While such prisoner I witnessed many scenes of inhumanity even more degrading than mere brutality itself. The mob of the militia was mostly composed of men who had been neighbors of the Mormons. This mob rifled the city, took what they wished, and committed many cruel and shameful deeds. These barbarous acts were done because they said the Mormons had stolen their goods and chattels, and while they pretended to search for stolen property they ravished women and committed other crimes at will.
One day, while we were standing by a log fire trying to keep warm, a man came up and, recognizing Brother Riley Stewart, said:
"I saw you knock Dick Weldon down at Gallatin."
With this he sprang and caught at an ax that had been stuck in a log. While trying to get the ax out, as it stuck fast in the log, Stewart ran. The man succeeded in getting the ax loose; he then threw it with all his force at Stewart. Fortunately the ax struck him only a glancing blow on the head, not killing him, but giving him a severe wound.
The night after he was wounded Stewart broke through the guard and escaped to his wife's people in Carroll County, fifty miles south of Far West. As soon as the citizens heard that Stewart had arrived they notified his wife's brothers and father that an armed mob intended to take him out and whip him severely, and then tar and feather him. His friends warned him of the fact, and he attempted to make his escape, but the mob was on the watch. They caught him, and, holding two pistols at his head, forced him to take off his coat, kneel down, and receive fifty lashes. These were given him with such force that they cut through his linen shirt. After this whipping he returned to Far West and took his chances with the rest of us.
One day a soldier of the mob walked up to a house near where I was standing. The house was occupied by an old widow woman. The soldier noticed a cow in the little shed near the house. He said that he thought it was a Danite cow; that he wanted to have the honor of killing a Danite, or something that belonged to a Danite. The old widow came to the door of her cabin and begged him to spare her cow, saying it was her only dependence for milk, that she had no meat, and if her cow was killed she must suffer.
"Well, then," said he, "you can eat the cow for a change."
He then shot the cow dead, and stood there and tantalized the old woman while she cried over her loss.
While we were standing in line, waiting our turn to sign the treaty, a large company of men, painted like Indians, rode up and surrounded us. They were a part of the men who were in the fight at the town of Gallatin on the day of election. They abused us in every way they could with words. This treatment was hard to bear, but we were powerless to protect ourselves in any way.