The Young Continentals at Lexington

It was some little time before either Nat or the dwarf spoke; then the latter said slowly:

“Well, I suppose you have no more doubts now. I guess you’ll think with me that he’d only one reason for going to Master Chew’s house on the night that I saw him there.”

Nat’s face was sternly set and there was a look in his eyes that was unmistakable.

“No,” replied he, “I have no more doubts now. Ezra Prentiss is all that I have suspected him to be. But in this he has reached the end of his rope. I shall keep silent no longer.”

“Good!” exclaimed the Porcupine, his stiff crest of hair seeming to grow more erect with excitement. “But,” lowering his tone, his manner changing quickly, “even now there is something queer about it all.”

Nat looked mutely at the lad for an explanation; the dwarf went on:

“There was a plan laid between Ezra and this naval officer to steal the message of Mr. Adams, was there not?”

“Their talk would make it seem so, at all events,” replied Nat.

“Then why was the plan not carried out? The matter lay in their own hands. If Ezra Prentiss wanted the message taken, why did he remove it from the saddle-bags?”

“That is more than I can say,” answered Nat, in a low, brooding voice. “It has a very unusual look. Something happened, perhaps, to show the thing not to be desirable at the time. Otherwise I cannot account for it.”

They sat in the Orange Street coffee-house for some time talking over the matter. Nat had often before noticed the good sense of the dwarf and the intelligent expression of his opinions. But to-day both were so noticeable that in sheer surprise the young mountaineer finally said:

“Porcupine, how old are you?”

“Sixteen,” replied the dwarf.

“You must have had pretty good schooling.”

“Five years. A Quaker gentleman sent me to Master File’s Academy. But he died and I had no money to continue any longer, so back I went to sleeping in doorways, while I staid in the city, and in barns when I took to the country.”

A little later, Nat, looking at the tall clock which stood in a corner, said:

“I think I’d better make my way to North Square, and see Mr. Revere; and as he seems disinclined to talk before a third person, you had better wait for me at the ‘Dragon.’”

After leaving the Porcupine to make his way to the inn, Nat Brewster set into a brisk pace and in a short time found himself once more at the house of Paul Revere.

“Ah,” said that worthy, heartily gripping him by the hand, “I was just this moment thinking of you.”

Nat sat down upon an oaken bench; the engraver went on with his work, every now and then looking up to nod at his caller; but all the time he talked steadily.

“Last night,” he said, “I saw Dr. Warren and Dr. Benjamin Church, and I talked with them about you.”

“Who is Dr. Church?” asked Nat, who had never heard of that gentleman before.

Revere’s face became clouded; a little frown wrinkled itself across the top of his nose.

“Dr. Church,” said he, “is a well-known gentleman who has mixed himself much in the movement. He is a frequenter of my shop; he has written verses that have appeared upon some of my prints.”

“Ah,” said Nat, “a patriot.”

But Paul Revere shook his head. Lowering his voice cautiously, he made answer:

“I’m not so sure of that. He is a member of the Committee of Safety, and, with the exception of Dr. Warren, is the only person who is told of the secret doings of the Sons of Liberty. Yet I don’t trust him overmuch. He’s too friendly with the Tories and, I have heard, is upon terms with Gage himself.”

An anxious look crept into Nat’s face.

“Why, the struggle for liberty is like to be honeycombed with treachery before it has fairly begun to live.”

He was about, there and then, to bring up the matter of Ezra Prentiss, deeming it a fitting time; but Revere’s thoughts drifted back to what he had upon his tongue in the first place.

“Dr. Warren was most pleased with what he heard about you,” said the engraver. “More than ever he desires some one in whom he can trust to be at hand when wanted. Ordinarily he would call upon me, but I’m ofttimes taken up with my own affairs and cannot attend to the committee’s business as I’d like. He said,” continued Revere, “that he’d be pleased to have a talk with you to-night.”

It was arranged after some further conversation that Revere was to call for Nat at the “Dragon” about eight in the evening and then they were to go together to the doctor’s house in Hanover Street.

This program was carried out, and they found the great patriot still at his supper.

“I had been called out, and am but now returned,” he said. “But I am delighted to see you both.”

Nothing would do but that they should draw up their chairs and join him.

“Here is an excellent joint,” smiled he, “and a capon pie that will please you if you admire cookery. And then we can talk more comfortably, you see.”

And though they had just supped, they again sat down with the doctor. After some little gossip of a general nature, Revere said:

“I have been talking to Master Brewster, doctor, as you suggested. And as he seems anxious to help in the work, I brought him to see you.”

The doctor looked at Nat good-naturedly.

“Mr. Revere is an ardent admirer of yours,” said he, “and has been telling me some of the misadventures of your journey north. And I may say that your own part in them has taken my fancy.”

“Travelers,” replied Nat, “come upon unexpected things, and must somehow overcome them. That’s all I tried to do.”

“All!” cried Revere. “All! Well, perhaps so; but it was enough to save all our lives from the hulking thieves gathered in that ruin. And again, it required courage to do what you did to save Mr. Adams’ letter, even though you failed.”

