here was no halting at Buckman's
tavern, where they had fired their first volley. Their ranks were in
confusion. Officers were trying to rally them, threatening to cut them
down with their swords if they did not show a bold front to the
minute-men, but the Yankees seemed to be everywhere and yet nowhere.
Bullets were coming from every direction, yet the British could see no
men in line, no ranks at which they could take aim or charge with the
bayonet. They were still twelve miles from Boston, and their
ammunition failing. They were worn and weary with the all-night march,
and were hungry and thirsty. The road was strewn with their fallen
comrades. The wounded were increasing in number, impeding their
retreat. Their ranks were broken. All was confusion. Every moment some
one was falling.[63] Blessed the sight that greeted them,--the brigade
of Earl Percy, drawn up in hollow square by Mr. Munroe's tavern, with
two cannon upon the hillocks by the roadside. They rushed into the
square and dropped upon the ground, panting and exhausted with their
rapid retreat.

[Footnote 63: "They were so concealed there was hardly any seeing
them. In this way we marched between nine and ten miles, their numbers
increasing from all parts, while ours was reducing by deaths, wounds,
and fatigue, and we were totally surrounded with such an incessant
fire as it is impossible to conceive. Our ammunition was likewise near
expended." "Diary of a British Officer," _Atlantic Monthly_, April,
1877.]

Roger halted a few minutes on Lexington Green, where the conflict
began in the morning. He saw the ground stained with the blood of
those who had fallen,--crossed the threshold where Jonathan Harrington
had died in the arms of his wife. Across the Common the house and barn
of Joseph Loring were in flames, set on fire by the British.

Earl Percy's troops were ransacking the houses a little farther down
the road. In Mr. Munroe's tavern they were compelling old John Raymond
to bring them food, and because he could not give them what they
wanted, sent a bullet through his heart.[64]

[Footnote 64: "We marched pretty quiet for about two miles, when they
began to pepper us again. We were now obliged to force almost every
house in the road, for the rebels had taken possession of them and
galled us exceedingly; but they suffered for their temerity, _for all
that were found in the houses were put to death._" "Diary of a
British Officer," _Atlantic Monthly_,