DR. WARREN TALKED IN THE SAME STRAIN
The bay was rubbed down, rested and fed; its rider stretched himself upon a bench with a biscuit and a slice of beef. The sky had a sort of a bronze hue and the stars burned dimly, like bright rivets set in a giant’s shield.
Ezra, when he had finished his supper, lay looking up at this and wondering at the vastness of it. The lights of camp-fires flared here and there; files of rough, un-uniformed soldiers passed and repassed; bursts of laughter and snatches of song came down from groups whose duty was done.
And across the river, under the same stars, lay the British army; it was perilously near, and it was powerful and deadly if properly guided.
Ezra sat up and looked toward the danger point. Boston was dark, save for a few winking fires; orders had been given long before for civilians to extinguish lights of all descriptions before a given hour. The side lights burned steadily upon the war-ships; occasionally a singsong cry came from their decks as the watches were changed or a seaman called the hour.
Somehow, it seemed to the boy that this was the sort of night that strange, wild things might well go forward. Odd enterprises might be tried and accomplished under that bronze sky and those dimly-burning stars. Strange people might well meet in all sorts of queer places and mysterious deeds might well happen.
In the midst of these reflections, Ezra came to his feet, a sudden resolve fixed in his mind. A little distance away a group of townspeople were gathered. He approached and said to one of them:
“Do you know of an inn anywhere about that is known as the ‘Indian’s Head’?”
The man stared a moment, then shook his head. But one of his companions spoke up.
“There is none in Charlestown; but outside,” and he pointed to the north, “there is a small tavern called by that name. It lies upon a road between Breed’s and Bunker’s Hills.”