“What’s the matter here?” inquired the colonel, who happened to be riding by.

“This man isn’t able to go any further,” replied Frank.

“Then he doesn’t need any of your help, you young Abolitionist; get back to your place!  Here, Stiles,” he continued, beckoning to one of his men and bending upon him a glance of peculiar meaning, “you stay here until this man dies.”

The colonel rode up to the head of the column again, and Frank was obliged to move on with the others.  But he could not relieve his mind of a feeling that something more dreadful than any thing he had yet seen was about to take place.  He frequently turned and looked back, and saw the man lying where he had fallen, and the rebel, who had dismounted from his horse, standing over him, leaning on his rifle.  At length a bend in the road hid them from sight.  In a few moments, Frank heard the report of a gun, and presently the rebel rode up, with the coat, pants, and boots which had once belonged to the soldier, hanging on his arm.  Such scenes as this were enacted every day; but, for some unaccountable reason, Frank was not molested, beyond having his boots stolen one night while he was asleep.  He had made up his mind that he would escape at the first opportunity; but he was in no condition to travel, and, besides, the sight of several ferocious blood-hounds, which accompanied the rebels, was enough to deter him from making the attempt.

After a march of two weeks, during which he suffered more than he had thought it possible for him to endure, they arrived at Shreveport.  Here they encamped for the night, with the understanding that they were to start for Tyler—­which was one hundred and ten miles further on—­early the next morning.  Frank concluded that he had walked about far enough.  “If I intend to escape,” he soliloquized, “I might as well start from here as from Tyler.  I’ll play off sick, and see if I can’t get them to leave me here; and then, as soon as I become strong enough to travel, I’ll be missed some fine day.”

Accordingly, the next morning, when the prisoners were ordered to “fall in,” Frank did not stir; and, when the sergeant came to arouse him, he appeared to be in the greatest agony.  So well did he play his part, that the doctor declared that it was impossible for him to go on; and he was accordingly left behind.  As soon as the prisoners had gone, he was carried to the hospital, which was a large brick building, standing on the outskirts of the town.  The lower floor was used as a barrack for the soldiers who guarded the building, and the upper rooms as a hospital and guard-house.  Frank found about fifteen Federal soldiers, and as many rebels, who were confined for various offenses, principally desertion.