There were three names to conjure by in Boston and its neighborhood in those stirring days,--Joseph Warren, Samuel Adams and John Hancock. These men were the leaders in every patriotic move of the times. They were the men who, because of their great influence and determination, were approached with bribes, threats and persecutions by Tory emissaries and enemies. Especially was Dr. Warren the idol of the patriots. In all but official title he was practically commander in chief of the sturdy New England "Sons of Liberty," the patiently waiting "Minute Men"--all those earnest, enthusiastic militia organizations whom the great genius of Gen. George Washington was so soon and successfully to merge into the Continental Army. Little wonder was it that Andy Sabine felt as if he was getting to be of some importance in his little world, and that Phil felt a decided thrill of enthusiasm at being directly concerned in an affair in which the notable patriot, Warren, was interested. All this was leading Phil's mind into an ever-increasing vortex of speculation and excitement. Every day and its every event of late seemed links in a strong chain of circumstances, all bearing more or less on the spirit of war that was in the very air. "That's your letter, is it?" inquired Andy in his impetuous, irrepressible way. Before the refugee could answer something startled him. He glanced at a fringe of timber beyond the house. There was some movement there. Phil made out Jasper Bram's hired man hauling cord wood on a sledge. The strange boy seemed aroused at the proximity of others. He dodged quickly to the rear of the stone shed, out of range of the man and horse in the distance. Then he beckoned to Phil. In a very flustered voice he said: "I can't stay here. I will get into trouble if I do, but I would like to see you again." "Then come along with us," directed Phil. "We'll cut out of range of these diggings across to Andy Sabine's barn." "Go to town--in daylight!" exclaimed the strange boy in dismay. "I don't dare to. Is that man out of sight? Yes I must get away from here. Good-bye, and thank you. Say," added the lad, dropping his voice as a new thought came into his mind, "You know where the old cooper shop is?" "Down the river, yes," nodded Phil. "I'll be there until after dark to-night." "I'll come and see you there before dark," said Phil. The fugitive sped away at this. He cast many a furtive look about him as he did so. Bram's hired man was now shut out from view by intervening hills, but the runner never relaxed his speed and went over a rise in the landscape like a fleet hare bounding for cover. "H'm!" observed Andy, approaching his friend. "On the jump again, eh? He's a lively one. What did you let him go for?" "What right have we to stop him?" submitted Phil mildly--"Especially after that document he showed us." "That's so, but it's--it's worrying!" cried Andy in a desperate sort of a way. "What was he saying to you, Phil?"