All being
understood, I started out to get my mare, and saw quite a crowd
had gathered around her, and one man in particular was trying to
make up with her. Just as I stepped out of the door I heard him
say, "This must surely be Black Bess. I wonder who owns her now."
And until he called the mare's name I had not recognized him, and
it struck me that it must be George Jones, but not being sure, I
said: "Is that you, George?" He said: "Yes, and that's my old
friend Capt. Drannan." This was a surprise to us both. It was the
first time that we had met since we separated at San Francisco in
the fall of 1866, at which time we had both decided to quit
fighting Indians, but here we both were again in the field. After
a good square shake and giving a hasty synopsis of our experiences
during the time we had been separated, George asked if I was going
into the scouting field again. I told him that I had just accepted
a position as chief of scouts with Gen. Wheaton. I then asked him
what he was doing for a livelihood. He said that he had joined the
Oregon Volunteers, and asked me if I did not think I could get him
relieved. "For," said he, "I would rather work with you than any
one else. We have been together so much we understand each other."
He told me his Captain's name and that he belonged to Col.
Miller's regiment. I did not lose any time in seeing Col.
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