When the crusade against plural marriage commenced in Utah, I was not willing to give up my families; and being of a timid nature, I sought to avoid trouble. In my heart I felt justified in having more wives than one, believing plural marriage to be God's law; and therefore I resolved to cleave to my wives and children, let come what might. On the other hand, I did not court martyrdom; I was quite willing to retire and live in seclusion until the wave of prejudice should pass away. Accordingly, I took up a ranch on the Boulder Mountain, at a place called Wild Cat, a lonely retreat twenty miles from any town. Here I took my wife Tamar, and began to run a dairy. Albina, my first wife, remained on the farm in Rabbit Valley. I had learned that there was a warrant out for me in the hands of Deputy Marshal Armstrong, charging me with adultery--adultery, forsooth, with my own wife! On one occasion, I was in Nephi staying with Thomas Bowles. We were walking past Whitmore's store in the evening, when Brother Bowles suddenly caught my arm. "There's Armstrong!" said he, pointing to a man in front of the livery stable who was trying to hold a lantern, and at the same time to do some repair work on a buggy. I stepped forward, held the lantern, and chatted with him some fifteen minutes. He thanked me, and I knew Johnny Armstrong from that time onward. Soon after my return to Wild Cat I received a communication from my brother Franklin, saying that Armstrong and McGary wanted to meet us, and try to make "terms" with us; pledging their word that we should not be arrested at the meeting. I declined to meet. I knew the marshals, and I didn't intend that by any such ruse they should make my acquaintance. My brother met them, however, and agreed on terms; and when notified, he went to Beaver and surrendered himself; received as his "medicine" the full extent of the law--three years and three hundred dollars. Before harvest time, it became necessary for me to go to the city for a reaper. My wife Albina was with me on my way home, and just as we reached the head of the long dugway overlooking Rabbit Valley, Armstrong drove up. I stopped and let him pass. He thanked me, and drove by. I knew him and rejoiced that he didn't know me. Once I came up from Wild Cat to get a load of rock salt for my cattle. I called at the Co-op. store, but it had none. Hugh McClellan, the man that the deputies always stopped with, said, "Drive me home, and I will let you have a load." "Am I safe?" "Perfectly; there will be no one here for three or four days." I went, and was loading the salt into my wagon when Lish Goff, a rough man, supposedly unfriendly to me, pulled my sleeve, and nodded toward a side lane. There came Armstrong and McGary! I felt I was a "goner." Surely I could not escape this time! However, I picked up my lines and drove off. McClellan was as white as death.