“What’s left of the army?” questioned a third.
“How soon will the British be here?” cried another.
Ben waved a hand to them—the hand which held his dispatches.
“Make way,” he cried out, repeatedly. “Make way for the messenger to Congress.”
“The battle! the battle!” chorused the populace. “What news from the army?”
“The army was driven back——” A groan interrupted the boy. He continued: “But the British were repulsed at last. The army is safe!”
The more hardy spirits found comfort in this last; but the greater part lost none of their fear; the steady stream of fleeing families still passed along the streets; men rushed hither and thither, preparing to depart, women sobbed and gathered their children about them.
“To the mountains,” was the cry. “To the mountains!”
Ben leaped from his horse at the State House door; but upon inquiry he learned that Congress was not sitting as he had expected it to be in such a crisis. It had held a session that evening and decided to quit the city; the next meeting of the body was to be held at Lancaster.
“But,” said the custodian, “a number of the members are now at Clark’s Inn, just across the way; and I feel sure that you’ll find Mr. Hancock there, also.”