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!"

"You mean to say you'd blow my brains out?"

"Yes, if your brains are where my gun is aimed, as I think the brains of
rebels must be, or they never would have seceded."

Frank's gun, by the way, was aimed at the above mentioned very exposed
and prominent part.

"Grayback" grinned and growled.

"Come, my young joker, I can't stand this!"

"You'll have to stand it till you throw down that revolver!"

"I'm slipping!"

"Then I'll give you something sharp to slip on!"

The man felt that he had really betrayed himself by making the
involuntary movement towards his breast-pocket, which Frank had been too
shrewd not to notice. The cocked gun, and bayonet, and resolute young
face below, were inexorable. So he yielded.

"Don't throw it towards me! Drop it the other side!" cried the wary
Frank.

The revolver was tossed down. Then Frank stepped back, and let the man
descend from his uncomfortable position.

"Boy!" said the man, as soon as his feet were safe on the ground, and he
could turn to look at his captor, "I reckon you're a cute 'un! A Yankee,
ain't ye?"

"Yes, and proud to own it!" said Frank. "Keep your distance!"--as the man
made a move to come nearer--"and don't you stoop to touch that gun!"

"Look here," said the man, coaxingly, "you'd better let me go! I'm out
of ammunition, and can't hurt any body. I'll give ye ten dollars if you
will."

"In confederate shinplasters?"

The rebel laughed. "No, in Uncle Sam's gold."

"You don't place a very high value on yourself," said Frank. "You are too
modest."

"Twenty dollars!"--jingling the money in his pocket. "Come, I'm a
gentleman at home, and I don't want to go north. Well, say thirty
dollars."

"If you hadn't said you were a gentleman, I might trade," said Frank.
"But a gentleman is worth more than you bid. You wouldn't in