Don stopped work to look. It is to Tom’s credit perhaps that he did not turn on his heel then and there. What he did was to lift his chin a trifle and, choosing the opposite side of the street, march past without looking either to the right or to the left. It was really a hard thing to do, for Don and Jud were staring at him and grinning frankly. “He’s got his head pretty high, hasn’t he?” said Jud in a loud whisper. “But not high enough to hide that bump above his left eye,” replied Don. “That’s where Fred’s stick landed,” said Jud. “Just look how high he holds his head--just like a chicken!” Both boys chuckled, and a moment later they laughed outright when Tom’s foot struck an upraised brick, and he stumbled. At the corner of Water Street, Tom turned and shook his fist. Jud’s eyes flashed, but Don was silent. “And to think,” he said at last, “that he used to be my best friend!” “He’s not worth thinking about,” said Jud shortly. “Come on, Don, let’s finish these windows in a hurry. I wonder how the fish are biting?” But there were other things beside fish to wonder about on that day in early May. The people of Boston knew little enough of what was going on round them. Every other person was wondering how soon the American army would attack the British, and whether the Redcoats would risk going out and fighting in the open. Already there had been skirmishes and they continued to occur off and on throughout the rest of the month; but although the Americans were generally successful, the skirmishes really did not amount to much. Word had somehow seeped into the beleaguered town that the Continental force consisted of sixteen thousand men and that fortifications were being prepared in Cambridge and along the Mystic River; and it was whispered that men from all the other Colonies as far south as Virginia were flocking to join the army. But Gage’s men scoffed at such reports; and although none of them dared venture outside the town they also scoffed at the idea that they were in a state of siege. A body of undisciplined farmers oppose them, the King’s soldiers? Preposterous! What the King’s men did not realize was that many of them, especially the officers, had fought in the French wars. Oddly enough the terrible experience of the nineteenth of April was lost upon the over-confident British; they supposed that the men who had fought so valiantly at Concord and Lexington would run like frightened sheep in an encounter in the open. Numerous things had occurred to exasperate the good people of Boston, but one of the worst was a proclamation that Gage issued; it declared martial law and referred to all who were bearing arms against the King’s men as “rebels and traitors”; but, said the proclamation, if they would lay down their arms all would be pardoned--all, that is, except John Hancock and Samuel Adams.