The Road to Paris: A Story of Adventure

by Robert Neilson Stephens

  CHAPTER V.

  FROM BROADWAY TO BUNKER HILL.

  Despite the circumstances, Dick had a brief feeling of mirth at theludicrous appearance of his comrade, who led the chase with suchwell-simulated zeal and a face still circumscribed by the white clothused to keep in place the bandage on his cheek. Determined to resistcapture to the last, now that he had adopted the course of flight, Dickplunged forward and on past Trinity Church. Broadway was not then abusiness street, and the few people whom Dick passed or who emerged fromthe residences or cross streets did not know what was the matter untilit was too late to head him off, so great a start he had of hispursuers. Before he had reached St. Paul's Church, he looked back again,whereupon Tom, with his hand before his body so that the pursuers behindhim could not see it, motioned to turn off into the next cross street.Dick obeyed, and was thus for a time lost to the sight of the party inchase. Presently the loud voice of Tom showed that he, too, had deviatedinto the cross street. Dick turned his head and saw that Tom was theonly one who had yet done so. MacAlister now violently gesticulated tothe effect that Dick should turn into some yard or other hiding-place.Dick immediately ran through the open gateway of what proved to be ayard used as a repository for tan. He took refuge behind a high pile ofthis article, and sank to the ground, breathless and half-exhausted.There was no one else in the tan-yard. As he lay panting, he heard Tomstride by, still hoarsely bawling, "Stop that man!" The direction takenby the voice indicated that its owner had turned from this street intoanother, and soon the sound of the crowd running by was evidence thatthey had seen Tom make this last turn and had supposed he was still onthe trail of the hunted man. Their voices and footsteps died outpresently, and Dick was left to ponder on the situation.

  He dared not venture out of the yard, lest he be seen by one of thosewho had engaged in the chase. He knew that Tom, having led the hue andcry on a false track, would at the proper time come back for him.Therefore he could only wait. Meanwhile, as he was led to consider bythe approaching voices of some boys at play, what if he should bediscovered in the tan-yard? Swiftly choosing the remotest and highestpile of tan, he crouched behind it, hastily scooped out a hole with bothhands, backed into this extemporized burrow, laid Blagdon's swordbeside him, and then, with his hollowed palms, drew in after himsufficient of the previously removed tan to conceal himself from any butthe most minute observer. Thus buried in the tan, with barely enoughspace open about his head to admit a little dim light and a smallquantity of dusty air, he made himself as comfortable as might be. Byand by his ears told him that the small boys had entered the tan-yard;then that they were having a sham battle, playing that the tan-pile nexthis own was Ticonderoga. History was soon reversed, and the Englishdrove the French from Ticonderoga, whereupon the French properly fellback to Quebec, which was no other place than the tan-pile in which Dicklay entombed. He felt the tan shift above him, and saw it slide downbefore him and cut off more of his meagre supply of light and air, whilethe shouts of Quebec's defenders came to him from overhead. Finally theEnglish charged Quebec and tumbled the French back from the heights, anoperation that resulted in Dick's having a series of heavy weightsalight on his head, a foot thrust into his eye, his opening entirelyclosed up, and himself almost choked. Regardless of consequences, hethrust his head out through the tan, and saw, to his unexpected joy,that the last small warrior was scurrying away from behind Quebec. Afterawhile the boys left the tan-yard, and Dick found some relief in achange of position, though he did not emerge from his cave. Now andthen, as the day advanced, he could hear steps and voices of peoplepassing the tan-yard, and would lie close in fear that some of themwould turn in. He amused himself by imagining what would follow shouldthe tan in which he lay be loaded on some cart or wagon. So passed aninterminable day, beautiful outside with New York's incomparablesunshine, but to Dick an age of numbness and pain, due to his longretention of each cramped position he assumed; of hunger and thirst, ofalarms and conjectures, and of frequent thoughts of the man he hadfelled, thoughts which he invariably put from him in his horror ofregarding himself as a slayer. At nightfall he came out of his hole, butremained behind the tan-pile, listening for a familiar step. At last itcame, cautious but unmistakable. Dick rose, saw a gaunt form in thegateway, and bounded towards him.

