kest of the struggle from first to last. Then
he joined in the pursuit.

The group of horsemen with whom Rodney was riding came to forks in the
road. Rodney's training among the Indians often proved valuable and
now he declared there were but two horses of the enemy on the road
they had come, also that they had divided at the forks, each taking a
different road. As many of the cavalry had come to the Cowpens over
this road early the same morning, there was a confusion of tracks and
a consequent confusion in the minds of the pursuers. Allison doggedly
stuck to his conclusion and rode on alone.

Judging from the tracks, it was evident that the fleeing British
cavalryman had ridden his horse at a mad gallop and Rodney urged his
own to the utmost.

On either side of the road stretched a scraggly growth of trees.
Suddenly his horse shied and at the same instant a pistol shot rang
out. The lad's left hand relaxed its grasp of the bridle and slipped
nervelessly to his side. The ball had broken his arm below the elbow.
Had his horse not been frightened and shied, the ball intended for his
heart probably would have hit the mark.

A British rider came crashing through the bushes. Finding there was
but one pursuer, and he wounded, the fellow had decided to fight. He
certainly had Allison at serious disadvantage, but the latter,
slipping the half drawn pistol back into the holster, grasped the
bridle with his uninjured hand and wheeled his horse sharply to meet
the foe, who was almost upon him.

For an instant each stared in astonishment at the other. Then into the
face of young Allison swept a savage fury. His gray eyes looked black
and blazing. He dropped the bridle and drew his sword, spurring his
unguided horse forward. The horse swerved and Rodney missed the blow
he aimed at the head of his antagonist. The latter was a better
swordsman on equal terms, and Rodney, unable to use his left hand, was
at a decided disadvantage.

Soon he was at his wits' end. Twice the thrust of his antagonist had
grazed his neck. Thinking he had Rodney at his mercy, the Englishman
rose in his stirrups and swung his blade with evident intent to cut
him down. In parrying the blow Rodney's inferior blade was broken near
the hilt, which was knocked from his hand. He struck his horse a smart
blow with his right spur, reached for his pistol and cried "Down,
Nat!"

Mogridge, for the Englishman was none other than the one who had
stolen Nat and ne