At noon, twenty miles from home, he unsaddled and rested an hour, picketing his horse. Twelve miles below Flat Lick, near Brown’s Station, he came upon Dick Martin and his family in a sorry plight. Two days before they had passed Campbell Station traveling to Danville from Tidewater, Virginia. The night before in crossing a stream, their wagon had been swept by high water below the ford and one of their two horses had been drowned. It was impossible to continue their journey with but one. Martin, a shiftless fellow, had not even removed the harness from the drowned horse. The wagon stood with the rear wheels in the edge of the receding flood; and their scanty chattels were spread about drying in the sun. While his wife was rustling the fire wood, looking after the children and attempting to cook a few potatoes and slices of bacon, he sat by the camp fire smoking a corncob pipe, while the youngest of the children sat near him on a dirty piece of rag carpet munching a raw bacon rind. John hitched his horse and Martin’s surviving one to the wagon and drew it into the road. Then he helped reload it; and after night they drove on to Brown’s Station. As they rode along, learning the man had no money, John, having his year’s savings, fifty dollars, loaned Martin forty to buy a horse, which loan he accepted in a matter-of-fact way. Brown, having but one horse, refused to sell it and informed them it was impossible to buy another nearer than Logan’s Station; more than seventy miles distant. There seemed no solution, except that John’s horse should be hitched to the wagon and that they travel together to Logan’s Station. The other horse was so weak and emaciated that they only made twenty miles the first day; and John grew fearful lest Dorothy might leave for Boston before his arrival. The following morning it seemed he would never get Martin started; so telling him to keep the horse until he got to Danville, he went ahead on foot. That night when he was miles ahead, the thought occurred that though Martin had his horse he had not returned his money. The following noon-day, as he was resting at a spring near the head of Dick’s River, two Indians unexpectedly came upon him; their manner was threatening until they saw his girdle, when they shook hands in greeting, saying: “How do, How do.” He spoke to them in their own tongue and they traveled along with him to Jenkins Station. While they were at supper, Jenkins, hiding the rifles of the Indians, suddenly appeared at the door of the room with three companions who, with rifles presented, declared: “We are going to kill you three horse thieves;” merely making the statement as an excuse for robbing and assassinating them. John, rising from his chair, stated that he had no money except ten dollars, which he offered to give them. This Jenkins took, saying: “This will pay for your lodging. We will let you go but we are going to kill the redskins.”