Preston had succeeded in raising a troop, for his name was an influential one in his neighborhood, and he was soon one of Marion’s most trusted adherents. A man who is willing to throw his life away on every occasion, speedily acquires the reputation of daring and bravery. The country around the Santee, which was the chief scene of his exploits, rung with the name of our hero. Nor was his foster-brother, now a serjeant in Preston’s troop, and one of Marion’s acutest scouts, without his share of renown. Meantime the gay society of Charleston had suffered considerable diminutions. Many of the royal officers were absent with their commands, and a large portion of the gentry had retired to their estates. Among these was Mr. Mowbray, who secretly meditated joining the continental side again. Kate, too, was absent with her aunt, at the estate of the latter. To this place the course of our story now carries us. Mrs. Blakeley’s mansion had heretofore escaped the visitation of war, but within a few days a detachment under Col. Watson had halted there on its march to Camden. With him came Major Lindsay, still an eager suitor for Kate. But scarcely had Col. Watson encamped on the plantation, when a body of Marion’s men, conspicuous among whom was Capt. Preston, made their appearance, and daily harassed the British officer, by cutting off his communications, assailing his pickets, and sometimes even beating up his camp. One evening Kate was sitting sewing with her aunt in the parlor, conversing with Col. Watson, and several of his officers, who were their guests, when the servant came in to light the candles. Old Jacob, as he was called, filled the office of butler in the family, and was quite a character. He was a Whig at heart, and cordially disliked his mistress’s compulsory visiters. Having been his deceased master’s personal servant, he had thus acquired a footing of familiarity which allowed him to have his joke even at the table where he waited. He piqued himself moreover on what he thought his breeding and fine diction. He was a source of constant amusement to the British officers, who, however, found him sometimes their overmatch in repartee. “Well, Jacob, what news?” said Major Lindsay. “Any more rebels captured?” Old Jacob turned, bowed his head profoundly, and showing his teeth in a broad grin, said— “Dare is no news yet, sar, dat I know on; but ’spose dare will be some afore mornin’; for, sartain, Capt. Preston will beat up your quarters as usual: and den, how de red-coats run!” Kate looked up archly, yet colored when she caught the major’s eye. That personage bit his lip, and remarked— “Never mind Capt. Preston, Jacob: he’ll be our prisoner very soon. Has the flag of truce come back?” “Oh! yes, sar,” said old Jacob, his face radiant with delight. “Habn’t you heard? Dat great news, sar. ’Spose you know Sargent Macdonald?”