Don said nothing to his aunt about the powder in the cellar. Indeed after Jud had gone he thought little of it and of the advice his companion had given. Don and his aunt waited until Snell and Hawkins had gone up-stairs, and then Aunt Martha said: “Well, Donald, I think we’re almost at the end of the story.” “What story?” asked Don. Aunt Martha smiled. “I merely meant,” she replied, “that in a few more days we’ll be all through with our suffering--or else there will be more suffering, far more terrible than some of us can bear perhaps.” “You’re still afraid they’ll burn the town?” “I can’t get it off my mind. Just look at Charlestown across the water. What a snug little place to live in it used to be--and just see it now!” Don was silent for a few moments. “Everything has gone pretty well so far,” he said at last. “And maybe before long we’ll see Uncle David and Glen.” “O Donald, I’ve prayed for it!” “I certainly wish that one or the other were here now.” Don was thinking of Crean Brush and of his lawless men. “Ah, yes. Well, we’d best go to bed now. Another night--another night.” “Yes, and before you know it General Washington will be here, and the Redcoats will be on the water.” Up-stairs in his room, Don lay for some time listening to the sound of firing that seemed to come from the direction of Noddles Island. The night was dark, and a strong wind was blowing against the little windows. From across the hall came the sounds of snoring and of heavy breathing; apparently both Snell and Hawkins were asleep. Don closed his eyes and lay back on the pillow; but the position was uncomfortable, and he turned on his side. That position also uncomfortable, and he turned on his other side. Then his foot began to itch, then his back, then his neck. He could not sleep. At last he sat up in bed. Now he could hear the regular breathing of his aunt; no doubt she was exhausted with the day’s worry. Once more he tried to get to sleep, but it was of no use. He raised himself on his elbow. “Now what in thunder ails me?” he thought. There was something--something that somebody had said. What was it? The next instant he thought of Jud and of what he had said about the powder. “That’s it!” he said to himself. “What if Crean Brush and his men should find it in the cellar and, drunk as some of them were likely to be, touch a light to it!” The thought made him spring part way out of bed. Aunt Martha was still breathing regularly. That was enough for Don to make up his mind. He began softly to dress. The house was cold, and he shivered as he put on his shirt and his trousers. In a few minutes he was all dressed except for his shoes. Then he made his way cautiously to the head of the stairs. Once he stepped on a loose, squeaky board and heard his aunt turn and sigh; but she did not waken. Neither did either of the soldiers.