The Young Continentals at Lexington

Nat Brewster continued to watch the lantern and the two whose way it lighted, until the flame grew faint and flickering; finally a bend in the road hid it altogether.

“So that is old Stephen Comegies,” he said. “Well, I never thought I’d be pleased to see a Tory, but I’m glad to meet this one; for I think he’s clinched my belief that there is some sort of a plot on foot against Congress.”

Through the trees he saw the winking windows of Cliveden, and he regarded them soberly.

“Some people from the north are expected,” he continued, “and they are going there.” He stood for a moment in silence; then suddenly he threw back his head and laughed. “I’m from the north, just as I told the old man,” he said, “and,” clutching the oaken cudgel firmly, “I’m going to Chew House, also as I told him.”

He clambered over the fence at the opposite side of the road and started across the fields once more. The dense growth of trees between him and the mansion loomed blackly before his face. There was a breeze stirring and the boughs set up a warning whispering.

“There is no doubt of it,” said Nat, and he laughed at the conceit; “the trees are on the side of the colonies. This morning they told Ben of coming war; and now they are doing their best to make me keep my distance.”

However this might be, the young mountaineer did not heed the warning, but went steadily on. When once among the trees his pace became slower; but finally he struck a broad road, where the dim sheen of the sky was visible through the branches.

“This evidently leads up to the house,” muttered the lad. “It has the well-kept feel of a private way.”

In this he was correct. It was not more than a few minutes when the lights of the house came into view; the broad windows were like great yellow eyes and winked genially out upon a wide lawn where flitting, shadowy people came and went.

“Men,” said Nat, to himself, “and quite a number of them.”

Cautiously he drew nearer; at length he came to a low stone wall at the edge of the road, and taking his place behind this, he set himself to learn what was going forward.

“Ben said there were Tory meetings held here,” he continued. “And I shouldn’t wonder if this were one of them. And, perhaps,” his grip tightening upon the club which he still retained, “a very important one, considering what Stephen Comegies hinted at.”

After a little his eyes grew accustomed to the wide beams of light with the shadows thickening at their edges; then he began to make out the figures upon the lawn as those of men pacing backward and forward in twos and threes.

“And very impatiently, I should say,” Nat told himself shrewdly, as he watched the men. “They act like persons delayed in something which they are anxious to accomplish.”

The wall was at the far side of the lawn; at first none approached it; but finally Nat noticed a pair, who seemed even more impatient than the rest, gradually coming nearer and nearer as they unconsciously lengthened their course at each turn in their walk. One was a lean, stoop-shouldered man; the other was tall and burly; their arms were locked, their heads were close together and they seemed to be discussing some exasperating situation that had arisen.

Nat watched this twain expectantly.

“At the next turn they’ll get near enough for me to hear what they are saying,” he calculated. “Then, maybe, I’ll learn something worth while.”

Sure enough, the next turn brought the two within ear-shot. The first words that Nat caught were from the burly personage, and they made him catch his breath and shrink closer to the wall.

“It would have been much better if we had thought of this in time to intercept that parcel of rascals from Massachusetts Bay,” the big man said in a harsh voice that was much like the grumbling of a dissatisfied animal. “The ring-leaders of the entire movement were in that party and with them safely aboard a British ship, we’d soon have them in England for trial and execution.”

As he spoke he slashed at his high boots with a riding-whip and gave every evidence of being in a towering rage. But the lean man with the stooped shoulders spoke soothingly,

“Don’t let your feelings get the better of you, my dear Royce,” said he. “We must have a beginning somewhere, and the Massachusetts members of the rebel Congress were already safely in the city when young Prentiss suggested this idea to us.”

Prentiss! Nat Brewster heard the name with a shock of recollection. But at the instant the recollection was only as to having heard it before. He mentally groped about seeking to place it; then suddenly the facts came to him like a flash.

“It’s the name of Ben’s school friend,” he thought. “Is it possible that——” but he drove the thought from him. “No, it can’t be the same. There are many others of that name, of course.”

The two men turned slowly and began to retrace their steps.

“He should have communicated with us sooner,” maintained Royce in his disagreeable grumble.

“You may depend upon it that he made all the speed he could,” replied the other. “I never saw a lad more anxious about anything than he was regarding the taking of that firebrand Samuel Adams.”

Royce began speaking once more; but they were too distant now for Nat to make out his words; and the indistinct grumble died as the men slowly paced away.

