"I intend to keep this, any way," said Frank, picking it up. "And the gun that shot at me, too," slinging it on his back.
The rebel, seeing his determination, rose in his bids at once to a hundred dollars.
"Not for a hundred thousand!" said Frank, who was now ready to move his prisoner. "You are going the way my bayonet points, and no other. March!"
The rebel marched accordingly.
Frank followed at a distance of two or three paces, prepared at any moment to use prompt measures in case his prisoner should attempt to turn upon him or make his escape.
"How many of you fellows are hid around in these trees?" said Frank.
"Not many just around here—lucky for you!" muttered the disconsolate rebel.
"Is that your favorite way of fighting?"
"People fight any way they can when their soil is invaded."
"What are holes cut in the pine trees for,—foot-holds for climbing?"