Peggy said no more. The climax came in August when, utterly routed at Camden, Gates fled alone from his army into Charlotte. A few days later, Sumter, who now commanded the largest force that remained in the Carolinas, was surprised by Colonel Tarleton as he bivouacked on the Wateree, and put to rout by that officer. Elated by his success Cornwallis prepared for his northward march, and in furtherance of his plans inaugurated a reign of terror. One night in the latter part of August Peggy could not sleep. It was very warm, and she rose and went out on the little porch where she stood trying to get a breath of air. The sea moved with a low murmur, the surf being very light. “How warm it is,” she mused. “Even the sea is quiet to-night. How different it is down here from my own Philadelphia. Is mother there now, I wonder? Or would she be at Strawberry Hill? I wish——” She bent her head abruptly in a listening attitude. The tramp of a horse approaching in a gallop was plainly heard. But a few moments elapsed before a man, who in the starlight she could see was armed, dashed up and drew rein before the cottage calling loudly: “Awake! Awake, Henry Egan! The British and Tories are coming. Awake, man, awake!” “Friend,” called the girl excitedly, “who is thee?” “A friend. Jack Simpson,” he answered. “Is Egan dead, that he does not answer? He must awake.” Peggy ran to the door of the bedchamber, calling wildly: “Friend Henry, Friend Mandy, awake, awake!” “Who calls?” cried Egan, sitting up suddenly. “’Tis Peggy,” answered she quickly. “A friend is here who says the Tories are coming.” “The Lord have mercy on us,” ejaculated Mistress Egan springing out of bed. “Henry, Henry, get up! The British and Tories are upon us.” At last awake, the fisherman sprang from his bed, and rushed to the door. “Get your wife and whatever you want to save,” shouted the man outside. “The British are out with Fanning’s Tories burning every suspected house in the district. No time to lose, Henry. They’re coming now.” Egan hurried back into the house, and caught up a portmanteau which he kept lying by his bed at night. Mistress Egan and Peggy were dressed by this time, and the three hurried into the swamp which lay to the north of the cottage. The man who had given the warning passed on to perform the same office for other menaced families. Unused to swamps, the British seldom followed the inhabitants into their recesses, and this proved the safety of many a family in the Carolinas. They were scarcely within the confines of the marsh when they heard the tramp of many hoofs, the neighing of horses, and the enemy was at the cottage. “By my hilt, the birds have flown,” shouted an English voice, and the words were distinctly heard through the stillness of the night. “Search the house, boys. Egan must have some rich pickings. Bring out whatever there is of value, and then burn the hut. The horses and cattle must be hereabouts somewhere.”