be inquired into. The law
shall have its course. Now, fellow-citizens, let me urge you to retire
to your homes."

"No, no! Send the troops to their barracks. We won't go till they are
gone!" the shout from the people.

"I have no power to order them."

[Illustration: The Town House.]

"The troops to their barracks! to their barracks!"

"I cannot do it; I have no authority."

"Arrest Preston! Hang the villains! To the barracks!" shouted the
angry multitude.

"I will consult with the officers," said Hutchinson.

He went into the council chamber. Louder the outcry of the indignant
people. The troops were as they had been, drawn up in two lines, the
front rank kneeling, ready to fire upon the gathering multitude.
Robert felt that it was a critical moment. If the troops were to fire
into the surging throng, the gutters would run with blood.

"The troops to their barracks! Away with them!" the cry.

"I will order them to their barracks," said Colonel Dalrymple, who
recognized the danger of the moment.

Robert breathed more freely when the front rank rose, and the troops
filed once more through Pudding Lane to their quarters.

Tom Brandon had come with his gun ready to fight. A great crowd
gathered around the Town House where the governor was holding a court
of inquiry. Robert and Tom edged themselves into the room, and heard
what was said and saw what was going on. It was nearly three o'clock
in the morning when the magistrates directed the sheriff to put
Captain Preston and the soldiers who had fired the volley in jail. It
was a great satisfaction to Robert and Tom to go up Queen Street and
see the redcoats enter the jail and hear the key click in the lock
behind them. Civil law was still supreme.

The night was far gone when Robert reached the Brandon home. Although
retiring to his chamber, he could not compose himself to sleep. He was
looking into the future, wondering what would be the outcome of the
massacre.

Long before the rising of the sun the following morning, the streets
were swarming with people, hastening in from the country, with muskets
on their shoulders, with indignation and fierce determination manifest
in every feature, assembling in Faneuil Hall; but only a few of the
multitude could get into the building.

"The Old South! Old South!" cried the people, and the crowd surged
through Dock Square and along Cornhill to the Old South Meetinghouse.
Samuel Adams, John Hancock, Joseph Warren, a