Early one morning, Scott, Mother , and I set out for Marathon, Texas to get our supply of groceries. Since the ranch was going through a very busy season, and no man could be spared. We set out by hack for the two day's trip. We never tried to make the trip in one day. The pull up the twenty five mile stretch was too much for any horse, except a fresh one. Going to town was a great occasion, but one we enjoyed only once every four or six weeks according to our needs. About the middle of the afternoon when father sun was parading his best rays and Mr. Slumber was about to obsconed with our senses, we were suddenly awakened when we realized that a man was standing beside the road. The law of self preservation made one suspicious of such situations. As we came nearer we noted the man had dark skin and was dressed in rough clothes. No matter how great the danger, no one was refused an audience or help in these parts. It was the unwritten law of the West. Mother pulled the horses to a stop. The man raised his hand in greeting and began speaking in broken English. We understood that his Boss Man was very sick in a camp a short distance away. They had no means of travel except on the backs of donkeys or burros. We drove, with some hesitation, behind the Mexican for a distance and came upon a small camp. We realized that he was telling us the truth before we reached the sick man for his groans could be heard, above the rumble of the hack, a distance away. A quick bed was made in the back of the hack and the sick man placed upon it. Then we began one of the miserable journeys I ever hope to take. I thought each breath would be his last as we bumped over the rough road.
I know you wonder what a sick man was doing out in a crude camp in the mountains. He was a Mr. Moss and was a surveyor. He had several white men and a Mexican cook in his crew. For some reason the white men had gone up into the mountains to survey and left Mr. Moss in the camp with the cook. He became ill and the Mexican was at a loss as what to do.
About ten miles from Marathon we came to a ranch where there was a phone. We stopped and took him out of the hack and called Dr. Glover Worthington, who came in double quick time in his Ford. The doctor took no chances and brought the sheriff along. He didn't know what had happened. After a hurried examination, he found Mr. Moss critically ill and performed a minor operation before taking him on to Marathon. Few people, on viewing the situation, would have thought that Mr. Moss would ever climb another mountain with a surveying crew … l am told that he scaled many heights after this near tragedy.
 Vicie Ann Scott b. 1889 d. 1968