Suddenly Miller’s attention was attracted by a tapping on the window, and he glanced in that direction, and saw the face of Henry Philips, a boy of ten years, and a true friend of his. The boy was indeed a patriot at heart, and for that reason he was not liked by the other pupils at the school, and Miller had often interfered to keep bigger boys from abusing Henry, thus earning the boy’s regards.
There was a look of excitement on the boy’s face, and Miller, guessing that there was something in the wind, rose and went quietly to the window, and raising it, was about to speak, but the boy said, “Sh! Don’t say anything, Mr. Miller. I’ve come to warn ye.”
“What is the trouble?” the teacher asked in a whisper.
“The Tories are goin’ to ketch ye when ye leave the schoolhouse an’ give ye a coat uv tar an’ feathers!” whispered the boy, glancing warily around him.
Miller started. “Why?” he asked.
“Cause ye’re a patriot,” was the reply. “Hank Sprowl an’ two or three more Tories are aroun’ at the front, now, waitin’ fur ye to come out.”
“I knew they were out there, Henry, but I didn’t know, could not imagine, why they were there. So that is what they are up to, is it?”
“Yes, an’ ye had better climb out of the winder an’ make your escape.”
Doubtless that was Miller’s first inclination, but he thought a few moments, and then shook his head. “I don’t think that I’ll do that, Henry,” he said. “No, I’ll go out through the front door, as usual, and I don’t believe they’ll dare lay hands on me.”
“Ye don’ know Hank Sprowl ef ye think that,” said the boy. “He’s a bad one, he is.”