[This amazing account of survival is from this issue]

By J. Marvin Hunter

Captain G. W. Arrington was a noted Texas Ranger, and for a long time was captain of Company C of the Frontier Battalion. We do not know where Captain Arrington was born, nor have we much of his history other than his activities as a Texas Ranger. For over thirty-five years he was a citizen of Hemphill county, Texas. He was born in 1845, and at the time he wrote the following account of an expedition into the remote plains sections, he was seventy-six years old. This account was written in 1921, and was in the form of an affidavit, sworn to before a notary public in Palo Pinto county, Texas. This was sent to us by Mr. J. B. Gibson, of El Paso, Texas, who was a member of Captain Arrington's Ranger company, and who is now and has been for many years a member of the El Paso police force. The account is as follows:

"My name is G. W. Arrington. I am 76 years of age; I reside in Hemphill county, Texas, and have resided in said county and state for 35 years. I am well acquainted with J. B. Gibson of El Paso county, Texas. I first met him in August 1879, and was intimately acquainted with and associated with him from that date until some time in 1881. During this period and for a long time prior and subsequent thereto, I was Captain of Company "C" of the Frontier Battalion, Texas State Troops, commonly known as Texas Rangers, and in September, 1879, my company moved from near old Fort Griffin, in Shackelford county, Texas, about 150 miles west, to the headwaters of the Brazos river. Gibson enlisted in my company just prior to my leaving Fort Griffin and served until the fall of 1881; said company took up its new station near the mouth of Blanco Canyon in Crosby county, Texas.

Gibson, while a member of my company, was faithful and efficient at all times and most of the time was a non-commissioned officer. He was honorably discharged from the service at his own request after more than two years of faithful service. While Gibson was serving in my company he was with me on many hard scouts across the Staked Plains. That part of the country lying between my headquarters in Blanco Canyon in Texas and the Pecos River in New Mexico, a distance of about 300 miles and extending from the Canadian River on the north to the headwaters of Devil's River on the south, a distance of about 500 miles, was an unknown country to white and without a single white habitation.

"In the winter of 1879-80, a band of hostile Apache Indians coming from some point in this unknown region across the plains were making frequent raids upon the stock ranches scattered along the east edge of the plains in Texas, stealing and carrying away many horses, and my principal mission out in that country at that time was to break up these raids and follow and discover, if possible, the hiding place of these Indians.

"About noon on the 28th of December, 1879, two cowboys came into my headquarters and reported that the Indians had raided the Slaughter Ranch, about twenty miles south of our headquarters, on the previous night and had stolen and driven off a large number of horses. Within two hours after receiving this information, twelve of my men under my command, with ten days' rations and other equipment loaded on pack-mules, were in our saddles and hurrying to the Slaughter Ranch to take up the trail of these Indians. The following named men composed this squad: Captain G. W. Arrington, Sergt. Dick Jones (now deceased), (deceased) Jno B. Birdwell (deceased), F. S. Bell (deceased), —. —. Callahan, John Dunn, J. B. Gibson, Harney Hammer (deceased), Hiram McMurray (deceased), Willie Stonebreaker (deceased), Will Snerley and James L. McElroy.

"We reached the Slaughter Ranch and picked up the trail that evening at about 5 o'clock. The trail led south of the ranch, passing the mouth of the Yellowhouse Canyon, where it climbed the Rim Rock onto the plains proper and turned due west. Night came on and we struck camp. It began misting rain and then began to freeze and by the next morning everything was covered with a shield of ice. We again took up the trail, following it west by Tahoka Lake, thence to Double Lakes, a distance of about sixty miles, where night again overtook us, and we camped. The following morning I discovered that the trail led off directly west from Double Lakes and into a country that was at that time unknown to white men.

