Summary

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

Little Chris Snyder, the smallest and perhaps the youngest of the throng, had fallen with an ominous-looking wound in the vicinity of his lungs, and Chris Gore was leaning against the palings, big crimson drops falling from his shoulder to the frozen earth.
Amos, at once recognising the fact that Snyder was the most grievously wounded, raised the little German lad's head tenderly on his arm as he implored those nearest to keep the crowd back, and when the excited ones in the rear finally understood what was required, every order given by Amos, boy though he was, received implicit obedience.
Source: Gutenberg

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

Then Amos, shaking Master Piemont's assistant much as a terrier shakes a rat, released his hold, and, as he walked away with his arm in Jim's, he heard Hardy cry, threateningly:
"Before this trouble is ended, you shall see what I can do!"
"It is such fellows as he who will bring discredit on the cause of liberty," Jim whispered. "You must be careful from this out, Amos, or that braggart will make good his threat."
Source: Gutenberg

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

Before five minutes had passed Master Piemont's assistant was the most thoroughly whipped boy in the Colony of Massachusetts, and perfectly willing to acknowledge himself such, if by so doing he could prevent a continuation of the punishment.
"I can't strike a fellow when he will no longer defend himself," Amos said, as if in apology, after Hardy was so cowed as to remain passive under the blows. "I don't reckon you other fellows really knew what you were about when you came here to raise a row, so we'll let the matter end here.
Source: Gutenberg

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