“There we are,” said the boy. “Nobody will ever know that is there. The maize will soon grow over the spot, and it will never be noticed.” They took up spade and mattock, and silently set off for the house; behind them still crouched Mark Harwood, an expression of malignant triumph upon his cold, sly face. “It’s safe, is it, Tom Deering?” he muttered, below his breath. “That’s all you know about it. Sir Henry Clinton will soon be master of all about here, and father and I will be masters of the Deering plantation. Then we shall see if your chest of gold is safe, or no.” And with a low laugh, he shook his fist after the two retreating forms; then he turned and cut swiftly across the fields, for day was coming fast and it would not do for him to be observed. CHAPTER V HOW TOM JOINED MARION’S BRIGADE WITHIN a week after Tom had hidden his father’s four thousand pounds in the old well Charleston had capitulated, and the army of General Lincoln was in the hands of the British. The dragoons of Lieutenant-Colonel Tarleton overran the whole district between the city and the Cooper River; the patriot bands were broken up and scattered in every direction. In spite of the peril Tom could scarcely bring himself to leave the city and its neighborhood. It seemed like deserting his task, like seeking safety for himself and leaving his father to his fate. “He may be on board one of those war-ships, Cole,” said he to the slave, as they sat in their saddles prepared to leave the plantation. “It cuts me to the heart to go; but to remain means certain capture, and as a prisoner I could, of course, do nothing. I’ll go,” and he held up his clinched hand as though making a vow, “but I’ll return again. I’ll never rest content till my father breathes free air again.” For a time South Carolina seemed doomed; defeat followed defeat so rapidly that the hopes of the colonists were paralyzed, their spirits subdued. Moultrie, who might have led them, was a prisoner of war; Governor Rutledge had withdrawn to the North State to stir up the people, and win over recruits to the cause of liberty; even Sumpter, Horry and like bold spirits had to fly for their lives. During the siege of Charleston, Francis Marion had lain with a broken leg in a little cabin far back in the swamps of the Santee district. Before the arrival of Clinton and his army, the little Huguenot had met with an accident which prevented his taking part in the defence of the city. Now, when Tarleton and his men, and the harsh troopers of Cornwallis, were scouring the country all about, he was still confined to his couch. He was too conspicuous a person, his military talents had been too well proven, for the enemy to have forgotten him. So his only safety was in hiding and watching and waiting for his hour to strike.