  "Whist, lad!" said Tom, grasping Dick's offered hand. "Sure ye sprung uplike a ghaist. The coast is clear now, though eyes will be kept open forye in the city and about, for mony a day to come. Let us sit down andwait a minute or two, till it do be just a wee bit darker. 'Twas a grandchase I led them, mon, was it not, now?"

  "'Twas the best trick I ever saw played. But where did you pass theday?"

  "Why," said Tom, as he sat on a tan-pile, "that's just it. If ony ofthem had caught up wi' me, 'twould have come out sure what joke I'dplayed them, for, ye see, they'd 'a' found out I was crying 'Stop' atnaething at all. So, for your ain skin's sake, I had to keep well aheaduntil I had got out of the town, and then lose myself frae the ithershouting devils, which I did by turning into the woods at a bend of theroad."

  "You had the devil's own endurance to outrun them all," put in Dick.

  "Why, ye see, when I got near blowed, I found ither legs than my ain tohelp me out. In front of a tavern, ayont yonder, a horse was whinneyingas I came up. All I had to do was to jerk the knot of his halter andjump on, and who could say me nay when it was chasing a law-breaker Iwas, in the interests of justice? And that's how I got away frae thechasing mob. What was there to do but spend the day in the woods, safeout of sight and ken of man? For, d'ye mind, if I had come back into thetown, and gone to the tavern for my clothes, why, seeing that news anddescriptions must have been all about by then, as word of mouth goesnowadays, I'd have been held for complicity in your escape, and thenwho'd have come to let you out of your ain hole,--for I ken you maun haelodged in one of them tan-piles the day. Nay, nay, lad, never thrustyourself in the way of forcible detention; that's a rule of mine! We'lllet our shirts and blankets and guns rot in the tavern, and gang on ourway rejoicing."

  "But Blagdon,--do you think he is dead?"

  "Devil a bit! He'll have come to before they were done chasing hismurderer, and the time he'll spend nursing a bloody head will enable himto reflect on his sins. But, for a' that, we'll be ganging our way, formurderous assault is nane sic a pleasant charge to face, howeverinnocent ye be, when the other side has money and great friends andye're a penniless stranger. Besides that, this Blagdon will have thebacking of the soldiery and the lieutenant-governor, and the tavernpeople will naturally swear to onything on his side, even to attemptedrobbery or the like. Come, Dickie boy, that sword ye retain, as yourproper spoils of war, is worth in money all we leave behind at thetavern."

  The two friends went from the tan-yard and by obscure streets to theBowery lane, and followed that till it became the Boston highroad, alongwhich they then proceeded northward through the country. When they hadpassed a few suburban mansions, some fields and swamps and wooded hills,Tom said, "Whist a bit!" and turned aside into a little copse. In amoment he emerged, leading a large horse.

  "This will save expense of transportation, lad," said he, as he cameinto the road; "and moreover 'twill further compensate us for the lossof our guns and baggage. Bedad, 'twas a lucky blow ye struck that therelieutenant, to make me lead a chase in front of the tavern where thegood horse here called my attention by a loving whinney."

  "What?" cried Dick. "You don't mean to say you are going to keep thehorse you found at the tavern!"

  "And wha better should keep him? Do ye see what horse it is? Lad,there's the hand of Providence in all this! Sure, your eyes ain't usedto starlight if ye couldn't make out auld Robin at the first glance."

  Dick stood in joyful amazement. The horse was indeed the one that haddisappeared beneath the self-styled merchants with whom Dick and Tom hadagreed to ride and tie, on the road to Lancaster. The comrades now wenton in the darkness, taking turns at riding, but keeping together andholding the horse to a slow pace. Dick f
elt in his pocket the miniaturewhose restoration he had failed to effect. When, now, might he hope toplace it in the hands of the charming Canadian girl? He put thequestion, but in other words, to his companion, as they rode by the darkMurray mansion and began to descend towards Turtle Creek.

  "If there is war," he added, "there's little chance of my getting toQuebec for many a day to come."

  "Don't presume to read the future, lad!" said MacAlister. "Wha kens whatturn of the wind of circumstance may blaw ye to Quebec? The older yegrow in the ways of this precarious world, the less ye'll pretend to saywhat to-morrow will bring forth. 'He started east and he landed west,'as the auld song says."

