A chorus of protests broke from both committeemen and spectators. Instantly I understood. This was the man whom I had heard declare he would tell that Duncan Hale had been hanged. As a reward for his supposed services he had been chosen a member of the Committee of Safety!
During the parley that followed I was able to turn over the situation in my mind. The men who had gone out had evidently been members of the party which Duncan had eluded, and they had feared my story. What would I do? The 'Colonel' feared it also. Would telling the whole truth help or harm me? I did not care to go back to the mine, and I felt that I should proceed with the utmost caution. The mere promise to fight, I had learned from the cases of others that day, meant freedom. Would not this simplify matters? Should I not here under the circumstances be justified in making a promise that I did not intend to keep. I was sure the truth, if told, would make trouble for the 'Colonel'; but would it not make corresponding trouble for myself by showing my sympathy with Duncan Hale, who was hated as were few men of the King's party? Finally, I resolved to hazard the whole truth.
The uproar in the court ended in the 'Colonel' not being allowed to go, and I was ordered to proceed.
Knowing I had but one thing of importance to say, I spent little time in leading up to it. I said I had taken no part in the dispute: that I rode out to Lexington simply to learn the truth. I spoke of meeting the body of troops, and of seeing the old man at the graves; I referred briefly to the burial, even to the sermon—all this to stamp my story as unmistakably true—then I plunged into the scene on the road to Boston and told of Duncan's escape. 'And that man there,'—I said, turning and facing the 'Colonel,' who sat pale and shivering,—'that man there declared in the presence of all the others in the party, that he would go to the village and tell the committee that Duncan Hale had been hanged.'
"THAT MAN," I SAID, TURNING AND FACING THE 'COLONEL,' WHO SAT PALE AND SHIVERING.
I felt sure that this was the point where my story should close. I had nothing stronger than this. Moved by a certain latent instinct for the dramatic I broke off and sat down.
There was a short, ominous silence—then a great uproar. 'Traitor!' yelled several at once, as they sprang upon the benches, waving their arms wildly.
'Shoot him,' shouted others; 'he let him go purposely.'