II

There were not many people in Philadelphia who took the governor's call

to arms as lightly as did Mr. Felton. Most of them were scared half out

of their wits, and pictured to themselves the French raiders marching

into their houses and carrying off all their valuables, to say nothing

of ill-treating themselves. They did not stop to consider that the men

of Philadelphia must greatly outnumber the raiders, and that, properly

armed, they ought to have little trouble in keeping the enemy at bay.

All they appeared to think of was that the enemy were fierce, fighting

men, and that they must hand over their precious household goods at the

pirates' demand.

Many households had no firearms at all, for the province had had small

need of them. But even where there were muskets the men seemed very

little disposed to make them ready for use. The Quakers didn't want to

fight, that was the long and short of it. Wherever men did get out their

muskets and prepare to obey the governor's summons to defense they were

in almost all cases men who were not Quakers. But the Quakers did not

intend to hand over their valuables if they could possibly help it.

Some bundled their silver and other prized possessions into carriages

and wagons and drove their families out into the country, far from the

Delaware. They took shelter in farmhouses and even in barns, intending

to stay there until the French frigates should have come and gone.

Others simply took their possessions out of town and hid them in the

woods, returning to their homes in town. Every one seemed to be busy

hiding whatever they could; much more concerned about that than about

preparing for defense, as Governor Evans wanted.

Though his father was inclined to go slowly both in arming and in hiding

their valuables, Jack Felton was not. The boy who lived in the next

house, Peter Black, had a talk with Jack right after dinner. Peter

Black's mother was a widow, and Peter felt that it was his duty to save

the family heirlooms, as he saw the neighbors planning to save theirs.

So Peter and Jack hurried out into the country north of Philadelphia.

Since the French ships would come from the south they thought the

northern country would be the safer. Their road took them by Gregory

Diggs' shop, on the outskirts of town, and they stopped there for a few

minutes.

The little shoemaker had his gun lying on the table. "Well, Master

Jack," he said, grinning, "I hear the governor's given the alarm. I got

out my gun so as not to disappoint Mr. Hackett if he comes along."

"We're going to look for a good place to hide things," said Jack. "What

are you going to do with the things in your house?"

Gregory looked round his shop, at the unplastered walls, the plain,

home-made furniture, the few pots and pans that stood near his hearth.

"I don't think there's much here for me to hide," said he. "The French

can take all my goods if they want to. I could make boots out under a

tree if they care to burn my house. You see that's one of the advantages

of being poor, you don't lose any sleep thinking about robbers."

"Peter's mother has a lot of things the raiders might take," explained

Jack. "Do you know a good hiding-place?"

"There's a place up in the woods, along a creek, that ought to be pretty

safe," said Gregory. "I'll go along to show you."

Shouldering his musket, which seemed to be his one valuable possession,

the shoemaker led the two boys along the road to the woods. There he

took a path that presently brought them to a little stream. The banks

were covered with violets right down to the water's edge. "There's a

cave in the bank a little farther up-stream," he said. "I'll show you

some stepping-stones."

They crossed by the stones and found the place where the bank revealed

an opening. It was quite large enough to hold all that Peter wanted to

stow away. "I'll make a door so no one will suspect it's there," said

Gregory.

He took out his knife, and hunting among the trees found several where

the bark was covered with gray-green lichens. Stripping off these pieces

of bark he brought them back to the cave. Then he took some narrow

strips of leather from his pocket, such strips as shoemakers use for

lacing, and making eyelets near the edges of the bark, he fastened them

together with the lacings. This made a bark cover more than big enough

to close the opening in the bank. Gregory set it in place, then trimmed

the edges so that it fitted neatly. He dug up some of the clumps of

violets and replanted them at the base of the bark door. "Now I'll defy

any one to find that cave," he said. "It's the safest hiding-place in

the province of Pennsylvania."

