“You don’t look neat and trim, Donald Alden,” said his aunt as he was about to leave the house.
“It’s too hot, Aunt Martha.”
“You think so perhaps. Well, don’t go far.”
“I’m going to find Jud,” replied Don.
He did not have to go all the way to Hog Alley to find his comrade. Jud, hot and excited, almost ran into him at the foot of School Street. “O Don!” he exclaimed. “There’s going to be an awful time—a battle, sure as you’re alive! I was coming to get you.”
“I know,” said Don. “Everybody’s excited. And did you hear the firing early this morning?”
“Come up to the Common,” said Jud. “The Redcoats are all on parade. They’re going to march off, I think.”
The boys found the Common a scene of intense activity. There seemed to be Redcoats everywhere. Some were in formation; some were hurrying to join their companies that were assembling, and all seemed to be carrying arms and full equipment. The sun flashed on glistening swords and buckles and seemed to turn each bright red coat into a vivid blaze of fire. And overhead the graceful limbs of the great old elms waved gently to and fro like gigantic lacy green fans.
“Look,” said Don, “there’s the 43rd, Harry Hawkins’s regiment.”
“Yes, and there’s Hawkins himself,” replied Jud. “See him—that big fellow?”