“You see,” said Dr. Warren, laughing; “Revere will make you out a hero whether you will or no. But,” and his face grew graver, “I think you would be of good service here in Boston if you could but stay.”

“If there is need of me,” said Nat, “I can stay.”

The doctor’s eyes shone with pleasure.

“Excellent!” ejaculated he. “There is a promptness and decision about that which I like. And,” he proceeded, bending toward Nat, “there is much need of you. We have things to do which require courage and adaptability—qualities which I’m inclined to think you possess.”

“I am ready to undertake anything that you think I can do,” said the lad.

“Gage and his officers are to be watched. The British must make no move that shall not at once be reported to us. Revere has organized a body of mechanics to patrol the streets night and day; but we must have some one for a venturesome task—to learn what the governor’s intentions are before he gives the command.”

“How is that to be done?” asked Nat, puzzled.

“I will explain some ways in which I think it might be done, later,” said Dr. Warren. “Ezra Prentiss was to have taken up this task; but his being selected by the Adamses to help in their work at Philadelphia prevented it. I know that he would have been successful; and I feel sure that you will.”

Nat had, after careful deliberation, made up his mind that before this meeting with Warren came to an end, he would unburden himself of all his knowledge of Ezra and lay his suspicions and the cause of them out for the judgment of that calm-minded patriot.

As he could imagine no better opportunity for doing this than the one which now presented itself, he addressed his host nervously, across the table.

“Dr. Warren,” he inquired, “how long have you known Ezra Prentiss?”

The patriot hesitated, then turned to Revere.

“How long has it been since you first brought him here?”

“Some two years, I should say,” returned Revere. “He’d but lately joined the Sons of Liberty, and seemed so warm for the work that I thought we could find things out of the ordinary for him to do.”

“And some of the tasks we set him to perform were very much out of the ordinary,” praised Dr. Warren, warmly. “And I never expect to see anything more enthusiastically done.”

“But,” insisted Nat, “do you know nothing more of him than this?”

There was something in the boy’s voice that made the two men look at him questioningly.

“I know,” answered Revere, “that he is a native of Boston; but that’s all. However, we don’t ask for pedigrees in these days. For proof of that witness your own case. Deeds are what count with us and nothing else.”

There was a pause. Dr. Warren laid his knife and fork crosswise upon his plate, sat well back in his chair and looked at Nat intently.

“I think,” said he, at last, “there is something back of what you’ve said.”

“I’m going to tell you something,” said Nat, with a grave air. “Something that will try your credulity, perhaps, but that is nevertheless true for all that. I ask your attention and I promise to venture no opinion. I am going to tell you nothing except what has happened and will leave it for you to pass judgment.”

“Go on,” said Dr. Warren.

Thereupon Nat began his tale and related it much after the fashion in which he had told it to his uncle. But of course there were the additional things—the happenings since they had left Philadelphia and, most damaging of all, the scene in the coffee-house only a few hours before.

Both Warren and Revere listened with the utmost attention; not once did they interrupt the boy as briefly and lucidly he sketched the happenings that had given him so much anxiety.

“And now,” he concluded, “I felt that I could not withhold this any longer—that it was my duty to place the facts before you. And, as I said at the beginning, I venture no opinion. I leave it to you to say what it all means.”

“What you have told us is most astounding,” said Warren, “and yet there is that in it which carries conviction. What is your opinion, Revere?”

The engraver shook his head.

“I don’t know what to say,” he replied. “Ezra has always, as far as I could see, been worthy of trust. But in the face of all that I have just now heard——” and he gestured helplessly, as though unable to finish the sentence.

Then the two plunged deeply into the matter and discussed its every side. Every now and then they appealed to Nat for the verification of some fact; and the boy was greatly relieved to find that not once did they doubt any feature of his story. At length Dr. Warren said:

“To spread this tale abroad would do little good. In fact, it might do considerable harm; for the people, you know, are easily struck with panic. The knowledge that there are traitors within the lines would have a bad effect upon many.”

“But,” said Nat, “will it not be much more harmful to allow this boy to continue as he is doing? He occupies a position which endangers——”

But Dr. Warren interrupted him.

“He will not occupy it for long,” said he, quietly. “I will despatch word to Samuel Adams to-morrow detailing everything and asking him to act upon the matter as he thinks best. And that will mean only one thing—that Ezra Prentiss will be entrusted with no more important work.”

It was late at night when Revere and Nat Brewster left Dr. Warren’s house and proceeded along Hanover Street.

“I never expected to hear anything like this,” said the engraver, as he shook his head sadly. “I’d have trusted that boy with my life if need be.”

“I can understand that,” replied Nat. “And that is the feeling that made me hold my tongue till now.”

“However,” spoke the man, “we have other matters to think about. It’s a sore thing to lose a friend, but we’ve no time for grieving. Work is ahead for all of us—work that will mean much for the colonies if we can perform it properly.”