od in their veins.

In that spirit of implicit confidence in their stalwart leader even
the raw recruits never thought of trembling on that raw morning in the
middle of January, 1781, when the outposts came riding back with the
report that Tarleton was approaching. They had been placed down in
front with the Marylanders at their backs to support them, and Colonel
Washington's dragoons screened behind the hill waiting for the word
to charge. In front of the Carolina and Georgia militia, between whom
Morgan had excited a spirit of rivalry as to which body should behave
with the greater bravery under fire, riflemen had been stationed.

Soon the American sharpshooters in front began firing and falling back
toward the militia, who never wavered. They had been ordered to hold
their fire and they obeyed implicitly.

Now the solid wall of British infantry is almost upon them, and a
sheet of flame spurts out along the American line; then another and
another, and those raw soldiers only retreat before overwhelming
numbers when it is apparent they can resist no longer, and then, like
veterans, slowly and under orders.

Over behind the hill Rodney Allison's knees grip his horse. This
waiting is worse than fighting, waiting for that soul-stirring word,
"Charge!" Now it rings out and echoes through the ranks, and like a
whirlwind they sweep right through the lines of Tarleton's cavalry
forming for a charge, and, wheeling about, come riding and slashing
back through them again. Colonel Howard is skilfully handling the
troops and the gallant Pickens rallying the militia. The British ranks
waver and become disorganized, the Americans charge and the British
throw down their arms and sue for mercy or flee from the field.

Tarleton is trying to rally his shattered horsemen when down upon them
come Washington's dragoons, with Colonel Washington far ahead of his
men.

Then it is that Tarleton tries to kill or capture his antagonist.
Washington's sword is broken at the hilt and, but for the assistance
of a boy, the brave Washington would have been struck down. Now his
men are at his back and Tarleton rides away with his fleeing men as
though pursued by demons.

Then come orders to pursue and the dragoons go riding out into the
country after the fleeing British. Most of them choose a wrong road
and only succeed in picking up a few stragglers.

Rodney had charged and wheeled and charged again. It had been his
fortune to be in the thic