April, 1877.

Earl Percy made the tavern of Mr. Munroe his headquarters.

"A party entered the tavern and, helping themselves, or rather
compelling the inmates of the house to help them to whatever they
wanted, they treacherously and with ruthlessness shot down John
Raymond, an infirm old man, only because he, alarmed at this roughness
and brutal conduct, was about leaving the house to seek a place of
greater safety." Hudson's _Hist. of Lexington_.]

[Illustration: MERRIAM'S CORNER]

Once more the British were on the march.

Roger, rested and invigorated, ran through a pasture, crouched behind
a bowlder, rested his gun upon it, and sent a bullet into the ranks.
He was delighted when Doctor Joseph Warren came galloping over the
hill. The doctor said he left Boston in the morning, rode to Cambridge
and Watertown, then hastened on to Lexington. He was glad the
minute-men and militia had resisted the British. While talking with
Roger and those around him, a bullet whizzed past the doctor's head,
knocking a pin from his ear-lock.

The rattling fire of the minute-men was increasing once
more,--answered by volleys from Percy's platoons. The British,
smarting under the tormenting fusilade, angry over the thought that
they were being assailed by a rabble of farmers and were on the
defensive, became wanton and barbaric, pillaging houses, and murdering
inoffensive old men.

Roger was delighted to hear from Jonathan Loring, one of the Lexington
minute-men, how his sister Lydia, fearing that the British would steal
the communion cups and platters belonging to the church of which her
father was deacon, took them in her apron, ran out into the orchard,
and hid them under a pile of brush.

Pitiful it was to see Widow Mulliken's house in flames,--wantonly set
on fire by the red-coated ruffians.

Roger saw a soldier deliberately raise his gun, take aim, and send a
bullet through the heart of Jason Russel, an old gray-haired man,
standing in his own door. Again, at closer range, he took aim at the
retreating column.

His indignation was aroused as he listened to the story told by Hannah
Adams, a few minutes later. She was in bed in her chamber, with a
new-born babe at her breast, when two redcoats entered the room. One
pointed his musket at her.

"For the Lord's sake, do not kill me," she said.

"I am going to shoot you," the soldier replied, with an oath.

"No, you mustn't shoot a woman," said the other, pushing aside th