"I'll mark a couple of trees so I can find it again," said Peter. With

his knife he cut some notches in a couple of willows that bordered the

stream. As they went back through the woods both boys noted the trail

carefully, so that they might readily find it another time.

On the road wagons and carriages passed them, people flying out of town

through fear of the enemy. The shoemaker, his musket perched on his

shoulder, in spite of his small size was the most martial figure to be

seen. "I'm afraid our good folk are more bent on hiding than on

fighting," Gregory said with a chuckle. "Well, perhaps I'd be the same

if I had something to hide."

"Do you think Mr. Hackett was right about our people not being ready to

fight?" Jack asked.

"I think it looks very much that way," said Gregory. "I've seen a lot of

people on this road to-day, but not one with a gun."

Leaving Gregory at his house, Jack and Peter walked east to the river

and followed the foot-path along the Delaware. Skiffs, filled with

household goods, were being rowed up-stream. Families were seeking

refuge in the country north of town. Men and boys along the shore were

calling words of advice or derision to the rivercraft. At one place a

man was shouting, "There's the French frigates coming up on the Jersey

side!" The rowers paddled faster, glancing back over their shoulders to

see if the alarm was true. The man who had shouted and the others within

hearing on the bank laughed at the rowers. The only boats on the

Delaware appeared to be those manned by frightened householders.

"Nobody's doing anything to build defenses in case the French frigates

do come," said Jack. And indeed there was not a sign of defense anywhere

along the shore. If the frigates came they could fire at Philadelphia

without an answering shot.

When they reached the center of the town the boys found the same

confusion. People were talking on street-corners; some were reading the

notices that Governor Evans had posted, calling on the men to meet him

next day with arms and ammunition. He stated that he wanted to organize

a well-equipped militia in case there should be any need of defense.

But the boys heard none speak with enthusiasm of the governor's plan.

When he got home Jack told his father what he and Peter had done. "Would

you like me to take some of our things there too?" he asked. "I'm sure

no one could possibly find the place."

"No," said Mr. Felton, "I think we'll keep our things in our own house.

I'm not going to be driven into hiding just because of a rumor." Even

Mr. Felton, intelligent man though he was, did not seem inclined to look

with favor on the notion of armed defense.

After supper Jack saw the man who lived across the street putting some

boxes into a cart before his door. Jack watched him cord and strap the

boxes in the cart. "I'm taking my wife and baby into the country for a

few days," the neighbor explained.

"And you're coming back yourself?" Jack asked.

"I don't think so." The neighbor shook his head. "I'm not a fighting

man; I don't believe in shedding blood. I'm sure no good Quaker could

approve of warfare. I'll stay away till the town's quiet again."

"But suppose the French take the town and hold on to it," said Jack.

"Perhaps you couldn't get your house again."

"Well, there's plenty of country for us all," answered the other.

"I suppose you're right," said Jack. "Most people seem to think as you

do. But somehow I can't understand how so many people are willing to

give in to so few. Aren't our men in Philadelphia as big and strong as

the Frenchmen?"

"Why yes, of course they are, Jack. But the French come with firearms,

and we don't approve of firearms. We'd be glad to reason with them, if

they'd listen to us. But men with guns don't generally want to listen to

reason."

"And because they won't listen we run away," said Jack. "I can't

understand that."

"You will when you're older," said the man, and went indoors for another

box.

Jack went to Peter Black's, and helped him put his mother's silverware

and valuables, securely tied in a sack, into a small hand-cart. Together

the boys pushed the cart through the town and in the direction of the

hiding-place. They secreted the sack in the cave beside the brook, and

trundled the cart back to Gregory's shop. The night was fair and warm,

and the shoemaker was sitting outside his house. "The town must be

pretty empty by now," he said. "I've seen so many people hurrying away.

Soon there'll be nothing left there but the governor and some stray cats

and dogs. All our good citizens seem to prefer to spend the spring in

the country."

"Come down to the Delaware with us, Mr. Diggs," urged Jack. "We wanted

to leave Peter's cart here and go back by the river. It's fine at

night."

