But he continued to grow weaker every moment, and, finally, in spite of Frank's exertions, fell prostrate in the road.
"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.