"It means that I want to join the British army and sweep this old town off the face of the earth!" snarled Greg venomously. "Oh, if I had the burning of this burg! Oh, if I could massacre the whole crowd of them!" "Did you learn anything about where they have moved the ammunition?" demanded his father. "No, I didn't," retorted Greg, "seeing that I didn't have the chance, I was fool enough to try and find out what Andy Sabine and his crowd were doing. They caught me. Dad, you show me how to get revenge, and you needn't pay me a dollar for all those messages to the Britishers this afternoon." "Do you think any of the town people suspect what is really going on?" were the next words that fell on the ears of the eagerly-listening Phil, in Jasper Bram's rasping tone of voice. "No, I don't think so," replied Greg,--"how could they?" "You don't seem to know anything that's important," snarled old Bram. "This is no time for thinking, or guessing. I'm in for a big reward if my information to the British enables them to come into the town as they wish, by the north road. You haven't helped much, Greg, and that's a fact." "Helped!" cried Greg. "I've done nothing but help. You're talking that way so you won't have to give me anything for all my work. Who found out all about the plans of the Sons of Liberty but me, and--aha! didn't I help you bury our dog, yes, our poor old dog, ha! ha!" There was a vicious twinkle in Greg's eye and a sneering expression on his lips. It was evident that he had hit the old man hard at a sensitive point. There was some deep undercurrent to the remark, for, like a tiger aroused, old Jasper Bram, with clenched fists and flashing eyes, sprang at his son as if he would strike him down where he stood. "You'll bring that up, will you?" he shouted. "After all I've told you, you'll threaten me, will you?" "Well," retorted Greg, backing away, "I just wanted to show you that I've helped you out whenever I could. Who else would do it--and keep his mouth shut? That's the point--wouldn't blab. Why, if the father of Phil Warrington, drat him! or that young Burt Noble, knew about burying that dog--" "Stop! Stop, I tell you!" roared the old man, "or I'll thrash the life out of you. Even so much as hint at this thing again, and I'll turn you out of house and home." In his rage old Bram tore about the apartment in a frenzied manner. He kicked over a chair, he slammed a door, he jammed down the window at which Phil had been peering and listening. But Phil did not mind this. He was ready to hasten back to Concord now, for he believed that he had secured some information of the most vital importance to his patriotic friends. "I see their plan--that of the British," he murmured. "They intend to enter Concord from the north, where they are not expected, where no preparations have been made to repel them."