"Mates in Boston, Andy," said Silas, with a very solemn stare. "I'm an old soldier, lads, and I can read the signs of the times. For instance, I shouldn't wonder, no matter how soon one of those Boston carriers came sailing down into the cote here. A dove with a message under its wing, see? Keep on drilling your squad, Andy, lad, only when that message comes--Attention, company! Sleep light, lad, and when a certain thing happens, day or night, you'll know it by that old field piece of mine." Silas pointed to the rusty old cannon, and Andy looked startled and impressed. "As how, now, Mr. Berks?" he inquired in an eager tone. "When old Tom barks," answered the veteran Indian fighter, "you may know that something serious had broken loose in Boston." "Yes, Mr. Berks, and then?" pressed Andy in an intense tone. "Then," answered old Silas sententiously--"Shoulder arms!" "Hurrah for liberty!" added the parrot, from inside the hut. CHAPTER IV ON DUTY "Well!" ejaculated Andy Sabine, as soon as they were out of hearing of the queer old man who had returned to them their stolen hunting traps. Both Andy and Phil were considerably stirred up by the happenings of the last few minutes. If old Berks had dealt in hints, they were certainly strong ones. His forcible remarks had increased their patriotic fervor, already at high heat with his young friends. Andy acted as excitedly as if the first gun had been fired and he was anxious to start right off to meet the enemy. "Tell you what," say Phil thoughtfully, "that wise old veteran ought to know what he is talking about, and probably could tell a good deal more if he wanted to. Of course, everybody thinks as he does,--if there is going to be any trouble, it will begin at Boston. I want to be there when it comes, Andy, if it is only to be near the folks, and I believe I will start away from Concord sooner than I had planned." "I wish I was going with you, Phil," said Andy in a longing tone. "Your Musket Boys will smell the first powder. My! it would be exciting to be right in the midst of so much bustle, not knowing how soon a company of militia might come dashing down the street sweeping everything before them. Hold on, what are you heading that way for? Aren't we going home?" Phil had led the course across the hills in the direction of the road running by the farmhouse of Jasper Bram. This meant quite a wide detour from the direct route homeward. But Phil had a purpose in the digression. "I was thinking of the mysterious boy," he explained to his comrade, "and I don't feel like leaving all of our guessing and running go for nothing. He may be going back to Boston some time. There he was a Tory. Why mayn't he be acting for them here in some secret way? I'd like to know. Mr. Berks said he saw him a prisoner of Jasper Bram."