d.i.c.k immediately ran through the open gateway of what proved to be a yard used as a repository for tan. He took refuge behind a high pile of this 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 Tom stride by, still hoa.r.s.ely bawling, "Stop that man!" The direction taken by the voice indicated that its owner had turned from this street into another, and soon the sound of the crowd running by was evidence that they had seen Tom make this last turn and had supposed he was still on the trail of the hunted man. Their voices and footsteps died out presently, and d.i.c.k was left to ponder on the situation.

He dared not venture out of the yard, lest he be seen by one of those who had engaged in the chase. He knew that Tom, having led the hue and cry 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 by the approaching voices of some boys at play, what if he should be discovered in the tan-yard? Swiftly choosing the remotest and highest pile of tan, he crouched behind it, hastily scooped out a hole with both hands, backed into this extemporized burrow, laid Blagdon's sword beside him, and then, with his hollowed palms, drew in after him sufficient of the previously removed tan to conceal himself from any but the most minute observer. Thus buried in the tan, with barely enough s.p.a.ce open about his head to admit a little dim light and a small quant.i.ty of dusty air, he made himself as comfortable as might be. By and 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 next his own was Ticonderoga. History was soon reversed, and the English drove the French from Ticonderoga, whereupon the French properly fell back to Quebec, which was no other place than the tan-pile in which d.i.c.k lay entombed. He felt the tan shift above him, and saw it slide down before him and cut off more of his meagre supply of light and air, while the shouts of Quebec's defenders came to him from overhead. Finally the English charged Quebec and tumbled the French back from the heights, an operation that resulted in d.i.c.k's having a series of heavy weights alight on his head, a foot thrust into his eye, his opening entirely closed up, and himself almost choked. Regardless of consequences, he thrust his head out through the tan, and saw, to his unexpected joy, that the last small warrior was scurrying away from behind Quebec. After awhile the boys left the tan-yard, and d.i.c.k found some relief in a change of position, though he did not emerge from his cave. Now and then, as the day advanced, he could hear steps and voices of people pa.s.sing the tan-yard, and would lie close in fear that some of them would turn in. He amused himself by imagining what would follow should the tan in which he lay be loaded on some cart or wagon. So pa.s.sed an interminable day, beautiful outside with New York's incomparable sunshine, but to d.i.c.k an age of numbness and pain, due to his long retention of each cramped position he a.s.sumed; of hunger and thirst, of alarms and conjectures, and of frequent thoughts of the man he had felled, thoughts which he invariably put from him in his horror of regarding himself as a slayer. At nightfall he came out of his hole, but remained behind the tan-pile, listening for a familiar step. At last it came, cautious but unmistakable. d.i.c.k rose, saw a gaunt form in the gateway, and bounded towards him.

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

"'Twas the best trick I ever saw played. But where did you pa.s.s the day?"

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

"You had the devil's own endurance to outrun them all," put in d.i.c.k.

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

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

"Devil a bit! He'll have come to before they were done chasing his murderer, and the time he'll spend nursing a b.l.o.o.d.y head will enable him to reflect on his sins. But, for a' that, we'll be ganging our way, for murderous a.s.sault is nane sic a pleasant charge to face, however innocent ye be, when the other side has money and great friends and ye're a penniless stranger. Besides that, this Blagdon will have the backing of the soldiery and the lieutenant-governor, and the tavern people will naturally swear to onything on his side, even to attempted robbery or the like. Come, d.i.c.kie boy, that sword ye retain, as your proper spoils of war, is worth in money all we leave behind at the tavern."

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

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

"What?" cried d.i.c.k. "You don't mean to say you are going to keep the horse 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 used to starlight if ye couldn't make out auld Robin at the first glance."

d.i.c.k stood in joyful amazement. The horse was indeed the one that had disappeared beneath the self-styled merchants with whom d.i.c.k and Tom had agreed to ride and tie, on the road to Lancaster. The comrades now went on in the darkness, taking turns at riding, but keeping together and holding the horse to a slow pace. d.i.c.k felt in his pocket the miniature whose restoration he had failed to effect. When, now, might he hope to place it in the hands of the charming Canadian girl? He put the question, but in other words, to his companion, as they rode by the dark Murray mansion and began to descend towards Turtle Creek.

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

"Don't presume to read the future, lad!" said MacAlister. "Wha kens what turn of the wind of circ.u.mstance may blaw ye to Quebec? The older ye grow in the ways of this precarious world, the less ye'll pretend to say what to-morrow will bring forth. 'He started east and he landed west,'

as the auld song says."

