The light of the coming day had not yet appeared in the eastern sky when the young messenger drew rein at the edge of Charlestown harbour, and sat in the saddle, gazing curiously around, as he speculated upon the chances of being ferried across to Boston.
It was well the journey was ended, for the heaving flanks of Master Cotton's horse told that he had been ridden so long at full speed as to be well-nigh exhausted.
Immediately on leaving Salem, Walter had debated in his mind as to the choice of roads. By making a long detour he could ride directly into the city of his destination; but it would be at the expense of considerable time, which he believed to be precious.
On the other hand, by traversing the shortest road he would, as he now did, find himself penniless, with a broad stretch of water to be crossed before the message could be delivered.
"I shall get over in some way," he had said, as he arrived at a decision, and now was come the time when that "some way" must be found.
"It is certain I shan't be able to take the horse with me," he said, after a brief time of silence, "and I must look around for a place in which he can be hidden."
By riding slowly along the shore-line, he soon found a spot where the grass was luxuriant, which was hidden I from view of those on the road by a heavy growth of trees, and here he resolved Master Cotton's horse should be left to take care of itself. It was not probable the tired animal would stray very far from where food could be had in such abundance, and Walter made no other preparation for the halt than to secrete the saddle and bridle in the thicket.
Returning to the landing-stage of the ferry-boat, he waited impatiently for some signs of life on the water-front.
During fully half an hour he was forced to remain in idleness, while he mentally reproached himself for not having taken the longest road, and thereby arrived in Boston without being forced to depend upon a boat to conclude the journey.
More than once was he tempted to take possession of one of the small craft hauled up on the shore without the formality of asking the owner's permission, but the thought that he had already put himself in a position to be charged with theft deterred him from such a lawless proceeding.
Then, just as the day was beginning to break, a boat filled with sailors rowed up to the landing. All the occupants save one disembarked without paying any attention to the idle boy who was watching them intently, and the little craft was being pushed off, when Walter cried,—
"If you are going back to Boston I will gladly work the oars to pay for my passage."
"Can you row?"
"As well as you."
"Then come aboard, and let me see how quickly you can pull to the other shore."
The young messenger did not require a second invitation. He gave the boat a vigorous push with his foot as he clambered over the bow, and the man in charge had no reason to complain of his skill at the oars.
"If you want work, you should buy a boat and ply your trade as a waterman," the sailor said, when the short voyage had come to an end, and Walter leaped ashore, impatient to conclude the mission with which he had been intrusted.
"I want work that will pay," he said, halting for an instant; "but I don't intend to find it as a boatman. Can you tell me where Master Paul Revere lives?"
"Do you mean the lieutenant,—him as has set up for a goldsmith?"
"The very one."
"And you count on goin' into a shop, instead of pullin' boats, eh? I'll wager you're a sailor who has given his captain the slip."
"I have never been beyond the sight of land, neither do I care to work in a shop; but I have business which admits of no delay, and if you will give me the information I shall be very grateful."
"Do you know where North Square is?"
"I have never been in Boston before."
"Then inquire of the first one you see. It is not far."
Walter waited to hear no more, but ran swiftly on in the direction he supposed North Square might lay, and a kindly fortune guided his footsteps, for when he had an opportunity to ask the desired question, he was within a few paces of his destination.
Master Revere's shop was not yet opened, but the young messenger had little difficulty in arousing the household, and a few moments later he was standing in a room which, although not furnished with any pretension to elegance, was more rich in ornamentation than Walter had ever fancied could be found.
Master Revere did not keep him waiting very long; he had received too many visitors at unseemly hours to make any delay, and the sun had but just risen when Walter's mission was accomplished.
"You have come in good time, young sir," Master Revere said, when the boy had repeated the message.
"The ship on which the stamp distributor for the Province of New Hampshire sailed from London arrived last evening. I will see him at once, and before noon you shall take to your friends such information as I have to give. In the meanwhile you will eat breakfast, and then my eldest son shall act as host, unless you prefer to sleep, for you have been travelling all night."
"I can sleep later, sir; but now that I am in Boston I would like to see the city."
"So you shall. You will find much that is fair and comely to look upon; but beneath all the air of bravery is the disquietude of oppression, and the sense of wrongs yet to be wiped out."
"In the province from which I have come we believe the remedy for oppression to be among ourselves, sir," Walter replied, modestly.
"So it is, lad; and may you be one not lacking in wholesome love for your country when the time for action arrives."
"I fear a boy like me will be of but little service."
"The boys may be men before the time for stirring deeds shall come," Master Revere said, much as if speaking to himself; and then he added, quickly, "You will break your fast with me."
Walter was not accustomed to such a meal as was speedily placed before him; but the novelty of his surroundings did not prevent him from doing full justice to the food.
When the master of the house set out to perform the duty expected of him by his friends in Portsmouth, young John took charge of the guest, and from that time until nearly noon Walter feasted his eyes upon such wonders as he had never even dreamed about.
His first visit was to the magnificent building presented to the city by Peter Faneuil, and then to that elm at the head of Essex Street beneath the branches of which the association known as the Sons of Liberty had sprung into existence.
