"Yes, it was; and I'm bound to put lead into you now, if you don't do as I tell you pretty quick!"
"I can't throw my gun down; I can't get it off," remonstrated the man.
"You never will come down from that tree alive, unless you do!" said Frank.
"Well, take the d——d thing then!" growled the man. And unclasping one arm from the tree, while he held on with the other and his two legs, he slipped the belt over his head, and dropped the gun to the ground. "If it had been good for any thing, I reckon you wouldn't be here now, bothering me!" he added, significantly.
"No doubt!" said Frank. "You are brave fellows, to shoot out of trees at men carrying off the wounded. Wait! I'm not quite ready for you yet."
And he stood under the tree, with his musket pointed upwards, ready cocked, and with the point of the bayonet in rather ticklish proximity to the most exposed and prominent part of the rebel's person.
"Ye think I'm going to stick here all day?" growled the desperate climber.
"You'll stick there till you throw me down your revolver," Frank resolutely informed him.
"How do you know I've got a revolver?"
"I saw your hand make a motion at your pocket. You thought you'd try a shot at me. But you saw at the very next motion you'd be a dead man!"