There was a call for minute-men. A horseman came riding into Medfield, blowing a horn, and calling upon the farmers to volunteer.
Obed started up at the sound. He knew what was wanted.
He called Eliza out under the great elms.
"English Eliza, I am going. I shall never come back. You will never see me again. I shall never come back. Some one must die in this cause, and who better than I? Coward you think me, but you do not know me. I am not afraid to die. We were thrown upon the world together, and I have thought well of you. Don't you remember how we used to go sassafrasing with each other?"
"Yes, Obed."
"And looking for Indian-pipe when we were not looking for anything?"
"Yes."
"And picking blue gentians in the old cranberry meadows?"
"Yes."
"And listening to the bluebirds when the maples were red; and to the martin birds when the apple-trees were in bloom; and to the red robins, and all?"