"It means one thing we must see to," declared Phil, hurrying towards the stone shed. "That boy in there has started quite a blaze. He must be about choked with the smoke. We must get him out of there." "To bolt again--to leave us in a more puzzling fix than ever?" demanded Andy. "No sir-ree! Let him out if you like, but not until I am right behind you, ready to grab the slippery fellow before he plays us another jumping-jack trick." "Hey!" shouted Phil, halting in front of the burning window frame. A human face wavered for a moment in the wreaths of smoke clouding the aperture. "Let me out!" shouted a voice in muffled tones. "Let me out, quick!" Phil went around to the single door of the shed. It was stoutly secured by a hasp and padlock. Phil picked up a big stone and smashed the padlock. Then he pulled open the door. "Come out, quick!" he cried. Andy had placed his gun against an old box. With his arms outspread he posed to seize the refugee when he should appear. There was no necessity for haste or violence, however, for with the opening of the door a great cloud of smoke floated out, enveloping a form which struggled past it--the mysterious boy. He was staggering and gasping and rubbing his smoke-blinded eyes. "Thanks," he said, rather faintly. "I'll never try that again--thanks." The speaker tottered against the outside wall of the shed for support and leaned there weakly, getting back his breath and his wits. Then suddenly he straightened up and peered towards the house and all around it in a scared sort of way. "I--I must get away from here, and--thanks," he spoke for the third time in a strained and embarrassed tone of voice. "Hold on," ordered Andy, firmly planting himself in front the refugee and seizing his arm. The lad shrank and turned a white pallor. Phil, studying him, saw the old hunted, desperate expression he had noted on two previous occasions come back into the wan, starved-looking face. "What do you want of me?" the unknown lad asked of Andy. "What do we want?" repeated Andy, purposely blustering. "That's a fine question to ask after all the bother and mystery you've made for us. We want to know a lot, and you've got to tell it." "Easy, Andy, gently now," directed Phil. Then, turning kindly and courteously to the refugee, he said: "We first want to give you a good meal--you look as if you needed it." The boy's face, for a moment lightened by Phil's gracious words, grew sad again and he spoke with a dry, choking little laugh. "I'm hungry enough," he said, but casting the old scared glance all about him added hastily: "I can't stay around here! Not a moment--not a single moment! Don't stop me." "You can't go!" shouted Andy, catching and imprisoning both of the boy's arms from behind, and thus struggling with him. "You're up to something mysterious. These are times when every loyal Concord boy must watch out for fellows like you--a Tory."