nd keen-eyed man, with
his hand on the bridle of an impatiently waiting horse, his
eyes fixed on a distant spire that rose like a shadow
through the gloom of the night. Paul Revere was the name of
this expectant patriot. He had just before crossed the
Charles River in a small boat, rowing needfully through the
darkness, for his route lay under the guns of a British
man-of-war, the "Somerset," on whose deck, doubtless were
watchful eyes on the lookout for midnight prowlers.
Fortunately, the dark shadows which lay upon the water hid
the solitary rower from view, and he reached the opposite
shore unobserved. Here a swift horse had been provided for
him, and he was bidden to be keenly on the alert, as a force
of mounted British officers were on the road which he might
soon have to take.

[Illustration: THE OLD NORTH CHURCH, BOSTON.]

And still the night moved on in its slow and silent course,
while slumber locked the eyes of most of the worthy people
of Boston town, and few of the patriots were afoot. But
among these was the ardent man who stood with his eyes
impatiently fixed on the lofty spire of the Old North
Church, and in the town itself others heedfully watched the
secret movements of the British troops.

Suddenly a double gleam flashed from the far-off spire. Two
lighted candles had been placed in the belfry window of the
church, and their feeble glimmer sped swiftly through the
intervening air and fell upon the eyes of the expectant
messenger. No sooner had the light met his gaze than Paul
Revere, with a glad cry of relief, sprang to his saddle,
gave his uneasy horse the rein, and dashed away at a
swinging pace, the hoof-beats of his horse sounding like the
hammer-strokes of fate as he bore away on his vital errand.

A minute or two brought him past Charlestown Neck. But not
many steps had he taken on his onward course before peril to
his enterprise suddenly confronted him. Two British officers
appeared in the road.

"Who goes there? Halt!" was their stern command.

Paul Revere looked at them. They were mounted and armed.
Should he attempt to dash past them? It was too risky and
his errand too important. But there was another road near
by, whose entrance he had just passed. With a quick jerk at
the rein he turned his horse, and in an instant was flying
back at racing speed.

"Halt, or we will fire!" cried the officers, spurring their
horses to swift pursuit.

Heedless of this command the bold rider d