"Musket Boys to the front!" cried Andy, and soon he gathered many of his friends about him. All had muskets, some new and some dating back to the French and Indian Wars. It was not long before smoke could be seen coming from several points in Concord. "Will the British try to burn the town?" was the question on every tongue. "Men, we must protect Concord!" cried Captain Barret, who was in command. "We'll march down to the bridge." In a few minutes the Minute Men, with many of the Musket Boys, reached the vicinity of the North Bridge. "See! see!" cried Phil. "The redcoats are wrecking the bridge!" Phil's words proved true. The British soldiers were forcing up the planking of the bridge. "Stop! stop!" cried a number of the patriots. "Let that bridge alone!" "Keep back!" was the order from the British commander, and then, as the Minute Men and the Musket Boys drew closer, he gave the order to fire on the patriots. Bang! bang! bang! spoke up the firearms of the redcoats, and two of the Minute Men fell. "Give it to the redcoats!" was the yell, and then Minute Men and Musket Boys returned the volley, and several on the Concord side of the bridge went down, two to rise no more. From that moment the fighting became general. The Musket Boys were in the thick of the fray, and worked as hard as did the Minute Men. Colonel Smith, the British commander, did all in his power to hold the bridge, but, more Minute Men arriving, he saw that it would be impossible to do so, so at last he gave the order to retreat. In the meantime, there started up fighting at other points, and a distant cannon boomed out, followed by the explosion of some gunpowder. "Phil, this is war, actual war!" cried Andy. "Yes," answered the Boston boy, "and the Musket Boys must do their duty." From the bridge, the redcoats were followed into Concord, and then another skirmish took place. At last the British commenced to retreat in earnest. Little did they dream of what that withdrawal was to cost them! In the midst of the excitement Phil and Andy saw a forlorn figure pass the lines. Some shots followed him from the British groups, but he dashed resolutely into the midst of Andy's contingent. "Ralph--Ralph Post!" cried Andy excitedly. "What news?" The sailor boy's face was streaked with powder smut, his hair and eyebrows were singed, and his coat was burned at the edges. A truly heroic figure, he waved his hand triumphantly. "They're on the run!" he cried. "What! we have beaten the British?" spoke Andy. "Tooth and nail, horse and foot, van and rear, hurrah!" responded Ralph, but his cheer, meant to be exultant, was decidedly faint, and he had to lean against a post, pretty well exhausted.