Frank stood back.  He did it promptly but calmly, and then, as if his curiosity as to Yankees was fully satisfied, he walked slowly away up the street, deliberating as he went on a plan for getting out of the City.  He hit upon an excellent one.  Going to the engineer of a freight train making ready to start back to Macon, he told him that his father was working in the Confederate machine shops at Griswoldville, near Macon; that he himself was also one of the machinists employed there, and desired to go thither but lacked the necessary means to pay his passage.  If the engineer would let him ride up on the engine he would do work enough to pay the fare.  Frank told the story ingeniously, the engineer and firemen were won over, and gave their consent.

No more zealous assistant ever climbed upon a tender than Frank proved to be.  He loaded wood with a nervous industry, that stood him in place of great strength.  He kept the tender in perfect order, and anticipated, as far as possible, every want of the engineer and his assistant.  They were delighted with him, and treated him with the greatest kindness, dividing their food with him, and insisting that he should share their bed when they “laid by” for the night.  Frank would have gladly declined this latter kindness with thanks, as he was conscious that the quantity of “graybacks” his clothing contained did not make him a very desirable sleeping companion for any one, but his friends were so pressing that he was compelled to accede.

His greatest trouble was a fear of recognition by some one of the prisoners that were continually passing by the train load, on their way from Andersonville to other prisons.  He was one of the best known of the prisoners in Andersonville; bright, active, always cheerful, and forever in motion during waking hours,—­every one in the Prison speedily became familiar with him, and all addressed him as “Sergeant Frankie.”  If any one on the passing trains had caught a glimpse of him, that glimpse would have been followed almost inevitably with a shout of: 

“Hello, Sergeant Frankie!  What are you doing there?”

Then the whole game would have been up.  Frank escaped this by persistent watchfulness, and by busying himself on the opposite side of the engine, with his back turned to the other trains.

At last when nearing Griswoldville, Frank, pointing to a large white house at some distance across the fields, said: 

“Now, right over there is where my uncle lives, and I believe I’ll just run over and see him, and then walk into Griswoldville.”

He thanked his friends fervently for their kindness, promised to call and see them frequently, bade them good by, and jumped off the train.

He walked towards the white house as long as he thought he could be seen, and then entered a large corn field and concealed himself in a thicket in the center of it until dark, when he made his way to the neighboring woods, and began journeying northward as fast as his legs could carry him.  When morning broke he had made good progress, but was terribly tired.  It was not prudent to travel by daylight, so he gathered himself some ears of corn and some berries, of which he made his breakfast, and finding a suitable thicket he crawled into it, fell asleep, and did not wake up until late in the afternoon.