"They feared, if men, women and children were in one place, the mob would rush upon them and kill them all together. The mob fired before the women had time to start from the camp. The men took off their hats and swung them and cried for quarter, until they were shot down; the mob paid no attention to their entreaties, but fired alternately. I took my little girls (my boys I could not find) and ran for the woods. The mob encircled us on all sides, excepting the bank of the creek, so I ran down the bank and crossed the mill pond on a plank, ran up the hill on the other side into the bushes; and the bullets whistled by me like hailstones, and cut down the bushes on all sides of me. One girl was wounded by my side, and she fell over a log; her clothes happened to hang over the log in sight of the mob, and they fired at them, supposing that it was her body, and after all was still our people cut out of that log twenty bullets. "When the mob had done firing they began to howl, and one would have thought a horde of demons had escaped from the lower regions. They plundered our goods, what we had left, they took possession of our horses and wagons, and drove away, howling like so many demons. After they had gone I came down to behold the awful scene of slaughter, and, oh! what a horrible sight! My husband and one of my sons, ten years old, lay lifeless upon the ground, and another son, six years old, wounded and bleeding, his hip all shot to pieces; and the ground all around was covered with the dead and dying. Three little boys had crept under the blacksmith's bellows; one of them received three wounds; he lived three weeks, suffering all the time incessantly, and at last died. He was not mine, the other two were mine. One of whom had his brains all shot out, the other his hip shot to pieces." This last was Alma Smith, who lives at Coalville, and who still carries the bullets of the mob in his body, but was healed by the power of God through the careful nursing and earnest faith of his mother. "My husband was nearly stripped of his clothes before he was quite dead; he had on a new pair of calf-skin boots, and they were taken off him by one whom they designated as Bill Mann, who afterward made his brags that he 'pulled a d--d Mormon's boots off his feet while he was kicking.' It was at sunset when the mob left and we crawled back to see and comprehend the extent of our misery. The very dogs seemed filled with rage, howling over their dead masters, and the cattle caught the scent of innocent blood, and bellowed. A dozen helpless widows grieving for the loss of their husbands, and thirty or forty orphaned or fatherless children were screaming and crying for their fathers, who lay cold and insensible around them. The groans of the wounded and dying rent the air. All this combined was enough to melt the heart of anything but a Missouri mobocrat. There were fifteen killed and ten wounded, two of whom died the next day."