CHAPTER IX
IN THE ENEMY'S HANDS
Something had happened to Phil Warrington as he reached the rear of the town hall building—something unlooked for, sudden and alarming. His trusty chum had seen only part of the mishap to Phil. The latter was now struggling for release from the grasp of a brawny villain.
Just as Phil had passed the deep doorway at the rear of the building, a man had stepped from its obscure shadows.
"Hello! who are you, and what do you want?" he demanded sharply.
Phil was rather startled by the unexpected appearance and keen manner of the challenger. He was somewhat embarrassed, too. The first thought suggested to his mind was that here he had obtruded on the sentinel guarding a secret conclave within the structure.
"I was trying to find out if there was a meeting here," said Phil. "I was looking for Dr. Warren."
"Eh? Warren? What for?" demanded the stranger.
"I have a message for him."
"You have?" cried the man eagerly. "Give it to me! I'll take it to him."
"No," said Phil, "I will deliver it to him myself."
At that Phil drew back—rather dodged back. The man had acted eager, and even had reached out as if to seize Phil. Then, too, the boy noticed his face more clearly. It was an evil face, and his suspicions were aroused. He saw that, thrown momentarily off his guard, he had imparted too much to a stranger, and he turned to retrace his steps quickly to the street. Then the man reached out and seized his arm firmly, and forcibly pulling Phil with him, jerked the lad around the corner of the building, out of the sight of the street and of Andy.
"Hold on,—stop!" demanded Phil, trying to make a resolute stand.
"I'll take you to Dr. Warren," cried his rough captor quickly. "It's only a few steps from here. He's waiting for you. Told me if any messages came to take 'em, or bring 'em to him. I'm his body-guard, I am. Hurry up, he'll be anxious to see you."
The glib, eager fellow had said too much, and Phil at once saw that he was not telling the truth. Dimly as Phil viewed his face, there was light enough to show it belonged to a person of unprepossessing, if not absolutely suspicious, appearance.
"There is no need of quite crushing my arm, if you are a body-guard of Dr. Warren," said Phil, trying to draw away from the clutch of the fellow.
"No, you don't!" said the man, tightening his grasp. "You come right along with me."
The fellow was powerfully built. He fairly dragged Phil over the ground. He was making across a vacant space for a hollow in which stood a dark rambling building, one-story high, and apparently untenanted. Phil made a desperate struggle, and set up a shout. His captor placed his free hand over the boy's lips to silence a further outcry.
"Ouch!" he ejaculated, as Phil sank his teeth deep across his fingers. The man was viciously irritated. He dealt Phil a fearful blow across the side of the head with his clenched knuckles. Phil swayed, and partly lost consciousness. He believed that the man lifted him up and carried him. At least, in a half-dazed state he felt that he was helpless, and when he opened his eyes clearly he was lying on a heap of straw in some kind of a cellar.
A lantern burned on a barrel. The man who had captured him was talking to another man, roughly-dressed and fierce-looking. Phil listened.
"So, I brought him here," said the speaker. "He's got a message for Warren. It may be important."
"I'll soon know," the other man. "Did you get the papers yet?"
"I was waiting for them when this fellow came along."
"Get right back and get those papers!" directed the other. "They are what we came to Lowell for, and we mustn't miss them. I'll attend to this fellow."
Phil sprang up the minute his original captor left the place. Inside his hat was a letter to Dr. Warren from Mr. Sabine. He did not know its contents, yet at all hazards, he was bound to protect its secrecy. He seized a stool resting on the floor and held it in front of him as a shield. Thus armed, he made a rush for the door.
The man laughed, and so nimbly interposed his bulky form that Phil could not get past him. In fact, spreading out his arms, he began to drive Phil back towards a corner of the cellar.
"Got you caged," he chuckled. "Come, young spitfire, it's no use. Give up what you've got, or it'll be a double-broken head for you!"
Phil was in a desperate dilemma, and realized it. He suddenly lifted the stool and flung it at the man. The latter dodged, evaded it, and advanced for a final swoop on his victim.
Phil quickly drew out the sealed letter that Mr. Sabine had written to Dr. Warren. He crumpled it up, planning to stuff it in his mouth and reduce it to a pulp, if he choked for it. His assailant read his purpose, and made a great lunge for him. Phil, about to put his project in execution, suddenly uttered a little cry. Then, staring beyond his advancing opponent, he raised the hand containing the crumpled letter and gave it a fling clear over the head of the man, with the sharp direction:
"Catch it, Andy, and—bolt!"
The man came flat up against the wall as Phil ducked, but, reaching out a frantic arm, tried to seize his coat. Just then a blow from a stick of wood knocked him to one side. Andy Sabine followed up the attack by grabbing Phil's arm.
"Run!" he cried. "I've got the letter. Out of this, before the other fellow comes back."
They could hear the baffled cries of the man back in the cellar as they ran down a damp, dark passageway and up a pair of steps, and out into the open air.
