"ON TO LEXINGTON!"
The British soldier walked straight up to the yawl, stepped into it,
and, his gun still extended, sat down in the stern of the boat. It was
all done so easily and naturally, that it fairly took away the breath
of the three astonished boys.
"Keep right on," said the soldier--"row away, there."
Andy for once was subdued. He did not doubt but that the redcoat meant
business, and that gun barrel looked ugly and threatening. Ralph
mechanically placed the oars in motion. Phil half-faced about wondering
what would come next.
It seemed to him that he had caught a vague glimpse of a scudding
figure shift through the fog and melt away at the water's edge, but he
attributed this to a shadow or fancy, his main interest centered on
the big, cruel-faced soldier, who now held himself and his companions
absolutely at his mercy.
"Row, I tell you," ordered the redcoat. "No fooling, no tricks, or I'll
sink you with lead. Trying to get into Boston, were you?" he chuckled.
"Well, I'll just help you, that's all."
"Yes, I guess we'll get to Boston," said Andy rather glumly, in a
half-undertone.
"Sort of dreaded the row across," continued the redcoat. "Then again,
judging from what I overheard you fellows say, I fancy you can tell
considerable to our captain. Blame me, if I've found out anything
except a heap of signaling. Say," he added to Phil, "what was all that
hubbub of shots and shouts and bells I heard down the river?"
"I wasn't down the river to find out, you see," responded Phil.
"Wasn't you, now?" said the soldier, in a sarcastic tone. "You're all
very innocent, aren't you? Row faster and steadier, there," he ordered
in a raised, angry tone, as Ralph lagged at the oars.
Andy had just whispered something behind Ralph. It was to the effect
that he believed boats from the other shore were crossing the river.
If this were true, Ralph foresaw that they would soon ride right in
amongst the enemy.
"Then we'll be gone for good," Andy declared in a hollow whisper.
"Let's fight for it--here and now."
"Did you hear me?" repeated the redcoat wrathfully. "Row faster."
"Not an inch," said Ralph, quietly but forcibly.
He dropped the oars as he spoke, and sitting erect folded his arms and
faced the soldier like a statue.
"Andy," he whispered sideways, "there's the old pistol in my belt
behind, get it. I'll make a spring." And Ralph moved slightly forward,
and managed to touch Phil with his foot as a hint that they were up to
something.
The redcoat uttered a wicked snarl. He raised his musket, and the boys
heard an ominous click.
"Dodge! duck!" shouted Andy excitedly. "The ruffian is going to
massacre us!"
Bang! Sure enough the gun went off, but up in the air. The astonished
boys saw the weapon fly up from the hands of the enraged soldier. It
came down in the middle of the boat, striking Ralph. What was more
wonderful, though, was that accompanying this maneuver. The redcoat
performed a series of gyrations that reminded Phil of a man who had
been kicked off a horse in a somersault circle.
The soldier shot clear back off the boat, arms and feet sawing the
air. He uttered a curdling yell, but its echoes gurgled down to a
gasp as he went under the surface of the water with the dexterity of
a practised acrobat. Next, there sprang over the stern a dripping but
agile figure.
"The Indian,--Old Sachem!" exclaimed Andy. "Don't!"--began Andy, in a
horrified tone.
There passed before the boys a rapid, tragic spectacle. They could
readily surmise what had transpired--the Indian had followed them from
the swamp. Whatever his motive to guard them, to try and do them a good
turn for their kindness to him or on the trail of his enemies, seeking
revenge, it was evidently Sachem, as he was generally nicknamed, who
had been lurking around the old mill and later upon the course they had
followed.
Sachem must have swum after the boat, and at the right moment had
pulled back the redcoat. Now, seating himself at the stern, he reached
back and grabbed out. His wiry fingers were clenched in the bushy
whiskers of the Tory. Sweeping his other hand towards them holding a
keen-bladed knife, he "scalped" the redcoat's luxurious whiskers.
With a laugh of derision he tossed the handful of hair into the face
of the yelling victim, gave him a hard slap on the face and then a push
that sent the redcoat swimming for shore, probably more scared that he
had ever been before in his life.
The whole incident had been so rapid, tragical and finally grotesque,
that Andy broke out into a great laugh. It was quickly subdued. Through
the gloom from some near boat came a startling challenge:
"Who is there?"
Instantly Ralph grabbed the oars. There was no doubt but that the
British were crossing over from Boston. The shore was near at hand.
All saw that they must promptly reach it or drive straight into a new
dilemma.
Ralph speedily turned the bow of the boat, and began making for shore.
They all kept silent, the Indian stationing himself at the stern, his
ear bent attentively, his eye trying to pierce the fog and darkness.
The redcoat he had doused and "scalped" had reached the shore. He was
now running away from his landing place, bellowing out directions to
the approaching boat loads of his fellows. This helped neither them nor
himself, for the gloom hung about like a pall.
The boys leaped from the boat as they reached the shore. The Indian
faced them with the most extravagant gestures. These plainly indicated
that they were foolhardy to attempt to get into Boston. He turned and
pointed in the direction of the old country road.
"Lexington," he said. "Boom--boom!"
Phil nodded actively to indicate to the redman that he understood him.
The latter looked pleased. He placed his finger tip to his lip to
enforce silence, beckoned his companions to follow him, and then stole
down the shore like a shadow.
It was just in time, for two minutes later the refugees comprehended
that the British were landing. The Indian proceeded at a brisk pace for
over a half a mile. Here there was a thicket, and he led the boys to it.
Soon, he said sententiously--"wait," and disappeared.
"Well, Sachem is proving a pretty good friend," observed Andy.
"I wonder what he is up to now?" spoke Ralph.
"He wants to act quick," said Phil. "The British are certainly landing
their troops this side of the river. We shall be surrounded by them if
we don't make ourselves scarce."
The boys could see lights here and there down the river shore. Once
there were some vague shouts, and the echo of a volley of musketry. Way
to the west a reddish glare betokened a house on fire, or some patriot
beacon.
"The air sort of bristles with action, hey, Phil?" remarked Andy. "I
wish my Concord crowd was here. We'd soon make up some plan to fight or
annoy these bold redcoats."
"Some one is coming!" said Ralph just then, and thereupon the Indian
stepped into view. To the amazement of the boys he led three horses.
These were army steeds fully accoutred, and at the saddle of each hung
a sabre and a short cavalry musket.
"Sachem" conveyed to his friends that he had stolen them. He had
evidently located other horses, and according to his pantomime had set
them free.
"He has happened upon some redcoat detachment this side of the river,
waiting for orders to move," suggested Andy. "Say, fellows, here is a
layout that's famous, eh?"
"Sachem" pointed again solemnly, and Phil knew that he was indicating
Lexington, and advising them to proceed in that direction. He began
to thank the Indian, but the latter, with a grunt of satisfaction at
having been of service to his friends and at settling his score with
the redcoats, backed away and disappeared.
"Phil," cried Andy buoyantly, "this is unmistakable, I reckon!" and he
sprang into one of the saddles.
"I'm more at home on a deck than on a horse's back," remarked Ralph,
"but this strikes me as the proper thing."
"Yes," said Phil, "we will leave Boston till later. Just now the motto
must be: 'On to Lexington!'"