A miner by the name of Ellis, who had given important testimony against Moore and Reeves, by whom he was wounded in the _mêlée_ which resulted in the death of Cazette, was next singled out for slaughter. He owned a mining claim in the gulch, which he was working with the hope of speedily acquiring means to take him from the country. Cyrus Skinner, a noted ruffian, assaulted him while on his way to the claim, and beat him unmercifully. He left him with the assurance that if he ever saw him in the town he would kill him. Through fear that he or some of his associates would execute this threat, he used to steal out of his cabin and go to his work by an old game trail over the spur of the mountain, to escape observation. But his steps were dogged. He could not move in any direction without a rough upon his track, watching for an opportunity to shoot him. His life was rendered miserable by the conviction that he was liable at any moment to secret assassination. Resolved to escape if possible, he left for Fort Benton. The roughs soon discovered his absence, and sent three or four of their number in pursuit of him. He foiled them by turning from the main trail into an unexplored region. After several days he reached the Missouri River below Benton, where he constructed a wigwam in which he dwelt, subsisting upon roots, berries, and the remnants of his provisions, until the Mackinaw boats descended the river from Fort Benton in the spring. Hailing one of them he was taken on board, and returned in safety to the States. The writer of this history was early marked for summary retaliation. I had disappointed the expectations of the roughs at the trial of Moore and Reeves, by voting for the death penalty, after having supported their demand for a jury. They made no secret of their threats against my life, and that of my friend, Judge Walter B. Dance. We never went to our claims without a loaded gun and a revolver. Dance, being a man of great physical strength, and courage to match, was not one to be easily frightened. In personal contest he would have proved more than a match for the strongest of his enemies. On one occasion, when Judge Dance and I were quietly walking down the street, we saw Plummer approaching. Dance drew a small bowie-knife, and picking up a stick, commenced whittling. Plummer came up, and casting a suspicious glance at the knife, asked, “Judge, why do you always begin to whittle when you meet me?” The answer, accompanied by a look of blended sternness and indignation, came promptly, “Because, sir, I never intend that you shall get the advantage of me. You know my opinion of you and your friends. I will not be shot down like a dog by any of you, if I can help it.”