and Indians made its appearance, and
surrounded the fort, which was nothing more than a stockade. The
yelling of the savages threw all the women and children into the utmost
confusion,--all except Aunt Nancy. That wonderful woman, who never knew
what fear was, only became more energetic in the face of danger. There
was a small cannon in the fort, but it was not in position to reach
the enemy with its fire. After trying her best to lift the cannon into
position, Aunt Nancy remembered the young man who had been left in
the fort, and looked about for him; but he was not to be seen. A close
search discovered him hiding under a cowhide. Aunt Nancy pulled him
out by the heels, and vowed she would make mince-meat of him unless he
helped her to move the cannon. The fellow knew perfectly well that Aunt
Nancy was not to be trifled with when her blood was up. He gave her the
necessary assistance. She aimed the cannon and fired it, and the Tories
and savages promptly took to their heels.

On another occasion when the river was high, it became necessary for the
Americans on the Georgia side to know what was going on on the Carolina
side; but no one could be induced to venture across. Hearing of the
difficulty, Aunt Nancy promptly undertook to go.

The freshet had swept away all the boats, but to Aunt Nancy this was
a trifling matter. She found a few logs, tied them together with
grapevines, and on this raft made the voyage across the river. She
gathered the necessary information, and made haste to communicate it to
the Georgia troops.

Aunt Nancy was the mother of eight children,--six sons and two
daughters. Her eldest daughter, Sally, married a man named Thompson,
who was as quicktempered as his mother-in-law. After the war, Aunt Nancy
moved to Brunswick. Sally and her husband followed a year or two later.
In passing through Burke County, they camped for the night by the
roadside. The next morning Thompson ordered a white man, who had been
hired as a teamster, to perform some duty. Thompson's tone was so
peremptory that the man returned an insolent answer, and refused. In a
fit of rage, Thompson drew his sword, and severed the man's head from
his body with one swinging stroke. He then drove the team himself until
he came to the first house, where he gave information that he had cut
off a fellow's head at the camp down the road, and that they "had best
go and bury him." He then drove on, but was overtaken, arrested,
and lodged in