CHAPTER XXV

THE BATTLE OF CONCORD

Phil Warrington dashed into the barn belonging to Andy Sabine's father, breathless. Andy and his company had just filed down the stairs from the loft. Their leader ran up to the scurrying figure of the new arrival with expectancy in his face.

"What is it, Phil?" he cried.

"The Brams have been giving information to the British, and the redcoats have rounded the town. They are planning to attack us from the north. I heard some firing in that direction."

"Out of this!" ordered the impulsive Andy quickly. "Scatter the news! Tell everybody! I'll get to my father and the committee. Then all hands meet at the square."

There was a tremendous bustle. Phil was borne along in the wake of the dispersing company. He made sure first, though, to secure his musket. As he ran down the street, in every direction he could hear the ringing voices of his young friends, scattering far and wide the news he had just brought into Concord.

He helped with voice and feet, too, as his share in the action of the moment. When he reached the square Phil found it the center of a great commotion. He espied Andy's father moving rapidly from group to group of the volunteers, and managed to get to his side.

Phil hurriedly explained what he had heard Jasper Bram tell his son, Greg, about the plans of the redcoats. He referred as well to the firing he had heard north of the town. Mr. Sabine looked very much interested, but was excited and worried.

"All our forces and points of advantage are bulked at this end of the town," he said. "We never counted on the British coming from any other direction. It will have to be a scattered fight. You lads keep out of trouble. Do your duty, but don't take any reckless risks."

A short time later Andy and Phil, with the patriotic boys of Concord, marched out of town and across the bridge to the hill occupied by the Minute Men and the other patriots that were assembling. Everything was in a state of excitement.

"Musket Boys to the front!" cried Andy, and soon he gathered many of his friends about him. All had muskets, some new and some dating back to the French and Indian Wars.

It was not long before smoke could be seen coming from several points in Concord.

"Will the British try to burn the town?" was the question on every tongue.

"Men, we must protect Concord!" cried Captain Barret, who was in command. "We'll march down to the bridge."

In a few minutes the Minute Men, with many of the Musket Boys, reached the vicinity of the North Bridge.

"See! see!" cried Phil. "The redcoats are wrecking the bridge!"

Phil's words proved true. The British soldiers were forcing up the planking of the bridge.

"Stop! stop!" cried a number of the patriots. "Let that bridge alone!"

"Keep back!" was the order from the British commander, and then, as the Minute Men and the Musket Boys drew closer, he gave the order to fire on the patriots.

Bang! bang! bang! spoke up the firearms of the redcoats, and two of the Minute Men fell.

"Give it to the redcoats!" was the yell, and then Minute Men and Musket Boys returned the volley, and several on the Concord side of the bridge went down, two to rise no more.

From that moment the fighting became general. The Musket Boys were in the thick of the fray, and worked as hard as did the Minute Men. Colonel Smith, the British commander, did all in his power to hold the bridge, but, more Minute Men arriving, he saw that it would be impossible to do so, so at last he gave the order to retreat.

In the meantime, there started up fighting at other points, and a distant cannon boomed out, followed by the explosion of some gunpowder.

"Phil, this is war, actual war!" cried Andy.

"Yes," answered the Boston boy, "and the Musket Boys must do their duty."

From the bridge, the redcoats were followed into Concord, and then another skirmish took place. At last the British commenced to retreat in earnest. Little did they dream of what that withdrawal was to cost them!

In the midst of the excitement Phil and Andy saw a forlorn figure pass the lines. Some shots followed him from the British groups, but he dashed resolutely into the midst of Andy's contingent.

"Ralph--Ralph Post!" cried Andy excitedly. "What news?"

The sailor boy's face was streaked with powder smut, his hair and eyebrows were singed, and his coat was burned at the edges. A truly heroic figure, he waved his hand triumphantly.

"They're on the run!" he cried.

"What! we have beaten the British?" spoke Andy.

"Tooth and nail, horse and foot, van and rear, hurrah!" responded Ralph, but his cheer, meant to be exultant, was decidedly faint, and he had to lean against a post, pretty well exhausted.

"I tell you it has been hot work," continued Ralph, when he had recovered his breath. "Those redcoats came down on us like an avalanche. They were just a solid mass, sweeping away everything in their path except the town hall. That turned them. They got such a steady hail of bullets from the windows, from the roof and from behind trees and fences, that they turned double quick. But they made for the arsenal. Our men simply couldn't withstand such a force, for most of the crowd on duty there earlier, had been sent north to fight. They're getting in on us. Oh, dear!" sighed Ralph dolefully. "Those elegant cannons!"

"What about the cannons?" inquired Andy impatiently.

"Spiked, smashed, two of them. The redcoats did it. And the powder--all that precious powder!"

"And what about the powder?" demanded Andy.

"Some barrels emptied into the river. But we beat them--some. A smashed keg they were rolling along with the other kegs near the river. One of our men dared everything, ran to the spot, fired his gun among the loose powder, and that ended it. Why, those redcoats and the Tories with them ran like scared rats. Then our men put after them. They are after them now. They have driven the redcoats down the road, just lined with our skirmishers. It's pop! bang! all the time. A lot of our men have cut across country to head them off, if they try to return that way. The rest of our men are just driving the enemy back to Boston on the double-quick. Oh, we've lost something, but it's a rout, and the battle of Lexington is won!"

"Let's follow," cried Andy.

"Hold on, break ranks! Attention company! Halt!" rang out a cheery, martial voice.

A clattering wagon had driven right into the midst of Andy and his companions. It was recognized at once as the antiquated, familiar rig of old Silas Berks.

"Whoa!" roared the veteran Indian fighter, getting to his feet and waving his hand excitedly. "Fellow-citizens--no; I mean friends, boys, pile aboard. There's a party of redcoats stuck in the road with four field pieces just beyond my place. If you want to cover yourselves with glory, all aboard! the more the better, and I'll show you a capture worth your while."

"I heard something about some of the heavy baggage of the Britishers unable to make the detour of the town, and ordered to get back to the next village," said Ralph. "Our men have cut off any chance of the others reaching and helping them."

"Company--march!" ordered Andy grandly.

The way the "company" obeyed was to pile into the wagon, those of them who could. The others, eager and excited, strung along on a run behind as the crazy old vehicle clattered back on its route among the hills beyond Concord.