army headquarters. It is a pleasure to mention these promotions and orders commending him for meritorious conduct for as a young man good things were expected of him by his friends. He is still living and it must be a great comfort to him in his old age to reflect on the distinguished and valuable services he has rendered his country.

The following winter the Supreme Court rendered its decision in the case involving the title to the Cherokee neutral lands in favor of the railroads. I think the settlers generally felt that the decision would be against them for many of them sold their improvements and moved away, and most of those remaining contracted their land from the railroad companies.