“Prentiss!” muttered Nat, still sternly holding back the idea that tried to possess him. “It’s an odd kind of a coincidence, but that’s all it is. It can’t be Ben’s friend! Why, of course it can’t,” with a relieved laugh as another thought came to him. “This Prentiss of whom these two were speaking is eager to bring ill-fortune upon Mr. Adams, while the one I’ve heard so much of since I came to Germantown is his friend.”

But in spite of the laugh and in spite of the reasoning, the similarity in the names troubled the young mountaineer. And when Royce and his companion drew near once more, he listened eagerly.

The stoop-shouldered man was speaking and considerable impatience had crept into his voice.

“It is unreasonable and ungenerous,” declared he, “to blame the boy for something that is perhaps entirely out of his control.”

“Didn’t he say he was sure this was the night?—didn’t he ask you to call us together?” demanded Royce.

“He told me plainly that he was not sure; he merely said that this would perhaps be the night, and that it would be as well to have everybody ready. You are angry because we missed the opportunity to take Adams; don’t lay everything to the lad’s discredit.”

“I will admit,” said Royce, “that there is something in what you say. Of course he doesn’t know just when the members from Virginia are to cross the ferry, and he can only notify us when he receives the information. But I can’t get it out of my head that he could have used more expedition in the Adams matter.”

“You are a natural born grumbler,” said the lean man. “I don’t think it would be possible to please you, no matter what was done. Young Prentiss did his best to get here in advance of the men from Massachusetts; and he did arrive in advance, as you know.”

“But not far enough to be of any service, Mr. Dimisdale, as you know,” insisted Royce, stubbornly.

The two men had paused and leaned their elbows upon the wall at no greater distance than two yards from the spot where Nat was crouched.

“I know the general estimate placed upon the importance of these two Adams’,” said Dimisdale.

“They are dangerous to the best interests of the crown,” declared Royce. “They are of the type of men who lead the people astray by false doctrines. The country will never be at peace while they are at large. Did not the eldest of them—the one named Samuel—have the effrontery to shake his fist in the face of an English governor and warn him that British redcoats—our safeguards—must be removed from Boston. And all because a few rebellious rascals had been shot in the streets for an open defiance of the law!”

The indignation of the burly Tory as he conjured up this scene almost made Nat laugh outright, but he stifled the impulse as Dimisdale began to speak.

“Please allow me to finish,” said that gentleman. “When you interrupted me I was about to show you that these two brothers are not the only persons of consequence in this movement.”

“Go on,” said Royce, sullenly.

“The prospects of our intercepting the men from Virginia are good,” said Dimisdale. “If we succeed, we will, beyond a doubt, have made as important a capture, if not one of more importance, than the one you so regret missing.”

“It will require a great deal to convince me of that,” remarked Royce, with doubt plain in his voice.

“First,” said Dimisdale, impressively, “there will be Edward Pendleton, one of the Virginia aristocrats, a man of fine distinction and attainments, of many friendships and vast influence in his own colony and far beyond to the southward.”

“I know that,” said the big man.

“Then there will be Patrick Henry, whose name has already gone across the sea and whose tongue is as a flame in arousing rebellion among the discontented. And last—but in my private opinion—standing head and shoulders above them all—is one whom I consider to be the most dangerous man of the period. His very silence up to this time makes him all the more to be feared. His resolution is like granite, his talent beyond dispute. I mean Colonel Washington, of Mount Vernon.”

What Royce thought of this estimate Nat never knew; for at that moment there came the ring of hoofs in the darkness. Then a horseman dashed up to the Chew House and threw himself from the saddle.

“Young Prentiss at last!” cried Royce.

“And come with news of importance, I’ll be bound,” echoed Dimisdale.

The two hurried away toward the spot where an eager group had gathered about the newcomer; and Nat was left to his thoughts and the darkness.

“An attempt to capture the Virginia members of Congress,” breathed the boy, his blood thrilling at the idea; “and to-night!”

He stared at the dim cluster of Tories who stood in the path before the house listening to something that was being swiftly imparted to them by the night rider.

“And it may succeed,” he said. “It is a thing so unsuspected that it may succeed!”

As he watched he saw the group scatter. Horses were heard trampling and jingling their equipment; then came the noise of men mounting and calling to each other triumphantly. Finally the entire party rode down the path and into the public road; some of them bore lanterns to light their way, and in the dancing rays Nat saw eager, laughing faces, and also the glint of steel. In the midst of them rode a boyish figure; it was the bearer of the news, but Nat could not see his face, as it was turned away, the boy being engaged in earnest talk with Dimisdale, who rode beside him.

“Keep to the roads on the outskirts,” ordered Royce, who seemed to command the cavalcade. “We might attract attention if we rode through the city; and we can reach the lower ferry just as well.”