Soon after nine we all were sitting on our side steps, talking over where we should go for our battle, when Skinny happened to stand up and look down the street.
We heard him make a noise like a snake and he dropped off the steps to the ground so quickly that we thought at first he had a fit or something, until he made a motion for us to follow him and began to crawl toward the fence.
We didn't know what the matter was, but knew that it was something important, so we crawled along after him as fast as we could. When we reached the pickets he pointed and we peeped over the top, careful not to let more than our eyes be seen.
What we saw was three members of the Gingham Ground Gang coming up the street, walking in the middle of the road and looking on both sides as they came, as if they were expecting trouble and wanted to be ready for it.
Two of them had red shirts, and that made Skinny mad because it made him think of his ancestor who was killed at Bunker Hill.
"The Redcoats are coming," said he in a hoarse whisper, so that they wouldn't hear, but fierce-like, just the same. "Wait until you can see the whites of their eyes; then, 'charge, the ground's your own, my braves. Will ye give it up to slaves? Hope ye mercy, still?'"
It was a part of his last day piece at school and sounded fine.
"Charge nothin'!" said Bill. "The Americans didn't do any charging at Bunker Hill, I guess. The Britishers did the charging. The Americans waited behind a fence until they got near enough and then let 'em have it, until their ammunition gave out. Then they ran. That's what they did."
That was true, too, but, just the same, it was a victory to hold the hill as long as their powder lasted, and Bill knew it, but he liked to get Skinny mad.
"Bill Wilson," said Skinny, "you are a nice patriot! You are a Scout and a half; that's what you are—not! So are we going to run but, bet your life, we're going to run toward the enemy. If you want to stay here behind the fence you can do it. The rest of us are going to charge."