and
he had, no doubt, done the enemy some damage with it. But his face was
beaten in, and he had two or three bayonet stabs in his breast. The
little boy had been shot through the head. I was a pretty tough-hearted
man, but I fainted at the sight; and, when I came to myself, I found my
wife and the youngest child bending over me crying. How they did hug and
kiss me when they saw me revive! I think I did as much to them, for I
never expected to see them alive. My wife told me that the old man would
fire at the British as they were passing the house, and some of them
stopped, broke open the doors, and knocked the things about. The old man
and the little boy ran up stairs, while my wife and the other child ran
from the house towards a neighbor's. As she ran away, she heard the
muskets fired, but couldn't stop, as she thought the rascals were after
her. She had returned as soon as she knew they were far on the road. I
didn't grieve long; but sent her for the doctor at Lexington to dress my
wound. Boys, boys, I've made many a red-coat pay for the lives of that
old man and child. I hated them enough before, but that day's work made
me all gall!" The memory of gratified revenge lighted up the old man's
eyes as he spoke. He was a man of stern spirit, and no thought that such
revenge was wrong ever crossed his mind.

"I can tell you folks of something more about that retreat from
Concord," continued Davenport. "The story is generally known up around
the country here, but some of you may not have heard it. It's about old
Hezekiah Wyman, who gained the name of 'Death on the pale horse.'"

"I heard the story, and saw the old man on his white horse," remarked
Kinnison; "but it will interest the young men, no doubt--so drive on."

[Illustration: HEZEKIAH WYMAN.]

"Well, you see," began Davenport, "the window of old Hezekiah Wyman's
house looked out on the ground where the British shot our men at
Lexington. The old man saw the whole affair, and it made him so savage
that he vowed to revenge his countrymen if he fell in doing it.

"'Wife,' said he, 'is there not an old gun-barrel somewhere in the
garret.'

"'I believe there was,' said she; 'but pray what do you want with it?'

"'I should like to see if it is fit for service,' replied he. 'If I am
not mistaken, it is good enough to drill a hole through a rig'lar.'

"'Mercy on me, husband! are you going mad? An old man like you--sixty
years last November--to talk of going to war!