It was the purpose of the friends of liberty to keep the death of Bacon a secret, and there is some dispute in history as to where and when he died. News of this character cannot be suppressed. It came out, and the republicans of Virginia began to lose heart from that hour, while the royalists' hopes increased. Another general was elected to fill the place made vacant by Bacon. Drummond, Stevens, Cheeseman, or Lawrence might have organized the army and led them to victory; but the foolish frontiersmen chose, instead of either of these wise men, a grotesque personage named Ingram, who had been a rope dancer, and had no more qualifications for so important a position than an organ grinder, as the result soon proved. He was unable to hold them together. Colonel Hansford, the most daring young officer in Bacon's whole army, was captured at the home of his sweetheart, and Berkeley, to whom he was taken, decreed that he should be hung. "Thomas Hansford," cried Berkeley, "I will quickly repay you for your part in this rebellion!" Colonel Hansford answered, "I ask no favor but that I may be shot like a soldier and not hanged like a dog." The governor replied, "You are to die, not as a soldier, but as a rebel." Hansford was a native American and the first white native (say some historians) that perished on the gibbet. On coming to the gallows he said: "Take notice, I die a loyal subject and a lover of my country." Terror-stricken, the followers of Bacon began to desert the new general. In a few skirmishes that followed, they were worsted and broke up into small bands. Hugh Price was foremost among the royalists searching for the rebels. He hoped to find his wife's son and bring him to the gibbet, for Price hated Robert with a hatred that was demoniacal. Giles Peram took courage, and mounting a horse, joined the troopers in galloping about the country and capturing or shooting the rebels, who, now that their spirits were broken, seldom made any resistance. One day at sunset Hugh Price and Giles Peram suddenly came upon a wild-eyed, haggard young man, mounted upon a jaded steed. He had slept on the ground, for his uncombed hair had leaves still sticking to it, and his clothes were faded, soiled and torn. The evenings were cold, it being late in October, and the fugitive was looking about for a place to sleep. At a glance, both recognized him as Robert Stevens. They were armed with loaded pistols, while Robert, though he had weapons in his holsters, was out of powder. "There he is, Giles; now slay him!" cried the stepfather. Robert realized his danger, and, with his whip, lashed his horse to a run. There came the report of a pistol from behind and a bullet whistled above his head. "Come on, Giles; he is unarmed," cried Mr. Price. "Oh, are you quite sure?" cried Giles. "I am sure. He is out of ammunition."