Several of Watson's officers who were present when the message was delivered, advised him by all means to return his clothes, for that they knew him to be a most desperate fellow, one who would stop at nothing he set his head upon; witness his late daring act of climbing like a cougar, into a tree, to kill his passing enemies. Watson sent him back his wallet of clothes. Soon after this, the enemy decamped silently in the night, and took the road towards Santee. On the return of day announcing their flight, Marion ordered me to take the mounted riflemen, thirty in number, with fifty horse, and pursue and harass the enemy as much as possible, till he could come up with the infantry. About night I approached their encampment, and halted in a neighboring swamp; whence I continued to send out small parties, frequently relieved, with orders to pop away at their sentinels, and keep them alarmed and under arms all night. At daybreak they pushed hard for the sandpit bridge. We followed close in the rear, constantly firing on them from every thicket and swamp; and often, in spite of their field pieces, making false charges. Never did I see a body of infantry ply their legs so briskly. The rogues were constantly in a dog trot, except when they occasionally halted to give us a blast, which they did from their whole line. But though their bullets made a confounded whizzing and clatter among the branches over our heads, yet thank God they did no harm, save that of scratching some three or four of us. On coming within a few miles of it, we made a rapid push for the bridge, which we quickly rendered impassable, by throwing off the plank and sleepers. Then having posted my riflemen in the thick woods, within fifty yards of the ford, under command of lieutenant Scott, I drew up my cavalry close in the rear, and waited impatiently for the enemy, hoping to give a handsome Bunker's Hill account of them. The enemy were presently in sight, and formed in close column, began to push through the fording place, though full waist deep. My heart now throbbed with anxiety; looking every moment for a stream of fire to burst upon the British, spreading destruction through their ranks. But, to my infinite mortification, no lightnings bursted forth; no thunders roared; no enemy fell. As, half choked with grief and rage, I looked around for the cause, behold! my brave lieutenant Scott, at the head of his riflemen, came stooping along with his gun in his hand, and the black marks of shame and cowardice on his sheepish face. "Infamous poltroon," said I, shaking my sword over his head, "where is that hetacomb of robbers and murderers due to the vengeance of your injured country?"