  It was near dawn when they passed the Blue Bell Tavern, but, hungry andtired as both were, Tom advised that there be no stopping till theyshould have left the island of Manhattan behind. "When ye're an auldhand at the business of this warld," said he, "ye'll no tak' ae chancein a hundred, of trusting yersel', e'en for the time being, in the armsof justice. Law and justice, my son, are fearfu' things for an honestman to have aught to do wi'. I'd rather trust my case to the decision ofauld Nick himsel', putting it to him in my ain way, man to man, andperhaps over a good glass of spirits or two, than to ae judge or jury inChristendom."

  Giving Hyatt's Tavern also the go-by, they crossed the Harlem by theFarmers' Bridge and continued on the Boston post-road; presently tookthe left, where the road forked, and so arrived betimes at East Chester,which stood invitingly in its pleasant valley, its church tower andbelfry rising among the locust-trees. At the tavern there Tom casuallythrew off a brief story to account for having ridden all night, and thetwo speedily possessed themselves of a stiff drink, a hot breakfast, anda clean bed. In the afternoon, being anxious to get out of the provinceof New York, lest some extraordinary effort might be made to detainthem, they again took horse, passed through the Huguenot village of NewRochelle, stopped later at Mamaroneck to rest the horse, crossed theByram River to Connecticut at evening, and put up, before night was welladvanced, at Stamford, which wound irregularly along an undulating andstony road. When they took the road for Norwalk the next morning, theywere thoroughly refreshed, and Dick, having got all the tan-dust out ofhis ears, nostrils, and pores, was able to enjoy fully the beauty ofLong Island Sound where it was visible beyond the coves that here andthere indented to the road. That day and the next two days wereuneventful. Between Norwalk and Fairfield they met a courier from theMassachusetts Committee of Safety to the Continental Congress. Hetarried no longer than to tell them the New England army was increasingdaily and holding the King's troops tight in Boston. At Stratford andMilford the tavern talk was all of the war; of how the Connecticuttroops already started would acquit themselves, and how many more wouldbe needed; how this village farmer or that would behave when faced by aBritish grenadier; of what steps the Continental Congress would take,what dark plots the Tories might be weaving in New York, and what mightoccur should the British war-vessels bombard the coast towns.

  In New Haven, which they entered on a bright, sunny forenoon, a newlyformed company was awkwardly drilling on the green, in sight of thechurches and the college building. While the horse rested, Dick got intoconversation with a young gentleman who stood watching the crudemanoeuvres. Learning that he was Mr. Timothy Dwight, a tutor at thecollege, Dick obtained the favor of a view of the college library, andhad the delightful sensation of handling copies of Newton's works andSir Richard Steele's, presented by those authors themselves. The scenesof military preparation witnessed here and at Brentford increased Dick'seagerness to be at the scene of action. Riding on Sunday throughSeabrooke and to New London, he and Tom had difficulty, by reason of thestrict observance of the day, in obtaining tavern accommodations. But,as Tom remarked, the rule of not letting the left hand know what theright one does may work both ways and concern the receiving as well asthe giving of money, and their coin at last found takers. At New London,where the New York and Boston stage-coach was resting over Sunday, theylearned from its passengers that both the British and the provincialshad barriers on Boston Neck, that the provincials barred CharlestownNeck as well, and that no one could come out of Boston without a passfrom General Gage, while the American army allowed no one to enterBoston without a permit. The _Connecticut Gazette_ was full of wartidings. All these signs of the times made Dick glow with delightfulanticipation. The two comrades crossed the Thames, by ferry, to Groton,the next morning, and in the forenoon they passed by fair green slopesand blossoming orchards to the village of Stonington, which lay drowsilyon a point of land that jutted out into a beautifully surrounded bay.

  While they drank a pot of ale together at the tavern, they left thehorse Robin tied by the trough in the roadway, where he was viewed withsome admiration by two or three villagers and a well-dressed gentlemanwho appeared to be a stranger in the place. Drinking rum and water, nearMacAlister and Dick, sat a sea-captain, who, after overhearing a part oftheir talk, asked them why, inasmuch as they were in haste to reachCambridge, they did not take passage on his schooner, which was about tosail that afternoon and would land at some port near Boston within theterritory under the provincials' control. Not waiting for their answer,he asked them to drink with him, toasted the Continental Congress soheartily, damned the King and Parliament so valiantly, and proved sostout a patriot and jolly companion, that Dick, allured also by theprospect of a sea-voyage, soon declared that for his part he wouldprefer going by the schooner, and Tom offered no objection. When thebargain had been made, a mild, pale-eyed old farmer came in, called Tomand Dick aside, and asked if they would sell him their horse, or tradeit for another, as he was in need of just such an animal for his farmwork. He made so good an offer that Tom, foreseeing little use for thehorse on his joining the army, consented after very little haggling;whereupon the farmer went home to get the coin from his strong-box.

