isoner in such a manner, and by a woman, too,
was too much for the lad's endurance. "Let me go!" he cried, the instant
he could recover his breath. "I won't hide away in your garret, like a
woman, I won't. I want to see the militia and the minute men fight the
troops, I do."

"Help me first, Joe. Here, quick now; let's get this box out and up
garret. We'll hide it under the corn and it'll be safe," she coaxed.

The box was under Uncle John's bed.

"What's in the old thing any how?" questioned Joe, pulling with all his
strength at it.

The box, or chest, was painted red, and was bound about by massive iron
bands.

"I've never seen the inside of it," said Mother Moulton. "It holds the
poor old soul's sole treasure, and I DO want to save it for him if I
can."

They had drawn it with much hard endeavor, as far as the garret stairs,
but their united strength failed to lift it. "Heave it, now!" cried Joe,
and lo! it was up two steps. So they turned it over and over with many a
thudding thump; every one of which thumps Uncle John heard, and believed
to be strokes upon the box itself to burst it asunder, until it was
fairly shelved on the garret floor.

In the very midst of the overturnings, a voice from below had been
heard crying out, "Let my box alone! Don't break it open. If you do,
I'll--I'll--" but, whatever the poor man MEANT to threaten as a penalty,
he could not think of anything half severe enough to say and so left it
uncertain as to the punishment that might be looked for.

"Poor old soul!" ejaculated the little woman, her soft white curls in
disorder and the pink color rising from her cheeks to her fair forehead,
as she bent to help Joe drag the box beneath the rafter's edge.

"Now, Joe," she said, "we'll heap nubbins over it, and if the soldiers
want corn they'll take good ears and never think of touching poor
nubbins"; so they fell to work throwing corn over the red chest, until
it was completely concealed from view.

Then he sprang to the high-up-window ledge in the point of the roof and
took one glance out. "Oh, I see them, the Red-coats. True's I live,
there go the militia UP THE HILL. I thought they was going to stand and
defend. Shame on 'em, I say." Jumping down and crying back to Mother
Moulton, "I'm going to stand by the minute men," he went down, three
steps at a leap, and nearly overturned Uncle John on the stairs, who,
with many groans was trying to get to the defense of his strong box.