"I've got a sharpshooter that I've taken prisoner." And he briefly related his adventure, every word of which the rebel, who rather admired his youthful captor, voluntarily confirmed.
"It's just as he tells you," he said, assuming a candid, reckless air. "I am well enough satisfied. If your men are equal to your boys, I shall have plenty of company before night."
"You think we shall have you all prisoners?" inquired Frank, eagerly.
"This island," replied the rebel, "is a perfect trap. I've known it from the beginning. You outnumber us two to one, and if the fight goes against us, we've no possible chance of escape. We've five thousand men on the island, and if we're whipped you'll make a pretty respectable bag. But you never can conquer us,"—he hastened to add, fearing lest he was conceding too much.
"Can't, eh?" laughed Frank. "Where's the last ditch?"
"Never mind about that," said the prisoner, with a peculiar grin.
By this time several other stragglers had gathered around them, eager to hear the story of the drummer boy's exploit.
The rebel had looked curiously at his youthful captor ever since he had heard him called by name. At length he said:—
"Have you got a brother in the confederate army?"
Frank changed color. "Why do you ask that?"