Under the Liberty Tree: A Story of The 'Boston Massacre'. Otis James

won't be long coming," the barber's apprentice replied, in a meaning tone, as if his especial mission in life was to correct the shortcomings of others. "Now that this work has been begun by the boys of Boston, it will be continued by them."

      "You said that this Richardson is a relative of our friend Amos?"

      "An uncle, but Amos has cast him off long since," and Hardy's assumption of importance was almost comical. "He is reading the names now; perhaps thinks he is called upon to protect Master Lillie. As I said before, he had best remain hidden from view. How Amos would rage if he could see his uncle at this moment!"

      "Then he has no love for him?"

      "As much as a frog has for a red rag."

      The mob, who had been in the best possible humour, now began to show signs of anger as the informer made himself conspicuous, and half-muttered words soon became loudly-spoken threats.

      "The informer himself should hang from that pole!"

      "Where are the feathers? He needs a new coat!"

      "Down with the informer!"

      Richardson turned toward the mob an instant, as if to defy it, and then, as the threats grew louder, entered the house.

      "Whoever did that bit of work should be well paid for it," some one in the crowd said, sufficiently loud for Hardy to hear, and the latter looked triumphantly toward Chris Snyder. "I'll wager it came from under the Liberty Tree."

      "You're right, my friend," the barber's apprentice said, in a loud tone, and in another moment he would have revealed that which should be kept a secret, had not the arrival of several British officers given him, in his opinion, an opportunity of yet further distinguishing himself.

      "There is Lieutenant Draper," he said, sufficiently loud for all in the immediate vicinity to hear, "and this time he shall listen to what I have to say, unless he is willing to settle his account."

      "Are you going to speak to that officer?" Chris Gore asked, as he detained Hardy for an instant by stepping in front of him.

      "Why not? He should pay that which he owes."

      "But this is not the proper time to speak of business affairs. No man would listen to a barber's apprentice in public, like this."

      "He shall listen to me," Master Piemont's assistant replied, loftily. "It is to me he owes the money, and I do not intend to be defrauded."

      Before his companion could check him, the valiant Hardy stepped quickly up to Lieutenant Draper, who was in company with two brother officers, and said, in an offensive tone:

      "I was at the Custom House yesterday to see you, sir."

      "And pray, why did you take it upon yourself to go there?" the lieutenant asked.

      "Because I wanted the money you owe Master Piemont for dressing your hair, and I went where I was most likely to find you."

      The lieutenant's face grew pale with anger, and he made a motion as if to strike the impudent boy, but one of his companions said, in a warning whisper:

      "Be careful what you do, Draper. An injudicious word or act now might arouse this apparently peaceable assemblage into an unruly mob!"

      Glancing around him, the officer realised the truth of the remark, and would have turned away but that Hardy stepped yet nearer, and, in a louder voice, cried:

      "Will you give me the money now, or shall I visit the Custom House again?"

      "Hark you, lad," Lieutenant Draper said, angrily, but speaking so low that only those in the immediate vicinity could hear the words, "if you dare present your barber's account to me in public, I'll have you punished for an insolent cur. When I am ready to pay your master, I will call at his shop."

      "The account belongs to me. It has been turned over by Master Piemont, and the money must be paid."

      "Be careful of your words, my fine fellow, or they will lead you into trouble!"

      The lieutenant was now almost beside himself with anger, and, understanding that he might do something rash, his brother officers literally forced him to accompany them up the street, while the barber's apprentice, not wishing to leave the scene of what he considered his triumph, hurled insolent epithets after the soldiers.

      "What are you doing, Hardy Baker? Do you want to bring about a riot?"

      Turning quickly, Master Piemont's assistant saw his friend Amos, who had just come up, and he retorted:

      "I am attending to my own affairs."

      "It is better you should do that in private. You have no right to brawl in the streets, even though your debtor be an enemy."

      "I have the right to do that which I please, and it will become you better to turn your attention to the informer, who is at the same time your relative."

      1

      Gilman's "Story of Boston."

      2

      In 1809 this same Christopher Gore became Governor of the Commonwealth of Mass

1

Gilman's "Story of Boston."

2

In 1809 this same Christopher Gore became Governor of the Commonwealth of Massachusetts.