ng of that sort; but
this is the story he told Chris Gore, from whose home I have just
come: After the meeting last night, and when it had been fully decided
that nothing should be done until Monday, Hardy, having an idea the
Britishers would be frightened, thought it a good time to demand
payment from Lieutenant Draper. Without heeding the warning which the
officer gave him on the morning poor little Chris Snyder was killed,
Hardy went to the Custom House again this forenoon, and says he simply
asked to see the lieutenant; but most likely he was as insulting as
when he met that officer on Hanover Street. The sentry knocked him
down, and now Hardy shows the wound as his claim to be considered a
living martyr. It may be exactly as he says, that the soldier had no
provocation, other than the demand to see the lieutenant; but I don't
believe that portion of the story, for after yesterday's troubles it
isn't reasonable to suppose the troops would invite another conflict
with the citizens. It is said they have been ordered to hold no
communication whatever with the people, and it is positive that the
sentry at the Custom House struck Hardy."

"I suppose he is now more violent than ever?"

"Yes, and has a stronger belief that his countrymen depend upon him to
avenge their wrongs. Come down to Liberty Hall, and see him make a
spectacle of himself."

"I think it is wiser for me to stay here."

"Why?" Jim asked, in surprise.

"Because, if I should meet Hardy now, while he is so puffed up with
pride because he has been attacked by one of the enemy, he might say
something which would lead to an encounter between us; and I don't think
it would be well to raise any disturbance on the street at this time."

"Perhaps you are right; but yet--"

Jim was interrupted by the noise as of a heavy blow against the side
of the house, which was repeated half a dozen times before either of
the boys could step to the window.

Then came threatening cries:

"We have got one Richardson in jail; now bring out the others!"

"Drive out the informers!"

[Illustration]

"Boston is no place for assassins!"

By this time Amos and Jim were where they could look into the street;
but a view of what was taking place there was not necessary to explain
to them the cause of this sudden attack.

They knew that Master Piemont's assistant was making good his threat
of the previous evening.

Ten or a dozen half-grown boys, with the barber's appren