“They say this old fellow drank like a fish before he enlisted; something has sobered him up since.”
“What did he do that was so brave?” Shirtliffe asked the question as he bent nearer the fire.
“Why you see it was this way; when the folks ’round Boston made up their minds that the King did not mean to grant their petition, they hustled their stores and ammunition to Concord. Old Gage got wind of it and sent eight hundred men to stop them, and bring everything back, Samuel Adams and John Hancock into the bargain. But the King’s men were too late; Adams and Hancock were out in the country raising a devil of a row and stirring folks up.
“Just about that time Revere and Dawson started out, and then Mason got his blood up and said: ‘Now whose going to lead and stand by the bridge with me when the British come?’”
“And how many stood by him?” Robert’s voice shook, and his ruddy face paled.
“About a hundred and thirty.”
“Thank God for that! But oh, if I had only been one!” There were tears in the boy’s eyes.
“Never mind, Molly, you’ll get your chance. The new country will have to claim much good blood before it wins. The British have us fast and tight in here now. If General Washington doesn’t come soon God help us all!”
“Go on about Mason,” Robert interrupted, “news doesn’t reach down our way.”
“Well, Mason and his men waited by the bridge, but the British didn’t come. So they separated and agreed to gather when the drum should announce danger.”