“Why, grandfather! did you go?” we both exclaimed with wide eyes.
“Well, boys,” said my grandfather, “'tain't worth talkin' about what I did. I was in my mill that day, minding my business, when brother Con, he burst in, and says he, 'Look here, Bill, the regulars are goin' up to Concord to destroy our stores, and we must all go. Come, get your gun.' Well, I said I was a miller, and millers were exempt from duty; but Con wouldn't let me alone. 'Get down your gun,' says he. 'Suppose we're going to let them British fellers walk over us?' says he. Well, Con always had his way of me; and I got my gun, and we started out through the woods over to Concord. We lived at Weston then, ye see. Well, when we got on the brow of the hill, we looked over, and, sure enough, there on burying-ground hill was the British regulars. The hill was all alive with 'em, marching here and there in their scarlet coats like so many bees out of a hive.
“'Con,' says I, 'jest look there. What are you going to do?'
“'Shoot some of 'em, I know,' says Con.
“And so we ran along, hiding behind trees and bushes and stone walls, till we got near enough to get a shot at 'em. You see, they broke up into companies, and went here and there about town, looking for the stores; and then, as we got a chance here and there, we marked our men, and popped, and then we'd run, and take aim somewhere else.”
“Wal, now, that are wa'n't the hull on't,” said Sam. “Why, there was hundreds of fellers doin' just the same all round: it was jest pop-pop-pop! from every barn, and every bush, and clump o' trees, all along the way. Men was picked off all the time; and they couldn't see who did it, and it made 'em mad as fury. Why, I 'member Mis' Tom Bigelow, she that was Sary Jones, told me how they sot her mother's house afire and burnt it down, 'cause their nigger man Cæsar popped at 'em out o' the buttery window. They didn't tell him to; but Cæsar, he was full of fight, like all the rest on 'em. Lordy massy! the niggers went for suthin' in them times! Their blood was up as quick as anybody's. Why, there was old Pompey Lovejoy lived over by Pomp's pond in Andover, he hitched up his wagon, and driv over with two barrels o' cider and some tin dippers, and was round all day givin' drinks o' cider to our men when they got het and thirsty and tired. It was a pretty warm day for April, that was. Pomp has told me the story many a time. 'Twas all the cider he had; but cider goes for suthin', as well as gunpowder in its place, and Pomp's cider come jest right that day.”
“But grandfather,” said I, “what happened to you over there?”
“Well, you see,” said grandfather placidly, “I wasn't killed; but I come pretty nigh it. You see, they sent into Boston for re-enforcements; and, by the time we got to Lexington, Earl Percy was marching out with fresh troops and cannon. Con and I were standing on the meetin'-house steps, when there come a terrible bang, and something struck right over our heads, and went into the meetin'-house. 'Why, Bill!' says Con, 'what's that?'—'They've got cannon: that's what that is,' says I. 'Let's run 'round the other side.' So we did; but just as we got round there, there come another bang, and a ball crashed right through the meetin'-house, and come out of the pulpit window. Well, we saw there was no staying there: so we run then, and got into a little clump of trees behind a stone wall; and there we saw 'em go by,—Earl Percy on his horse, and all his troops, ever so grand. He went on up to Concord. Fact is, if it hadn't been for him and his men, those regulars would all have been cut off: they wouldn't one of 'em have got back, for the whole country was up and fighting. The militia came pouring in from Weston and Acton and Billriky,—all the towns round. Then their Col. Smith was wounded, and a good many others, and lots of 'em killed, and our minute-men coming on 'em before and behind, and all around. But ye see, we couldn't stand regular troops and cannon; and so, when they come on, we had to give back. Earl Percy came up, and formed a hollow square, and they marched into it, and so gave 'em time to rest.”
“Wal, there was need enough on't,” said Sam. “The regulars had been hectored and picked, and driv 'round so from piller to post, that they was dog tired. Jimmy Irwin, he was a little chap then; but he telled me how he see the men jest threw 'emselves down on the ground, their tongues trailing out o' their mouths like hunting-dogs. You see, they had about two hundred wounded, and twenty eight or nine was taken prisoners, and sixty-four killed outright: so Lord Percy had his hands full o' takin' care o' the mess they'd got up.”
“Yes,” said my grandfather, “there were dead men lying all around the road as we came back. There, boys!” he said, pointing to a gun and powder-horn over the chimney, “we picked up these when we were coming home. We found them on a poor fellow who lay there dead in the road: there's some blood of his on it to this day. We couldn't help feeling it was most too bad too.”