ton, we
must arm ourselves and fight."

[Illustration: "The soldiers are slaying people," a man shouted.]

It was a scene of wild confusion. They could get no farther on
Cornhill. The crowd began to pour into side-streets. Rumors were
flying about that many had been killed and wounded. An hour or so
later Jack and Solomon were seized by a group of ruffians.

"Here are the damn Tories!" one of them shouted.

"Friends o' murderers!" was the cry of another.

"Le's hang 'em!"

Solomon immediately knocked the man down who had called them Tories and
seized another and tossed him so far in the crowd as to give it pause.

"I don't mind bein' hung," he shouted, "not if it's done proper, but no
man kin call me a Tory lessen my hands are tied, without gittin' hurt.
An' if my hands was tied I'd do some hollerin', now you hear to me."

A man back in the crowd let out a laugh as loud as the braying of an
ass. Others followed his example. The danger was passed. Solomon
shouted:

"I used to know Preston when I were a scout in Amherst's army fightin'
Injuns an' Frenchmen, which they's more'n twenty notches on the stock
o' my rifle an' fourteen on my pelt, an' my name is Solomon Binkus from
Albany, New York, an' if you'll excuse us, we'll put fer hum as soon as
we kin git erway convenient."

They started for The Ship and Anchor with a number of men and boys
following and trying to talk with them.

"I'll tell ye, Jack, they's trouble ahead," said Solomon as they made
their way through the crowded streets.

Many were saying that there could be no more peace with England.

In the morning they learned that three men had been killed and five
others wounded by the soldiers. Squads of men and boys with loaded
muskets were marching into town from the country.

Jack and Solomon attended the town meeting that day in the old South
Meeting-House. It was a quiet and orderly crowd that listened to the
speeches of Josiah Quincy, John Hancock and Samuel Adams, demanding
calmly but firmly that the soldiers be forthwith removed from the city.
The famous John Hancock cut a great figure in Boston those days. It is
not surprising that Jack was impressed by his grandeur for he had
entered the meeting-house in a scarlet velvet cap and a blue damask
gown lined with velvet and strode to the platform with a dignity even
above his garments. As he faced about the boy did not fail to notice
and admire the white satin waistcoat and white s