It was near dawn when they pa.s.sed the Blue Bell Tavern, but, hungry and tired as both were, Tom advised that there be no stopping till they should have left the island of Manhattan behind. "When ye're an auld hand at the business of this warld," said he, "ye'll no tak' ae chance in a hundred, of trusting yersel', e'en for the time being, in the arms of justice. Law and justice, my son, are fearfu' things for an honest man to have aught to do wi'. I'd rather trust my case to the decision of auld Nick himsel', putting it to him in my ain way, man to man, and perhaps over a good gla.s.s of spirits or two, than to ae judge or jury in Christendom."

Giving Hyatt's Tavern also the go-by, they crossed the Harlem by the Farmers' Bridge and continued on the Boston post-road; presently took the left, where the road forked, and so arrived betimes at East Chester, which stood invitingly in its pleasant valley, its church tower and belfry rising among the locust-trees. At the tavern there Tom casually threw off a brief story to account for having ridden all night, and the two speedily possessed themselves of a stiff drink, a hot breakfast, and a clean bed. In the afternoon, being anxious to get out of the province of New York, lest some extraordinary effort might be made to detain them, they again took horse, pa.s.sed through the Huguenot village of New Roch.e.l.le, stopped later at Mamaroneck to rest the horse, crossed the Byram River to Connecticut at evening, and put up, before night was well advanced, at Stamford, which wound irregularly along an undulating and stony road. When they took the road for Norwalk the next morning, they were thoroughly refreshed, and d.i.c.k, having got all the tan-dust out of his ears, nostrils, and pores, was able to enjoy fully the beauty of Long Island Sound where it was visible beyond the coves that here and there indented to the road. That day and the next two days were uneventful. Between Norwalk and Fairfield they met a courier from the Ma.s.sachusetts Committee of Safety to the Continental Congress. He tarried no longer than to tell them the New England army was increasing daily and holding the King's troops tight in Boston. At Stratford and Milford the tavern talk was all of the war; of how the Connecticut troops already started would acquit themselves, and how many more would be needed; how this village farmer or that would behave when faced by a British grenadier; of what steps the Continental Congress would take, what dark plots the Tories might be weaving in New York, and what might occur should the British war-vessels bombard the coast towns.

In New Haven, which they entered on a bright, sunny forenoon, a newly formed company was awkwardly drilling on the green, in sight of the churches and the college building. While the horse rested, d.i.c.k got into conversation with a young gentleman who stood watching the crude manoeuvres. Learning that he was Mr. Timothy Dwight, a tutor at the college, d.i.c.k obtained the favor of a view of the college library, and had the delightful sensation of handling copies of Newton's works and Sir Richard Steele's, presented by those authors themselves. The scenes of military preparation witnessed here and at Brentford increased d.i.c.k's eagerness to be at the scene of action. Riding on Sunday through Seabrooke and to New London, he and Tom had difficulty, by reason of the strict observance of the day, in obtaining tavern accommodations. But, as Tom remarked, the rule of not letting the left hand know what the right one does may work both ways and concern the receiving as well as the 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, they learned from its pa.s.sengers that both the British and the provincials had barriers on Boston Neck, that the provincials barred Charlestown Neck as well, and that no one could come out of Boston without a pa.s.s from General Gage, while the American army allowed no one to enter Boston without a permit. The _Connecticut Gazette_ was full of war tidings. All these signs of the times made d.i.c.k glow with delightful antic.i.p.ation. The two comrades crossed the Thames, by ferry, to Groton, the next morning, and in the forenoon they pa.s.sed by fair green slopes and blossoming orchards to the village of Stonington, which lay drowsily on 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 the horse Robin tied by the trough in the roadway, where he was viewed with some admiration by two or three villagers and a well-dressed gentleman who appeared to be a stranger in the place. Drinking rum and water, near MacAlister and d.i.c.k, sat a sea-captain, who, after overhearing a part of their talk, asked them why, inasmuch as they were in haste to reach Cambridge, they did not take pa.s.sage on his schooner, which was about to sail that afternoon and would land at some port near Boston within the territory under the provincials' control. Not waiting for their answer, he asked them to drink with him, toasted the Continental Congress so heartily, d.a.m.ned the King and Parliament so valiantly, and proved so stout a patriot and jolly companion, that d.i.c.k, allured also by the prospect of a sea-voyage, soon declared that for his part he would prefer going by the schooner, and Tom offered no objection. When the bargain had been made, a mild, pale-eyed old farmer came in, called Tom and d.i.c.k aside, and asked if they would sell him their horse, or trade it for another, as he was in need of just such an animal for his farm work. He made so good an offer that Tom, foreseeing little use for the horse 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 d.i.c.k, with sparkling eyes and a grim smile. "'Tis the intervention of Providence again. No sooner do we plan to go by sea than this honest farmer offers to take our horse off our hands, and names a price I'd nae be sic a fool to ask, mysel'. 'Tis a sin and shame to profit by sic innocence!"