"The records of the War Department at Washington City will show that in the summer of 1876 Capt. Nolin, of the Tenth U. S. Cavalry, followed a band of these Indians from some point east of the Staked Plains over this same route, passing Tahoka and Double Lakes, and thence into this unknown desert region. It was either in July or August. For two whole days they followed the trail west of Double Lakes, which led into what Capt. Nolin described as a perfect desert country, with no vegetation and no indication of water. The supply of water carried by the men in their canteens was soon exhausted and they became almost crazed with thirst and on the evening of the second day out from Double Lakes, at a distance of about 90 miles from said Lakes, they refused to follow the officer further. When Capt. Nolin found he could not further control these men, he decided to turn back on his trail and try to reach Double Lakes. He had with him an extra saddle horse. His own canteen was empty and he himself was suffering greatly from thirst. He had the extra horse killed by cutting its throat and the Captain quenched his thirst by drinking the horse's blood. The soldiers cut the horse open and opening its entrails sucked the moisture therefrom to quench their thirst. Capt. Nolin then advised them to turn back with him and try to reach Double Lakes. A few of them did so, the balance of the men refused to return with Capt. Nolin to Double Lakes, but scattered over the desert in every direction in search of water, and not one of them ever returned alive. Capt. Nolin's expedition, a full report of which was made at the time, is on file with the War Department at Washington, D. C., and resulted in an order being issued by the War Department forbidding any army officer from leading troops into this desert region under penalty of dismissal from the army and forfeiture of all pay. This was the last expedition of any kind whatever that had ever attempted to enter this unknown country up to the time that I went in there. I knew the history of this ill-fated expedition and proposed to profit thereby. Therefore, instead of following the Indian trail as it led west from Double Lakes and into the desert, as Capt. Nolin had done, I sent one of my men, John D. Birdwell, back to my headquarters for a wagon and additional supplies and some empty water kegs, and waited at Double Lakes until his return. When Birdwell returned, instead of following the trail, I turned northwest and after two days' march reached what is known as the Yellow Houses, a point on the old trail running west from the headwaters of the Brazos acros the plains to old Fort Summers, on the Pecos River in New Mexico. This point, the Yellow Houses, was about 90 mlies west from my headquarters in Blanco Canyon. It consisted of a considerable depression or basin in the plain extending from north to south for several miles, in the bottom of which were two large salt or alkali lakes. On the west side of these lakes, perhaps a half mile distant, there is a bluff which rises about 150 feet almost perpendicular and extending along from north to south for a distance of two or three miles. This bluff is of yellowish limestone formation. There are several caves in the face of it. From these caves the place takes its name. At the foot of this bluff, and near where the old Fort Summer trail passes, there was a small fresh water spring. Just north of the Yellowhouses and about three miles distant, in the winter of 1879-80 the Causey brothers, George and John, buffalo hunters, had established their winter camp. I visited this camp and procured from these hunters two fresh buffalo hides. These I fashioned into a kind of saddle bags and fitted them onto a couple of pack saddles. In each end of these bags I fitted a 20 gallon water keg. We then filled the four kegs with water from the spring, strapped them on the pack mules and leaving the wagon and everything else that I could not take along at the Yellowhouses, and sending Private James L. McElroy back to headquarters with dispatches from this point, we broke camp and followed the old trail west about ten miles to Silver Lake , where we camped for the night. The nights were bitter cold and the springs at Silver Lake froze over that night, and the next morning we had to break the ice so that our horses could drink, which they refused to do.

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"My plan was to make a two days' march from Silver Lake in a due southwest course into the desert, hoping that within that time to intersect the Indian trail we had left at Double Lakes and possibly find the Lost Lakes, which tradition said were out there somewhere in the desert. I believed that by steady marching for twelve hours a day I could, within two days make from 80 to 100 miles, and if I failed to find water within that time I intended to refill the canteens from the four kegs of water we had with us, give the remainder to the horses and retrace my steps.

"At sunrise we fell in line and taking our course by a small pocket compass we started at a brisk walk into the unknown region. For the first few miles the formation of the earth's surface was a dark sand with a heavy turf of grass, then the formation changed to a reddish loose sand and vegetation became more scattered. This lasted for perhaps fifteen miles. At the end of about thirty-miles march we came suddenly in sight of the real desert. This consisted of a range of low sand hills, extending north, south and west as far as the eye, aided by powerful field glasses, could discern, absolutely barren of vegetation, almost white as snow, and certainly by far the most desolate and uninviting region that I have ever beheld.

