Bro.  E. had come to feel that my life was precious to the Christian brethren in Atchison county.  Except myself they had no preacher, and they needed a preacher.

The steamboat bound for St. Louis that day had been detained, and would not arrive until the next day.  I must, therefore, stay over night in Atchison.  I conversed freely with the people that afternoon, and said to them:  “Under the Kansas-Nebraska bill, we that are free State men have as good a right to come to Kansas as you have; and we have as good a right to speak our sentiments as you have.”

A public meeting was called that night to consider my case, but I did not know it.  The steamboat was expected about noon the next day.  I had been sitting writing letters at the head of the stairs, in the chamber of the boarding-house where I had slept, and heard some one call my name, and rose up to go down stairs; but was met by six men, bristling with revolvers and bowie-knives, who came up stairs and into my room.  The leader was Robert S. Kelley.  They presented me a string of resolutions, denouncing free State men in unmeasured terms, and demanded that I should sign them.  I felt my heart flutter, and knew if I should undertake to speak my voice would tremble, and determined to gain time.  Sitting down I pretended to read the resolutions—­they were familiar to me, having been already printed in the Squatter Sovereign—­and finally I began to read them aloud.  But these men were impatient, and said:  “We just want to know will you sign these resolutions?” I had taken my seat by a window, and looking out and down into the street, had seen a great crowd assembled, and determined to get among them.  Whatever should be done-would better be done in the presence of witnesses.  I said not a word, but going to the head of the stairs, where was my writing-stand and pen and ink, I laid the paper down and quickly walked down stairs and into the street.  Here they caught me by the wrists, from behind, and demanded, “Will you sign?” I answered, “No,” with emphasis.  I had got my voice by that time.  They dragged me down to the Missouri River, cursing me, and telling me they were going to drown me.  But when we had got to the river they seemed to have got to the end of their programme, and there we stood.  Then some little boys, anxious to see the fun go on, told me to get on a large cotton-wood stump close by and defend myself.  I told the little fellows I did not know what I was accused of yet.  This broke the silence, and the men that had me in charge asked: 

“Did the Emigrant Aid Society send you here?”

“No; I have no connection with the Emigrant Aid Society.”

“Well, what did you come for?”

“I came because I had a mind to come.  What did you come for?”

“Did you come to make Kansas a free State?”

“No, not primarily; but I shall vote to make Kansas a free State.”

“Are you a correspondent of the New York Tribune?”