By this time it was getting late and the mob suddenly dispersed. As night drew her sable mantle over the scene of ruin, those who had escaped to the woods and corn fields began to return, to learn what had befallen their friends. Wives anxiously inquired of the fate of their husbands, and children of the fate of their parents. There can be nothing more sad than this seeking to remove uncertainty in such cases. It is like seeking the dead and wounded on the battlefield, or the missing, the maimed or the dead after an earthquake, or some devouring tempest or flood--so much alike, at least in their results, are the eruptions of the elements and the fierce, uncontrolled passions of man. Before each the timid and the helpless fly to such shelter as they find at hand. Some seek safety in flight, others in hiding from the storm or from wrath. Then when temporary safety is seemingly assured, thoughts for the safety of others assert themselves. The desire for the safety of the loved ones--a wife, a husband, a child, a parent, a brother, a friend--becomes an agony. Love by degrees conquers fear, and at last prompts the facing of danger much greater than those from which at first they fled, and the loved ones are sought despite of all risks to personal safety. So it was with the saints who had been so unexpectedly assailed. On this occasion, however, those returning from flight or hiding had nothing to discover beyond the destruction of the printing press, the wrecking of the Phelps home, the looting of Gilbert's store, and the abuse of Partridge and Allen. Enough surely for one day of persecution, but not to be compared with scenes they yet would witness! The outrages of this day were the more reprehensible because of the character of the leaders of the mob. In the main they were the county officers--the county judge, the constables, clerks of the court and justices of the peace; while Lilburn W. Boggs, the lieutenant-governor, the second officer in the state, was there quietly looking on and secretly aiding every measure of the mob--who, walking among the ruins of the printing office and house of W. W. Phelps, remarked to some of the saints, "You now know what our Jackson boys can do, and you must leave the country!" CHAPTER VIII. THREATS OF THE MOB--APPEAL OF THE SAINTS. The third day after the events related in the preceding chapter, the mob, to the number of some five hundred, again came dashing into Independence bearing a red flag, and armed with rifles, pistols, dirks, whips and clubs. They rode in every direction in search of the leading elders, making the day hideous with their inhuman yells and wicked oaths. They declared it to be their intention to whip those whom they captured with from fifty to five hundred lashes each, allow their negroes to destroy their crops, and demolish their dwellings. Said they: