ed with their old "Queen Anne" muskets at the "right-shoulder
shift," or tramped back and forth along their beats at the double
quick to keep their blood in circulation. At a little distance from
the infantry camp the horses of Washington's dragoons and M'Call's
mounted Georgians were picketed in groups of ten, the saddles piled
together, and a sentinel paced between every two groups, while the
men were stretched around their fires, sleeping on their arms like the
infantry, for it was known that Tarleton had crossed the Pacolet that
day, and an attack was expected at any time. A party of officers were
asleep near one of the fires, with nothing, however, to distinguish
them from the men but the red or buff facings of their heavy cloaks.
One of these lay with his face to the stars, sleeping as placidly as
if his boyish form were safe beneath his mother's roof. One arm lay
across his chest, clasping to his body the staff of a small cavalry
flag, while the other stretched along his side, the hand resting
unconsciously upon a holster-case of pistols. As the glare of the
neighboring fire played over his features it was easy to recognize
Walter Peyton, guarding faithfully, even in his sleep, the banner
which Jane Elliott had cut from her mother's parlor _fauteuil_, and
which had already become known to the enemy. A rough log cabin stood a
little way from the bivouac, before which two sentinels in the uniform
of the Continental regulars were pacing up and down. The gleam of
the roaring lightwood fire flashed through the open seams between the
logs, and heavy volumes of smoke rolled out of the clay chimney.
Just in front of the huge fire-place stood the tall, burly figure of
Morgan, and near him were grouped, in earnest consultation, the manly
figure of William Washington, the brave and knightly John Eager Howard
of Maryland, McDowell, Triplett, Cunningham and other officers of the
field and staff. Determination not unmingled with gloom was visible
upon the faces of all. Every arrangement had been made for the
probable fight of the morrow, and the council was about to disperse,
when the silence of the night was broken by the call of a distant
sentinel, taken up and repeated along the line. Morgan instantly
despatched an orderly, to the bivouac of the guard, and the party were
soon cheered by the intelligence that a courier had just arrived who
reported the near approach of Pickens with three hundred Carolina
riflemen--a timely an