When they were out of hearing, he paused to deliberate.  It was evident that he could not travel through those deep woods at night; should he wait until it became dark, and then boldly follow the road, or should he remain where he was until morning?  There was one great objection to the first proposition, and that was his uniform, and the danger he would run of being captured by the night patrol, which he knew were stationed at intervals along the road.  It did not seem possible for him to remain where he was; for now, that he had partly got over his excitement, he began to feel the cravings of hunger; in fact, it almost rendered him desperate, and he began to wish that he had surrendered without a struggle, or that he had not attempted to escape at all, for, if he were a prisoner, he could probably obtain sufficient food to keep him from starving.  But he knew that his time was too precious to be wasted with such foolish thoughts; besides, when he thought of home and his mother, who had evidently heard of his capture, all ideas of surrendering himself vanished, and he felt that he could endure any thing, even starvation, if he only had the assurance that he would see home once more.  But he knew that wishing would not bring him out of his present difficulty:  he must work for his liberty; do every thing in his power, and leave the rest to Providence.

He started out again, and determined that his first step should be to reconnoiter the road.  No one was in sight; but, about a quarter of a mile down the road, on the other side, was a large plantation-house, with its neat negro quarters clustering around it, and looking altogether like a little village.  He knew that some of the cabins were inhabited, for he saw the smoke wreathing out of the chimneys; could he not go to one of them, and obtain food?  He had often heard of escaped prisoners being fed and sheltered by the negroes; why could not he throw himself under their protection?  He must have something to satisfy his hunger; and if he could but gain the woods on the opposite side of the road, it would require but a few moments to reach the house.  He determined to try it.  Glancing hastily up and down the road, he clutched his rifle desperately, and started.  A few rapid steps carried him across the road; he cleared the fence at a bound, and was out of sight, in the bushes, in a moment.  He immediately started for the nearest cabin and, in a few moments, came to a stand-still in a thicket of bushes just behind it.  There was some one in the cabin, for he could see a light shining through the cracks between the logs; and he distinctly heard the music of a violin, and a voice singing: 

  “The sun shines bright in my ole Kentucky home”—­

But still he hesitated to advance; his courage had failed him.  What, if the negro—­for he was certain it was a negro in the cabin—­should betray him?  What if—­His reverie was suddenly interrupted by the approach of a horseman on the road.  Presently a rebel officer rode leisurely by.  When he arrived opposite the house, a man, who was sitting on the portico, and whom Frank had not noticed, hailed the horseman, who drew in his rein, and stopped.