In the sitting-room a single candle was burning. Don got a glimpse of his cousin Deborah, hastily dressed and still wearing her nightcap; she was standing at the door, and his Cousin Eben, with a musket in his hand and a powder horn over his shoulder, was saying good-bye. Don saw him kiss his wife. Then the door opened, the candle flickered, and he was gone. “Cousin Deborah, what’s wrong?” cried Don. “The regulars are coming!” And then Cousin Deborah burst into tears. Don bit his lips; he had never thought of his cousin as being capable of tears. They did not last long. A few movements of her handkerchief and Cousin Deborah seemed like herself again. “Donald,” she said, “they have begun it, and the good Lord is always on the side of the right. Now I want you to go back to bed and get your rest.” “Are you going back to bed, Cousin Deborah?” “No; there will be no sleep for me this night.” “Then I shall remain up also,” replied Don. Cousin Deborah made no protest but went to the stove and poked the fire. The bell had ceased ringing now. The town of Concord was wide awake. While Don and his cousin were eating a hastily prepared breakfast the Minute-Men and the militia assembled on the parade ground near the meeting-house. Meanwhile other patriots were hard at work transporting the military stores to a place of safety. Dawn was breaking, and the mist was rising from the river when Don and his cousin finally got up from the table. “Now, Donald,” said Cousin Deborah, “I’ve been thinking all along of your Aunt Martha and blaming myself for my selfishness in having you stay here with me for so long. I’d give most anything if you were back there with her. And yet----” She paused frowning. “Oh, I can get back all right,” said Don confidently. “How?” “Why, by keeping off the roads as much as possible. I know the country pretty well.” “You’re a bright lad, Donald,” said Cousin Deborah. “You’re a bright lad; and I don’t know but what you’d better start. Your aunt needs you more than I do. But oh, Donald, you’ll be cautious!” “I don’t think I ought to leave you here alone.” “Drat the boy!” exclaimed his cousin and then smiled. “Bless you, Donald,” she added, “I’ll be safe enough. I shall go to Mrs. Barton’s until things are quiet again. Now go and get yourself ready.” Don needed only a few moments in which to get his things together. Then he walked with his cousin as far as Mrs. Barton’s house, which was situated some distance beyond the North Bridge, bade her good-bye and started back. It was growing lighter every minute now, and the birds were singing in all the trees. On the road he met a Minute-Man who was hurrying in the opposite direction, and asked him the news. “Regulars fired on our boys at Lexin’ton,” replied the fellow as he hurried past. Over his shoulder he shouted, “Killed six of ’em--war’s begun!”