"There, that's the best we can do for the present," declared Phil, as they stood on solid ground. "It's not far to the settlement. Mr. Eaton will take care of the boat as soon as we tell him our story." They were tired and uncomfortable, but they plodded on cheerfully, until they came in sight of some houses. All were dark and silent except one, where a light was burning, and for which Phil was making. "Is that where Mr. Eaton lives?" inquired Andy. "Yes," replied Phil "and some one seems to be up, judging from the lights." A few minutes later Phil was lifting the heavy knocker of a door of the house in question. A boy answered the summons, a bronzed pleasant-faced youth, whom Andy had never seen, before, but at a glance he felt that he should like him. The boy lifted the candle he bore high above his head, and stared in wonder and then in perplexity at the two forlorn wayfarers. "Phil!" he shouted, the next moment, his face beaming with a glad, welcoming smile. "Phil Warrington!" "Yes," nodded Phil. "It's me--and this is my friend, Andy Sabine, from Concord." "Why--when--how--what are you boys doing in that trim, at this hour of the night?" "We have just escaped from the Tories, and are bound for Boston." "Boston!" echoed Ralph Post, in a startling tone. "Why, Phil, don't you know that the city is under martial law? The order has just gone out." "Whose order?" demanded Andy. "Gen. Gage's. No one can leave or enter Boston without a Tory passport." CHAPTER XVII A SAFE PORT At the announcement of Ralph Post, Andy Sabine almost uttered a yell. His fists went up in the air clenched, and his eyes flashed. "Nobody get into Boston? Nobody get out of Boston?" he cried. "Gen. Gage's orders--the Britishers bossing the country! Why, we'll sweep them off the face of the earth!" Ralph Post smiled indulgently at Andy's ferocious patriotic outburst. Phil placed a restraining hand on the shoulder of his excitable comrade. The next instant of thought, however, made Phil take the situation very seriously. A wave of anxiety crossed his face as he thought of the folks at home. Then he eagerly turned to his cousin, feeling that he had further revelations to make. "Tell all about it," he said, but Ralph replied: "You get to a fire, you two. Why you look half-perished. I fancy," he added dryly to Andy, "you won't start to wipe out those Boston tyrants until you've got dry clothes and a good meal." "I'm fighting mad, all the same," muttered Andy, and then, a thought of their last adventure crossing his mind, he added with an exultant grin: "Those Tories will have one less boat to guard Boston, anyhow."