"It is intended as an insult to Master Lillie, and you, as one of his friends, should be willing to do so slight a favour." "I am a friend of Theophilus Lillie in matters of business, Ebenezer Richardson; but, when it comes to opinions, such as some of us hold and others don't, I am not favourably disposed toward the worthy merchant, as he himself well knows. What is this insult?" The farmer descended from the wagon, and that portion of the throng which had heard his reply readily gave way before him as he advanced, until he could read the names painted on the board. "What does it all mean?" he asked of the man standing nearest him. "Master Lillie is one of those who agreed not to sell British goods, and has not only broken that agreement, but declares that no one shall prevent him from dealing in such wares as he thinks fit." "But the names painted there?" "Are those of the other merchants who believe as does Master Lillie." "Who raised this pole?" "That is what no one can say; but it is safe to guess it came from under the Liberty Tree." The farmer returned to his team, and Richardson asked, eagerly: "Now will you run it down?" "No, Ebenezer. It was put there by Master Lillie's townsmen, and I have no right to interfere, even though I had the inclination, which I haven't. A man who gives his word of his own free will should hold to it or take the consequences. As I said before, Master Lillie's opinions, outside of business affairs, are not my opinions." "You are a coward!" "I live in Massachusetts Colony, and am not willing to pay taxes for the privilege of buying goods from Britishers." Then the farmer mounted his cart, and the crowd, wild with enthusiasm, cheered lustily his sentiments, opening a passage for him as he urged his horses forward. [Illustration] "You are cowards, all of you!" Richardson cried, as if beside himself with rage. "A mob of a thousand men stand by and see an old man insulted like this!" "Your old man has laid himself open to the insult, and deserves it," some one cried. "He shall not be forced to endure it," and the informer seized the pole as if to pull it from the ground, regarding not the shouts and threats which assailed his ears from every direction. Now it was that Hardy Baker saw an opportunity to distinguish himself, as he thought, and, gathering a handful of pebbles from the street, he threw them viciously at Richardson. The mob needed only an example, and, before one could have counted ten, young men and boys were pelting the informer with such missiles as came nearest to hand. Stones, bits of earth, sticks and icicles were hurled at him with no slight accuracy of aim, and, under such a shower, the informer could do no less than beat a retreat, for to have held his ground longer would have been dangerous. Already his face and hands were cut and bleeding, and more than once had a rock, sufficiently large to have knocked him senseless, whistled within a few inches of his head.