Young Folks Magazine, Vol. I, No. 2, April 1902

Every little noise startled him. If Molly stepped upon a crackling branch, he threw a startled look from left to right, fearing that some enemy lurked in the thickets which bordered the road. It would be an awful thing to be shot down from ambush, and it would scarcely matter whether he was shot by bushwhackers or scouts of the American army. By and by, however, the narrow woodroad opened into a broader highway.