revolvers in their belts.  Mother told George and me to hide behind the door, while she talked to them.  They asked for a drink of water, but while they waited for it, one of them rode almost into the door, and looked around the room—­we had only one room—­evidently looking for father.  George became impatient, and kept whispering “Let me out, let me see a Border ’uffian.  I will see a Border ’uffian.”  And he pulled loose from me and peeped around the edge of the door.

When father came home he brought some type, and some half-printed papers, blackened with powder, that he had picked up in the sand on the river bank at Lawrence, where the Border Ruffians had thrown the Herald of Freedom press and papers into the river.  On the printed side of the papers was the article he had written about his last mob.,

Years afterwards I asked father what he was doing when he was gone from home in May and June, 1856.  He replied:  “I was organizing the Republican party in northern Kansas.  I first went to Lawrence, and there the leaders insisted that I ought to visit various points in the northern part of the State, and organize the new party, and I did so.”

Soon after father’s return, in June, some of the neighbors announced a meeting for him at Bro.  Elliott’s, four miles from our house, of which he speaks in Chapter XVII.  To that meeting the people came armed, for the report of the appointment had reached Atchison.  They left their guns in their wagons, or set them in convenient corners, while they listened to the preaching; for they were determined to defend father in case of attack.

Mr. John Quiett, who is yet one of our neighbors, was one of three men who stood guard at the fence, watching for approaching enemies, while father preached.  But no attack was made.

Uncle Milo had taken us to the meeting; and mother asked father to go home with us, and he replied, “Yes, I am going home once more.”

Mother told him she would be glad to have him go with us, but she was afraid to have him stay all night.

“I am going to stay at home for one night, for I have some letters to write,” was his reply.

Mother was very uneasy on the road home, for she said the Border Ruffians would be watching for us in the woods.  But we reached home without molestation.  Father sat up until after midnight, writing letters, and then went to bed and slept safely.  The next day one of our neighbors told us that just at dark that evening she saw a band of men ride into the woods between her house and ours, but she was afraid to come over and tell us.  Other neighbors saw them go out on Monday morning, and ride toward town.  A few days afterwards, a neighbor, who stood “on both sides of the fence” in regard to politics, went to Atchison, and he told us that nine South Carolinians hid in our woods to take father that night, but they had seen his light burning so late that they were afraid, and went back and told that he had forty armed men, who stood guard all night, and they could not take him.