when the difficulties demanded extremes. When a band of outlaws was
located, detectives or spies were sent among them, who openly joined the
desperadoes, and gathered evidence to put the Rangers on their trail.
Then, in the wilderness, with only the soaring buzzard or prowling
coyote to look on, the Ranger and the outlaw met to fight with tigerish
ferocity to the death. Shot, and lying prone, they fired until the
palsied arm could no longer raise the six-shooter, and justice was
satisfied as their bullets sped. The captains had the selection of
their men, and the right to dishonorably discharge at will. Only men of
irreproachable character, who were fine riders and dead-shots, were
taken. The spirit of adventure filled the ranks with the most prominent
young men in the State, and to have been a Ranger is a badge of
distinction in Texas to this day. The display of anything but a perfect
willingness to die under any and all circumstances was fatal to a
Ranger, and in course of time they got the _moral_ on the bad man. Each
one furnished his own horse and arms, while the State gave him
ammunition, "grub," one dollar a day, and extra expenses. The enlistment
was for twelve months. A list of fugitive Texas criminals was placed in
his hands, with which he was expected to familiarize himself. Then, in
small parties, they packed the bedding on their mule, they hung the
handcuffs and leather thongs about its neck, saddled their
riding-ponies, and threaded their way into the chaparral.

On an evening I had the pleasure of meeting two more distinguished
Ranger officers--more modern types--Captains Lea Hall and Joseph Shely;
both of them big, forceful men, and loath to talk about themselves. It
was difficult to associate the quiet gentlemen who sat smoking in the
Deacon's rooms with what men say; for the tales of their prowess in
Texas always ends, "and that don't count Mexicans, either." The bandit
never laid down his gun but with his life; so the "la ley de huga"