reached by narrow
paths which the British were not able to find. Only men who had spent
their lives in that country could make their way safely through this
broad stretch of water plants and water-soaked ground.

Marion's force kept changing. Now it went down to twenty men, now up to
a hundred or more. It was never large, for there was not food or
shelter for many men. But there were enough of them to give the British
plenty of trouble. They had their sentries on the outlook, and when a
party of British or Tories went carelessly past out would spring
Marion's men, send their foes flying like deer, and then back they would
go before a strong body of the enemy could reach them.

These brave fellows had many hiding places in the swamps and many paths
out of them. To-day they might strike the British in one place and
to-morrow in another many miles away. Small as their force was they gave
the enemy far more trouble than Gates had done with all his army.
Marion's headquarters was a tract of land known as Snow's Island, where
a creek ran into the Pedee. It was high and dry, was covered with trees
and thickets, and was full of game. And all around it spread the soaking
swamp, with paths known only to the patriot band. Among all their hiding
places, this was their chosen home.

You may be sure that the British did their best to capture a man who
gave them so much trouble as Marion. They sent Colonel Wemyss, one of
their best cavalry officers, to hunt him down. Marion was then far from
his hiding place and Wemyss got on his trail. But the Swamp Fox was hard
to catch. He lead the British a lively chase, and when they gave it up
in despair he followed them back. He came upon a large body of Tories
and struck them so suddenly that hardly a man of them escaped, while he
lost only one man. Tories, you should know, were Americans who fought on
the British side.

The next man who tried to capture Marion was Colonel Tarleton, a hard
rider and a good soldier, but a cruel and brutal man. He was hated in
the South as much as Benedict Arnold was in the North. There is a good
story told about how he was tricked by one of Marion's men. One day as
he and his men were riding furiously along they came up to an old
farmer, who was hoeing in his field beside the road.

"Can you tell me what became of the man who galloped by here just ahead
of us?" asked one of them. "I will give you fifty pounds if you put me
on his track."

"Do you mean th