The Lipans, Kickapoos, Comanches, and Kiowa Indians used to time their raids so as to reach the Texas settlements during the light of the moon so they would have moonlight nights in which to steal horses and make their get-away before they could be discovered. By morning, when their thefts became known, they would have a long lead ahead and be well out on their way into the plains and mountains. The captains of the ranger companies knew of this Indian habit, and accordingly kept scouts constantly in the field during the period of the raids. The redskins coming in from the plains where water was scarce generally took the near cut to the headwaters of the Colorado, Concho, San Saba, Llanos, Guadalupe, and Nueces Rivers. By maintaining scouts at or near the heads of these streams the rangers frequently caught parties of Indians going in or coming out from the settlements, and destroyed them or recaptured the stolen stock.
The first light moon in June Captain Roberts ordered a detail of fifteen men in command of Sergeant James B. Hawkins to make a ten days' scout toward the head waters of the North Llano River. He was to select a secluded spot near old abandoned Fort Territ and make camp there. Each morning a scout of one or two men would be sent out ten or fifteen miles south and another party a like distance toward the north to hunt for Indian trails. The main body of rangers, keeping carefully concealed, was in readiness to take up an Indian trail at a moment's notice should one be found by the scouts.
One morning Sergeant Hawkins ordered me to travel south from camp to the head draws of the South Llano and watch for pony tracks.
"Suppose the Indians get me?" I asked laughingly as I mounted my pony.
"It's your business to keep a sharp lookout and not let them catch you," he replied.
However, though I watched very carefully I could find no pony tracks or Indian trails.
We had with us on this scout Mike Lynch, a pure Irishman. Though he was old and gray-headed, he was a good ranger, and had much native wit. One morning it was Uncle Mike's turn to go on scout duty, but in a few hours he was seen coming into camp with his horse, Possum, on the jump. He reported a fresh Indian trail about ten miles north of our camp. When asked how many pony tracks he had counted, Lynch at once declared he had counted seventeen and thought there were more. As the Indians usually came in on foot or with as few ponies as they could get by on until they could steal others, Sergeant Hawkins suspected the tracks Lynch had seen were those of mustangs. The excited scout declared vehemently that the tracks were not those of wild horses but of Indians. The sergeant was just as positive that no Indian party was responsible for the trail, and the two had quite a heated argument over the tracks.
"But how do you know it is an Indian trail?" demanded Hawkins.
"Because I know I know," cried out Lynch in a loud voice.
That settled it. Horses were saddled and mules packed as quickly as possible, and the rangers marched over to the suspicious trail. When Sergeant Hawkins examined the trail he soon discovered that the sign had been made by mustangs but could not convince the hard-headed Irishman until he followed the trail two or three miles and showed him the mustang herd quietly grazing under some shade trees. Uncle Mike did not mention Indian trail any more on that scout.