The place where he was confined was in the lower part of the fort, directly in range of the shells from the iron-clads, and Frank expected to be struck by them every moment, for the pieces flew about him in all directions.  Oh, how he prayed that the fort might be taken!  He could see that one of their heaviest guns was dismounted, and a large detail of men was constantly occupied in carrying off the dead and wounded.

The firing continued until four o’clock in the afternoon, and then the gun-boats suddenly withdrew.  The rebels cheered loudly as they disappeared around a bend in the river, and Frank gave up all hope:  nothing now remained for him but a long captivity.

That evening, as soon as it was dark, he, with the other prisoners, was marched on board the General Quitman, a large steamer, lying just below the fort, and carried to Haines’ Bluff, and from thence they went by rail to Vicksburg.  Here Frank was separated from his men, and confined, for two days, with several army officers, in a small room in the jail.  Early on the third morning he was again taken out, and sent across the river, into Louisiana, with about three hundred others.  Their destination, he soon learned, was Tyler, a small town in Texas, where most of the Union prisoners captured in Mississippi were confined.

They were guarded by a battalion of cavalry, under command of the notorious Colonel Harrison, who called themselves the “Louisiana Wild-cats.”  Frank had never before seen this noted regiment, and he found that they were very appropriately named; for a more ferocious looking set of men he had never met.  They all wore long hair and whiskers; and their faces looked as though they had never been acquainted with soap and water.  They were armed with rifles, Bowie-knives, and revolvers, and seemed to take pleasure in boasting of the number of women and children and unarmed men they had slain.

They had not made more than a day’s march, when Frank found that his troubles were just commencing.  He was not accustomed to marching, and his feet soon became so swollen that he could scarcely stand on them.  The heat was almost intolerable; the roads were very dusty, and the places where they were allowed to obtain water were many miles apart.  Besides, as if to add to their sufferings, the rebels were continually stealing from the prisoners, and, finally, some of them were left with scarcely any clothing; and if the poor fellows ventured to remonstrate against such treatment, they were shot or bayoneted on the spot.

On the fourth day of the march, Frank noticed a soldier, just in advance of him, who was so weak that he could scarcely keep his feet.  He had been wounded in the arm, at the late battle before Vicksburg, but not the least notice had been taken of it by the rebels, and he was suffering the most intense agony.  Frank, although scarcely able to sustain himself, owing to the swollen condition of his feet, offered his assistance, which the poor fellow was glad enough to accept.  But he continued to grow weaker every moment, and, finally, in spite of Frank’s exertions, fell prostrate in the road.