“Oh! you coward!” panted Debby. “A gallant soldier _you_ would make. Any Tom, Dick or Harry could arrest and carry you off like a sack of meal. I vow I’ve a mind to give you no more lessons on the drum. ’Twould be just making it possible for you to fall into prison. A drummer boy, indeed, Jack Martin. Better don my gown Sir Babykin, and let me go in your place!” Jack had arisen in his anger and chagrin and now stood glowering before Debby. “Shame on you, Debby Mason!” he cried, “a bold jade you are and a disgrace to the village!” Then eyeing her closer he added, “but a fine, handsome lad you look, girl. I doubt if your own father would know you. But I have half a mind not to tell you the news to pay you for this unmannerly prank.” “And I,” mimicked Debby, “have half a mind to tell the meeting of your bravery.” “I’ve taught you to read, Deb, when the schools shut their doors on you,” Jack was capitulating, “and I’ve brought you the news. Beside,” with a resumption of his airs, “if you tell on me, how can you explain your own share in the business?” This reduced Debby to her proper place at once. “I’ll not tell, Jack, but what is the news? By your face I know you have heard much.” “Wait until you hear Deb. The battle of Lexington has made every man brave. Thousands of men joined the army at once and rushed on to Boston. They’ll drive every Britisher into the harbor!” Jack’s voice shook with excitement, “Yes; every King’s dog of them shall die. But”—his eagerness waned—“there has been another battle since. The report of our men winning at Bunker Hill was wrong. But it was a glorious fight. On, on came the British with bayonets pointed, not one of our men flinched; when they came near enough they gave them volley upon volley. I tell you, Deb, every rusty gun spoke true that day!” “Oh!” gasped the girl, “oh! if I were _only_ a boy. Go on, Jack, go on!” “Well, they fought until their powder was all gone. Not a man fled; when they could fire no more they used their guns for clubs, and rushed upon the foe!” Jack’s tones grew shriller as his feelings rose. “They were driven back, but they fought as they went, and they died with their faces toward the enemy!” “All of them?” panted Debby. “No.” Jack half moaned, “they are behind entrenchments at Prospect Hill. They have been there all Summer, but Deb, George Washington has been made General of the army, and he’s coming to get our men out!” “George Washington?” cried Debby, “why Mrs. Lane says he is the worst man she knows. I heard her tell Mistress Knowles.” Jack laughed, “Wait, lass, he’ll drive the British before him. Elder Morris has had a letter from Abner Andrews. ’Twas a wonderful letter. I listened at the door to hear it read when they thought I was feeding the cattle.”