We had an interview with the Governor, who readily acknowledged the justice of the demand, but frankly told us he dare not attempt the execution of the laws in that respect, for fear of deluging the whole country in civil war and bloodshed. He advised us to relinquish our rights, for the sake of peace, and to sell our lands from which we had been driven. To this we replied with firmness, that we would hold no terms with land pirates and murderers. If we could not be permitted to live on lands which we had purchased of the United States, and be protected in our persons and rights, our lands would, at least, make a good burying ground, on which to lay out bones; and, like Abraham's possession in Canaan, we should hold on to our possessions in the county of Jackson, for this purpose, at least. He replied that he did not blame us in the least, but trembled for the country, and dare not carry out the plain, acknowledged and imperative duties of his office. We retired, saying to ourselves: "That poor coward ought, in duty, to resign; he owes this, morally at least, in justice to his oath of office." We returned to the camp, which was then on the march, somewhere below the county of Ray. President Joseph Smith, his brother Hyrum, L. Wight and others, repaired with us into a solitary grove, apart, to learn the result of our mission. After hearing our report, the President called on the God of our fathers to witness the justice of our cause and the sincerity of our vows, which we engaged to fulfill, whether in this life or in the life to come. For, as God lives, truth, justice and innocence shall triumph, and iniquity shall not reign. Pursuing our journey, we arrived at Fishing River, Ray County, and encamped for the night on a hill between its forks. This stream was then about six inches deep in each of its branches where the road crossed it. We had but just camped, when there arose such a storm as has been seldom witnessed on our earth; the wind blew, the vivid lightning flashed, the thunder rolled, the earth trembled, and the floods descended in a manner never before witnessed by us. Our tents were blown down, and some of us lay six or eight inches deep in water. There was a large meeting house there with the door open, into which many of us gathered for shelter, after being nearly drowned. Next morning the fords of Fishing River were said to be twenty to forty feet deep. We afterwards learned that an army of outlaws were in our neighborhood, and would have attacked us that night but for the storm; the floods in the river each side of us prevented a hostile meeting, until certain citizens made the acquaintance of our leaders, and learned their intentions. Thus the excitement was allayed, and the outlaws finally disbanded.