A Charlestown car, with an outside sign, Bunker Hill, in large letters, came by, and the two got on board. They rode down Cornhill, and presently the stranger pointed out Faneuil Hall. “Behold the Cradle of Liberty,” he said. “Of course, you have heard of Faneuil Hall?” “Yes, sir,” and Herbert gazed with interest at the building of which he had heard so much. It was but a short ride to Charlestown. They got out at the foot of a steep street, at the head of which the tall, granite column which crowns the summit of Bunker Hill stood like a giant sentinel ever on guard. CHAPTER XVI. A NEW BATTLE OF BUNKER HILL. Just opposite the monument is a small, one-story structure, where views of the shaft may be purchased and tickets obtained. “There is a small admission fee,” said Herbert's companion. “How much is it?” asked our hero. “Twenty cents.” As Herbert thrust his hand into his pocket for the necessary money, his companion said: “You had better let me pay for both tickets.” Though he said this, he didn't make any motion to do so. “No, I will pay for both,” said Herbert. “But I really cannot permit you to pay for mine.” And still the speaker made no movement to purchase his ticket. Herbert settled the matter by laying half a dollar on the desk, and asking for two tickets. He began to see that, in spite of his disclaimer, his guide intended him to do so. On the whole, this didn't please him. He would rather have had his offer frankly accepted. “I didn't mean to have you pay,” said the young man, as they passed through the door admitting them to an inner apartment, from which there was an exit into a small, inclosed yard, through which they were to reach the entrance to a spiral staircase by which the ascent was made. Herbert did not answer, for he understood that his guide was not telling the truth, and he did not like falsehood or deceit. They entered the monument and commenced the ascent. “We have a tiresome ascent before us,” said the other. “How many steps are there?” asked Herbert. “About three hundred,” was the reply. At different points in the ascent they came to landings where they could catch glimpses of the outward world through long, narrow, perpendicular slits in the sides of the monument. At last they reached the top. Herbert's guide looked about him sharply, and seemed disappointed to find a lady and gentleman and child also enjoying the view. Herbert had never been so high before. Indeed, he had never been in any high building, and he looked about him with a novel sense of enjoyment. “What a fine view there is here!” he said. “True,” assented his companion. “Let me point out to you the different towns visible to the naked eye.” “I wish you would,” said the boy.