  "Whist!" said Tom to Dick, with sparkling eyes and a grim smile. "'Tisthe intervention of Providence again. No sooner do we plan to go by seathan this honest farmer offers to take our horse off our hands, andnames a price I'd nae be sic a fool to ask, mysel'. 'Tis a sin and shameto profit by sic innocence!"

  They rejoined the sea-captain, whose convivial society made time sorapid that the farmer was soon back with the money, which he emptiedfrom a stocking to the table. Tom rattled each piece and found it good,then went out and untied the horse and placed the halter in the farmer'shands,--saddle and bridle having gone into the bargain. Tom thenreturned to the tavern, where he and Dick had dinner with thesea-captain. When, after dinner, all three set forth to go aboard theschooner, they saw the horse Robin being ridden up and down the road bythe well-dressed strange gentleman, who was apparently trying theanimal. The sea-captain saluted the rider as an acquaintance and askedhim when he was going back to Providence. In the short conversation thatensued, it came out that the gentleman had just bought the horse fromthe farmer who had owned him. "When I came here this morning, I had nointention of buying a horse, though I really needed one," the gentlemanadded. "I saw this beast in front of the tavern yonder, and said to thefarmer, who I didn't then know was the owner, that I would give so muchfor it. I went about my business then, and when I got back, there wasthe owner, offering me the horse at the price I had named."

  "Begging your pardon," queried Tom MacAlister, with a queer look, "mightI inquire without offence what that price was?"

  "Certainly," replied the Providence gentleman, and he mentioned anamount once and a half as large as that for which the innocent farmerhad bought the horse from Tom.

  Dick looked up at the sky, while MacAlister heaved a deep sigh, shookhis head dismally, and walked towards the schooner.

  It was already laden, and the crew were busy with ropes and sails, underthe direction of the mate. The gentle lap of the waves, the creak of thetimbers, the straining of the ropes, and the flapping of canvas, hadtheir due effect on Dick in the lazy, sunny afternoon. When they hadcast off, and the little wharf and still town and green slopes swiftlyreceded, while the
creaking schooner sped under a light wind towards theopen ocean, Dick felt as in a kind of joyous dream. When that greencape, the "Watch Hill" of the Indians, in fact and name, had been sometime passed, the wind changed both in quarter and force, and the mateopined possible sudden bad weather from the east. Dick felt inwardthreats of seasickness, but repressed them. Tom, the piper's son, showedno sign of the slightest qualm. At nightfall, having feasted his stomachwith fresh-caught codfish, for he had promptly taken on a sea appetite,and his eyes on the far-reaching billows, Dick retired with Tom to abunk beneath the hatches, and soon slept. When he awoke, he was inpitchy darkness.

  "Whist!" said a voice in his ear. "What do ye think, lad? For why did Ipinch ye then? Because, sticking my head out the hatchway for a taste ofair, I heard the rascal captain prattling with the scoundrel mate. Thisvessel's bound straight for Boston, lad, and their cursed intention isto hand us ower to General Gage for a pair of treasonable rebels! Howd'ye like that, now?"

  "Let's scuttle his damned vessel first!" quoth Dick.

  "Softly, Dickie boy! Aiblins it 'ull come to that, and aiblins we'llfind ither means. Devil a bit let him know we've spied their dirtytrick, mind! Providence is mostly our friend,--saving in the matter ofhorses."

  So the two kept their own counsel. Going on deck at dawn, they found thecaptain so sharing the mate's fears of a bad blow,--that he had decidedto put back to Block Island. MacAlister sent Dick the faintest hint of awink. When the old harbor in the east side of that green rolling islandwhose Indian name was Manisses was made, MacAlister said he and hisfriend would like to go ashore to stretch their legs a bit. The captain,doubtless deeming it not yet wise to arouse their suspicions, called afisherman's boat, which landed them from the schooner's place ofanchorage. They walked up from the landing to some fishermen's shinglehouses, well back from the beach, and speedily closed a bargain with asea-browned islander to take them to the mainland in his smack.

