A mile further on, he came to another stream, and was making preparations to cross it, when he was startled by a voice, which sounded from the opposite bank: "Who goesh dere ?" Instead of replying to the challenge, Frank sprang behind a tree, and, looking across the stream, discovered a tall, powerfully-built man, dressed in "butternut" clothes, holding his rifle in the hollow of his arm.

In an instant Frank's gun was at his shoulder, and his finger was already pressing the trigger, when the man exclaimed: "What for you shoot?
I be a friend." Frank, although fearful of treachery, lowered his gun, and the Dutchman, moving out of the bushes, leaned on his rifle, and inquired: "Where you go?
I guess you been a gun-boat feller; ain't it ?" "Yes," answered Frank, "I once belonged to a gun-boat.

But who are you ?" "Me?
Oh, I was a captain in the army.

Sherman gets licked at Wicksburg, an' I gets took brisoner; an' purty quick me an' anoder feller runs away.

Here he is;" and, as the Dutchman spoke, a man wearing a shabby Confederate uniform appeared.
Frank's mind was made up in an instant.