"See here!" cried Phil--heartily, swinging the basket in his hand, "never mind Jasper Bram, just now. You take a good solid feed, and then do your talking if you want to." The face of the strange boy changed quickly. His hungry eyes darted at the basket with avidity. He led the way into a small compartment where there were working benches and boxes to sit on. There was just enough of the sunset light left to allow the boys to see one another. The strange lad acted embarrassed as Phil made a spread of the wholesome, substantial food brought from the Sabine larder. Then as his eyes ranged over the mince pie, cold pork and beans, half chicken, and some nicely buttered brown bread, they filled with tears. "Thanks," was all he could say in a choked, sobbing tone. "That's four times you've said it," rallied Andy brusquely. "Once will do. Nice fellow you are, hanging around half-famished, when the club would have treated you like a prince after a sight of that passport of yours." "I can't show it to everybody, you know," murmured the boy. "If you had shown it to us before you did, we would have made it easy sledding for you here at Concord," declared Andy heartily. "Now you have shown it to us, suppose you enlighten us as to a few points that are burning me up with curiosity." "Let a fellow eat, won't you, Andy?" admonished Phil, and he drew Andy to one side under the pretence of showing him an old cooperage tool lying on a bench, so as to afford the strange boy a chance to eat in comfort. "Say, he was hungry, wasn't he, now!" whispered Andy. "He acts it, I should say," responded Phil, who tried to relieve any embarrassment on the part of the boy by keeping up a casual conversation with Andy. The strange lad made him feel sad and glad both at the same time,--glad to see him enjoy his meal, sad to realize from the way he partook of the same that the poor wayfarer must have been half-starved to death. "That was good, I tell you!" finally exclaimed the boy in a tone of mingled contentment and gratitude. "And, now what is the next best thing we can do for you?" inquired Andy impetuously, hot on the trail of information. "You can do something for me, for a fact," spoke the boy seriously, and he looked out of the window across the dreary landscape and down at the river in a doubtful way. "I don't want to risk staying here any longer than I have to, so I won't take up much of your time. My name is Burt Noble." "Glad to know you," nodded Andy airily. "Wanted to know you before, but you wouldn't come close enough to hand." "I'll explain that," went on Burt Noble, still seriously, and taking no notice of Andy's flippancy. "You can guess that I am no Tory from that passport. Dr. Warren knows me and trusts me. It came right, and it was right for me to find out what the Britishers were up to, and that was why I seemed training with the Gage troops in Boston." "We understand," nodded Phil encouragingly.