“Now what in the world could that have meant?” asked Aunt Martha. “I’ll find out,” replied Don and ran into the street. Near the town hall he inquired of a pedestrian what the firing was. “His Majesty’s ship _Lively_,” replied the fellow shortly. He was evidently a Tory. “She fired on some earthworks the rebels have thrown up over by Charlestown.” Don waited to hear no more. While he and his aunt were having breakfast he told her what he had heard. Aunt Martha only sighed. “Who knows,” she said after a long pause, “but what your uncle and Glen are over there at Charlestown?” During the forenoon the firing resumed. The British, it seems, had brought three or four floating batteries to bear upon the fortifications; but in spite of the heavy bombardment the Continentals continued to work. The day promised to be hot and sultry. The sun, a bright ball of molten gold, was blazing down on the shingled roofs of the town and was sending up heat waves from the cobblestoned streets. Don left off his top coat and turned in the collar of his shirt. “You don’t look neat and trim, Donald Alden,” said his aunt as he was about to leave the house. “It’s too hot, Aunt Martha.” “You think so perhaps. Well, don’t go far.” “I’m going to find Jud,” replied Don. He did not have to go all the way to Hog Alley to find his comrade. Jud, hot and excited, almost ran into him at the foot of School Street. “O Don!” he exclaimed. “There’s going to be an awful time--a battle, sure as you’re alive! I was coming to get you.” “I know,” said Don. “Everybody’s excited. And did you hear the firing early this morning?” “Come up to the Common,” said Jud. “The Redcoats are all on parade. They’re going to march off, I think.” The boys found the Common a scene of intense activity. There seemed to be Redcoats everywhere. Some were in formation; some were hurrying to join their companies that were assembling, and all seemed to be carrying arms and full equipment. The sun flashed on glistening swords and buckles and seemed to turn each bright red coat into a vivid blaze of fire. And overhead the graceful limbs of the great old elms waved gently to and fro like gigantic lacy green fans. “Look,” said Don, “there’s the 43rd, Harry Hawkins’s regiment.” “Yes, and there’s Hawkins himself,” replied Jud. “See him--that big fellow?” Don bit his lips and said nothing. He did not dare put into words the thoughts that had come crowding into his mind at sight of the only Redcoat for whom he had the least affection. “There’s the grenadiers,” said Jud; “and the new regiment, the 35th and the 49th.” “Yes, and there are the marines,” added Don. “They all look pretty fine, don’t they?” “They look fine enough now,” replied Jud, “but just you wait till our men get a shot at them. You know how it was at Lexington and Concord.” Don knew indeed, and the thought of that memorable day cheered him considerably.