during this fight that Andrew
Jackson--a mere lad--hearing the noise of the conflict, while he sat in
the log-house of his mother, besought her to allow him to take his
father's gun, and fly to join his brothers. And it was vain that the
parent restrained him, knowing the temperament of the boy, from this
dangerous determination; for with one warm embrace and parting kiss upon
the brow of his mother, Andrew Jackson buckled on his powder-horn and
bullet-pouch, and rushed to the scene of battle. But his friends were
already flying, and hotly pursued by the enemy. Andrew met his brother
Robert, who informed him of the death of their elder brother, Hugh; the
two boys now fled together and concealed themselves in the woods, where
they lay until hunger drove them forth--they sought food at a farm
house, the owner of which proved to be a _tory_, and gave information to
some soldiers in the vicinity--the Jacksons were both captured and led
to prison. In the affray--for they yielded only by force--Robert was cut
on the head by a sword in the hands of a petty officer, and he died in
great agony in prison. It was here and then that the firm and manly
bearing of the boy was exhibited; for he stood his griefs and
imprisonment like a true hero. Not a tear escaped him by which his
enemies might be led to believe he feared their power, or wavered in his
allegiance to the cause of his country.

"Here, _boy_, clean my boots!" said an officer to him. But the bright
defiant eye of the boy smote the captor with a look, and as he curled
his firm lips in scorn, he answered,

"No, sir, I will _not!_"

"You won't? I'll tie you, you young saucy rebel, to your post, and skin
your back with a horse whip, if you do not clean my boots."

"Do it," said the lion-hearted boy--"for I'll not stoop to clean the
boots of your master!"

The infuriated ruffian drew his sword, and to defend his head from the
blow, Andrew threw up his little hand and received a gash--the scar of
which went with him to the tomb at the Hermitage. A Captain Walker, of
South Carolina, with a dozen or twenty men, during the imprisonment of
Andrew Jackson, made a desperate charge upon a company of the British,
near Camden, and captured thirteen of them; these prisoners he exchanged
for seven of his countrymen, including the boy Andrew Jackson, prisoners
of the enemy. Andrew hurried home--his poor old mother was upon her
death bed, attended by an old negro nurse of the Jackson f