CHAPTER XXIII

THE FIRST SKIRMISH

"Andy! Andy!" screamed Ralph Post.

But Andy Sabine did not answer. Amid a scene of wild riot and turbulence, wreathed with the actual smoke of battle, the centre of a struggling, battling crowd of yeoman and militia, the Concord boy was swept from view like one on the wings of a cyclone.

It was wonderful what a few hours time had wrought in the destinies and environment of the three loyal chums, who had not reached the city they had started out for, but instead had become involved in the first sanguinary conflict of the War of the Revolution at its most active, seething centre. Never could any one of them forget the escapades of the past night. It was like some dream--the wild dash down the old country road from the Charles river, inspirited by Phil Warrington's final heroic decision: "On to Lexington!"

They made little progress that was not attended by stirring incidents. There was not a village they passed that was not in a state of barricade, preparation, or practically deserted. Bonfires were blazing, men, women, even children were wide awake. Some particular building in these little hamlets was usually the focus of local military fever. Here were grouped men with every conceivable weapon from a blunderbuss to a pitchfork, boys with hatchets, bows and arrows, even slingshots. Wherever they owned a cannon, no matter how small, it was planted conspicuously.

The lack of fear was remarkable. All acted as if an hour long anticipated had arrived, and they were prepared for the conflict. Attics and roofs were occupied by men with all their available firearms by their side. The hedges and timber concealed any number of men on the watch for the first token of the approach of the foe. On top of many a hill a great brush fire was kept burning, furnishing a circle of beacons as far as the eye could reach.

All this Phil, Andy and Ralph saw, and every advancing mile showed how well Paul Revere and another messenger named William Dawes had sounded their warnings to the ready colonists. It was only when they reached Lexington, however, that the boys realized that the hurry and scurry and unbottled enthusiasm all led to one central point where the first stand of the patriots was to be made.

The little town was being patrolled by men having some semblance of system and discipline. In fact, as the little group came cantering into the town, they were greeted with suspicion, were boldly challenged, and had to explain how they came to be riding horses with accoutrements manifestly belonging to the enemy. There was a talk of "Headquarters," and, Phil in the lead, their horses hitched outside of the town hall building, they were marshalled into the presence of a man upon whom seemed to rest the leadership of the hundred or more men who were scattered about the village, many of whom had come from neighboring settlements to the defence of Lexington.

Phil told Captain Parker a good deal that was welcome and important. The startling dash of Paul Revere had been only a warning. Here were couriers direct from the midst of the British, already on the march outside of Boston town. Their report was listened to with eagerness and interest. Then their places were taken by new arrivals. A man would come in with all the able-bodied male members of his family. A stray little group of farmers next put in a plea for active service. No one seemed disposed to shirk a duty--all was loyalty, enthusiasm and courage.

"We're here," observed Phil, as he and his comrades stood outside once more, "and I guess we are going to see the first battle of the war."

"See it?" echoed Andy vaingloriously. "Why, we're going to be a part of it. I'm full of fight, myself," and he handled over the sabre attached to the saddle of his horse, to which he had taken a great fancy.

Couriers had been sent back on the Boston road. These began to come in as the hours wore on. The enemy was on the march ten miles, then eight miles, and now only five miles away. In the meantime, the camp, as it might be called, began to come into some shape and substance. Buildings were transposed into forts, and the strongest detachment lurked about the town hall and at the so-called arsenal of the village.

"You see, it's military stores the British are after on this raid," explained Phil. "They know that their capture or destruction will cripple the cause, and here and at Concord are the biggest lot of these stores outside of Boston."

"Why didn't they go quietly about it?" inquired Ralph.

"They expected to, but, as you have seen, our people were watching their every move."

"I bet they will face a tremendous surprise," declared Andy. "Just see how the people are aroused. There's a patriot in every hedge clear to Charles river, and the Minute Men are bound to hinder the redcoats from getting here."

Phil and his comrades were very proud to be sent on their horses to carry important messages to outlying squads from Captain Parker and his assistants. A good many boys of their own age were grouped on a slope near the edge of the town. Phil and his friends decided to join them. They picketed their horses at a short distance and shouldering the muskets they had obtained mingled with the little squad.

