"For God's sake, take your men back, Captain! Your life and theirs will pay the penalty of an encounter now! The mob are beside themselves with rage, and this small squad could do nothing against them, once they were let loose."
The officer shook off his well-meaning adviser as he ordered his men to stand firm and defend themselves with their bayonets.
How it happened Amos never really understood; it was as if, while he was yet calm and collected, a sudden flare had come across his eyes, and he realised nothing more until he was in the foremost of the throng, pressing eagerly forward toward the red-coated enemy, without regard to possible danger, as he joined those around him in yelling and hooting.
Men and boys in the rear were firing whatever missiles came to hand, and friends were struck as often as foes.
Amos heard some one cry, and he thought it was Attucks:
"Let us fall upon the guards! The main guard! The main guard!"
He saw, as if in a dream, the mulatto beat down the musket of a soldier with a club; he heard those directly behind him cheering wildly, and he added his voice to theirs.
Somewhere from the rear came the cries:
"Don't be afraid of them!"
"They daren't fire!"