"It has passed from my memory whether he was dead in the morning or whether he recovered.
"Next morning brother Joseph Young came to the scene of the massacre.
"'What shall be done with the dead?' he inquired, in horror and deep trouble.
"There was not time to bury them, for the mob was coming on us. Neither were there left men to dig the graves. All the men excepting the two or three who had so narrowly escaped were dead or wounded. It had been no battle, but a massacre indeed.
"'Do anything, Brother Joseph,' I said, 'rather than leave their bodies to the fiends who have killed them.'
"There was a deep dry weir close by. Into this the bodies had to be hurried, eighteen or nineteen in number.
"No funeral service could be performed, nor could they be buried with customary decency. The lives of those who in terror performed the last duty to the dead were in jeopardy. Every moment we expected to be fired upon by the fiends who we supposed were lying in ambush waiting the first opportunity to dispatch the remaining few who had escaped the slaughter of the preceding day. So in the hurry and terror of the moment some were thrown into the well head downwards and some feet downwards.
"But when it came to the burial of my murdered boy Sardius, Brother Joseph Young, who was assisting to carry him on a board to the well, laid down the corpse and declared that he could not throw that boy into this horrible grave.
"All the way on the journey, that summer, Joseph had played with the interesting lad who had been so cruelly murdered. It was too much for one whose nature was so tender as Uncle Joseph's, and whose sympathies by this time were quite overwrought. He could not perform that last office. My murdered son was left unburied.
"'Oh! they have left my Sardius unburied in the sun,' I cried, and ran and got a sheet and covered his body.