We had a ministerial looking fellow with us, who gave his name as Wilson from New Jersey. He had worked for us but a few months when one morning three men came up and stopped one of our teams. Wilson, who was driving a front team, looked back, and, dropping his rein, ran for the woods, nearly a half mile distant, looking neither to the right or left until he disappeared into the bushes. Next day, going through a piece of woods, I heard Wilson's voice, "Is everything all right?" and when told that the men only wanted to buy a horse, he still suspected that he had seen one of them before. Although he was with us until near the end of our travels he never told us why he ran so fast. Of course, our lives were full of peculiar incidents. Mr. Young, who deputized me to load the gun, delighted in telling the fortunes of those who came around the camp fire in the evening, and it was rich to listen to him when he had a fellow and girl on the string, who were really serious. MY RELATION We camped over Sunday near the home of a distant relative of mine, who had come out west many years before and had been prosperous. He was a great big generous farmer of about seventy-five years, who enjoyed our stories and songs hugely, while he supplied our camp with eggs, ham, chicken, cream and vegetables. One of his neighbors told me a secret about the old man's narrow escape from death, which I have not forgotten. It appears that after his first wife's death, the old chap married a young woman of the neighborhood, who made him an excellent wife, although there was a slight blemish of character on the family from which she came. It seems that before the marriage he had agreed never to twit her about her relation, but had broken over several times, for which she had warned him to desist if he valued his life. One day, as the story went, she was making pies and he was in the kitchen tormenting her, for which she gave him tit for tat until he remarked, "Well, thank the Lord I was reared in a family of God-fearing and law-abiding citizens." She uttered an unprintable phrase, and drew a butcher knife from the table drawer. It was the one which the old gent had often used to slay pigs and calves, but he had never dreamed it would one day be used to wind up his own earthly career. A glance at the keen, ugly blade caused him to unceremoniously discontinue the argument and rush out the back door crying, "Help! Help!" Knowing the unscrupulous character of the family to which his sweetheart belonged, and the heat to which he had fired her passion, he, without stopping to either pray or swear, lit out for the orchard, hoping to distance his fair pursuer and climb a tree. In this horrid dilemma of running while looking, both before and behind, he forgot about the old unused well without a curb, and just as she was about to plunge the awful knife, he dropped into the well just deep enough to save himself from decapitation.