Here young Revere told him what had occurred during the month of August, when on the tree he was then gazing at had been found hanging an effigy of Andrew Oliver, his majesty's distributor of stamps for the Province of Massachusetts, and a boot, symbolical of Lord Bute, with Satan peeping out of it as he displayed a copy of the Stamp Act. John also described the scenes when the more lawless members of the community destroyed the building which had been erected as the office for the sale of stamps, and the dwelling of the Lieutenant Governor was sacked.
"Does your father believe it is by such a course we can be relieved of oppression?" Walter asked in surprise, as John Revere concluded his story with an account of the violence offered to several others of the king's officers.
"By no means. He was among those who gave public expressions of regret that such deeds should have been done."
Then young Revere told of the town-meeting which was held immediately following the scenes of violence, and by the time he had concluded, the boys were on North Square again, where Master Revere was ready to deliver the message Walter was to take back to Portsmouth. "I have seen Master George Messerve," he said, "and believe he fully sympathizes with us. He has already publicly resigned the office of stamp distributor, and I doubt not will be found on our side when the decisive moment comes."
Walter understood that with the message given was an intimation for him to depart, and although he could have done full justice to a dinner, he took his leave without delay.
There is no question but that Master Revere would have been more than willing to both feed the young messenger and provide him with sufficient funds to pay his passage across to Charlestown in the ferry-boat had he any idea that Walter was penniless. The boy made no explanations, and his host could not but believe he was fully and properly prepared for the long journey before him.
Walter did not have as good fortune on his return as in the morning. When he arrived at the shore he saw several boats going to and fro, but the afternoon was considerably more than half spent before he succeeded in finding a boatman who would allow him to work his passage.
Then, when he finally landed on the opposite shore, an hour was spent in searching for the horse, which had wandered into the woods, and by the time the boy was ready to begin the return journey the sun hung low in the sky.
"It will be another night-ride," he muttered, as he leaped into the saddle. "I did hope to reach Salem early in the evening, and so I might have done had I been possessed of enough money to pay my ferriage. Master Revere would have given it to me, but I could not tell him that I, who had been received into the ranks of the Sons of Liberty, had not so much as a shilling."
He was comparatively fresh when he drew rein in front of Master Cotton's stable shortly before midnight, and although the time could well have been spent in slumber, he devoted an hour to caring for the weary steed who had borne him so bravely.
To awaken Master Cotton was not a portion of Walter's plan. That gentleman had shown himself to be of such a timid nature that the young messenger believed he would pot be pleased at receiving any information; therefore, as soon as the horse had been cared for, he started out of Salem on foot, intending to make himself a bed on the ground when he should be within shelter of the woods.
As he walked rapidly on in the cool night air, feeling refreshed because of the opportunity of stretching his legs after sitting in the saddle so long, the desire for slumber fled from his eyes. There was no reason why he should halt until he felt drowsy again, and he continued on, thinking alternately of what he had accomplished, of the mill he hoped at some future time to see erected on the small tract of land bordering the Pascataqua River which his father had bequeathed him, and of the taxes to be paid by some means within twenty-four hours of his arrival.
With so much to occupy his mind, he forgot his weariness, and the hours went by without his being aware of the passage of time.
When he first realized how near he was to the starting point of his long journey, a rosy light in the east told of the coming sun, and he marveled that the night had gone so quickly.
Half an hour later, as the knowledge of distance traversed brought with it weariness, and he was about to seek a thicket where his slumbers would not be disturbed, a noise as of some one approaching brought him to a full stop.
In another instant he recognized the form of his friend, Stephen Kidder, in the distance, and he ran toward him, crying,—
"What brings you here at this hour, Stephen?"
"I left home at midnight to meet you."
"Meet me? It would have been easier to have waited I there until I arrived."
"It is to prevent your arrival that I have come," and Stephen had very much the appearance of a bearer of evil tidings.
"What is the matter? Why do you look so glum? Is my mother well?".
"Yes; but sorrowing."
"Tell me what has happened."
"Your cattle and horses have been sold by the sheriff."
"How can that be? It is not forty-eight hours since they were attached,"
"That is true; but yet they have been sold, Samuel Haines is at the bottom of the mischief, and he it was who bought them. He is now declaring you shall be arrested for stealing his horse, and Master McCleary sent me to warn you not to come home until the matter can be arranged."
"Not go home!" Walter repeated, like one bewildered. "Where, then, shall I go?"
"Your mother bade me ask you why you did not visit the land on the Pascataqua? It is not likely you would be searched for there, and I should be able to find you whenever it might be necessary."
Walter was silent a few moments, as if trying to under stand all that had befallen him, and then said, slowly,—
"Haines would never dare to have me arrested. He took me prisoner unlawfully, and I had a right to make my escape if possible."
"That is very true; yet, because you are one of the Sons of Liberty, Master McCleary thinks an arrest will surely follow."
"Is it not safe for me to see my mother a few moments?"
"She herself told me to warn you against coming. That half-breed, Jim, has been seen near the farm twice since yesterday noon, and he can be there for no other purpose than to give notice of your arrival."
"But, Stephen, I can't go up the Pascataqua without some preparation. I must at least have my musket and ammunition; otherwise, I would stand a good chance of starving to death."
"I have arranged for that portion of the business. Your knapsack, well filled by your mother, and everything you may need during a few weeks in the woods, is hidden a couple of miles down the road. I brought the things as far away from the farm as I thought necessary, and then left them in the bushes."
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