Pitcairn comes a few steps forward. He looks at the colonists. He laughs bitterly.]
Pitcairn
Throw down your arms, you damned rebels!
[No one moves.]
D’ye hear me?
[Slowly Parker turns and looks upon his little, feeble line of men. Then he looks again at the Britishers. Then we see him realize the futility of his attempt.
Very reluctantly the line of Minute Men sways and loosens. It does not quite break. Its manœuver is rather that of retiring. Then a few draw angrily back and a few more stand defiantly. Jonas Parker throws his hat at his feet.]
Jonas Parker
Here I stand, so help me God!
[An angry murmur of resentment rises from the Minute Men. Parker is spellbound. Pitcairn turns to his first platoon lieutenant.]