--and the Marylanders fell back.
In the turning of a leaf our entire fighting front gave way, and what of
the Georgians there were left in the mellay made a frantic dash for the
horses.

At this crisis John Howard saved the day for us by shrewdly executing
the most difficult manoeuver that is ever essayed by a field officer in
the heat of battle. Suffering his men to drift backward until the enemy,
sure now of success, were rushing on in disorder to give the _coup de
grace_, he gave the quick command: "About face! Fire! Charge!"

I saw the volley delivered in the faces of the redcoats at pike's length
range; saw the Virginians on the flanks bend to encircle the enemy; saw
the rout transfer itself at the roar of the muskets from our side to the
recoiling British. Then I heard Dick's shouted command. "Charge them,
lads! they're sabering the Georgians!"

A section of Tarleton's horse had hewed its way past our flank and was
at work on the militiamen scrambling for their mounts. At it we went,
with our brave colonel a horse's length ahead of the best rider in the
troop, pistols banging and sword blades whistling, and that other
curious sound you will hear only when the cavalry engages--the heavy
dunch of the horses coming together like huge living missiles hurled
from catapults.

'Twas soon over, and the enemy, horse and foot, was flying in hopeless
confusion through the open wood. Our troop led the pursuit; and this
brings me to an incident in which thy old chronicler--figuring in the
histories as an unnamed sergeant--had his share.

It was in the hot part of the chase, and Colonel Tarleton--a true Briton
in this, that he would be first in the charge and last in the
retreat--was galloping with two of his aides in rear of the dragoons.
Since many of us knew the British commander by sight, there was a great
clapping-to of spurs to overtake and cut him off. In this race three
horses outdistanced all the others; the great bay ridden by Colonel
Washington, a snappy little gray bestridden by the colonel's boy bugler,
and my own mount.

When the crisis came, our colonel had the wind of the boy and me and
was calling on Colonel Tarleton to surrender at discretion. For answer
the three British officers wheeled and fell upon him. Never was a man
nearer his death. In a whiff, Tarleton was foining at him in front
whilst the two aides were rising in their stirrups on either hand to cut
him down.

'Twas the little bugler boy wh