It is well known that, after the defeat of Gates, Congress hastened to supersede that general, and appoint Greene to succeed him. At the period of the incidents narrated in the last chapter, the new commander-in-chief had arrived in the South, and was organizing his forces.

His very first proceeding showed the resources of an intellect, which, in military affairs, was second only to that of the “father of his country.” Aware that the initiatory step toward redeeming the South was to arouse the confidence of its people, he determined to divide his force. While, therefore, he moved with one portion down the Pedee, he despatched Morgan, with the remainder, west of the Catawba, in order to encourage the inhabitants in that quarter. Morgan’s corps was accompanied by Capt. Washington’s light dragoons, of which our hero had already become a conspicuous member.

This division of his army, in the face of an active foe, would have been a capital error, but for the political advantages it offered, and which over-balanced the military ones. Cornwallis, then in command of the royal army, determined to frustrate the success of Greene’s plan, by cutting off Morgan’s detachment; and accordingly ordered Col. Tarleton, with his renowned dragoons, accompanied by a competent force of infantry, to give pursuit.

It was on the 14th of January, 1781, a day ever to be remembered in the annals of our country, that the heroic Morgan learned the danger in which he stood. He determined immediately to give battle. For this purpose he halted at a place called the Cowpens, and having drawn up his troops, awaited, though not without anxiety, the appearance of the foe.

The attack of Tarleton, as usual, was impetuous, and for awhile the American militia were driven helplessly before it; but soon they rallied, under cover of a few continentals belonging to Morgan’s command, and in turn forced the British to give ground. These brave soldiers of the line, led by their colonel, now charged with the bayonet, when the route of the royal infantry became complete.

Washington, with his cavalry, had been waiting impatiently a chance to participate in the fight; but having been stationed as a partial reserve, the order for him to engage did not for some time arrive. His troops shared his enthusiasm. Composed chiefly of young men of family, and mounted on thorough-bred animals, they presented a formidable appearance, as they stood, awaiting the order to engage, the horses champing at the bit, and the riders nervously fingering their swords: they saw the onset of the British, the flight of the first line, and the partial panic that extended through the foot soldiers with horror; but still their leader remained unmoved. Many had never been in battle before, and such believed the day lost; among these was Albert.

At last the confusion became so great around them that troops so undisciplined, if less brave, would have taken to ignominious flight; for the defeated militia were pouring down upon them from all sides, almost compelling them to break their ranks, or see the fugitives perish under the hoofs of their horses. But now Washington seemed to rouse from his inaction. Ordering his men first to allow the flying militia to gain their rear, he then directed them, his sharp, quick tones showing that the moment for action had come, to close up and prepare to charge.

As he spoke, he pointed with his sword ahead, and our hero beheld the renowned regiment of Tarleton coming down upon them at full gallop, and amid a cloud of dust, driving before a mass of dismayed fugitives. The keen eye of Washington measured, for an instant, the distance between them, and then said,

“I want no fire-arms used to-day, my lads. Stick to the cold steel. And now, for God and your country—charge!”

Away went the troop, like a thunder-bolt suddenly loosed from a cloud, with every scabbard jingling, every steed snorting with excitement, and the solid earth shaking under them. In full career they burst upon the flank of the enemy, who, disordered by his pursuit, could make but a feeble resistance. Horse and rider went down before the impetuous charge of the Americans, who for awhile fairly rode down their foes. But British valor soon proved too weak for the combined patriotism and courage of Washington’s cavalry; and the royal troops, taming their bridles, took to ignominious flight.

“On, on,” cried Washington, waving his sword for his men to follow, “remember the cruelties of these myrmidons. Revenge for our slaughtered countrymen!”

At the word, his men, thus reminded of the butchery of the Waxhaws and of the other atrocities perpetrated under the eye of Tarleton, spurred their horses afresh, and dashed on in pursuit. A complete panic had now taken possession of the royal cavalry, who hurried on at full gallop, each man thinking only of himself. Close on their heels followed the indignant Americans, cutting down mercilessly every red-coat they overtook, until the road was strewed with the dead. Foremost in this pursuit rode Washington, a precedence he owed, not only to his superior steed, but to his eagerness to overtake an officer just ahead, whom he judged to be Tarleton himself from his effort to rally the fugitives.

The tremendous pace at which Washington rode, at last carried him so far ahead of his men, that, at a bend in the highway, he found himself totally alone. At this moment, the British, looking back, perceived his situation, and immediately turned on him, his principal assailants being Tarleton and two powerful dragoons.

Knowing, however, that assistance must be close at hand, Washington resolutely advanced to meet the enemy, determined to seize Tarleton for his prisoner. But, before he could reach the colonel, the two dragoons dashed at him, the one on the right, the other on the left. He saw only the first of them, however, and accordingly turned on him, clove him down with a single blow of his sabre, then rushed at Tarleton himself.

But, meantime, the other dragoon was advancing, totally disregarded, upon him, and with upraised blade would have cut him down, had not our hero, who had pressed close after his leader, at this instant wheeled round the corner of the wood. At a single glance he took in the whole scene. Albert saw that before he could come up Washington would be slain, unless fire-arms were employed. In this emergency he did not hesitate to disobey the orders of his leader. Jerking a pistol from his holster, he aimed full at the dragoon, just as the sabre of the latter was sweeping down on Washington’s head. The man tumbled headlong from his saddle, his sword burying itself, in the dust.

“Ha! who is that?” said Washington, sternly, so astonished to find his orders disobeyed, that he turned; a movement which Tarleton took advantage of to make good his escape. “You, Albert!—you!”

“There was no other way,” answered our hero, and he pointed to the dead dragoon, “to save your life. His sabre was within six inches of you when I fired.”

“It could not be helped, then, I suppose,” answered Washington, who now comprehended the event, and saw that he owed his life to the quickness of thought of his young friend; “but stay, you are yourself hurt.”

As he spoke, he saw blood issuing from the sleeve of Albert, and immediately afterward the young soldier reeled and fell senseless to the ground.

Two pistol shots had been discharged from the enemy, Washington now recollected, immediately after Albert had fired. On examination, one ball was found in the arm of our hero. The other had perforated the coat, immediately over the heart.

“He is dead,” cried the leader, “that second shot has touched a vital part.”

He tore away the garments as he spoke, but uttered a cry of joy when he exposed the chest, for there, right over the heart, lay a miniature, which had stopped the ball.

Washington looked at the picture, and muttered, “Ha! I have heard of this—and now I will see if I cannot serve my young friend a good turn.”

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