"Yes," answered the rebel, gruffly.
"Then keep your mouth shut, and let me talk to him," commanded Frank.
Raising his voice, he answered to the hail, "Friend!"
"Is that you, Lieutenant Somers?" inquired the voice.
"Yes," answered Frank. "Come here; I've got a supply of provisions,
and another prisoner."
"Another Yank, eh!" said the man; and Frank heard him coming through
the woods toward him.
"Well, we've one less to catch, then. Where is he? Let's have a squint
at him."
"Never mind the prisoner," exclaimed Frank, "but come and take these
provisions; they're heavy."
The rebel, who could not discover that any thing was wrong, reached
out his hand, and took the traveling-bag from Frank, when the latter
suddenly seized him by the collar, and exclaimed, as he pressed the
muzzle of his revolver against his head:
"You're my prisoner!"
For an instant the rebel appeared utterly dumfounded; then, suddenly
recovering himself, he struck up Frank's arm, and, with a quick
movement, tore himself away from his grasp, and drew his Bowie-knife.
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