“My God!” cried Norton and Harding gazing open mouthed at him. “Who was that riding away so fast?” asked the new comer, a sickening sensation creeping over him. “It was—it was—great heavens! how do we know! We thought it was you, Morley!” The boy ground his teeth: “It was an American,” he hissed. “And by thunder!” roared Norton, “we’ve sent him into his own camp with the news of Washington’s advance, on the only good horse among us!” The situation was too much for the three men. In silence they gazed into each other’s faces and grew sick with apprehension. CHAPTER VI. HOW MOLLY BORE THE NEWS. With lowered head, and throbbing nerves, Shirtliffe dashed on in the direction of Boston, but as soon as safety permitted he turned the jaded animal, and breaking into a woodland road, retraced his steps, and with a sobbing appeal to the disappointed brute, struck out for the American camp. “Good horse!” he pleaded, “get me there in time! only that and then we shall both rest!” For one moment he thought of the quiet figure by the road which he was leaving forever, but he dared not give a second thought. Wrapped in the costume of two countries, poor Bill Mason might, or might not find a grave dug by stranger hands; be that as it might it was now the duty of Robert Shirtliffe to bear to the suffering, hopeless patriots the news for which they were yearning. What were his hopes and sorrows now? It was in his power to put strength in sick bodies and joy into hundreds of sad hearts! On, on, plunged the great brown horse. Night fell, and the moon shone calmly down on the tired boy urging and coaxing the animal to its uttermost. The distance, by direct route, from where Robert had left the men, was probably not over seven or eight miles, but in the wood road, it was longer, and to the excited boy the miles seemed endless. Every noise made him chill and hot in turns. A feeling of weakness frightened him. He had fainted _once_ that day, God keep him from another attack! At last he reached the American lines, and a sentry stopped him. He gave the countersign and dragged on. A strange dizziness came over him as he neared his destination. He had never known such exhaustion before. A laugh startled him, and he was even more startled to realize that it was his own laugh. “This must be death,” he thought, remembering the death he had but lately seen. “I can not think clearly.” Then he knew that he could not wait to reach General Lee’s headquarters, and oh! he had wanted to so much! He must make the best of what time and strength he had left. “He’s coming!” he shouted sitting upright in the saddle. “Washington and fourteen thousand men! We are saved, saved! saved!” Again the wild laugh, his laugh, made him shiver. The horse too, took fright and dashed ahead forgetting its weariness. “He is nearing Dorchester Heights! Hear me! hear me! We are saved, we are saved! Ha! ha! ha!”