“Oh, we will. Just as soon as I can talk to Gran and Sally Rose. Back to Newburyport, perhaps. Why don’t you come to see us there?” “Can’t tell. Looks like I’ll have some fighting to do first. Glad you took our side and told me that British fellow’s secret, instead of hiding his little plan for him.” A startled look came over Kitty’s face. “Why--why, I did betray Gerry, didn’t I? I--I never thought of it like that.” “’Course you betrayed him. You’re too good a Yankee to do aught else, as I can see. Good-by, Kitty.” He strode into the kitchen on his way to the garden and the barn behind it. The last thing he heard was a triumphant squeal from Sally Rose. * * * * * Colonel John Stark of the New Hampshire line was not in his quarters that night, but walking among the tents on the hillsides above Medford, talking with his men. After the long ride from Charlestown, Tom Trask felt weary and breathless when he finally caught up with his old neighbor. The colonel stood in a grove of oak trees where a little brook drained down. All along the brook the crude sailcloth tents clustered very thick. Campfires were burning low now. Some of the men lay sleeping on the ground beside them. Others were playing cards, jubilant when they could fling down the ace to take the queen. Stark was talking with a couple of grizzled veterans who had fought beside him in the Indian wars, but he broke off when the younger man came panting up. “Where you been, lad?” he asked, and clapped Tom on the shoulder. “Couldn’t believe it when Moore reported you missing. Shut up in gaol, maybe? I know you got some good reason for being away.” Tom could not bring himself to look at the keen blue-gray eyes and sharp, viselike face. “I been raiding the islands with some of Putnam’s men,” he muttered. “But on my way back tonight, I heard a word in Charlestown you ought to know.” “You got no business raiding islands, nor being in Charlestown,” snapped the colonel, all the warmth and friendliness gone from his voice. “Get back to Captain Moore, and tell him where you been. He’ll deal with you.” He turned away. Tom nerved himself to step forward and pluck the sleeve of Stark’s new blue uniform. “Colonel Stark, sir,” he stammered. “You know what I heard in Charlestown? It come straight from a British captain, what I heard.” The colonel turned toward him again. “What was it?” he demanded. Tom lowered his voice. No use in alarming the men. “Oh, a very great secret it was, told in confidence to a girl. This captain said that the British mean to move out of Boston before the week’s end. They mean to seize and fortify either Dorchester Heights or Bunker Hill.” He paused expectantly. John Stark uttered a mirthless ha-ha.