They rejoined the sea-captain, whose convivial society made time so rapid that the farmer was soon back with the money, which he emptied from 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's hands,--saddle and bridle having gone into the bargain. Tom then returned to the tavern, where he and d.i.c.k had dinner with the sea-captain. When, after dinner, all three set forth to go aboard the schooner, they saw the horse Robin being ridden up and down the road by the well-dressed strange gentleman, who was apparently trying the animal. The sea-captain saluted the rider as an acquaintance and asked him when he was going back to Providence. In the short conversation that ensued, it came out that the gentleman had just bought the horse from the farmer who had owned him. "When I came here this morning, I had no intention of buying a horse, though I really needed one," the gentleman added. "I saw this beast in front of the tavern yonder, and said to the farmer, who I didn't then know was the owner, that I would give so much for it. I went about my business then, and when I got back, there was the owner, offering me the horse at the price I had named."

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

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

d.i.c.k looked up at the sky, while MacAlister heaved a deep sigh, shook his head dismally, and walked towards the schooner.

It was already laden, and the crew were busy with ropes and sails, under the direction of the mate. The gentle lap of the waves, the creak of the timbers, the straining of the ropes, and the flapping of canvas, had their due effect on d.i.c.k in the lazy, sunny afternoon. When they had cast off, and the little wharf and still town and green slopes swiftly receded, while the creaking schooner sped under a light wind towards the open ocean, d.i.c.k felt as in a kind of joyous dream. When that green cape, the "Watch Hill" of the Indians, in fact and name, had been some time pa.s.sed, the wind changed both in quarter and force, and the mate opined possible sudden bad weather from the east. d.i.c.k felt inward threats of seasickness, but repressed them. Tom, the piper's son, showed no sign of the slightest qualm. At nightfall, having feasted his stomach with fresh-caught codfish, for he had promptly taken on a sea appet.i.te, and his eyes on the far-reaching billows, d.i.c.k retired with Tom to a bunk beneath the hatches, and soon slept. When he awoke, he was in pitchy darkness.

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

"Let's scuttle his d.a.m.ned vessel first!" quoth d.i.c.k.

"Softly, d.i.c.kie boy! Aiblins it 'ull come to that, and aiblins we'll find ither means. Devil a bit let him know we've spied their dirty trick, mind! Providence is mostly our friend,--saving in the matter of horses."

So the two kept their own counsel. Going on deck at dawn, they found the captain so sharing the mate's fears of a bad blow,--that he had decided to put back to Block Island. MacAlister sent d.i.c.k the faintest hint of a wink. When the old harbor in the east side of that green rolling island whose Indian name was Manisses was made, MacAlister said he and his friend would like to go ash.o.r.e to stretch their legs a bit. The captain, doubtless deeming it not yet wise to arouse their suspicions, called a fisherman's boat, which landed them from the schooner's place of anchorage. They walked up from the landing to some fishermen's shingle houses, well back from the beach, and speedily closed a bargain with a sea-browned islander to take them to the mainland in his smack.

The fisherman, allured by the large price offered, and having less to risk than the captain of the laden schooner, promptly embarked, under the astonished eyes of the anch.o.r.ed captain, whom Tom gravely saluted by placing thumb to nose and wiggling his fingers. The captain replied by vociferously hoping to G.o.d the gale would blow the two travellers to h.e.l.l. The gale, however, continued to remain in abeyance, though the sky was filled with clouds and the sea had an unaccountable choppy look and feel. Tom, having questioned the fisherman regarding localities, now proposed that the latter should take them to Newport, and doubled his offer of pay. Induced by greed and by the confidence born of previous good luck in all weathers at sea, the islander consented, regardless of the capricious behavior of his sail and the sudden ominous quiverings of his boat. Yet the storm held off.

