And, 'By God, madam,' says Tarleton, 'when shots are fired at my men from houses by the inhabitants of any town in America, I'll burn the town and hang the men if I can get 'em.' Some Hussars came up, driving before them the Major's fine herd of imported cattle--and a troop of his brood mares--the same he has so often had to hide in the Rock Hills.

'Stand clear, madam!' bawls Tarleton.

'I'll suffer nothing to be removed from that house!' At this the Major's lady gives one long look after her children, which Betsy Hunt and the blacks are carrying through the orchard; then she calmly enters the burning house and comes out again with a big silver platter and a load of linen from the dining-room in her arms.

And at that a trooper draws his sabre and strikes her with the flat o' the blade--God, what a blow!--so that the lady falls to her knees and the heavy silver platter rolls out on the grass and the fine linen is in the mud.

I saw her blacks lift her and get her off through the orchard.
I sneaked out of the brook willows, took a long shot at the beast who struck her, and then pulled foot." There was a shacked silence among the officers who had gathered to listen.