Not one word that Joe uttered did the little woman hear. She was
already by Uncle John's side and asking him for the key to his strong
box.

Uncle John's rheumatism was terribly exasperating. "No, I won't give
it to you!" he cried, "and nobody shall have it as long as I am above
ground."

"Then the soldiers will carry it off," she said.

"Let 'em!" was his reply, grasping his staff firmly with both hands
and gleaming defiance out of his wide, pale eyes. "_You_ won't get the
key, even if they do."

At this instant, a voice at the doorway shouted the words, "Hide, hide
away somewhere, Mother Moulton, for the Red Coats are in sight this
minute!"

She heard the warning, and giving one glance at Uncle John, which look
was answered by another "No, you won't have it," she grasped Joe
Devins by the collar of his jacket and thrust him before her up the
staircase so quickly that the boy had no chance to speak, until she
released her hold, on the second floor, at the entrance to Uncle
John's room.

The idea of being taken a prisoner 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 anyhow?" 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 you 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