“I understand you perfectly,” said the patriot, after Ezra had related his story. “But I do not see any great occasion for alarm on your part. This spy system, which you so fortunately discovered, will not long survive the exposure. It is the nature of such things to die of too much light.”
He paused a moment and then said:
“As to your grandfather’s connection with it, now. It is not, in all probability, very great. He has proved himself useful in some way, perhaps, and they have made use of him. I know him fairly well. Seth Prentiss is too quick-tempered and far too outspoken a man to be knowingly selected as an important part in such a plot. And regarding any outbreak in Boston, you may put your mind at rest. Word has been sent to the townspeople to remain quiet, and they will obey.”
Dr. Warren talked in the same soothing strain for some time; he saw that the lad was vaguely troubled, and desired to reassure him.
While they were so engaged, Colonel Prescott rode up. His strikingly handsome person was set off by his neat uniform, and he sat his horse like an Arab.
“Ah, Prentiss,” cried he, after saluting the doctor cordially, “you are just the sort of lad I’ve had in mind. There’s a dispatch to be carried to Colonel Stark at Medford, and I can scarcely spare an officer.”
Ezra saluted promptly.
“Yes, colonel,” spoke he.
It took some time to get the dispatch in proper order; and when Ezra finally left Prescott’s quarters, it was high noon. After a sharp ride to Medford the papers were delivered to Colonel Stark. Then there was another wait while that fine warrior prepared his answer. Darkness had fallen when he arrived at Charlestown once more.