  The fisherman, allured by the large price offered, and having less torisk than the captain of the laden schooner, promptly embarked, underthe astonished eyes of the anchored captain, whom Tom gravely salutedby placing thumb to nose and wiggling his fingers. The captain repliedby vociferously hoping to God the gale would blow the two travellers tohell. The gale, however, continued to remain in abeyance, though the skywas filled with clouds and the sea had an unaccountable choppy look andfeel. Tom, having questioned the fisherman regarding localities, nowproposed that the latter should take them to Newport, and doubled hisoffer of pay. Induced by greed and by the confidence born of previousgood luck in all weathers at sea, the islander consented, regardless ofthe capricious behavior of his sail and the sudden ominous quiverings ofhis boat. Yet the storm held off.

  Making clever use of the wind when it was brisk, the skipper had hisboat at evening off the precipitous southern coast of the island onwhich Newport lies. As he was about to tack, in order to round the pointand so reach the town, which then occupied only a spot on the island'swestern side, the storm came, almost without a moment's warning, andbringing with it a pelting deluge of rain. Before the mariner couldregain any kind of mastery of his little craft, it had been dashed closeto the corrugated land. Dick and Tom escaped being thrown out of theboat only by grasping its timbers and holding on with all strength. Thevessel was tossed about, for a time, like a cork. Once it seemed in theact of hurling itself into a gaping chasm which rent the rough sea-wallfrom the height of forty feet to unknown depths,--a cleft as wide as aman is tall, and cut back into the land a hundred and fifty feet. Butthe boat fell short of these grinning jaws and in another minute was faraway from them.

  From the time when the storm first broke upon them to the time when, bysome strange freak of wind and sea, the smack was riding in a broad bayeast of the threatening sea-wall,--a direction therefrom exactlyopposite to that which the elements seemingly ought to have borneit,--no one aboard spoke a word. But now the skipper, whose nasal voiceand distinct New England enunciation easily cut through the tumult ofwind and water, briefly expressed his intention of letting the sea carrythe boat straight towards the smooth beach ahead, there being one chanceof safety therein. Tom and Dick awaited the issue with more of curiositythan of aught else, MacAlister looking exceedingly grim, as always intimes of peril, and Dick, as always in similar times, wearing a kind ofdroll smile, as if the joke were on his courage for having got into sucha plight. Before either's senses had caught up to the passingoccurrence, there was a sudden tremendous shock underneath them, agrinding through some gritty yielding substance, a rolling away of thesea from the nearly overturned boat; and they found themselves high onthe beach, out of reach of the next wave, that rushed angrily in as ifto clutch them back again.

  "'Twas the big brother did it," shouted the skipper, starting to drawhis craft farther up on the beach, and motioning for the aid of theothers.

  "What's the big brother?" shouted Dick.

  "The third wave. It be always the highest. We'll make the rest of thevoyage to Newport in these here craft," and he pointed down to hisboots.

  They moved off through the rain accordingly, and, after a walk of a mileand a half, arrived at the town, then a busy seaport with a goodlycommerce and a lively trade to the African coast. "For a cold wettingoutside, a hot wetting inside," said Tom, heading for the first tavernsign; and the three rain-soaked voyagers promptly put his prescriptionto the test, taking it in the shape of a steaming punch of kill-devil,and looking the while through the tavern windows at the rain pouringdown upon the wharves and the vessels safe in harbor.

  Next day's weather deterred the two travellers from taking the sloopthrough Narragansett Bay for Providence, but they arrived at that townon the 18th, and lodged in a tavern in the street that ran at the hill'sfoot on the eastern side of the Cove, occupying a room that looked uptowards the street crossing the hillside and towards the college on thesummit beyond. Leaving Providence the next day, and going afoot with anewly recruited body of troops bound for the provincial camp outsideBoston, they passed through Attleboro and other places where the signsof war's proximity were increasingly plentiful, lodged for the night atWalpole, and on the evening of May 20th reached the outskirts of thecamp of Rhode Island troops at Jamaica Plain.

