A few days after he had gone, I started for home by the way of Fort Leavenworth, accompanied by two men, who were going to the fort on business.  As we were crossing a stream called Little Stranger, we were fired upon by some unknown party; one of my companions, whose name has escaped my memory, was killed.  The other man and myself put spurs to our horses and made a dash for our lives.  We succeeded in making our escape, though a farewell shot or two was sent after us.  At Fort Leavenworth I parted company with my companion, and reached home without any further adventure.

My mother and sisters, who had not heard of my father or myself since I had been sent to warn him of his danger, had become very anxious and uneasy about us, and were uncertain as to whether we were dead or alive.  I received a warm welcome home, and as I entered the house, mother seemed to read from the expression of my countenance that father was safe; of course the very first question she asked was as to his whereabouts, and in reply I handed her a long letter from him which explained everything.  Mother blessed me again and again for having saved his life.

While father was absent in Ohio, we were almost daily visited by some of the pro-slavery men, who helped themselves to anything they saw fit, and frequently compelled my mother and sisters to cook for them, and to otherwise submit to a great deal of bad treatment.  Hardly a day passed without some of them inquiring “where the old man was,” saying they would kill him on sight.  Thus we passed the summer of 1854, remaining at our home notwithstanding the unpleasant surroundings, as mother had made up her mind not to be driven out of the country.  My uncle and other friends advised her to leave Kansas and move to Missouri, because they did not consider our lives safe, as we lived so near the headquarters of the pro-slavery men, who had sworn vengeance upon father.

Nothing, however, could persuade mother to change her determination.  She said that the pro-slavery men had taken everything except the land and the little home, and she proposed to remain there as long as she lived, happen what might.  Our only friends in Salt Creek valley were two families; one named Lawrence, the other Hathaway, and the peaceable Indians, who occasionally visited us.  My uncle, living in Missouri and being somewhat in fear of the pro-slavery men, could not assist us much, beyond expressing his sympathy and sending us provisions.

In the winter of 1854-55 father returned from Ohio, but as soon as his old enemies learned that he was with us, they again compelled him to leave.  He proceeded to Lawrence, and there spent the winter in attending the Lecompton Legislature.  The remainder of the year he passed mostly at Grasshopper Falls, where he completed his saw-mill.  He occasionally visited home under cover of the night, and in the most secret manner; virtually carrying his life in his hand.