Col. Flashleigh Buckingham of the British army, much to his disgust was shut up in the camp prison. Mr. Warrington and his rescued friends were at once given important military commands. For two days the camp was under strict discipline. There was constant drilling, and finally the word went the rounds that at dusk that evening a rapid and important march of several miles was to be undertaken. One hour before dusk an orderly came to the quarters of the Musket Boys. Phil, inside the tent, heard his name called, and went outside to be greeted by a genuine surprise. Surrounded by a curious crowd, some jeering, come curious, there stood Sachem, his old Indian friend. There was a new dignity in the manner of the Indian, as Phil shook his hand heartily. Sachem was stern and erect. He drew his blanket around him proudly. With a very few pantomimic gestures, he made it clearly known to Phil that he had spurned the deadly "fire water," and that he wished to join the army. He posed like an athlete, to intimate that he could run like the wind. He tallied off numerous fingers, to show that he could influence a company of braves to join in the cause. Then he drew out his scalping knife, and the crowd fell back as they understood that the delight of his life would be to be let loose among the British, to gather up the scalps of the enemies who had tortured and humiliated him. So persistent was Sachem in his resolve to fight the enemy, so determined to do that fighting under the leadership of Phil, that the latter was compelled to entertain the proposition in all earnestness. He saw his commanding officer and explained the situation. The result was, that when at dusk the army started on the move, Sachem was in the ranks, insisting on carrying on his shoulder a load of baggage representing the trappings of three or four of the volunteers. "What is the general up to anyway?" inquired Ralph Post of Phil, as they rested by the roadside after following the course of the river for some miles. "I can't tell you," answered Phil. "You don't suppose they are thinking of closing in on Boston?" "We would have to swim over, if we did," replied Phil, "for we haven't a craft that could get away from the Tory harbor boats. It is some strategic move." "It's action, anyhow," observed Ralph lightly, "and that suits all hands, judging from the enthusiasm." Strict silence had been enjoined on the troops. It was about ten o'clock in the evening when the army passed through the little town of Charlestown. This was located on a narrow peninsula to the north of Boston, but separated from it by rather less than half a mile of water.