"My boy! my boy!" sobbed Mrs. Warrington, overcome with emotion. "My dear, loyal boy! The nation's boy, too, for we have heard of your bravery. Come in, come in!" "No, mother, not until you have got rid of your visitors. No one must know that we are in Boston until we have had a chance to do what we came for," said Phil earnestly, "and that is to rescue father and his patriot friends from the British." CHAPTER XXIX THE OLD WAREHOUSE Phil Warrington went to bed that night with a good deal on his mind. There were many saddening changes that oppressed him. His father was a prisoner. Business and home had been affected by the cruel war. His own liberty was threatened should he be recognized by the Tories. Danger would attend every hour he spent in his native city. For all that, it was sweet and rarely peaceful to be once again in the dear old room under the eaves, feeling that sense of safety and comfort that home only can bring. Both of the chums were tired out, and were soon fast asleep, without a break in a deep, refreshing slumber until quite late in the morning. Mrs. Warrington had recognized the wisdom of her young guests remaining under cover as much as possible. The messages with which Phil had been intrusted by his Musket Boys comrades, she undertook to deliver in a way that should not disclose the messenger until he was safe and far again from the nest of the Tories. Phil and Andy were served breakfast in a windowless room off from the kitchen. Then Mrs. Warrington took them into a spare room and showed them a lot of old clothing lying on the floor. War times had compelled the Warringtons to dispose of their servants. Some of these had left odds and ends of their belongings behind them. The young volunteers soon made a selection, and Phil was transformed into a common-looking stable boy, while Andy made up as a poorly-clad city lad who might be anything, from a cook's scullion to a grocer's apprentice. "You see," observed the Concord boy, "hardly anybody knows me here, Phil, but everybody knows you. You might pass all right among a hundred people, and then run up against some one who would recognize you at once. If I were you, I'd bandage one side of my face, and keep that old hat slouched well down over my eyes, and get a sort of rambling crook into your walk." It was about noon when the two boys bade Mrs. Warrington good-bye, leaving the house from the rear, and getting quickly into a less familiar quarter of the city. There were a great many loiterers about the streets, for the war had practically suspended business, and they passed without any extraordinary notice in the crowd. "I suppose the first thing to do is to deliver that message for the general," suggested Andy.