The Young Continentals at Lexington

As Nat Brewster heard the Porcupine’s statement, he was surprised and astonished to find that quick words of denial sprang to his lips. The truth was that the merry laugh and honest face of Ezra Prentiss, which had impressed the cobbler of the ferry road, had also impressed Nat. And, not only that, Nat had seen Ezra’s eyes, full of frankness and friendliness, something that the worthy mechanic had missed; and in spite of his suspicions the young mountaineer felt drawn toward the boy from New England.

“It’s impossible!” were his first words. “It simply can’t be! You were mistaken!”

“Don’t forget what I told you at the beginning,” said the dwarf. “I said it would be hard to believe; I even said I wouldn’t believe it myself just on somebody’s say-so.”

Nat gazed at the speaker in silence. That the misshapen boy was sincere he had never a doubt. But the sudden confirmation of his own suspicions had startled him; he had spent some days with Ezra, had come to like him and so feared to follow where the facts led.

“If I were convinced,” his inward thoughts were, “I might act upon my conviction. I might point this boy out as a traitor. And, in the end, in spite of everything I’ve seen and heard, he might still be innocent.”

The Porcupine here resumed.

“Also, I told you at the beginning that the thing had to be said; and that’s why I said it. But I wouldn’t have told any one but you, for you and I are the only ones that know about him being in the plot to take Mr. Washington and the others—unless,” and there was inquiry in the speaker’s little eyes—“you’ve mentioned it to some others.”

“No,” replied Nat, hastily. “I’ve told Mr. Cooper and Ben about our adventure, as you know; but this fact of the name I’ve kept clear of. You see, Ezra is a warm friend of Ben’s, and I didn’t care to——”

“I understand,” said the other, as Nat hesitated.

“Even in the face of what you’ve told me,” resumed Nat, “I hesitate to say anything.”

“Then you believe what I’ve told you?” eagerly.

“Of course I believe you—everything happened as you’ve told it—everything! Ezra Prentiss arose in the night while we were all in bed, stole out of the house, made his way to Cliveden and was seen by you in conversation, in Mr. Chew’s office, with Mr. Dimisdale and Mr. Chew himself—both of whom are noted as friends of the British government. Now,” continued Nat, “we know all this; but are we quite sure that we know what it means?”

“I’m quite sure that I do,” spoke the dwarf, sturdily.

“Well, I am not,” said Nat.

And even while he spoke the words he knew that he did not mean them—he knew that he was equally sure. But there was a something—an instinct, perhaps—that made him fight the feeling back.

“It looks bad,” said he continuing, “in fact, I am willing to admit that it looks as though you were right. But let us wait. It can do no harm, and it may do good.”

At this moment, Samuel Adams came out of the inn accompanied by Ezra, to whom he was speaking in low, confidential tones. As they went on down the street, side by side, the Porcupine puckered his eyelids and gazed after them keenly.

“You say that waiting can do no harm,” said he, “but I’m not so sure about that. I know who that is,” nodding toward Mr. Adams. “He was pointed out to me the other day. And,” looking at Nat steadily, “such men, when they are engaged in such work as is going on at Carpenter’s Hall, have many things of importance to say that they would not say to every one; but they’d be likely to speak to some one who is in their confidence. Don’t you think so?”

A troubled look came into Nat’s face.

“I’ve thought of that,” said he. “And it’s a real danger. But we’ll have to risk it—at least for a little longer.”

That afternoon as Nat and Ben took the road once more for Germantown—Nat with the Porcupine perched before him in the saddle—Ben said:

“I hardly think we’ll have Ezra with us much longer.”

Nat looked inquiringly at his cousin; the dwarf twisted his big head about and waited for what was coming.

“Mr. Revere is going to ride back with Congress’ answer to those Suffolk resolves,” proceeded Ben. “And Ezra will more than likely go with him.”

“Why?” asked Nat. “I understood that he was here as clerk to the Adamses.”

“So he is. And it’s in Samuel Adams’ service he’ll go north, if he goes at all.”

Nat’s jaw set at this, and his brows came together. At the same moment he felt the Porcupine squirm; and he knew that the same thought had come to them both.

“Anything of importance?” inquired Nat, after they had ridden a little further.

“I don’t know,” answered Ben. “But I suppose so. It’s a private message, I think, and to Dr. Warren; so I’d judge that it would be of some consequence.”

Nat made no reply to this. Indeed, he spoke but seldom all the way home. Ben noticed it, but made no comment. However, he thought it a little odd.

“But then,” he told himself, “Nat’s been keeping to himself for a week back. Sometimes he goes moping around thinking and thinking like all possessed; and I’ve really begun to wonder if he isn’t homesick for those mountains of his, or something like that.”

After supper that evening Mr. Cooper, as was his custom, took a book and began pacing up and down the paths at the front of the house. He was generally left to himself on these occasions, as it was what he called his “study hour”; and so, when Nat came out and quietly fell into pace beside him, he was a little surprised.

