“You dirty, sneaking chicken-thief!” cried Jud and would have hurled himself against the Tory if Don had not held him. “Now, none of that,” said Tom and retreated a step or two. Then he turned and walked away, whistling. “See here,” said a bystander, “I guess you boys feel as bad as I do about it, but don’t be hotheads. They’re too many for us.” “How did it happen?” asked Don unsteadily. “Job Williams, the Tory, led the mob,” replied the man. “And a mob it surely was. Such a lot of swearing and yelling--it’s good you missed it. Redcoats and Tories alike swarmed up the tree like so many thick-lipped gorillas. But it wasn’t all fine for them. Just before you came one of the soldiers in the topmost branches missed his hold and fell. I saw him fall; he was killed!” “Good!” cried Jud, clenching his fists. “That’s just what I said.” The man smiled. “They carted him off a few minutes ago. It was the hand of Providence that did it, my lads, and the hand of Providence will account for many more of them before long.” “Let’s get out of here,” said Don. “It makes me sick to look. Just hear ’em yelling.” Each boy picked up a twig from the street, and, thrusting it into his pocket, hurried up Newbury Street toward Hog Alley. There was no fishing for Don or for Jud that day. What they had seen in the morning had taken away all their desire for sport. And Aunt Martha felt quite as bad about the destruction of the tree as the boys did. “If there’s one thing I can’t abide,” she said, “it’s spite work.” The Liberty Tree yielded the soldiers fourteen cords of wood, but they had paid dearly for it. Other trees also were cut down for the sake of the wood, and before winter set in the Common had lost many of its fine old elms. September passed, and with the turning of the leaves Don longed to go forth into the woods. “Say, Aunt Martha,” he remarked one day, “I never knew that the town was so small. There’s no place to go without seeing Redcoats. I’d like to go off somewhere in the woods.” “Have patience, Donald. Maybe if you wait, some day the whole continent will be free for you to come and go in as you please.” “Do you think the Colonies will be independent, Aunt Martha? Do you really want them to be?” “Yes. I think it, and I hope it.” Aunt Martha’s lips were set in a straight line, as they had been when she had told her husband that she would not leave her home for the sake of a Redcoat. Don was about to make some reply when he spied Jud outside the window; he was hurrying up the street, and there was an eager look in his eyes. “Hello, Jud,” Don greeted him as he opened the door. “What’s the news?” “Good news,” Jud replied breathlessly. “I’ve heard that old Gage is going back to England. How glad I am!” “Say, where did you hear that?” asked Don. “Over near Faneuil Hall. I was listening again.” Jud grinned. “Who’s to take his place?” asked Aunt Martha.