Four hundred schoolboys marched in couples behind the casket containing all that was mortal of Chris Snyder; thirteen hundred citizens followed, and the procession was closed by thirty chariots and chaises.
The bells of Boston and the neighbouring towns were tolled as the procession marched from Frog Lane to the Liberty Tree, and from thence to the burying-ground, and on every hand the little fellow was spoken of as the "first martyr in the cause of American liberty."
During the week which followed the funeral ceremonies, Amos and Jim were much together in the home of Chris Gore, whose wound was rapidly healing. They had little or no intercourse with the barber's apprentice, whom, it was rumoured, had made friends among a certain set of men frequenting the resorts on the water-front of the city.
Neither had succeeded in convincing himself he was wholly blameless for the tragedy on Hanover Street, and both shunned Hardy Baker as much as possible because of the ridiculous threats he made as to what he intended to do, and cause others to do, against the soldiers.
It was on the Friday succeeding the funeral, when Amos and Jim were together in the yard of the latter's home, where the symbol of warning to Master Lillie had been prepared, that the barber's apprentice burst in upon them like a whirlwind.
Excitement was written on every feature of his face, and several seconds elapsed before he could speak coherently. Then he exclaimed:
"It has come at last! It has come at last!"
"What has come?" Amos asked, impatiently.
"The 'bloody backs' are to be driven out of town. They have done so much this time that the people will soon put an end to them! It seems that Chris Snyder's murder wasn't enough—"
"But the soldiers had nothing to do with that," Jim said, quickly. "We three are the guilty ones."