“Good morning to you, young sir,” said a cheerful voice.
Don, looking up, saw Harry Hawkins. “Good morning to you, sir,” he replied.
Harry Henderson looked at his companion narrowly. “Friend of yours?” he asked.
“Well, no, not exactly,” replied the boy.
“Friend of your uncle’s maybe?” Harry was grinning impudently now, and Don’s cheeks were red.
“No; here’s how it is——” And Don gave a brief account of how he had happened to meet the Redcoat.
“Well,” said Harry dryly, “I should think he might say good morning to you.”
They passed the Common and finally turned into Orange Street and, after some delay, drove past the fortifications on the Neck. “Clear of ’em b’gosh!” said Harry, cracking his whip. “We’ll reach Lexin’ton by mid-afternoon if old Dan here doesn’t bust a leg.”
But Harry had not reckoned on horseshoes. Shortly before they reached Medford, old Dan lost a shoe, and the circumstance caused a delay of two hours. Then later Dan shied at a barking dog and snapped one of the shafts. As a result Harry and Don did not reach Lexington until almost ten o’clock.
“You’ve got to stay right here with me,” said Harry, “It’s too late for you to reach Concord. I know your cousin, and she wouldn’t be at all pleased to have you wake her at midnight—not she!” He laughed.