The Indianapolis times. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1922-1965, 1933-07-15
BY HARRY MCCORMICK
NEA Service Writer

TINE days of the old wild west
Il still live in the Big Bend coun-
try of Texas, Americas last frontier
The passage of the years has
brought little change to this wild
and mountainous area along the
Rio Grande, now sparsely dotted
with cattle ranches and tiny vii
lagos, where bandit bands from
Mexico still raid across the border
and bad men fleeing from the law
seek haven in its deep canyons.
Candalario Baeza, king of band
of Mexican outlaws, still comes
dashing across the border at inter-
walls TO prey upon the ranchers'
sleek herds. And just recently two
escaped desperadoes who had fig
ured in the sensational break from
the Kansas penitentiary were cap
tured near San Angelo, Tex, while
heading for these modern day bad
lands.
Nearly every man goes armed
ready to aid the small stats of
county officers and the handful of
Texas rangers whose job it is to
maintain the majesty of the law in
this remote area of west Texas.
To the rangers, colorful and ro-
mantle figures in the turbulent his
tory of the Lone Star state, falls
most of the work-and a Texas
ranger seldom fails to get his man
The story of how Ranger Arch
Miller got that empty sleeve that
he carries today will illustrate.
Where a dense growth of mesquite
wedges its way among the cactus
of the Big Bend country, an auto
mobile lay wrecked at sharp turn
on the narrow mountain road. In
the distance another car roared
away.
After struggling for three hours,
during which no other car passed
through that expanse of wilderness,
white-faced man with features
drawn with pain finally managed to
free himself from the wreckage.
Half falling he stumbled down the
winding road, blood coursing from
a mangled left arm dripping in his
sandy tracks.
THREE miles away, he reached
IL the nearest ranch house. Only
the women were at home. He stag
gered inside and with his good right
arm cranked the old-faShioned ru
raj telephonee to summon aid.
Six months later a friend was
kidding Ranger Miller about his
failure to get his man.
"Yeah?" replied Miller, his empty
Sleeve fluttering where his injured
arm had been amputated. II lost
him when / spilled that car. But I
got him after I left the hospital"
This story illustrates the temper
of that organization of Texas Ran
gers which operates on the nations
last frontier.
Ranger Arch Miller had left the
hospital to resume his duties as a
peace officer He was not boaSting
when he commented on continuing
his line of duty.
He was expressing the code of the
border and of the men whose job
it is to preserve law and order in
that area.
The Texas Ranger is a natural
born manhunter, and to fail in his
assignment is considered by him
self a blot on his reputation.
Since 1886, when this organiza-
ton was formed to combat maraud-
ing Indians and deSperadoes, the
history of this outfit has been COL
orful one.
Despite their well-earned reputa-
ton as guardians of the law, there
are not more than hundred
Rangers in the whole state of Texas
today. But though short on num-
bers, they are long on getting re-
suits.
WEARS ago when a riot threat
Il ened a certain Texas town, a
call was made to Ranger headquar-
tiers for aid.
A few hours later a rangy, gray
eyed six-footer arrived, two guns
strapped to his belt.
We called for Rangers; where are
the rest of your fellows?" the star
tied sheriff inquired.
How many riots do you expect
here?' drawled the lanky stranger.
One, of course" was the reply.
We'll, one riot. one Ranger---aint
that enough?" he answered, non
chalantly.
Apparently, 1t was. There was