When the Marshall boys--Edward and Joseph--had learned what it was our purpose to do, they proposed to join us as Minute Boys rather than enlist directly under General Marion’s command, and thus we lads, who had but a few seconds previous believed we were doomed to imprisonment, gained two recruits of such metal as was needed in the organization. It can well be understood that we did not waste much time after the explanations had been made, but pressed forward toward the ferry once more, as soon as the new recruits had muffled the feet of their horses, and I said to Archie Gordon as we rode along side by side: “If it were possible to come across four or five more like these lads who have just joined us, we might be in shape to gather in those who are guided by that traitorous cur,” and he replied, as if the idea gave him great pleasure: “Ay, and it would be an adventure worth thinking about were we alone in this section of the country; but as it is, with our friends at Snow’s Island ignorant of what is going on near about, I am of the opinion that however strong we might grow by reason of additional recruits, there could be no fair excuse for making any such attempt.” Now we had guides in plenty, for the Marshall boys were better acquainted with this section of the country than was Peter, and instead of making for the ferry, where there was even chance we might find some of the troopers posted on guard, they proposed that we make a short cut to a point on the river fully half a mile above Gardine’s Ferry, where they believed we could swim the horses across. The only danger in such a crossing was that we would be obliged to travel over a considerable extent of swamp, but this both they and old Peter believed would be more advisable than taking the chances of meeting the enemy at the ferry. As had been agreed upon, so we did, and although more than once after gaining the opposite bank of the stream did it seem possible the horses would be mired, we were so far successful that when the first glimpse of the coming day appeared in the eastern sky we were on the highway, riding swiftly toward that crossing of the Black River known as Potato Ferry. From this moment it was as if all the difficulties had been removed from our path. When the sun set we were at Britain’s Ferry, on the bank of the Great Pedee River, and Snow’s Island was barely four miles away; but, owing to the darkness, Gabriel believed we were warranted in remaining where we were rather than in attempting to go down the stream, for daylight was needed in crossing to the rendezvous.