Cornwallis had been on the point of advancing into North Carolina; but being unwilling to leave Morgan’s brigade in his rear, he despatched Colonel Tarleton against him. Morgan had, at first, retreated before the superior numbers of the British; but being closely pursued, he halted at a place called the Cowpens, and arranged his men in the order of battle. Tarleton’s headlong dragoons rushed upon him; the militia had given way and the regular troops followed. Just when it seemed that Morgan was beaten, he succeeded in reforming his scattered ranks and ordered a general charge. Shamed, and eager to show their gallant leader that his faith in them had not been misplaced, the Americans dashed at the astounded enemy and sent them flying in all directions. Upon receiving intelligence of Tarleton’s repulse, Cornwallis left the banks of the Broad River, after destroying his heavy baggage, and commenced one of his rapid marches toward the fords of the Catawba, hoping to reach there in time to intercept the retreat of Morgan, who would, of course, know that he would now be pursued by the main body of the enemy. This was the news which General Greene had just received, and which made him so anxious to go to Morgan and personally see that no rash measures were attempted that would endanger the brigade. He, with Tom Deering, Cole and a half dozen mounted infantry, started next morning. After a hard ride of almost two days they reached Morgan where he had encamped upon the Catawba. He had reached the fords about two hours before Cornwallis; the camp-fires of the latter could be seen across the river, for the British general had put off the crossing until morning, being sure that he would overtake his adversary then. But, as fate willed it, the Catawba rose rapidly during the night; and, to Cornwallis’ consternation, was impassable for two days. Greene now took command of Morgan’s division in person; Tom was sent out with a party to watch the movements of the enemy who, as soon as they could cross the river, were once more in hot pursuit. It was a race for the Yadkin, now; the Americans were weighted down with baggage and their progress was slow; the British carried nothing, practically, but their arms, and their march was made at great speed. The rear-guard of the patriots was about crossing the Yadkin when the van of the British came up. Greene had put Tom in charge of a small party which was detailed to protect some baggage wagons; the wagons got stuck in the soft and badly cut ford and the enemy galloped forward with cheers to cut them off. “Stand, men!” called Tom, calmly. “Steady! Don’t give an inch! We’ll make these fellows pay dearly for the baggage. Hold your fire until I give the word.”