"We knew the reputation of this desolate region for bewildering the brain, choking the throat, parching the lips and swelling the tongue of man and beast, even unto death, but we did not swerve from our course. We approached it, plunged into it and traveled on and on. Our progress was slackened somewhat, as our horses now at every step sank almost half way to their knees in the loose white sands. Night came on, with not the slightest change in the faoe of the surrounding country, and we camped in one of the wildest and most desolate spots imaginable. Our horses were even now, at the end of the first day's march, very thirsty. On the following morning, as soon as it was light enough to see the needle on the face of the compass, we were again on the march. The sun came up and as it climbed higher and higher into the heavens and cast its glittering rays down upon the white sands of the desert we were entertained continually with that strange phenomena of desert nature's wonderful picture show, the 'Desert Mirage.'

"Miles away appeared a lake of water on whose margin stood beautiful groves of trees, so natural that one could scarcely believe that they were not real, but the picture would last only for a moment, when the scene would change and finally disappear, and another picture equally as interesting and entertaining would appear in some other direction. While looking at these strange phantoms it was easy to understand why one, half crazed with heat and thirst, as were those dusky troopers of the Tenth U. S. Cavalry, might run with all remaining strength to reach these imaginary lakes, only to find nothing there, and finally to fall exhausted and perish amid the desolation.

"All day long we held steady to our course, never varying, with only the billowy white sand extending in apparent unlimited distance in every direction, the whole pervaded by an awful stillness, 'a silence you most could hear.' The stillness seemed to affect, the men and not a dozen words were exchanged among them during the whole day. About 5 o'clock in the evening the appearance of the country suddenly changed. We rode out from the sand hills into a more level country, and the earth beneath our horses' feet became more firm, with some vegetation. At this point we crossed what we pronounced a cavalry trail, two narrow trails running parallel with each other, about twenty feet apart and in a due west course. We turned and followed these trails for a short distance, possibly a half mile. They never changed their course nor distance apart. This was undoubtedly the trail made by Capt. Nolin and his colored troopers of the Tenth Cavalry two or three years before. But as it led us off our course I could not follow it and turned back on my original course. As we did so, looking ahead of us directly in our line of march, across an almost perfectly level stretch of country and at a distance of three or miles, we saw a low hill raising probably thirty or forty feet above the surrounding country, with smooth surface, about a half mile in length and extending from north to south. We approached this hill and just as the sun was sinking beneath the western horizon we rode to the top of it and looking clown to it western base, to our great surprise and joy, we beheld not a mirage, but a real lake of water. We halted for a few moments while I scanned the lake and its surroundings with my field glasses. The hill seemed to slant down to the edge of the lake and on the west side, opposite from where we stood, there appeared quite a valley, but no living creature could be seen. I felt sure that if there was fresh water about this lake it would be found on the west side, as is the case with all lakes on the plains. We moved forward, passing around the north end of the lake to the west side where we found several cold springs of fresh water. It was almost night, but still light enough remained for us to discover that a large band of horses had been recently driven in and watered at these springs. Several fires had been kindled and recently burning, four or five horses had been killed and every particle of flesh cut from their frames. Much fresh Indian sign was here in evidence. On the bank, near the largest spring, standing propped up in a comspicuous position was an Indian sign board. This consisted of a huge shoulder blade bone of a buffalo. This bone, which was the largest of the kind I ever saw, had lain out in the desert sun until it was bleached as white as snow, As is well known, this bone is fan shaped, and this one was about fourteen to sixteen inches long, about ten inches wide at one end, tapering to about two inches in diameter at the other end. One side was perfectly smooth and ideal for the purpose for which it had been used, a means of communication from one band of Indians to another, by pictures painted thereon in green, yellow and red; holding this sign board before you with the wide end uppermost, there appeared neatly executed the following: Beginning on the right side, near the edge, there were two lines of large shod horses tracks, running parallel and in the direction of the opposite side of the board. In front of these tracks was an Indian leading a pony with tepee poles lashed to his sides and dragging on the ground behind him. Resting on these poles was a lot of baggage. In front of the Indian and near the left hand edge of the board, were some Indian tepees, some trees and an Indian standing near a fire, apparently cooking. We interpreted this to mean that the Indians knew we were following them and had moved their camp further west to some point where it was safe, where there were trees, and had sought to communicate these facts to any of their friends who might come in after them. We camped at this lake that night christened it Ranger Lake, and remained there the following day. During that day I rode around in the vicinity of the lake and noted that several bands of horses had been recently driven in here from the east. I also discovered a large trail leading off from the lake in a southwest direction, over which many horses had been driven. I also noted the marks of tepee poles along this trail. On the following morning we broke camp, picked up this trail and followed it for a distance of 18 or 20 miles. About noon it led up onto a slight elevation and looking down the west side we saw a chain of four small lakes running along the base of the hill and extending about northwest and southeast. Each of these lakes were about one-forth of a mile in length and separated one from the other by a narrow neck of land. On the west side of the lakes there appeared a considerable valley extending about a fourth of a mile out from the lakes, where there was a bluff or abrupt rise in the ground, The trail led us between the two south lakes and around to the west side, where we found several springs of fresh water. Here we found much Indian sign, consisting of camp fires where the ashes were still warm and the skeletons of several horses that had been recently killed and all their flesh taken. From this point the trail, which was fresh, led on in a southeast course.

