Tarleton [British Colonel] says that, “on the road many skirmishes took place between the British and the American light troops;” and it is said by others that they seldom shot at each other except across a turn in the road or when crossing a stream of water, though they were often in sight and sometimes within a rifle shot.  Occasionally, however, when the British were pressing too closely on them, they found it necessary to skirmish a little; and in such cases, as Williams [Benjamin Williams, colonel over the North Carolina Regiment], was on the retreat, he could generally select his own ground.  On one occasion of this kind, according to favorable tradition, having drawn up the whole of his men in a position, he made show of fight, and appeared very determined on making a stout resistance.  The British, thinking they had not force enough to encounter him, sent back for two pieces of artillery and a reinforcement of men.  In the corps of Williams was a singular genius, by the name of Tom Archer, from the north-west corner of Guilford county, who, with some others, had probably joined them at Martinville [county seat of Guilford at that time], for the occasion.  He was not remarkable for strength of intellect, but had some other qualities which admirably fitted him for the ever varying scenes of that arduous and perilous march.  Rather above the medium height and well proportioned, bony, muscular and vigorous, he was always in his place and always ready for service.  Though constantly on fatigue and exposed every hour to the most imminent dangers, he never complained or became discouraged.  Frank and open hearted, with a good share of ready wit, and a good flow of spirits, he was the life of his comrades, and contributed not a little to their patient endurance of the toils and perils of the march.  Inflexible in his purpose, when he thought he was right, and enthusiastic in the cause of freedom, rough in his manners, blunt in his language and never caring whether he “murdered the king’s English,” and made “Irish bulls,” [ludicrous and logically absurd statements] all the time or not, he was ever ready to be on the “forlorn hope,” [military situation where the risk is extremely high, essentially a suicide mission] or take his turn at any kind of service.  If to the above characteristics we add a great catfish mouth [wide mouth with down-turned corners], a big stentorian [booming] voice, and a bushy head of hair that would hardly thank you for a hat, you have Tom Archer before you as large as life; and probably the reader will think with the writer that, in some situations at least, such a man would be a very desirable friend; but, at all times a most undesirable enemy; or in other words, that he would, if not wronged or provoked in any way, be as clever a fellow as could be found in his sphere of life, ready to divide his last ration with a comrade or risk his life for a friend, but would “fight his weight in wild cats” before he would suffer any man or any set of men to trample on his rights.  Hunting had been his delight from the time he was old enough to “draw a bead;” and, with his fine rifle, which he always carried and always kept in good order, he hardly ever missed his aim at any distance within two hundred yards.