Jud did not reply but glanced at his companion sidewise. And so the two boys stood and watched their enemy until he and his father had disappeared among the throngs of Redcoats and Tories at the foot of the street. The last boatload of soldiers and refugees had not been long away from the shore when the Continental soldiers entered the town by way of the Neck and by boats across the river. The boys spied one of the first patrols on the southern end of the Common and hastened toward them. “I want to find out first of all about Uncle Dave and Glen,” Don said to Jud. But none of the men in the patrol knew either of the two men. Kindly fellows they were, all of them, and they laughed and joked with the boys and with one another as they marched along toward the Mall. “Say!” exclaimed Jud when they had gone past. “I’m so glad to see those buff and blue uniforms I can hardly say how I feel. I feel as if I’d burst!” “Me, too,” said Don, “except that I almost feel like--well, like when you’re so happy it makes the tears come into your eyes. Look, here come some more of our men!” Probably most of the good people of Boston felt as Don and Jud felt; certainly there were many who shed tears of joy as they stood in their doorways and watched the various detachments of Continentals arriving. There was good reason for the tears, for the people who shed them had suffered like martyrs during long months of privation, insult and oppression--to say nothing of disease, for smallpox had broken out in the poorer parts of the town. The first words that greeted Don as he entered his aunt’s house were, “Donald, my boy, did--did you see your uncle?” “No, Aunt Martha. I asked at least a score of our men about him, but none of them seemed to know him. But, O Aunt Martha, ain’t it fine! The Redcoats are gone!” “When I’ve seen your uncle I shall rejoice,” his aunt replied and turned quickly away. One thing that annoyed Don the following day was that he failed to see General Washington, who had entered the town and had dined with Mr. James Bowdoin at the home of Mr. Erving, both of whom were friends of Don’s uncle. Nor did Don see Washington the next day, for the general had returned to Cambridge. On Wednesday, the twentieth, the main body of the Continental troops entered the town, with flags flying and drums beating. “Watch out for my uncle and for Glen Drake,” Don said to Jud as the two boys stood on a crowded street corner waiting for the head of the column to appear. “Yes, and you keep your eyes open for my father and for my brothers.” From far off came the sound of drums and fifes. The crowd at the corner, mostly boys and women, moved uneasily. “It’s Yankee Doodle they’re playing,” whispered Jud. “Say, doesn’t that sound good!” “It surely does!” agreed Don. In a few minutes the regular tramp, tramp of marching feet reached the ears of the eager little group. “Here they are!”