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! I should think you had
seen enough of fighting the British already. There lies poor Captain Roe
and his men bleeding on the grass before your eyes. What could you do
with a gun?'

"The old man made no reply, but ascended the stairs, and soon returned
with a rusty barrel in his hands. In spite of his wife's incessant din,
he went to his shop, made a stock for it, and put it in complete order
for use. He then saddled a strong white horse, and mounted him. He gave
the steed the rein, and directed his course toward Concord. He met the
British troops returning, and was not long in perceiving that there was
a wasp's nest about their ears. He dashed so closely upon the flank of
the enemy that his horse's neck was drenched with the spouting blood of
the wounded soldiers. Then reining back his snorting steed to reload,
he dealt a second death upon the ranks with his never-failing bullet.
The tall, gaunt form of the assailant, his grey locks floating on the
breeze, and the color of his steed, soon distinguished him from the
other Americans, and the regulars gave him the name of 'Death on the