As the officer reached the rendezvous, Putnam lighted a slow-match from his pipe and thrust it into a hole bored in the head of the keg, upon which were scattered a few grains of gunpowder.

Viewing these sinister preparations for the "duel," the Englishman concluded that the best thing he could do was to run away, which he did very promptly.

"O ho!" shouted Putnam after him, taking his pipe from his mouth.

"You are just about as brave a man as I thought, to run away from a keg of onions! Ha, ha, ha!" No date is given to this occurrence, nor to another account of the "duel" he didn't fight with a brother officer whom he drove from the field at the muzzle of a loaded musket.

In fact, the "field of honor" was not much frequented by Putnam, who preferred the field of battle, where he always gave a good account of himself.
During his declining years he was cheered by the companionship of his children, most of whom were married and settled near him, and being in the enjoyment of a competence, he was vastly better off than the majority of the soldiers who had fought with and under him during the Revolution, for many of them were impoverished.
He preserved his strong will-power and great physical strength to the end of his days, notwithstanding the ravages of disease, and in 1786, four years before he died, performed a journey to his birthplace in Danvers, riding all the way on horseback, though with frequent stops by the way not only for rest, but on account of the people who flocked out to see him and desired to entertain the famous fighter in so many wars.
This was the last of his ventures afield, and henceforth he confined his excursions to visiting the homes of his sons and daughters, and to trips around his farm, though on Sundays and "prayer-meeting nights" he would always be found in the meeting-house at the Green, where he was a regular attendant.