Making clever use of the wind when it was brisk, the skipper had his boat at evening off the precipitous southern coast of the island on which Newport lies. As he was about to tack, in order to round the point and so reach the town, which then occupied only a spot on the island's western side, the storm came, almost without a moment's warning, and bringing with it a pelting deluge of rain. Before the mariner could regain any kind of mastery of his little craft, it had been dashed close to the corrugated land. d.i.c.k and Tom escaped being thrown out of the boat only by grasping its timbers and holding on with all strength. The vessel was tossed about, for a time, like a cork. Once it seemed in the act of hurling itself into a gaping chasm which rent the rough sea-wall from the height of forty feet to unknown depths,--a cleft as wide as a man is tall, and cut back into the land a hundred and fifty feet. But the boat fell short of these grinning jaws and in another minute was far away from them.

From the time when the storm first broke upon them to the time when, by some strange freak of wind and sea, the smack was riding in a broad bay east of the threatening sea-wall,--a direction therefrom exactly opposite to that which the elements seemingly ought to have borne it,--no one aboard spoke a word. But now the skipper, whose nasal voice and distinct New England enunciation easily cut through the tumult of wind and water, briefly expressed his intention of letting the sea carry the boat straight towards the smooth beach ahead, there being one chance of safety therein. Tom and d.i.c.k awaited the issue with more of curiosity than of aught else, MacAlister looking exceedingly grim, as always in times of peril, and d.i.c.k, as always in similar times, wearing a kind of droll smile, as if the joke were on his courage for having got into such a plight. Before either's senses had caught up to the pa.s.sing occurrence, there was a sudden tremendous shock underneath them, a grinding through some gritty yielding substance, a rolling away of the sea from the nearly overturned boat; and they found themselves high on the beach, out of reach of the next wave, that rushed angrily in as if to clutch them back again.

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

"What's the big brother?" shouted d.i.c.k.

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

They moved off through the rain accordingly, and, after a walk of a mile and a half, arrived at the town, then a busy seaport with a goodly commerce and a lively trade to the African coast. "For a cold wetting outside, a hot wetting inside," said Tom, heading for the first tavern sign; and the three rain-soaked voyagers promptly put his prescription to 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 pouring down upon the wharves and the vessels safe in harbor.

Next day's weather deterred the two travellers from taking the sloop through Narragansett Bay for Providence, but they arrived at that town on the 18th, and lodged in a tavern in the street that ran at the hill's foot on the eastern side of the Cove, occupying a room that looked up towards the street crossing the hillside and towards the college on the summit beyond. Leaving Providence the next day, and going afoot with a newly recruited body of troops bound for the provincial camp outside Boston, they pa.s.sed through Attleboro and other places where the signs of war's proximity were increasingly plentiful, lodged for the night at Walpole, and on the evening of May 20th reached the outskirts of the camp of Rhode Island troops at Jamaica Plain.

d.i.c.k thrilled as his eyes ranged over the field dotted with tents, and as they rested on the muskets and cannon,--for the Rhode Island men had a train of artillery, and were well equipped, though as yet an insubordinate lot. Wishing to be nearer the heart of affairs, d.i.c.k hastened on to Roxbury, followed by the un.o.bjecting MacAlister, and there found several Ma.s.sachusetts and Connecticut regiments quartered in tents, log and earth huts, barns, taverns, and private houses. So well did MacAlister know what steps to take, that on the following Monday the two were accepted as volunteers, and quartered with Maxwell's company in Prescott's regiment; were comfortably lodged in a dispossessed horse's stall, and had traded off d.i.c.k'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 arrival of d.i.c.k 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 and guns had brought out the people of Weymouth, Hingham, and other towns, and they had landed on the island with three companies sent by General Thomas from Roxbury, driven the British away, burnt the hay, and taken off a number of cattle. This un-Sabbath-like exploit was the talk of the camp on Monday, and d.i.c.k deplored his not having heard of it in time to have sought a part in it.

Captain Maxwell's men proved excellent hosts, and, though not on its rolls, d.i.c.k and Tom shared the company's service and experiences in every way. Colonel Prescott's regiment was soon ordered to Cambridge, where was stationed the centre of the New England army, consisting of fifteen Ma.s.sachusetts and several Connecticut regiments, one of the latter being General Putnam's. Here were the headquarters of General Ward, the commander-in-chief, in a fine wooden residence near Harvard College, and here was Colonel Gridley, the chief engineer, with most of the artillery. Here were also most of the Yankees' fortifications, these being yet in process of construction, and consisting mainly of breastworks in Cambridge and on the road near the base of Prospect Hill. Further north and northeast was the army's left wing, consisting mainly of Colonels Stark's and Reed's New Hampshire regiments, and stationed at Medford, Chelsea, and near Charlestown Neck.

