rafts, and opened fire upon the troops encamped on the Common.
Only one or two were injured, but it gave the British a great fright.

The sound of the strife stirred Robert's blood. He wanted to be
there,--to take part in driving the redcoats into the sea. The thought
nerved him; but when the uproar died away, he found himself weak, with
his tongue parched and his blood at fever heat. Would strength ever
come? Would he ever be able to take part again in the struggle for
freedom?

Day after day there came one to see him, the sound of whose footsteps
was more inspiring than the roll of the drums, the touch of whose hand
gave him strength, whose presence was a benediction. She sat by his
side and read to him from the poets; told him pleasant stories; laid
her soft hand upon his brow. When he was a little stronger, she and
'Rinthia supported his faltering steps up the stairway to the roof of
the mansion, where he could sit in the sunshine, gaze upon the
beautiful panorama, inhale the life-giving air from the hills, and the
odors wafted from the sea. Across the Charles was the line of yellow
earth behind which he went down in the melee. Upon the higher hill
were the new and stronger fortifications constructed by the British.
The fields, where so many of the redcoats were cut down by the fire of
the New Hampshire men, were dotted with white tents. At the base of
the hill were the blackened ruins of Charlestown. On Prospect Hill
were the earthworks of the provincials. He could not discover any
fortifications on Dorchester Heights, and wondered why either General
Washington or the British commander had not taken possession of such a
commanding position. The Americans ought to seize it; for, with cannon
planted there, they could drive the warships from the harbor. He
doubted if General Washington knew the value of the position. He was
able now to go up and down the stairs without assistance; a few more
days, and he would be strong and vigorous. Then what? He was a
prisoner, and had not been paroled. If the British were to learn he
was getting well, would they not be likely to send him on board one of
the ships and pack him off to Halifax? Even if they did not take such
a course, how could he remain there doing nothing. Oh, if he could
only be with the army again! But were he to go, he must say good-by to
her who had saved his life. Why not remain and enjoy the blessedness
of her presence? But would she not think him wanting in