ight have they to be standing there? King George is
supreme!

"Disperse, you rebels! Lay down your arms and disperse!" he shouts.

Captain John Parker hears it. The men behind him, citizens in their
everyday clothes, with powder-horns slung under their right arms, hear
it, but stand firm and resolute in their places. They see the
Britisher raise his arm; his pistol flashes. Instantly the front
platoon of redcoats raise their muskets. A volley rends the air. Not a
man has been injured. Another volley, and a half dozen are reeling to
the ground. John Munroe, Jonas Parker, and their comrades bring their
muskets to a level and pull the triggers. With the beams of the rising
sun falling on their faces, they accept the conflict with arbitrary
power.

"What a glorious morning is this!" the exclamation of Samuel Adams on
yonder hill.

[Illustration: JONATHAN HARRINGTON'S HOUSE Jonathan Harrington was
wounded where the stone now stands, and fell dead at the doorstep of
his house]

Seven minute-men have been killed, nine wounded. Captain Parker sees
that it is useless for his little handful of men to contend with a
force ten times larger, and orders them to disperse.

The redcoats look down exultantly upon the dying and the dead, give a
hurrah, and shoot at the fleeing rebels.[60]

[Footnote 60: "We then formed on the Common, but with some difficulty.
The men were so wild they could hear no orders. We waited a
considerable time, and at length proceeded on our way to Concord,
which we then learned was our destination." "Diary of a British
Officer," _Atlantic Monthly_, April, 1877.]

Jonas Parker will not run.

"Others may do as they will, I never will turn my back to a redcoat,"
he said a few minutes ago. He is on his knees now, wounded, but
reloading his gun. The charge is rammed home, the priming in the pan,
but his strength is going; his arms are weary; his hands feeble. The
redcoats rush upon him, and a bayonet pierces his breast. He dies
where he fell.

With the blood spurting from his breast, Jonathan Harrington staggers
towards his home. His loving wife is standing in the doorway. He
reaches out his arms to her, and falls dead at her feet.

Caleb Harrington falls by the meetinghouse step. A ball plows through
the arm of John Comee, by Mr. Munroe's doorway.

The Britishers are wild with excitement, and remorselessly take aim at
the fleeing provincials. They have conquered and dispersed the rebels.
Colonel Sm