"We were now in a hostile Indian country with at least 250 miles of desert and plains country between us and our headquarters. Our supplies were running low and our horses were weak, besides I knew from the course and rate we had traveled coming in that we were far beyond the boundary line of Texas, which line was the limit of our jurisdiction. Hence I decided not to follow the trail any further. We halted here and remained the balance of the day. The following morning I turned back on my trail and reached Ranger Lake.

"I knew that the habit of these Indians was to make their raids on the settlers and do their stealing during the moonlight nights, and as this lake appeared to be the first watering place, after crossing the desert, I believed there was a chance for a band of these Indians to be still back east of the plains and possibly on their way out, so I decided to stop here until after the full of the moon, with the hope of intercepting them as they came out. Accordingly I went into a low range of sand hills on the east side of this lake and concealed my men and horses there as best I could, reduced my remaining rations to less than one-half ration per day per man, put out pickets south and north on the high ground, each with a strong field glass, and with instructions to keep a close look-out in every direction and especially toward the east for the approach of any band of Indians. We stayed here under these conditions for fifteen days. The days were clear and warm, but the nights were bitter cold. Our rations consisted of bacon, flour and coffee without sugar. Soon the supply of bacon was exhausted. There was almost nothing for our horses to eat. So that our stay here was simply gradual starvation for both men and horses. It is true there was plenty of game there, but under the circumstances we did not dare use our ammunition shooting game. After we had lain here several days and our rations were almost entirely exhausted, I sent three of my men, Joe Rush, F. S. Bell and J. B. Gibson back to the four lakes to kill some antelope. They returned the following day and reported that they had seen a band of twenty Indians at the four lakes, and that (the Indians) had attempted to take the men's horses, and from the signs around the four lakes there was a body of Indians somewhere very near there. We did not go back to the four lakes in search of those Indians, on account of the smallness of our number, the weakened condition of our horses and the great distance we were from our headquarters with no hope of reinforcements or relief from any quarter, We remained where we were until about thte 21st of January, 1880. By this time our rations were completely exhausted. We broke camp and started back to our headquarters.

