The Minute Boys of Lexington

306 pp. "As Roger hurried along, as fast as his tired limbs would permit, he felt in his pocket to learn if the packet the dead British lieutenant had given him was safe. It was still where he had placed it, and now, to make sure that it would not slip out and become lost, he pinned the pocket shut. It would have been foolhardy to have risked his life in the neighbourhood of the highway, where a desultory firing was being kept up for the distance of half a mile at one time. He struck directly into the woods, over rocks and small brush, until, quarter of an hour later, he reached an old trail, which led, in a roundabout course, to the confines of the homestead farm. Roger was both hungry and thirsty, having had scarcely a mouthful since early morning. Coming to the brook again, he procured a drink, and at the same time made up his mind to get something to satisfy the cravings of his stomach, as soon as the house could be reached. The trail, under the trees and down in a hollow, was gloomy and uncertain, and he moved along with caution, for fear of a nasty tumble or another surprise by the enemy. The sound of distant firing in the direction of his home told him that the conflict was not yet at an end around the place. A half mile had been covered, and he was moving along with increased confidence, when a crashing in the brush ahead brought him to an abrupt halt. He listened intently, but the crashing ceased almost immediately. What was it he had heard' Eagerly he asked himself the question. Was it man or beast, friend or foe'"