While all this was taking place, indeed, Prescott had regained the road, and was pressing onward at speed.  He reached Concord about two o’clock in the morning, and immediately gave the alarm.  As quickly as possible the bells were set ringing, and from all sides people, roused by the midnight alarum, thronged towards the centre square.  As soon as the startling news was heard active measures were taken to remove the stores.  All the men, and a fair share of the women, gave their aid, carrying ammunition, muskets, cartridges, and other munitions hastily to the nearest woods.  Some of the cannon were buried in trenches, over which a farmer rapidly ran his plough, to give it the aspect of a newly-ploughed field.  The militia gathered in all haste from neighboring villages, and at early day a large body of them were assembled, while the bulk of the precious stores had vanished.

[Illustration:  The spirit of ’76.]

Meanwhile, momentous events were taking place at Lexington.  The first shots of the American Revolution had been fired; the first blood had been shed.  It was about four o’clock when the marching troops came within sight of the town.  Until now they had supposed that their secret was safe, and that they would take the patriots off their guard.  But the sound of bells, clashing through the morning air, told a different tale.  In some way the people had been aroused.  Colonel Smith halted his men, sent a messenger to Boston for re-enforcements, and ordered Major Pitcairn, with six companies, to press on to Concord with all haste and secure the bridges.

News that the troops were at hand quickly reached Lexington.  The drums were beaten, the minute-men gathered, and as the coming morning showed its first gray tinge in the east, it gave light to a new spectacle on Lexington green, that of a force of about a hundred armed militiamen facing five or six times their number of scarlet-coated British troops.

It was a critical moment.  Neither party wished to fire.  Both knew well what the first shot involved.  But the moment of prudence did not last.  Pitcairn galloped forward, sword in hand, followed quickly by his men, and shouted in ringing tones,—­

“Disperse, you villains!  Lay down your arms, you rebels, and disperse!”

The patriots did not obey.  Not a man of them moved from his ranks.  Not a face blanched.  Pitcairn galloped back and bade his men surround the rebels in arms.  At this instant some shots came from the British line.  They were instantly answered from the American ranks.  Pitcairn drew his pistol and discharged it.

“Fire!” he cried to his troops.

Instantly a fusillade of musketry rang out upon the morning air, four of the patriots fell dead, and the other, moved by sudden panic, fled.  As they retreated another volley was fired, and more men fell.  The others hid behind stone walls and buildings and returned the fire, wounding three of the soldiers and Pitcairn’s horse.