And away they went, along the narrow paths of the swamp, amidst the darkness of the southern night, under the cottonwoods and palmettos; and this little party was the nucleus of Marion’s Brigade, that band of patriots which was a constant thorn in the side of Lord Rawdon; that shadowy, evasive, swift striking brigade whose glory shall live while there is a true heart that remembers. The toil of the march and the dangers were as nothing to Tom Deering; but his spirit was heavy within him, and as they penetrated further and further into the interior it grew heavier still. For each step was taking him further away from his father--the good, kind father whom, sleeping or waking, he never forgot, and who was now lying with heavy irons upon his limbs in some noisome prison pen. CHAPTER VI HOW FRANCIS MARION HEARD GOOD NEWS FROM WILLIAMSBURG FOR weeks the little band pressed on through swamps and over stony roads. The Baron De Kalb, with a force of Continentals from Virginia, was marching south, and it was upon falling in with this army that Marion based his hope of safety. For it had not been long before the alarm was out; the swift, merciless dragoons of Tarleton and the skulking loyalists were after them night and day. How they escaped, they themselves could not afterward remember; the bay of dogs, upon their trail at night, would often startle them into renewed flight; the warning of a friend, or perhaps a slave, would cause them frequently to change their course by day. Marion’s injured limb grew slowly better; at last he was able to dispense with the sling and ride in the usual fashion. After this they made much better progress and pushed northward rapidly. Mrs. Collins was left at a small town with some relatives; the band was augmented from time to time during this flight until at last it numbered some twenty hardened, bronzed men and boys, well-mounted, but poorly armed and clothed. Tom and Cole were scouting one afternoon; it was dark when they rejoined their comrades, who had encamped on the banks of a small stream. Marion, almost entirely well now, sat by the camp-fire cleaning his pistols when Tom threw himself from his tired horse and approached him. “What news on the scout, lad?” asked the commander. “A change has been made in the force which we are anxious to meet,” replied the boy. “General Gates has superseded De Kalb and is pushing south by forced marches. It is his intention, I hear, to carry the war to the enemy instead of waiting for him to attack.” Marion received the intelligence with moody brow. “Gates,” said he, slowly. “I’ve heard of him. A hot-blooded, impetuous officer. Brave, but rash; and not at all the man for the work.” “You, too, think he should avoid a meeting until compelled to fight, do you, major?”