"I am Lieutenant Somers," answered the rebel; "and I belong to the Seventeenth Georgia Infantry. You belong to the army too, do you not?" he continued, noticing the brass buttons on Frank's coat. It was a lucky circumstance for the young hero that the night was so dark, or he would certainly have been discovered. "Yes," he answered, in reply to the rebel's question, "I am in the service. But what are you doing around here this time of night?" "I have been hunting after an escaped Yankee prisoner--a gun-boat officer." "Did you catch him?" inquired Frank. "No; but I caught two others. I chased this gun-boat fellow with blood-hounds; but when I overtook him, I found that he had been reinforced by half a dozen others, and I was obliged to retreat. The scoundrels killed Colonel Acklen and one of his men, and the best blood-hound in Louisiana." "Where are the prisoners you captured?" inquired Frank, hardly able to suppress his exultation at finding himself face to face with one of the men who had hunted him with blood-hounds. "Oh, I left them at the back of the plantation, one of my men is keeping guard over them; but there is scarcely any need of that, for the Yankees are securely bound." "They are, eh!" exclaimed Frank, who could restrain himself no longer. "Well, here is a Yankee who is not bound, and never intends to be;" and he raised his rifle to his shoulder, and glanced along the clean, brown barrel. "I am the gun-boat fellow you were pursuing with blood-hounds. So, if you wish to live five minutes longer, don't attempt to make any resistance." The rebel was taken so completely by surprise that he could not utter a word, but sat on his horse as motionless and dumb as though he had been suddenly turned into a statue. "Come down off that horse!" commanded his captor. The rebel obeyed, without hesitation. "Now, have you got any dangerous weapons about you?" inquired Frank. "Tell the truth, now, for your life isn't worth a picayune." "Yes," answered the rebel, "I have a revolver and a Bowie-knife;" and he raised his hand to his breast pocket. "Hands down! hands down!" exclaimed Frank; "I want to examine your pockets myself;" and he stepped forward and relieved the rebel of a Bowie-knife, a revolver, several cartridges, a flint and steel, and some papers. These, with the exception of the revolver, he laid carefully on the ground, and placed his rifle beside them. "Now," continued Frank, "it would be a great accommodation if you would trade uniforms with me. The people in this part of the country don't seem to like Uncle Sam's clothes very well. Come out of that coat." The rebel hesitated to obey. "Come out of that coat, Lieutenant Somers," repeated Frank, slowly; and he raised his revolver until it was on a line with his captive's head. The sight of his own weapon, whose qualities he probably knew full well, brought the rebel to his senses, and he quickly divested himself of his coat.