"This way," ordered Andy, guiding his friend down into the hollow, out of it, and, after that, into the street beyond the scene of their latest adventure. "We want to steer clear of the Town Hall. The other fellow is back there."
"Why! how did you find me, Andy?" panted Phil.
"Saw you all the time, pretty nearly," declared Andy, "but it wasn't the right thing to put in an appearance until the right minute. I noticed that fellow grab you, and ran after you. Got knocked down by this—"
"What is that, Andy?" inquired Phil, as Andy lifted his coat from the belt sufficiently to show the edge of some kind of a long, flat package stuffed in, next to his shirt.
"Never mind now—tell you soon," replied Andy. "I knew the package was not intended for me, but I suspicioned something and stowed it away on general principles. Then I followed you and the man to that cellar. When he came out, I sneaked in."
"To some purpose, friend Andy," commented Phil warmly.
"And now then, to get to the selectman's house and see Dr. Warren."
A few brief inquiries directed the boys. They were soon knocking at the door of the home of a Mr. Longworthy in their quest for Dr. Warren.
A sweet-faced girl attired in neat homespun welcomed them with a pleasant smile, and making his mission known led them into the best room of the house. A man sat at a table reading a book.
"That is Dr. Warren," whispered Phil to Andy, whose heart was beating fast at the thought of meeting at last the great colonial leader whom he worshipped as a hero.
"Two young gentlemen to see you, Dr. Warren," said the girl.
"Why, this is young Warrington," instantly spoke the well-known patriot, as he arose and shook hands warmly with the Boston boy, whom he remembered and whose father was a cherished personal friend.
"This is my chum, Andy Sabine, of Concord, Dr. Warren," introduced Phil.
"Another good colonial name," said their host, and shook hands also with Andy, whose finger tips tingled with pride and pleasure. "It seems to me that you both are pretty far from home."
"We came purposely to see you, Dr. Warren," said Andy. "Phil has a letter from my father."
"I had better explain its crumpled condition," said Phil, after Dr. Warren had broken the seal and perused the note.
"In a moment," said Dr. Warren, his face growing grave and perturbed as he read the missive. "This must be acted on at once," he added, almost to himself, arising and pacing the floor restlessly. "So they are going to arrest us, are they? I am thankful for the warning, and Adams and Hancock must know of this without delay. They have gone on to Brookton. I can join them there day after tomorrow, but they may take a sudden impulse to go to Boston. Yes, by all means, they must be speedily notified."
"Dr. Warren, we can attend to that for you," spoke up Phil. "We could leave here before daylight. We need only a little rest for the horses."
"You are brave, true lads," said Dr. Warren approvingly. "We will think of this plan you suggest. And about the letter?"
"Tell him all about everything," urged Andy—"clear back to Burt Noble, and all that," and then Phil began his graphic story.
Never was there a more interested listener, Andy thought. The expressive face of Dr. Warren betrayed many sympathetic emotions as the narrative continued. Surprise, interest, anxiety, satisfaction in turn played over his noble features.
"One month more with such loyal lads as you are and Burt Noble to aid us elders in our patriotic work," he said, with flashing eyes, "and neither Gen. Gage nor his hireling navy will be on hand to conspire to kidnap reputable citizens. You spoke of your friend here being struck on the head, of the man who captured you. I cannot understand that part of your story."
"I can," said Andy abruptly and with considerable excitement, he drew from under his coat the package he had concealed there, and handed it to their host.
Dr. Warren undid the paper covering. His face showed consternation as he brought to light a blank book with many loose papers between its leaves.
"Treachery!" he spoke, his tones rising to the deepest excitement. "I must see Mr. Longworthy at once, and the others. Lads, remain here till I return," and taking up his hat and placing the book under his arm he hastened from the room.
He was gone nearly an hour. Meantime the selectman's pretty daughter looked in to see if her guests were comfortable. This led to some conversation and then an adjournment to the kitchen, and the boys had just finished a feast on some prime hickory nuts and some rare, rosy-cheeked apples, when Dr. Warren returned with the selectman and several others.
These held a long conversation in the best room. It was an hour later when Dr. Warren came out to the boys.
"You have done us a great service, lads," he said. "The book and papers thrown from the upper story of the town hall comprise the secret records of the Sons of Liberty, a dangerous document for us, in the hands of the enemy. It seems that the man in charge of the hall is a traitor, and had agreed for a bribe to give the record to emissaries of the British, who have mysteriously disappeared. We don't know how to thank you for all you have done for the cause. It seems hardly right to ask you to hasten on your mission, to reach Mr. Adams and Mr. Hancock and warn them of their intended arrest.
"We'll be only too glad, won't we Phil?" cried Andy.
Definite arrangements were made and detailed instructions given to the boys. They were warned to look out for British spies.
At earliest daylight, Phil and Andy, mounted on their refreshed steeds set off to continue their dangerous but necessary mission.