They had been met on their entrance into the State of Missouri by armed mobs. Governor Boggs had just issued his order to exterminate the entire Mormon community.
The coming of the refugees into the inhospitable State could not have been more ill-timed, though when they left Kirtland they expected to find a brotherhood in Far West.
"Halt!" commanded the leader of a band of well-mounted and well-armed mobocrats, who charged down upon them as they journeyed on their way.
"If you proceed any farther west," said the captain, "you will be instantly shot."
"Wherefore?" inquired the pilgrims.
"You are d—d Mormons!"
"We are law-abiding Americans, and have given no cause of offence."
"You are d—d Mormons. That's offence enough. Within ten days every Mormon must be out of Missouri, or men, women and children will be shot down indiscriminately. No mercy will be shown. It is the order of the Governor that you should all be exterminated; and by G—d you will be."
In consternation the refugees retreated, and gathered at Haun's Mill.
It was Sunday, October 26. The Mormons were holding a council and deliberating upon the best course to pursue to defend themselves against the mob that was collecting in the neighborhood, under the command of a Colonel Jennings, or Livingston, and threatening them with house-burning and killing.