From the organization of the battalion in 1874 until Major Jones was made Adjutant-General, Dr. Nicholson was always with him. The doctor was a quaint old bachelor who loved his toddy. The boys would sometimes get him as full as a goose, and the major would give the doctor some vicious looks at such times. Dr. Nicholson was a great favorite with all the men, and it is said he knew every good place for buttermilk, butter, milk, and eggs from Rio Grande City to Red River, a trifling distance of eight hundred miles. The doctor always messed with Major Jones, and, mounted on a fine horse, traveled by his side. I don't think Dr. Nicholson ever issued a handful of pills to the boys during the year—he was just with us in case he was needed. When the escort was disbanded he retired to private life at Del Rio, Texas, and finally died there.
This inspection tour was a wonderful experience for me. The weather was cool and bracing, and the horses had had a month's rest. We had with us a quartet of musicians, among them a violinist, a guitar player and a banjo picker, and after the day's march the players would often gather around the camp fire and give us a concert. The major would frequently walk down and listen to the music. Nor was music our only amusement. Major Jones had provided his escort with a fish seine, and when we were camped on a big creek or river the boys would unroll the net, make a haul and sometimes catch enough fish to supply the thirty men several days.
When recruited to its full strength Company "A" consisted of a captain, orderly sergeant, second sergeant, first and second corporals, and twenty-six privates. Two four-mule wagons hauled the camp equipage, rations for the men and grain for the horses. One fight wagon drawn by two mules and driven by George, the negro cook, carried the mess outfit, bedding, tent, etc., of Major Jones and Dr. Nicholson.
Each morning at roll call the orderly sergeant detailed a guard of nine men and one non-commissioned officer to guard for twenty-four hours. When ready to begin our day's journey the company was formed in line and the men counted off by fours. On the march Major Jones and Dr. Nicholson rode in front, followed by the captain of the company, the orderly sergeant and the men in double file. Following these came the wagons. An advance guard of two men preceded the column about one-half mile. Four men, known as flankers, two on each side of the company, paralleled the column at a distance of one-half to one mile, depending on the nature of the country. In a rough, wooded section the flankers traveled close in, but in an open country they sometimes spread out quite a distance. The non-commissioned officer with the remaining guard covered the rear and brought up the pack mules. Thus protected it was almost impossible for the command to be surprised by Indians.
At one time Major Jones had with him two Tonkawa Indians as guides. For protection this tribe lived near Fort Griffin, a large military post. One of these old braves known as Jim had been given an old worn out army coat with the shoulder straps of a general upon it. Jim wore this coat tightly buttoned up and marched at the head of the column with as much dignity and importance as a general-in-chief. His companion wore a high crowned beaver stove-pipe hat with the top gone, and carried an old umbrella that someone had given him. Fitted out in this ridiculous and unique manner he marched for days with the umbrella over him. Think of an Indian shading himself from the sun!
Major Jones never paid much attention to these Indians unless he wished to inquire the lay of the country or the distance to some water hole. They did pretty much as they pleased, sometimes riding in front with the major, sometimes with the guard and at others with the men. These old redskins were a constant source of amusement to the boys. Jim and his pal were good hunters but as lazy as could be. They got into the habit of killing a buffalo late in the evening when they knew it was almost time to pitch camp, cutting out just enough meat for themselves and letting the remainder go to waste. The major told these lazy-bones when they killed a buffalo he wanted to know of it so he could secure the meat for the company. The Tonks paid no attention to this request and late one evening came into camp with five or six pounds of buffalo meat.
The orderly sergeant spied them, so he walked over to Major Jones and said, "Major, those two old Tonkawas are back in camp with just enough meat for themselves."
"Sergeant, you get a pack mule, take a file of men with you and make those Indians saddle their horses and go with you to get that buffalo," the major commanded, determined that his order should be obeyed by the Indians.
The sergeant went to the Indians, who were busy about the fire roasting their meat, and told them what the major had said. Jim declared that he was tired and did not wish to go. The non-commissioned officer replied that that made no difference and commanded him and his pal to get their ponies and lead the way to the dead buffalo.
"Maybe so ten miles to buffalo," protested Jim, trying to avoid going.