CHAPTER VIII
THE ROAD TO BOSTON
"Phil, it doesn't seem real!"
"It seems only too real to me, Andy."
"Well, then, I mean that it appears all like a dream."
"It's a dream we'll have to keep awake in, if things are as serious as your father thinks," said Phil Warrington.
It was pitch dark, two o'clock in the morning, and the situation was so strongly in contrast with the usual midnight hours spent in sound, healthy sleep under a hospitable roof, that Andy Sabine might well think it all had a decidedly dreamy and unreal aspect.
Four hours previous, Phil and Andy had rushed into the home of the latter in Concord breathless, excited and full to the brim of the mystery and importance of the message intrusted to them by the old Indian lighter, Silas Berks.
They had to arouse Andy's father, for they found him in bed. When Andy in a hushed, impressive voice recited the latest adventure of the night, Mr. Sabine acted very much aroused and serious.
"This is a matter of grave import, boys," said the sterling patriot. "I believe in Silas Berks. He is a true-souled man, and his message fits in with information we had already received. We felt sure that Gen. Gage and his minions were on the point of making some demonstration—underhanded as usual—to break up the Sons of Liberty and the Minute Men. Old Silas has given us a valuable hint. It is important, indeed, that Dr. Warren and his friends should be warned of their danger. Let me think for a moment."
Mr. Sabine paced the floor for some time, plunged in deep meditation. He seemed to be turning the situation over in his mind thoroughly.
"I would go on this mission myself," he said at last, "only that I have arranged to visit some towns north of here in the interests of our Congress. It is late, yet not a minute should be lost. Dr. Warren and his friends were to visit Manchester first, then Merrimack, and then in turn the various towns on the old Boston stage line. I am sure, according to their plans, they would not reach Boston for some days to come, but might change their programme and run their head right into the noose. They must be reached, but how?"
"I'll tell you, Mr. Sabine," spoke up Phil, promptly and respectfully. "I am anxious to go on this mission and would have to leave Concord in a day or two, anyhow. There is no stage coach until Thursday for Boston. If I could arrange for a horse, I could start off to-night,—this very hour,—after Dr. Warren. I could keep on until I overtook the doctor, don't you see?"
"You're a plucky, loyal lad, Phil," said Mr. Sabine warmly, "only—"
"Father, let me go to, too!" broke in Andy eagerly, "let me go with Phil. I've just been dying to really do something. Please let me go, father!"
"Impossible," answered Mr. Sabine, and that seemed to end it. But it did not, for a discussion of nearly an hour's duration followed. At the end of it, the triumphant Andy was aglow with enthusiasm and excitement. Reluctantly Mr. Sabine had agreed to send Phil on the urgent midnight mission after Dr. Warren and his compatriots and Andy was to accompany his chum.
Andy left a message of direction for his club mates, and arranged that some one should see in the morning that Silas Berks was all right. It was also decided how they should leave his father's two horses, that they were to ride, to be sent back from whatever town they found Dr. Warren at, and continue the journey to Boston on fresh-hired steeds, by stage coach, or part of the way on foot, if they so desired.
An hour saw them mounted, and bidding Mr. Sabine a subdued good-by in the stable yard, so they would not disturb the sleepers in the house. In an hour they were some miles on their route. At two o'clock in the morning they passed a settlement.
It was then, traversing a rutty, snow-crusted road, that Andy made the remark about the unreality of the situation, and now Phil discussed its merits and their plans freely.
"It's a nice state of things, when respectable citizens like Dr. Warren have to hide for their lives and keep away from their friends," he remarked indignantly.
"I should say so," replied Andy. "Oh, this thing is going to end in a fight, and soon, too. Everybody is ready for it."
Daybreak brought them to a second little settlement, where they found a farmer milking his cows. They arranged for breakfast here, and slept two hours in a hay mow while the horses were fed and rested. They resumed the journey, had another rest at Nashua, and here learned that Dr. Warren and his friends had been there three days before and could probably be found at Lowell.
It was dark the next afternoon when the tired-out horses and the tired-out boy-messengers reached that town. Both Phil and Andy were glad to stretch their limbs, and it gave them a feeling of comfort to watch their wearied steeds enjoying their fodder, housed in comfortable stalls in the stable of the town tavern.
A good meal for themselves was the next thing in order. After supper Phil spoke to the landlord of the inn, first in a general way, and then began questioning him as to the whereabouts of Dr. Warren and his friends.
"Dr. Warren is in town," said the landlord. "He has been here two days. Adams and Hancock were here too, but they left this morning. Dr. Warren is staying with one of the selectmen, but he has been holding a secret meeting with some of our townsmen down at the village hall. I think you'll find him there."
"Where is the village hall?" inquired Andy, and the landlord directed them.
The place was a rudely-built two-story structure. The boys halted in front of it, to find it dark and locked up. They decided that the meeting must have adjourned, and started out to locate Dr. Warren elsewhere. Phil remarked, however:—
"Being a secret meeting, it may be held at the rear of the place. Wait for a minute, Andy, and I will make a tour around the building."
Andy stayed in front of the structure, whistling to himself. He saw Phil pass along the side of the hall. At the extreme end of the building, Phil halted suddenly and started back. A man had appeared from a sheltered doorway, as if he had been lurking there. He seemed to question Phil. Andy saw his companion draw back. The man seized his arm, and Phil was pulled violently around the corner of the building, and entirely beyond the view of the startled Andy.
"Hello!" exclaimed Andy in mingled stupefaction and wonder. "Now what is the meaning of that, I wonder?"
He ran along the side of the building. He fancied he heard a muffled shout in Phil's voice, and ran still faster. Very near to the doorway where the strange man had lurked, Andy halted with a shock.
"Hey, there!" challenged a sharp though cautious voice from overhead. "There you are! Get away from here, quick!"
A vague pair of arms appeared at an open upper window. They dropped a square package done up in paper. So suddenly did all this come upon the wonder-stricken Andy, that, before he could catch the package or dodge its descent, it struck him squarely on the head, and sent him flat.