At this he, with the other man, who came out of the bushes, ran towards me, but I outran them. About seven miles distant he overtook me with a number of his slave men, and told me I had to give up. I flourished my dirk and told them that I would kill the first man that touched me, or they should kill me. At this they all stood back except the master himself. He flourished his bowie-knife and I my dirk, for the space of a few minutes, when he made a rush upon me, and he met my dirk before I met his bowie-knife. As he fell back I ran for the woods. In the darkness of the night I made my last visit to my wife and little children." Here he became convulsed with weeping. When he could command his feelings to pursue the sad story, he said: "Oh, that was an awful parting! The moment I entered my wife's cabin she threw her arms around my neck, exclaiming, 'Oh, my dear Bill, don't stay a minute, for they say you've killed Master Riggs. They say he was dyin' this evenin', and he's dead afore this time, I reckon, an' they swear vengeance on you. Some said they'd chop you in pieces--some said they'd burn you alive.' I told her if God would help me to Canada I would write after awhile to her father (he was free, having bought himself), and may be he could manage to send her and our children to me; and I tore her arms from my neck." Again he was overcome with grief. I advised him not to write at present. I never saw a more grief-stricken man. He was boarding with Henry Bibb's mother, who said she knew he was a man of deep trouble, "for he looked so sad and groaned so much nights; but I couldn't bear to ask him, because I thought it would be harder for him to forget it." Having been a slave herself, she could easily anticipate the cause of his sadness. Notwithstanding this, he made fair progress in reading, writing, and arithmetic in one term. During this time vigorous efforts were put forth for his capture. While I enjoyed my work so much with these people in the woods, in schools, in meetings, and in their improvements generally, I do not say I found with them perfection. There were causes for reproof as well as of encouragement. They made great effort to improve their homes by taking trees from their woods to the saw mills to be cut up into boards for better floors than split logs, and for partitions to make their little houses more comfortable. Perhaps their improvements could not find better expression than the report of one of our neighbors, in reply to an inquiry of a friend in Detroit, as to how they were prospering in their refugee colony, "Fine fine we've all come to life, an' are in a state to see who'll make the bes' house."