  Dick thrilled as his eyes ranged over the field dotted with tents, andas they rested on the muskets and cannon,--for the Rhode Island men hada train of artillery, and were well equipped, though as yet aninsubordinate lot. Wishing to be nearer the heart of affairs, Dickhastened on to Roxbury, followed by the unobjecting MacAlister, andthere found several Massachusetts and Connecticut regiments quartered intents, log and earth huts, barns, taverns, and private houses. So welldid MacAlister know what steps to take, that on the following Monday thetwo were accepted as volunteers, and quartered with Maxwell's company inPrescott's regiment; were comfortably lodged in a dispossessed horse'sstall, and had traded off Dick's Irish officer's sword for a fiddle,with two fowling-pieces thrown into the bargain.

  On the previous day, Sunday, which was the day after that of the arrivalof Dick and Tom, a vessel had taken some British troops to Grape Island,in Boston Harbor, to get the hay there stored. An alarm of bells andguns had brought out the people of Weymouth, Hingham, and other towns,and they had landed on the island with three companies sent by GeneralThomas from Roxbury, driven the British away, burnt the hay, and takenoff a number of cattle. This un-Sabbath-like exploit was the talk of thecamp on Monday, and Dick deplored his not having heard of it in time tohave sought a part in it.

  Captain Maxwell's men proved excellent hosts, and, though not on itsrolls, Dick and Tom shared the company's service and experiences inevery way. Colonel Prescott's regiment was soon ordered to Cambridge,where was stationed the centre of the New England army, consisting offifteen Massachusetts and several Connecticut regiments, one of thelatter being General Putnam's. Here were the headquarters of GeneralWard, the commander-in-chief, in a fine wooden residence near HarvardCollege, and here was Colonel Gridley, the chief engineer, with mo
st ofthe artillery. Here were also most of the Yankees' fortifications, thesebeing yet in process of construction, and consisting mainly ofbreastworks in Cambridge and on the road near the base of ProspectHill. Further north and northeast was the army's left wing, consistingmainly of Colonels Stark's and Reed's New Hampshire regiments, andstationed at Medford, Chelsea, and near Charlestown Neck.

  It was the lot of Dick and MacAlister, as participants in the fortunesof Maxwell's company, to occupy part of a log hut near Cambridge Commonand in sight of the college, and to have no share in the enterprises ofMay 27th and 30th, in which American detachments went to Noddle'sIsland, near Chelsea, and drove off sheep, cattle, and horses, on thefirst occasion killing and wounding several British marines andcapturing twelve swivels and four four-pounders from a British schooner.There was a skilful removal of sheep and cattle from Pettick's Islandalso, on May 31st; and on the night of June 2d Major Greaton took fromDeer Island eight hundred sheep and a lot of cattle, and captured aman-of-war's barge and four or five prisoners. Dick pined and chafedthat circumstance kept him out of all these interesting proceedings, butTom the Fiddler (a name promptly bestowed on him by Prescott's men)consoled him with many a "Whist, man, bide a wee; there'll be biggerbusiness a-brewing!"

  So Dick bided, with eager anticipations, although, in his inexperience,heeding the grumbling of others, he thought the conviviality betweencertain American and British officers on the man-of-war _Lively_, onthe occasion of an exchange of prisoners, June 6th, did not look muchlike war. He was better pleased at the derision with which the rawtroops received General Gage's proclamation of June 12th, which somehowpromptly found its way into camp. In that document the British commanderpronounced those in arms and their abettors to be rebels and traitors,and offered pardon to such as should lay down their arms, exceptingSamuel Adams and John Hancock. Continually there came exciting rumorsthat the British intended to sally out of Boston to attack theirbesiegers. But Dick did not know what the American commanders knew, onJune 13th,--that General Gage intended to take possession of DorchesterHeights on the 18th; hence it was with surprise and a keen thrill that,on Friday evening, the 16th, he obeyed the order to fall in, and marchedbeside MacAlister with the company to Cambridge Common.

