Herbert Miller was an intelligent young man, and he was at heart a sympathizer with the patriots, and hoped the American people would gain their independence, but of course he did not say much about this in the settlement, where he boarded. He was not a resident of this community, having come from a point more than a hundred miles distant.
Suddenly the sound of voices and the scraping of feet were heard by the teacher, and he rose and walked to the door. He was about to open it, but hesitated, and then placed his eye to a crack and looked through. He saw standing in front of the schoolhouse four men, and they were the worst and most rabid Tories in the settlement. Their leader was Hank Sprowl. He was practically a desperado, who made his living by hunting, and was not liked even by those who professed to be his friends.
Miller stood there gazing through the crack and wondering why the Tories were there. What did it mean? And why did they not enter, if they had business with him?
These questions he could not answer, and so after hesitating a few moments, he having first thought of opening the door and questioning the men, he turned and walked back to his desk, sat down and began reading. “If they have any business with me, they will come in and say so, presently.” This he thought was likely.
Suddenly Miller’s attention was attracted by a tapping on the window, and he glanced in that direction, and saw the face of Henry Philips, a boy of ten years, and a true friend of his. The boy was indeed a patriot at heart, and for that reason he was not liked by the other pupils at the school, and Miller had often interfered to keep bigger boys from abusing Henry, thus earning the boy’s regards.
There was a look of excitement on the boy’s face, and Miller, guessing that there was something in the wind, rose and went quietly to the window, and raising it, was about to speak, but the boy said, “Sh! Don’t say anything, Mr. Miller. I’ve come to warn ye.”
“What is the trouble?” the teacher asked in a whisper.
“The Tories are goin’ to ketch ye when ye leave the schoolhouse an’ give ye a coat uv tar an’ feathers!” whispered the boy, glancing warily around him.
“Cause ye’re a patriot,” was the reply. “Hank Sprowl an’ two or three more Tories are aroun’ at the front, now, waitin’ fur ye to come out.”