The year 1858 found him in Salt Lake City, in reduced circumstances. As if to mark this reverse with peculiar emphasis, Conley and Rucker, the sharers of his bounty two years before, were also there, engaged in prosperous business. They had seemingly forgotten their old benefactor, and treated him with coldness and neglect. Peel was an entire stranger to all save them, and felt bitterly their ingratitude. A citizen by the name of Robinson, who had been attracted by the manly figure of Peel, observed him, a few days after his arrival, seated upon a log in the rear of the Salt Lake House, apparently in deep study. Calling his partner to the door, he inquired if he knew him. “His name is Peel, I have been told,” was the reply. “He is in trouble.” “Yes, he’s got no money, and is a stranger.” “Do you know him?” “No, I never spoke to him. I only know he’s in distress, destitute, and has no friends. He’s the man who took care of a lot of boys that were dead broke, that hard winter at Leavenworth.” “He is? If I didn’t think he’d take it as an insult, I’d go out and offer him some money.” Later in the day, Peel entered Robinson’s room, and approaching Conley, who was seated in the “lookout seat,” near a table where a game of faro was progressing, said to him, “Dave, I wish you’d lend me twenty-five dollars.” “I’ll not do it,” replied Conley. “Why?” “I’ve no money to loan.” “I don’t consider it a loan,” said Peel, looking steadfastly at Conley. Then, as if influenced by a recollection of his own kindness to the man who refused him, he exclaimed, “Great God! is it possible that there is not a man in the country who will lend me twenty-five dollars?” Robinson, who was seated by the table drawer, now drew it out, and, grasping a handful of coin, threw it eagerly upon the table. “Here,” said he, “Mr. Peel, I’ll loan you twenty-five dollars, or as much more as you want. You’re entirely welcome to it.” Peel turned, and fixing upon Robinson a look of mingled surprise and gratitude, responded, “Sir, you’re a stranger to me. We never spoke together before, but I will gratefully accept your kindness, and thank you. All I want is twenty-five dollars, and I’ll pay you as soon as I can.” He then picked up five half-eagles, and placed them in the palm of his hand. “Take more, Peel,” said Robinson. “Take a hundred, or whatever you want.” “No, this is all I want”; then, fixing his gaze upon Conley, whose face was red and swollen with anger, he seized the “case keeper” used for marking the game, and hurled it violently at his head. Conley dodged, and the only effect of the act was a deep indentation in the adobe wall. Conley sprung from his seat and ran out of the building. Peel drew his revolver with the intention of pursuing, but Robinson, seizing his arm, said, “Stay your hand, Peel. For God’s sake, don’t make any disturbance.”