CHAPTER VII
OLD BERKS' NEWS
In the rash of the natural excitement of the moment, Phil Warrington did not realize for some time that they were taking a good deal for granted. Now, as they reached the street, he checked his speed and that of his companion with the sharp ejaculation:
"Hold on, Andy—don't let us start out on a wild goose chase till we know what we are about."
"What do you mean? Come ahead. You heard the old cannon, didn't you? Well, then, fly!" cried the irrepressible Andy.
"But we are simply guessing at things, don't you see?" demurred Phil. "Our heads are so full of old Berks and the rest of our day's adventures, that we imagine—"
"Not a bit of it!" shouted Andy, on fire with enthusiasm. "Think I don't know the sound of Old Tom? Didn't it come from the right direction? Didn't he tell us—aha! what do you say now?" cried Andy with a positive yell.
In those days Concord was a small, scattered village, nothing more. Two minutes running had brought the boys to a sparsely tenanted patch of ground, with the fields and woods just beyond it. Among the distant timber was a brilliant glow. It flashed up, died down, and then flashed up again.
Phil was impressed with the sight, for his quick eye discerned that the strange glow was in the precise direction of the queer old stockade inhabited by Silas Berks, in fact, the radiance seemed to indicate the exact location of the home of the eccentric old Indian fighter.
No one else in the town seemed aroused as were the boys. They had a lonely dash of it across the river, through a fringe of underbrush, up a rise, and through the trees just beyond the Bram homestead where they could see the flames through the forest.
"It's Berks' place, right enough!" declared Andy.
"And he has fired the cannon to call for help," suggested Phil.
In about five minutes the boys were descending the last hill their side of the old hut. That structure, brightly illuminated, was now in full view. The hut was not on fire at all, but just outside of the stockade a big haystack was blazing up.
"No danger of the house," said Phil. "I wonder how it caught on fire?"
There was a light in the hut as they dashed up to it, and a great uproar emanated from inside. The parrot was screaming and the doves and chickens flitting about, and two watch dogs were filling the air with manifold barkings. The sound of a cracked old bugle mingled with the general uproar.
Andy gave the door a push. It was not locked it seemed on the inside, and it flew open readily.
"It's us, Mr. Berks," cried Andy, staring at the object of his anxiety.
Silas Berks lay stretched out on a bed, his face red and perspiring. He was blowing upon an old brass military bugle with all the power of his lungs. He removed the mouthpiece from his lips as the boys made their appearance.
"Good for you!" he piped. "Say, what's on fire outside?"
"A haystack," explained Andy. "It can't do any further damage, it's burned out."
"Lighted wad from the cannon must have done that," said Silas. "Too bad—but it's worth the money now you've come."
"We don't understand it all," said Andy, in a perplexed way. "What has been happening around here? Was the barking of Old Tom an accident? Why don't you get up?"
"Because I can't get up," replied Silas. "I've got a spell—a bad one. I always get one when I have been over-excited, and I reckon I've had enough to stir me up this night. You're grand, true boys, you two are. Remember what I told you, when Old Tom barked, hey? Well, I made him bark. It's cost me my haystack, but cheap at the price, yes, sir! cheap at the price."
The old soldier's eyes snapped as he spoke at first, but the words finally died down to a faint, droning sound. His eyes closed, and he acted like a person who had sunk into a sudden stupor.
"Mr. Berks! Mr. Berks!" called Andy in some alarm, hurrying to the side of the bed and seizing and shaking the arm of the old soldier. Berks smiled stupidly and muttered some incoherent words, but he did not open his eyes.
"What shall we do, Phil?" inquired Andy quite anxiously. "He certainly is ill."
"But he does not seem to be suffering," said Phil. "You know he spoke of a spell. Leave him alone for a few minutes and see if he doesn't get better. I'll go and look after the burning haystack."
Phil found a heap of burning cinders. There was no danger of fire spreading, and he returned to the cabin, to be greeted with the animated remark of the parrot.
"Hurrah for liberty!"
That familiar cry aroused old Silas. He opened his eyes and smiled at the parrot and the boys. Then he said.
"Andy, lad, go to the old cupboard yonder there, will you, and bring me a bottle of medicine you'll find on the middle shelf."
Andy found that bottle, and Old Silas drank some of its contents. It seemed to do him good. He managed to sit up in bed, but not without considerable wincing, as if the operation caused him some pain, and he did not attempt to get out of the bed.
"Don't look worried, lads," he said, in his usual cheery, piping tone. "I'm simply laid up as a bad lumbago patient for a few hours. As I told you, when I allow myself to get excited and move around too briskly, it upsets me and seems to affect a wound I got in an Indian skirmish years ago. It's a nerve weakness, I guess, and takes me in the limbs. I'll be well again tomorrow. Front face, now! and Attention, company! I got some news to-night."
"From Boston?" inquired Andy eagerly.
"That's right, lad, from headquarters,—from the seat of war. I've got a very good friend busy in the cause there. He sent home one of my pigeons to-night. It brought me a message."
"Oh, Mr. Berks! what was it?" inquired Andy.
"Something very important. I bustled around to get my old nag hitched up to go to town to carry the news to your father or some other good member of the committee, when I felt my spell coming on. I had just strength enough to fire off Old Tom, trusting to chance that some one would hear the report and come up here."
"Was it important news, Mr. Berks?" inquired Phil, thinking of his native city and the folks at home.
"It is, lad," answered the old Indian fighter. "There's a big plot afoot with the Britishers to squelch the patriots, and I've got wind of the first section of it."
"Say, tell us about it," urged the impetuous Andy.
"Because I know you to be two good, loyal boys, and because you must be the bearers of a very important message for the good of your country, I will," said Silas. "You know that the provincial Congress met here at Concord only a few days ago."
Both boys nodded. The Congress had been an important and decisive step with the colonists. Many noted patriots had been present, and the event had been of great interest to the Sabine family, for its head had been one of the leaders in the convention.
"Very well," continued Silas, "the reports of defiance—the determination of the convention—reached Gen. Gage in Boston. According to my message from my friends there, the Britishers decided that the iron was hot, and that now was the time to strike. Warren, Adams and Hancock were the leading spirits at the Congress. Gen. Gage has decided to arrest them the hour they set foot in Boston again, send them aboard a British man-of-war, and ship them to England to be tried for treason. They hope to crush out the spirit of the masses by taking away their leaders and hanging them."
"But they can't do that!" cried Andy indignantly. "It's against the law. It's piracy. It's—it's—"
"They mustn't be allowed to do it," interrupted Silas gravely. "You boys must get back to town at once. Tell your father, Andy, what I've told you. Warren, Adams and Hancock have left Concord, but I understand they were going to make the journey to Boston by stages, taking time to consult militia leaders at the various towns. Tell your father to send a messenger at once after them, and warn them under no circumstances to return to Boston, as a plot is on foot to arrest them."
"We'll do it, Mr. Berks,—we'll be off like a shot!" cried Andy.
"If we can do anything for you to make you more comfortable—" began Phil.
"I'll be right as a trivet in the morning," declared the staunch old soldier. "Just shut the door tight, and see that the haystack fire is out, and don't lose any time with that message."
"My," exclaimed Andy, as he and Phil cleared the doorway on a bound, "this is just like going off to the war!"