When night came, Paul Revere went down to the riverside with his horse and looked over toward Boston. He knew where the old North Church stood, but he could not see much in the darkness.
Hour after hour he stood and watched. The town seemed very still, but every now and then he could hear the beating of a drum or the shouting of some soldier.
The moon rose, and by its light he could see the dim form of the church tower, far away, but that was all he could see. He heard the clock strike ten, then eleven.
He was beginning to feel tired, but he didn't want to go home, even though he still couldn't see anything or anyone. He wondered, though, if perhaps the soldiers had given up their plan to steal the powder.
He walked up and down the river bank, leading his horse behind him. Still, he kept his eyes turned always toward the dim, dark spot which he knew was the old North Church.
All at once a light flashed out from the tower -- the signal! "Ah! there it is!" he cried. The soldiers had started their march.
He spoke to his horse and put his foot in the stirrup. He was ready to mount when another light flashed clear and bright by the side of the first one. It was the sign that the soldiers would come not by land, but by the river, instead.
Paul Revere sprang into the saddle and, like a bird let loose, his horse leaped forward and thundered down the road.
Away they went through the village street and out upon the country road. "Up, up!" shouted Paul Revere to the people in their beds. "The soldiers are coming! Up, up, and defend yourselves!"
Revere's cries awoke the farmers; they sprang from their beds and looked out. They could not see the speeding horse, but they heard the clatter of its hooves running fast down the road, and they understood the cry, "Up, up, and defend yourselves!