"I know what you want," said Gregory, nodding very wisely. "You want to

catch the first sight of the French frigates. Very well, I'll go along

with you. Only you must let me get my pistol. I'm not going to be caught

unarmed by the enemy."

The shoemaker, his pistol stuck in his belt, and the two boys struck

across for the river. The sky was full of stars, and when they reached

the bank they could easily make out the low-lying Jersey shore across

the Delaware. All shipping, except a few small skiffs, had disappeared.

"The big boats have run before the storm," said Gregory, "and the little

ones are ready to make for the creeks at the first alarm. The French

won't find any shipping here at any rate."

They went along the shore until they came to the southern end of the

town. Even on the wharves there were very few men. "I think we'll have

to be the lookouts," said Gregory, with a chuckle. "Here's a pile of

logs. Let's sit here and watch for the frigates."

Down the three sat, the little shoemaker in the middle. "I think," said

Jack thoughtfully, "that you're the only person in town who'd want to

fight the enemy, unless perhaps Governor Evans would. I think I'd hate

to run away as soon as we saw his ships. Wouldn't you hate to, Peter?"

"Now we've hid those things," said Peter, "I'd like to stay and see the

fun."

"Of course you would," agreed Gregory. "I'll tell you how it is, my

lads. There aren't many adventurers in this sober town of ours, only a

few boys and an old shoemaker."

Jack glanced at the little man, and caught the glint of starlight on the

barrel of his pistol. "I shouldn't think you'd care for adventures as

much as some other people would,--well, as my father would or the man

who lives across the street from us."

Gregory clapped his hand on Jack's knee. "That's just the puzzle of it,"

he said. "You never can tell who are the real adventurers. Most boys

are; but when they grow up they forget the taste and smell of adventure.

They don't want to think of any pirates stealing up the Delaware. They

don't want to have any pirates anywhere."

"I like pirates," announced Peter.

"Of course you do," said Gregory, clapping his free hand on Peter's

knee. "So do I. I like to think there's a chance of those frigates

pointing up the river any minute. But most of the people in town would

say I was mad if I told them that. They'd say it was because I hadn't

anything to lose. It's riches that make folks cautious."

"I see a light down there!" exclaimed Peter, pointing down the shore.

All three jumped up and peered through the darkness. The light proved to

be a lantern in the bow of a small skiff skirting the bank. "That's not

the frigates," said Gregory. "I almost hoped it was. Well, I don't

suppose the safety of Philadelphia depends on our keeping watch any

longer to-night. It's getting late. Come on, my brave adventurers."

Back to town they went, and said good-night to Gregory. As Jack passed

the governor's house he saw a familiar figure standing at the front

gate. The stout Mr. Hackett likewise recognized Jack. "So you've not

fled from town like the rest?" said the man from Maryland. "The

governor's called the men to meet him to-morrow in the field on Locust

Street; but I misdoubt if there'll be many left to join him."

"There's one who will be there," answered Jack, pointing down the street

after Gregory.

"Who's that?" inquired Mr. Hackett.

"Gregory Diggs, the shoemaker. He's got a gun and a pistol, and he won't

run away."

"The little shoemaker?" said Mr. Hackett. "So he's a fighting man, is

he? I've always liked him, but I didn't know he had so much spirit."

"He's a real adventurer," declared Jack. "He thinks it may be because

he's poor and hasn't any family; but I don't think that's it. I think he

couldn't help being that way anyhow. I want to be like him when I grow

up."

"Good for you!" exclaimed Mr. Hackett. "Then I suppose we may count on

having you at the governor's muster to-morrow."

"I'll be there," said Jack. "I'm big enough to handle a gun."

"I'll be there too," put in Peter, who had been listening to the talk

with the greatest interest.

"Good enough," said Mr. Hackett. "Gregory and you boys ought to put some

of these smug people to shame. I'll look for you at the meeting in the

morning."