ppling blow, and, if possible, to do it
without bloodshed, was taken. Spies had informed him that the patriots'
depot of ammunition was at Concord, and he had determined to send a
secret expedition to destroy those stores. Meanwhile, however, the
patriots were in great doubt as to the time when the definite movement
was to be made.

Fully appreciating the importance of secrecy, General Gage quietly got
ready eight hundred picked troops, which he meant to convey under cover
of night across the West Bay, and to land on the Cambridge side, thus
baffling the vigilance of the townspeople, and at the same time
considerably shortening the distance his troops would have to march. So
much pains were taken to keep the actual destination of these troops a
profound secret, that even the officer who was selected for the command
only received an order notifying him to hold himself in readiness.

"The guards in the town were doubled," writes Mr. Drake, "and in order
to intercept any couriers who might slip through them, at the proper
moment mounted patrols were sent out on the roads leading to Concord.
Having done what he could to prevent intelligence from reaching the
country, and to keep the town quiet, the British general gave his orders
for the embarkation; and at between ten and eleven of the night of April
18, the troops destined for this service were taken across the bay in
boats to the Cambridge side of the river. At this hour, Gage's pickets
were guarding the deserted roads leading into the country, and up to
this moment no patriot courier had gone out."

[Illustration: ROBERT NEWMAN HOUSE, BOSTON, MASS.]

Newman with his signals and Paul Revere on his swift horse were able,
however, to baffle successfully the plans of the British general. The
redcoats had scarcely gotten into their boats, when Dawes and Paul
Revere started by different roads to warn Hancock and Adams, and the
people of the country-side, that the regulars were out. Revere rode by
way of Charlestown, and Dawes by the great highroad over the Neck.
Revere had hardly got clear of Charlestown when he discovered that he
had ridden headlong into the middle of the British patrol! Being the
better mounted, however, he soon distanced his pursuers, and entered
Medford, shouting like mad, "Up and arm! Up and arm! The regulars are
out! The regulars are out!"

Longfellow has best described the awakening of the country-side:

"A hurry of hoofs in the village stree