deal more than you fellows because so
many of Master Piemont's patrons are Britishers. The 'bloody backs'
themselves say this is really the beginning of insubordination in the
Colonies, and before many months have passed the King will find it
necessary to punish us severely. It may be learned that we won't
submit as readily as they seem to fancy."

"But how could it be avoided?" Amos asked, impatiently; for the tone
in which the barber's apprentice spoke, and the swagger he had
assumed, grated harshly upon the boy's nerves.

"We'll arouse the people to action," Hardy replied, loftily.

"Yes, and in the meanwhile the King will have sent over more soldiers
to whip us into submission. If such men as Master Adams are unable to
remedy this state of affairs, I don't believe the yoke of oppression,
which bears so heavily upon the Colonies, will be removed by any
effort at Master Piemont's hair-dressing shop."

"It is all very well for you to sneer when you don't understand the
situation; but your harsh words won't alter the facts, and I tell you,
Amos Richardson, you will see yet more blood spilled."

"And you propose to take a hand in the spilling, I suppose?"

"I shall be wherever anything of the kind is going on, of that you may
rest assured. Do you know where your uncle is at this moment?"

"No."

"The people made prisoners of Wilmot and him, and carried them both to
Faneuil Hall, where they have been examined and committed for trial.
He will be hanged for murder."

"As he should be, even though he is my uncle! But when that has been
done, what then?"

"You shall see," the barber's apprentice replied, in a prophetic tone.
"I am not through with this matter yet."

Then Master Baker walked slowly away, as if the fate of the Colony of
Massachusetts was in his keeping.

The interview with Master Piemont's assistant did not serve to cheer
either Amos or Jim, but rather further distressed them in mind, and,
after trying in vain each to give some comfort to the other, the two
went to Chris Gore's home, where they learned that he was resting
comfortably, in no danger of death.

On the following morning the tolling of the bell on New Brick Church
told that little Chris Snyder was dead, and the city was in more of a
ferment, if possible, than before.

Liberty Hall was crowded with people who had gathered to discuss the
situation of affairs, which now seemed dangerous in the extreme, and
threats against the "bloody