“Bring them out,” directed Lieutenant-Colonel Smith, angrily. “And bring all of them.”
In a few moments a little line of half-dressed folk blinked bewilderedly in the light of the flaring torches as the British officers narrowly examined them. But they were so unmistakably what they claimed to be that they were quickly dismissed.
“Get back with you!” cried Lieutenant-Colonel Smith in a fury. “And if I ever hear one word against you regarding harboring rebels it will be the sorriest day for you that ever dawned.”
So with that the officers pressed after the column; and Nat was once more placed in the midst of his guard, which went trudging sullenly forward. And as the “tramp-tramp” grew fainter, the inn people began to laugh. For safe in an adjoining field were Messrs. Gerry, Lee and Orne, of the patriot committee. They had been roused by messengers as the head of the column passed beneath their bedroom windows, and had slipped out by a back door as the British broke their way in by the front.
As the brigade advanced, guns began to boom in the distance and bells clanged a sonorous warning to the countryside.
“The entire section is up,” growled the commander. “Some warning must have been sent after all.”
After a very few miles, Major Pitcairn was ordered forward with a body of light infantry.
“Pick up any one you find on the road and secure the two bridges at Concord,” directed the lieutenant-colonel, curtly.
“It has a bad look,” said Pitcairn, as he sat his horse, awaiting the formation of the six companies which were to make up his command. The clangor, dim but continuous, crept toward them across the level fields; and for the first time a serious look had settled upon the faces of the king’s officers.
“I fancy,” said the commander, “that a reinforcement would do no harm; indeed, judging by all the commotion ahead, it might be of good service.”