He tried to get to his feet, but he couldn’t because his head was too big and heavy. His head was as big as the whole world. His head was drifting away on a tide of darkness that swept by. _Chapter Fourteen_ THE YOUNG MAY DIE Kitty did not know what time it was or how long she had been asleep. She only knew that she was wide awake now, somewhere in the empty black middle of the night, and she could hear Gran’s voice from the taproom below. “You may be an officer, young man,” Gran was saying, “furthermore, you may have come all the way up here from Connecticut, but I’m not impressed with that. I’m not one of your soldiery, nor obliged to take your orders. This is my son-in-law’s house, and the taxes upon it paid. I mean to stay here till he orders me from it.” Kitty leaped out of bed and ran to the head of the stairs where she could hear better. “It’s only for your own safety, Ma’am,” a harassed young voice was explaining. “There’s going to be all hell to pay here tomorrow morning.” “So you’ve been telling me,” went on Gran calmly, “and in that case, I’d better get some sleep to be ready for it. Good night, young man.” Kitty heard the slamming of the front door. She crept downstairs. Gran was methodically taking all the best silverware out of the chest and wrapping each piece separately in flannel. “What’s the matter, Gran?” asked Kitty. She drew her flimsy nightrail around her and stood there shivering. Gran went on sorting out porringers and teaspoons. “There’s going to be trouble, child,” she said. “The town’s full of soldiers, and there’s more soldiers digging some sort of burrow above us on the hill. They say by daylight we can expect shooting.” “Are they British soldiers?” asked Kitty. After all, Gerry Malory had warned her, and she had passed the message on, telling Gran it was something she had heard in the street. Gran had scoffed at the idea, refused to be driven away. “British! No! They be still drinking and gambling in Boston, and like to stay there till the blast of Gabriel’s horn, if you ask me. These soldiers are our own lads, and they sent the word about that since they’ve entrenched themselves on a hill the British wanted, they look for a battle.” “If--if there is a battle, what will we do?” asked Kitty. “We’ll do what is needed,” said Gran shortly. “Right now I want you to wake Sally Rose. Put on your oldest dresses and good stout shoes. No flounces and toothpick heels, mind. Pick up whatever valuables you have and bring them to me.” Sally Rose, still sleepy-eyed, was enchanted at the prospect of adventure. She brought a whole little chest full of trinkets when they returned to the kitchen. Kitty had only her mother’s cameo brooch, and she pinned that inside her bodice. Gran held out a willow basket full of the carefully wrapped silver.