  There he found that Maxwell's men were part of a detachment whichincluded other companies of Prescott's regiment, a part of Bridge's, apart of Frye's, and a number of Connecticut troops under CaptainKnowlton, of Putnam's regiment. There was also some artillery, withColonel Gridley himself. And there stood the tall, powerful figure ofColonel Prescott, wearing a long blue coat, his strong, stern faceshaded by the slightly turned up brim of a great round hat. The air wascharged with expectation, with a sense of great events at hand. Theforce paraded on the Common, and then stood with heads bared and handsresting on the guns, while a venerable-looking gentleman, whom awhispering comrade named to Dick as President Langdon of HarvardCollege, raised his hand heavenward and uttered a tremulous prayer forthe aid of the Lord of Hosts. There was a period of waiting, duringwhich the colonel consulted quietly with Gridley and the other officers,while the suppressed excitement of the men made some appear moody andabstracted, some nervous and sharp in their whispered speeches, othersextraordinarily calm in tone, others oddly jocular. Dick was one of thelast, in mood and countenance, but was so filled with emotion that hedared not trust himself to speak. Tom was placidly grim and patient,keeping his wits about him and exhibiting no change in tone or manner.The fallen darkness gave the human figures, the distant trees andscattered houses, the rolling landscape, a mysterious look. At last, atnine o'clock, in low, quick tone, the order was given to march.

  First went two sergeants, carrying dark lanterns; then strode ColonelPrescott, at the head of the detachment. Behind the infantry and thecannon, the shovels and other tools were borne, with which to makeentrenchments. Keeping strict silence, as they had been ordered, themen trailed past Inman's Woods, Prospect Hill, and Cobble Hill, crosseda level space (another common), and halted at Charlestown Neck. Here, inthe darkness, General Putnam rode up, and they were joined by otherofficers also.

  Presently Captain Nutting's company and a few Connecticut men separatedfrom the detachment and marched to the lower part of Charlestown, to actthere as a guard. The main force was soon on the march again, andfollowed the road over a smooth round hill (the real Bunker's Hill), atthe base of which it halted again. Prescott gathered the officers aroundhim, and quietly made known the orders he had come to carry out.Watching the group alertly, Dick saw the officers look or point, now atthe hill just crossed, now at the hill ahead, as if discussing which touse for the purpose in hand. Finally the men were marched to the hillahead, from which Boston on its hills and hillsides could be seensleeping, across the wide mouth of the Charles River.

  As soon as the men halted, Colonel Gridley began to move rapidly aboutthe summit of the hill, marking out lines and angles in the earth as hedid so. Guns were stacked by all but certain designated men, of whomDick and Tom were two, who remained under arms. Spades were distributedto the others, who were soon turning up the earth along the linestraced by Colonel Gridley. As General Putnam started to ride back overthe road they had followed, Captain Maxwell received an order fromColonel Prescott, and in turn gave the word of march to a party of hismen, in which were numbered Dick and Tom.

  This little force followed the captain down into Charlestown, whosecommodious houses among the trees were now deserted. When the partyneared the Old Ferry, which led to Boston, the men were assigned todifferent posts along the shore, to watch the motions of the enemy, ontheir men-of-war in the river and in Boston opposite, during the night.With what delicious feelings did Dick pace the shore, to the sound ofthe lapping water, in sight of the dark looming vessels of the foe, inhearing of the British sentinel's voice who passed the "All's well" onto his comrade! Twice during the night Colonel Prescott came down withanother officer to see what might be seen from the shore. It was almostdawn when Tom and Dick were marched back to the hill, where the men hadbeen doing beaver work in the night.

  A great change had been made in the appearance of the hill. Mounds ofearth six feet high now enclosed the crest on three sides and most ofthe fourth. A rough breastwork had been thrown up as if in continuationof one of the sides of this redoubt. On the inner side of these worksrough platforms of wood and earth were being made, and Dick and Tom werenow assigned to aid in this duty, the rule of the night having been thatmen should dig and mount guard alternately. Dawn came, calm and clear,while the men were working at the spades. As both mounted a pile ofearth, to level it, Dick took the opportunity to look down over theparapet, towards Boston. At that instant there came a flash of fire anda belch of smoke from the port-hole of a vessel in the river, a sullenboom, and a spattering of earth and dust in the near hillside.

  "Bedad," said old Tom, looking down towards the man-of-war, "thatvessel's called the _Lively_; and frae the way she says good morning I'mthinking we're like to have a lively day of it!"