ched the Americans that Lord Rawdon was
approaching. On the following night the light of his
camp-fires could be seen on the neighboring hills of the
Santee. The garrison saw them as well as the assailants, and
were filled with renewed hope.

What was to be done? The besiegers must succeed quickly or
retreat. Lee was not long in devising an expedient. The
mansion of Mrs. Motte was shingled and the shingles very
dry. There had been no rain for several days, and the sun
had poured its rays warmly upon them. They might be set on
fire. Lee suggested this to Mrs. Motte, with much dread as
to how she would receive it. Her acquiescence was so
cheerful that his mind was relieved. The patriotic woman
expressed herself as ready to make any sacrifice for her
country.

Lee told his plan to Marion, who warmly approved it. It was
proposed to do the work by means of arrows carrying flaming
combustibles. As it proved, however, the only bows and
arrows they could find in the camp were very inferior
articles.

"They will never do," said Mrs. Motte. "I can provide you
with much better. I have in the house an excellent bow and a
bundle of arrows, which came from the East Indies. They are
at your service."

She hastened from the room, and quickly returned with the
weapons, which she handed to Lee as cheerfully as though she
looked for some special benefit to herself from their use.
Word was sent to McPherson of what was intended, and that
Rawdon had not yet crossed the Santee. Immediate surrender
would save many lives. The bold commandant still refused.

At midday, from the shelter of the ditch, Nathan Savage, one
of Marion's men, shot several flaming arrows at the roof.
Two of them struck the dry shingles. Almost instantly these
were in a flame. The fire crept along the roof. Soldiers
were sent up to extinguish it, but a shot or two from the
field-piece drove them down.

There was no longer hope for McPherson. He must surrender,
or have his men burned in the fort, or decimated if they
should leave it. He hung out the white flag of surrender.
The firing ceased; the flames were extinguished; at one
o'clock the garrison yielded themselves prisoners. An hour
afterwards the victorious and the captive officers were
seated at an ample repast at Mrs. Motte's table, presided
over by that lady with as much urbanity and grace as though
these guests were her especial friends. Since that day Mrs.
Motte has been classed among the most patr