"The first day of our homeward journey was clear and bright and we had no difficulty in following our trail. On that day one of the men killed an antelope and we ate every particle of it for supper with neither bread nor salt. The next morning about 5 o'clock it began to snow, and by daylight the ground was covered. The snow was coming from the northeast. There was a stiff breeze. It would be hard to imagine a more forlorn aspect than that little squad of men presented that morning as they fell in line and took up the march, facing that terrible blizzard, already half famished with not a morsel of food; the horses, almost exhausted, reeled as they walked. The men were gaunt and haggard from starvation, their faces drawn and pinched until their most intimate friends would not have recognized them. I knew that fifty or sixty miles northeast there was the Yellowhouses and the Causey brothers' buffalo camp and that there was relief if we could but reach those points. But I also knew that if we should miss those points there was but little chance for us in that terrible storm. I took my pocket compass and getting my course as best I could, we struck out facing the storm. The men and pack mules followed me all day long and until 12 o'clock that night; in fact for 18 hours we faced that awful snow storm with the mercury at about 10 below zero. Those who know anything about a blizzard on the plains of Texas may have some idea of our situation. Night came on and there was no relief in sight. The snow by this time was 12 or 14 inches deep. About 10 o'clock that night one of my men, John D. Birdwell, called me and said that he could go no further, that his horse had given out. His hands and feet were paralyzed with cold. I halted and had the men to catch an old Indian pony that we had picked up at Ranger Lake and put Birdwell on him and tied him on with a rope. We again moved forward. Some of the others were complaining dreadfully with cold. We were simply covered from head to feet with a shield of ice. About ten minutes after we had changed Birdwell onto the Indian pony it quit snowing. The clouds seemed to rise up and a star appeared directly in front of us. We were almost as glad to see the star that night as we were the lake of water we discovered back in the desert. I now knew I would follow a straight course. I took the star as my guide and after about half an hour's march we came suddenly to the brink of a high bluff. By this time the clouds had broken up the stars were shining. We bore north in our course and soon found a place where we could descend. On reaching the foot of the cliff we discovered that we were near the Yellowhouses, the place where we had left our wagon on our way out and where there was at least some shelter for the men and horses.

"We found everything just as we had left, it. About a hundred feet up the cliff from the wagon there was a cave capable of sheltering our whole squad. When we were here before we had gathered some mesquite roots for fuel but had not burned them all. We had left some of these roots piled up near the wagon. Although they were covered with snow, the men went that night and found them and brought them up into the cave and built a fire. They then cut Birdwell's gloves and boots off and carried him up into the cave and laid him down near the fire. He was suffering so with cold he rolled over and passed his hands through the blaze of the fire. This caused him such great pain that he fainted, became unconscious and was dragged out into the snow by the men and his hands, face and feet were rubbed with snow. He regained consciousness and was taken back into the cave, only to do the same thing over. He was again dragged out and brought back to consciousness in the same manner, when he was brought back into the cave and blankets piled onto him and a guard put over him so keep him away from the fire.

"We made ourselves as comfortable as we could in this cave for the remainder of the night. Next morning the sun rose bright and clear, not a cloud was seen. I sent two of my men with pack mules over to the Causey brothers buffalo camp and procured several hundred pounds of fine buffalo meat, flour, sugar and other supplies. When they returned I issued these rations to the men sparingly, allowancing each one of them to a small amount at first. The men were so weak from hunger and exposure to cold that they could scarcely stand up, and some of them, when attempting to walk, would turn blind and stagger like drunk men.

"We were still several days' journey from our headquarters and the intervening plain was covered with 12 or 14 inches of snow. We rested at the Yellowhouses a couple of days, and then continued our march toward our headquarters, which we reached within about three days, after an absence of forty days. We had been given up lost. On this trip we had traveled between five and six hundred miles in the dead of winter, on less than half rations for ourselves and almost nothing for our horses. In my opinion, few men have suffered more and lived than did this little squad of Rangers during the campaign above described. Certainly no men are more deserving of honor and reward. Most of them have already crossed the Great Divide. Those that are still living are old and gray. Their services in this campaign were invaluable to the State of Texas in that they penetrated a region of country that was at that time absolutely unknown to white men, and discovered lakes of water in the heart of the great desert. They also discovered the hiding place of this band of hostile Indians, which had been raiding the frontier of Texas from time immemorable and broke up their rendezvous, forcing them to move further west, and they were never known to make another raid on that part of the frontier of Texas again."

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