“I hope I’m not disturbing you, sir,” said the lad.

Mr. Cooper placed his book under his arm, his hands behind him and smiled.

“Not at all,” said he.

The boy’s mother had been his only sister, and a favorite with him. Nat resembled her and this had, at first, greatly recommended him to his uncle. But the quiet, strong character of the boy had quickly made itself felt, and Mr. Cooper, even in the short time his nephew had been with him, had come to value him highly.

And so when Nat intruded upon his study hour he felt that there was reason for it; and in this he was not mistaken.

“I wanted to speak with you alone, sir, upon a matter of much importance,” said the boy. “And I thought that this would be the best time, if you don’t mind.”

“If it’s about the office,” said Mr. Cooper, “don’t worry yourself. You will get down to work in good time, never fear. We shall probably be ready for you in a fortnight.”

“It’s not that,” answered Nat, “though I had expected to speak to you upon the subject at some time. This affair,” and his uncle noticed his face grow grave, “is much more urgent. I had thought at first to say nothing, fancying it would untangle itself; but as the reverse now promises to be the case, I want your advice.”

“Very well,” said Mr. Cooper quietly and attentively. He knew that the matter must be of some moment, otherwise Nat would not speak in such a fashion.

So with that, Nat began at the beginning and once more told his uncle the story of his experiences upon the night that he and the Porcupine had ridden to the rescue of the unsuspecting Virginians. But this time there were no reservations of any kind. When the name of Prentiss came into the narrative, Mr. Cooper raised his brows, but said nothing; however, Nat noticed that his attention grew more marked from that moment.

Then came the meeting of Nat with Ezra at the City Tavern. The similarity of the voices impressed Mr. Cooper greatly; but when Nat repeated Ezra’s odd words, spoken after he learned of Nat’s acquaintance with Mr. Washington, he uttered an exclamation.

“That was strangely like a veiled threat,” said he. “And coming directly on top of what looks like an appearance, at least, of knowledge of the Tory plot, it sounds suspicious. Go over that again, if you please.”

“He said,” obeyed Nat: “‘There are certain dispositions that take pleasure in rewarding a good deed—and others that take equal pleasure in repaying an evil one.’”

“If that speech were made to me,” said Mr. Cooper, emphatically, “and under like circumstances, I would consider that the person making it were warning me that he’d be revenged.”

“I thought the same,” replied Nat, “but I could scarcely bring myself to it.”

“I understand. The boy is as honest looking and as truthful appearing as any I ever saw. But it is facts that count, and not appearances.”

Then Nat proceeded with Samuel Adams’ estimate of Ezra, and that of the Suffolk Convention’s rider, Revere. As he expected, Mr. Cooper looked puzzled. But upon hearing the story that the Porcupine had related to Nat, his face grew dark with anger.

“The young scoundrel!” he cried. “I’ll see Mr. Adams to-morrow and——”

But Nat placed his hand upon his shoulder and stopped him.

“First, let us be very—very sure,” said the boy. “Let us make no mistake that we shall be sorry for in the future. The whole matter looks bad—I confess that I don’t see a shadow of doubt that would make me think him other than what you consider him. But for all that, we had better be sure.”

Mr. Cooper looked at his nephew a moment.

“Nat,” he said, “you have a wise head. You are right. As you say, let us be very, very sure. In spite of everything he may be innocent, and, in that case, if we charged him with this shameful thing, we should indeed have occasion for regrets. But he must be watched—constantly watched.”

“But if he goes back to Boston upon this mission of Mr. Adams?”

“I had forgotten that,” and Mr. Cooper grew thoughtful. “In that case he must still be watched; but how, is a thing that will require some turning over.”

Next day Ben rode into town alone. Early in the afternoon he returned, and his face was alight with excitement.

“Father!” he cried, for Mr. Cooper was standing in the doorway. “Ezra Prentiss is to ride to Boston—starts to-morrow morning with Mr. Revere, whom you’ve heard tell of. And,” throwing himself from his mare’s back, recklessly, “he wants me to go with him.”

Nat sat upon the stone step; at these words he turned his head and glanced up at his uncle. Like a flash the thought traveled from one to the other; there could be no mistake about what was in the boy’s eyes, and Mr. Cooper said to Ben:

“Very well; you may go, but not alone. Nat must go with you.”

Ben shrieked with delight.

“Why,” cried he, “Nat’s been asked. Ezra told me particularly to get him if I could. So you see, you’re not saddling a caretaker on me, after all.”

And as he rushed away to the barn, the well-trained little mare at his heels, Mr. Cooper said to Nat:

“Asked him particularly to get you, if he could. What does that mean, I wonder?”

“I don’t know,” replied Nat, slowly, “and I’m not going to think about it. In the frame of mind I’m in now, I’m likely to see evil in everything that has to do with Ezra Prentiss. But I’m going back to Boston with him, no matter what it means. And the future will tell what it will tell!”