“He never seems to have heard of the barnyard proverb, ‘Don’t count your chickens before they are hatched.’ In his fancy he has met the British and routed them on every hand. It promises badly for the army, my lad.” “Can we do nothing, sir?” “I fear not. General Gates is not the man to tolerate interference. If he were more open to advice he would be a much safer leader.” With the departure of Marion the better genius of Gates left him. The British, under Lords Rawdon and Cornwallis, were in possession of Camden, a small town upon the east bank of the Wateree; and Gates conceived the idea of surprising them. On the night of the 15th of August he left his camp at Rugely’s Mills and advanced toward Camden. Upon the same night the British made a move to surprise Gates; so, almost before they knew it, the vanguards of the two armies met in the darkness near a small stream of water known as Sanders Creek. Before breaking his camp Gates had sent to Marion for a few horsemen who knew the country; and Marion had sent Tom and Cole to lend what aid they could. These two were in the advance guard of the American army when it encountered that of the British. Tom’s big chestnut horse Sultan, up to his knees in the waters of Sanders Creek, was the first to note the approach of the enemy; he cocked his ears, threw up his head and snorted. “What is it, boy?” said Tom, his eyes running over the ground before him as well as the darkness would permit. As though in answer there came a scattering of rifle-shots and a “pinging” of the leaden messengers about his ears. He wheeled and rode back to the banks. Saluting the captain in command, he reported: “The enemy, sir, seem to be on the other side of the creek.” The captain was inexperienced and very nervous. “What force is there?” asked he. “Could not make out, sir, because of the darkness. Shall I cross and try to find out?” “If you think it safe,” said the captain. “That it is necessary is enough for me,” returned Tom, proudly. He spurred Sultan into the water once more, and under cover of the night crossed the stream. A long line of British cavalry was stretched directly in front; they had, undoubtedly, sent word back to their main body and were now waiting for orders. Tom dismounted and took a long observation of the foe’s position; when at last he remounted and crossed the creek once more, he found that General Gates himself had ridden forward and was anxiously awaiting his report. “Their advance is stretched all along the stream, sir,” said the lad, saluting. “And from indications their main body is coming up rapidly.”