The situation grew more tense as time passed on. The couriers came in more numerously and swiftly, and in increased excitement. A belt of timber shut out a sight of the road beyond Lexington, but finally there rounded its final curve the advance guard of the enemy.

Phil never could realize how rapidly and sensationally, from the moment he saw the first British soldier of the invaders, did things develop. There was skirmishing from the instant they came in sight of the town. Shots were exchanged with men from behind trees and hedges, in stable lofts, half-concealed in haystacks. There must have been over six hundred men in the British detachment, Phil calculated, under the British officer Major Pitcairn. They were well-disciplined, for they marched steadily forward, rarely breaking ranks, and seemed to have some definite point in view.

It soon became apparent that the stout log house that comprised the town arsenal, and which held military stores, was the place the invaders intended to reach.

As Major Pitcairn came up close to the assembled colonists he suddenly halted his force.

"Disperse, ye rebels, disperse!" he cried. "Lay down your arms, ere it is too late!"

"Never!" cried several of the Minute Men.

"Disperse!" went on the British officer, and then, as the Americans did not move, he fired his pistol. A moment later the British troops let fly a volley of shots at the Americans.

"The battle is on!" yelled one patriot. "Give it to 'em, boys, give it to 'em hot!" And he took aim with his musket and let drive, and all those around him did likewise. In that first onslaught several were killed on both sides and a good many were wounded.

Phil and those with him were forced to disperse. It was in the scurry to new cover that Ralph made out Andy, who had become separated from them, borne along with an onpressing crowd. Andy was hatless, and a red-stained handkerchief bound his head. That he had been wounded there was no doubt and Phil, made aware of Ralph's discovery, was truly anxious for the welfare of his redoubtable chum.

"Halt--get ready!" roared a stentorian voice, and over the crest of the hill dashed several leaders, directing little groups to action. Phil, Ralph and several of their own age were stationed behind a marked battery of bushes. The road space was cleared. Suddenly twenty men swung around, and Phil saw what was brewing. They carried great round logs.

"I'm in for that!" cried Phil, springing from cover, and Ralph joined him.

Boom! A great log was dropped in its length and started on a roll down hill. Boom! Boom! number two and number three followed. The advance guard of the British, with dismayed yells, sprang aside or ran back. The bottom of the road was piled up with the logs, presenting a formidable barrier to the enemy.

"More logs, rocks,--anything!" was the next stentorian command. All kinds of debris went scurrying down the hill. The redcoats retreated down the road, but a special deploy was at work trying to move the massed logs out of the way.

The word passed along the hill among the loyal contingent as to what was planned. They had formed a stout barricade. If they could defend this and divert the British troops from the road route, they might save the town.

The redcoats however, despite missiles and bullets, kept at work trying to clear the road. Material to continue the barricade was now lacking. The proposed rush down the hill was deferred while two or three of the patriot leaders counselled together.

"Phil, there's Andy again!" spoke up Ralph quickly.

Phil glanced in the direction indicated. Andy, impetuous, heroic Andy, was the centre of a group of men and boys. They were rolling a keg, Andy directing its progress. With a series of forceful yells, in which Andy led, they halted at the crest of the hill.

Ready hands drew out the plug in the head of the cask, and a long fuse was inserted and lighted. The British below saw what threatened, as Andy balanced the keg so as to allow it to slide lengthwise down into the barricade. Sharp orders rang out from the British ranks.

With sudden regularity and discipline the British regiment wheeled, not daring to face the impending explosion. The keg of powder descended. A giant puff shot upward, a great detonating report rang out. The barricade was lifted and scattered about, all ablaze.

When the smoke cleared the boys knew that Lexington was saved. The enemy had deployed, and were passing the town on a detour, but still marching onward among the defenceless towns, carrying death and destruction in their track.

Powder-grimed, a veritable wounded warrior, Andy Sabine ran up to Phil and Ralph, his eyes aflame with the excitement and glamour of the battle.

"Get the horses," he said quickly, "and get ahead of those redcoats. This is just a skirmish. Concord is what they're after, strong, Captain Parker says."

Ten minutes later the three chums were mounted on their horses, on their way to the scene of the first real battle of the War of the Revolution.