He was ready at the first opportunity to take upon himself all the credit of having devised the symbol and erected it; but there were none near who cared particularly to listen to the barber's apprentice, whose love for notoriety was his ruling pa.s.sion.

Besides, even though they had been desirous of hearing what he was so eager to say, no heed would have been given his words just then, for at that moment the door of the shop was opened again, and Richardson appeared, followed by his friend, David Wilmot.

At first no one appeared to observe that the informer was armed, and then, as some one noted the fact that he carried a musket, the cry was raised:

"Down with the informer! Down with the informer! Hang him to the pole!

Bring out the tar and feathers! Give him an informer's uniform!"

That portion of the mob farthest from the building, unable to see clearly what was going on, pressed forward, forcing those in front yet nearer the shop, and for an instant it appeared as if the entire a.s.semblage was bent on making a prisoner of Richardson.

Raising his musket quickly, and, without taking aim, he fired, and as the report rang out, even above the shrill cries of the infuriated mult.i.tude, it was as if the sharp crack of the weapon had alarmed him who discharged it, for, turning precipitately, driving Wilmot before him, the informer rushed into the building, closing the door behind him.

Those in the immediate vicinity of the warning symbol, and nearest the informer, were unharmed, and, believing no injury had been done by the discharge of the musket, they set up a howl of derision, which was checked an instant later as a wailing cry came from the walk opposite.

"Chris Snyder's killed! Chris Snyder's killed!"

"Chris Gore's killed!" another cried. "Help! Stand back; you are trampling him to death!"

Turning as one man, the startled a.s.semblage rushed frantically toward that quarter from which the ominous words had come, pressing down upon the little group that had gathered around something on the ground, until there was every danger these few would be trampled under foot.

During several moments no one outside the awe-stricken circle on the walk knew really what had occurred, and then it was whispered--not spoken--among the gathering:

"Two boys have been killed!"

A silence that was profound, intense--a silence which was at the same time a menace, ensued, and, involuntarily, every head was bared.

Amos, who had been standing beside the two Christophers, was one of the few who knew exactly what followed the discharge of the weapon.

Little Chris Snyder, the smallest and perhaps the youngest of the throng, had fallen with an ominous-looking wound in the vicinity of his lungs, and Chris Gore was leaning against the palings, big crimson drops falling from his shoulder to the frozen earth.

Amos, at once recognising the fact that Snyder was the most grievously wounded, raised the little German lad's head tenderly on his arm as he implored those nearest to keep the crowd back, and when the excited ones in the rear finally understood what was required, every order given by Amos, boy though he was, received implicit obedience.

Rough men lifted the little lad as gently as his widowed mother could have done, and one asked:

"Where does he live?"

"On Frog Lane.[C] Chris Gore must be attended to also."

"I can take care of myself. It isn't much of a hurt, this on my shoulder."

"But it ought to be dressed at once, and I am not certain you should be allowed to walk," Amos said, hurriedly.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

"There will be no danger; you can go with me. There are plenty who will see that poor little Chris is cared for. Some one should go ahead to tell his mother he is hurt, and to call a surgeon."

"I'll take care of that part of it," Hardy Baker cried, quickly.

"Leave it to me."

Amos seized the excited barber before he could move, for he knew how Hardy would break the sad news to the poor mother, and did not intend she should suffer more than was absolutely necessary.

"Here is Master Revere!" he said, with a sigh of relief, as he struggled to prevent the apprentice from leaving him. "He is the one who should speak to Mrs. Snyder, not you, Hardy. Take hold of Chris a moment while I speak with him."

Master Piemont's a.s.sistant was not pleased at thus being prevented from appearing as one of the princ.i.p.al characters in this terrible drama; but Chris Gore, understanding as well as did Amos, why Hardy should not be allowed to go to the widow's home, forced him to remain by saying:

"You must stay with me until I can get home."

"Are you hurt very much?"

"It may be that I am," Gore replied, knowing that if he made light of his wounds Hardy would consider himself at liberty to act upon his own suggestion.

Hurriedly Amos explained to the goldsmith what had occurred, and what he desired the latter to do, after which he came back to his two friends.

"Master Revere will go to poor Chris's mother, and since there are more than enough to give him all the care he needs, we can attend to you."

"Do you think the little fellow will die?" Gore asked, more concerned regarding his friend than for himself.

"I am afraid the wound is a serious one," Amos replied, sadly. "The blood was coming from his mouth, and I am told that is a bad sign."

"If it's signs you're looking for, see there!" and Hardy pointed up the street, where the crowd was marching as if in procession behind those who carried the dying boy. "If that doesn't look like a funeral, what should you say it was?"

Amos gave one quick glance and turned his head away.

It seemed as if he was in a certain degree responsible for this death; but the barber's apprentice, who was equally culpable, had no such misgivings.

One would have said Hardy Baker found a certain degree of pleasure in dwelling upon the fact that he had been instrumental in this day's work, since it would bring his name into greater prominence than he could ever have hoped for otherwise, however conscientiously he might discharge his duties as Master Piemont's apprentice.

[Footnote B: In 1809 this same Christopher Gore became Governor of the Commonwealth of Ma.s.sachusetts.]

[Footnote C: Now Boylston Street.]

CHAPTER III.

LIBERTY HALL.

Not until nightfall, on this day of the tragical ending to the lesson given Master Lillie and the other faithless merchants, did Amos Richardson meet those who had aided him in the work of erecting the symbol in front of the shop on Hanover Street.

He and Hardy Baker had a.s.sisted Chris Gore to his home, and the injured boy's father had sent the barber's apprentice in search of a surgeon.

There was nothing Amos could do to aid this family, and having no desire to listen to Hardy's foolish threats, as he would probably be forced to do in case he waited for that young gentleman's return, he walked slowly toward Frog Lane, repeating again and again to himself that, if little Chris Snyder's death should follow as a result of his wound, those who had erected the symbol of warning would at least be morally responsible.

He had arrived at the Liberty Tree, where was a great throng of people waiting, as if believing that here in the so-called Liberty Hall they would the sooner receive tidings of the injured lad's condition, when he met Master Revere, returning to his place of business.

"I think, Amos," the goldsmith said, as he attracted the boy's attention by tapping him on the shoulder, "that it would be well if you were to go to the Widow Snyder's home. She may need a.s.sistance in caring for her son, and you are more to be relied upon than any lad of your age whom I know."