It was the lot of d.i.c.k and MacAlister, as partic.i.p.ants in the fortunes of Maxwell's company, to occupy part of a log hut near Cambridge Common and in sight of the college, and to have no share in the enterprises of May 27th and 30th, in which American detachments went to Noddle's Island, near Chelsea, and drove off sheep, cattle, and horses, on the first occasion killing and wounding several British marines and capturing twelve swivels and four four-pounders from a British schooner.

There was a skilful removal of sheep and cattle from Pettick's Island also, on May 31st; and on the night of June 2d Major Greaton took from Deer Island eight hundred sheep and a lot of cattle, and captured a man-of-war's barge and four or five prisoners. d.i.c.k pined and chafed that circ.u.mstance kept him out of all these interesting proceedings, but Tom 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 bigger business a-brewing!"

So d.i.c.k bided, with eager antic.i.p.ations, although, in his inexperience, heeding the grumbling of others, he thought the conviviality between certain American and British officers on the man-of-war _Lively_, on the occasion of an exchange of prisoners, June 6th, did not look much like war. He was better pleased at the derision with which the raw troops received General Gage's proclamation of June 12th, which somehow promptly found its way into camp. In that doc.u.ment the British commander p.r.o.nounced those in arms and their abettors to be rebels and traitors, and offered pardon to such as should lay down their arms, excepting Samuel Adams and John Hanc.o.c.k. Continually there came exciting rumors that the British intended to sally out of Boston to attack their besiegers. But d.i.c.k did not know what the American commanders knew, on June 13th,--that General Gage intended to take possession of Dorchester Heights 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 marched beside MacAlister with the company to Cambridge Common.

There he found that Maxwell's men were part of a detachment which included other companies of Prescott's regiment, a part of Bridge's, a part of Frye's, and a number of Connecticut troops under Captain Knowlton, of Putnam's regiment. There was also some artillery, with Colonel Gridley himself. And there stood the tall, powerful figure of Colonel Prescott, wearing a long blue coat, his strong, stern face shaded by the slightly turned up brim of a great round hat. The air was charged with expectation, with a sense of great events at hand. The force paraded on the Common, and then stood with heads bared and hands resting on the guns, while a venerable-looking gentleman, whom a whispering comrade named to d.i.c.k as President Langdon of Harvard College, raised his hand heavenward and uttered a tremulous prayer for the aid of the Lord of Hosts. There was a period of waiting, during which the colonel consulted quietly with Gridley and the other officers, while the suppressed excitement of the men made some appear moody and abstracted, some nervous and sharp in their whispered speeches, others extraordinarily calm in tone, others oddly jocular. d.i.c.k was one of the last, in mood and countenance, but was so filled with emotion that he dared 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 and scattered houses, the rolling landscape, a mysterious look. At last, at nine o'clock, in low, quick tone, the order was given to march.

First went two sergeants, carrying dark lanterns; then strode Colonel Prescott, at the head of the detachment. Behind the infantry and the cannon, the shovels and other tools were borne, with which to make entrenchments. Keeping strict silence, as they had been ordered, the men trailed past Inman's Woods, Prospect Hill, and Cobble Hill, crossed a level s.p.a.ce (another common), and halted at Charlestown Neck. Here, in the darkness, General Putnam rode up, and they were joined by other officers also.

Presently Captain Nutting's company and a few Connecticut men separated from the detachment and marched to the lower part of Charlestown, to act there as a guard. The main force was soon on the march again, and followed the road over a smooth round hill (the real Bunker's Hill), at the base of which it halted again. Prescott gathered the officers around him, and quietly made known the orders he had come to carry out.

Watching the group alertly, d.i.c.k saw the officers look or point, now at the hill just crossed, now at the hill ahead, as if discussing which to use for the purpose in hand. Finally the men were marched to the hill ahead, from which Boston on its hills and hillsides could be seen sleeping, across the wide mouth of the Charles River.

As soon as the men halted, Colonel Gridley began to move rapidly about the summit of the hill, marking out lines and angles in the earth as he did so. Guns were stacked by all but certain designated men, of whom d.i.c.k and Tom were two, who remained under arms. Spades were distributed to the others, who were soon turning up the earth along the lines traced by Colonel Gridley. As General Putnam started to ride back over the road they had followed, Captain Maxwell received an order from Colonel Prescott, and in turn gave the word of march to a party of his men, in which were numbered d.i.c.k and Tom.