Winning His Way | Page 2

what took place in his early years, but he
lost his reckoning many times a day upon what was going on in the
town. He loved to tell stories, and Paul was a willing listener. Pleasant
winter-evenings they had in the old kitchen, the hickory logs blazing on
the hearth, the tea-kettle singing through its nose, the clock ticking
soberly, the old Pensioner smoking his pipe in the arm-chair, Paul's
mother knitting,--Bruno by Paul's side, wagging his tail and watching
Muff in the opposite corner rolling her great round yellow eyes. Bruno
was always ready to give Muff battle whenever Paul tipped him the
wink to pitch in.
The Pensioner's stories were of his boyhood,--how he joined the army,
and fought the battles of the Revolution. Thus his story ran.
"I was only a little bigger than you are, Paul," he said, "when the
red-coats began the war at Lexington. I lived in old Connecticut then;
that was a long time before we came out here. The meeting-house bell
rung, and the people blew their dinner-horns, till the whole town was
alarmed. I ran up to the meeting-house and found the militia forming.

The men had their guns and powder-horns. The women were at work
melting their pewter porringers into bullets. I wasn't o'd enough to train,
but I could fire a gun and bring down a squirrel from the top of a tree. I
wanted to go and help drive the red-coats into the ocean. I asked
mother if I might. I was afraid that she didn't want me to go. 'Why,
Paul,' says she, 'you haven't any clothes.' 'Mother,' says I, 'I can shoot a
red-coat just as well as any of the men can.' Says she, 'Do you want to
go, Paul?' 'Yes, mother.' 'Then you shall go; I'll fix you out,' she said.
As I hadn't any coat she took a meal-bag, cut a hole for my head in the
bottom, and made holes for my arms in the sides, cut off a pair of her
own stocking-legs, and sewed them on for sleeves, and I was rigged. I
took the old gun which father carried at Ticonderoga, and the
powder-horn, and started. There is the gun and the horn, Paul, hanging
up over the fireplace.
"The red-coats had got back to Boston, but we cooped them up. Our
company was in Colonel Knowlton's regiment. I carried the flag, which
said, Qui transtulit sustinet. I don't know anything about Latin, but
those who do say it means that God who hath transported us hither will
sustain us; and that is true, Paul. He sustained us at Bunker Hill, and we
should have held it if our powder had not given out. Our regiment was
by a rail-fence on the northeast side of the hill. Stark, with his New
Hampshire boys, was by the river. Prescott was in the redoubt on the
top of the hill. Old Put kept walking up and down the lines. This is the
way it was, Paul."
The Pensioner laid aside his pipe, bent forward, and traced upon the
hearth the positions of the troops.
"There is the redoubt; here is the rail-fence; there is where the red-coats
formed their lines. They came up in front of us here. We didn't fire a
gun till they got close to us. I'll show you how the fire ran down the
line."
He took down the horn, pulled out the stopper, held his finger over the
tip, and made a trail of powder.
"There, Paul, that is by the fence. As the red-coats came up, some of us

began to be uneasy and wanted to fire; but Old Put kept saying, 'Don't
fire yet! Wait till you can see the white of their eyes! Aim at their
belts!'"
While the Pensioner was saying this, he took the tongs and picked a
live coal from the fire.
"They came up beautifully, Paul,--the tall grenadiers and light-infantry
in their scarlet coats, and the sun shining on their gun-barrels and
bayonets. They wer'n't more than ten rods off when a soldier on top of
the hill couldn't stand it any longer. Pop! went his gun, and the fire ran
down the hill quicker than scat! just like this!"
He touched the coal to the powder. There was a flash, a puff of smoke
rising to the ceiling, and filling the room.
"Hooray!" shouted Paul, springing to his feet. Muff went with a jump
upon the bureau in the corner of the room, her tail as big as Paul's arm,
and her back up. Bruno was after her in a twinkling, bouncing about,
barking, and looking round to Paul to see if it was all right.
"There, grandpa, you have made a great smut on the hearth," said Mrs.
Parker,