At length the rebel, after eyeing his youthful antagonist for a moment, commenced maneuvering slowly, intending, if possible, to draw him out.  But Frank stood entirely on the defensive; failing in this mode of attack, the rebel began to grow excited, and became quicker in his movements.  But his efforts were useless, for Frank—­although a little pale, which showed that he knew the struggle must end in the death of one or the other of them—­did not retreat an inch, but coolly parried every thrust made by his infuriated enemy, with the skill of a veteran.  The rebel was again obliged to change his plan of attack, and commenced by rushing furiously upon Frank, endeavoring to beat down his guard by mere strength.  But this proved his ruin; for Frank met him promptly at all points, and, watching the moment when the rebel carelessly opened his guard, he sprang forward and buried his bayonet to the hilt in his breast.  The thrust was mortal, and the rebel threw his arms above his head, and sank to the ground without a groan.

“I believe he’s done for,” said Frank to himself; and he stepped up to take a nearer look at his enemy.  There he lay, his pale face upturned, and the blood running from an ugly wound in the region of his heart.  “I do believe he is dead,” repeated Frank, with a shudder, as he gazed sorrowfully at he work he had done.  “But there was no alternative between his death and a long confinement in prison.  It was done in self-defense;” and he turned to walk away.

Just then the thought struck him that he would take the rebel’s gun; his own was worse than useless, for his cartridges had all been expended.  So, throwing down his heavy musket, he picked up the rifle his enemy had carried, and, slinging the powder-horn and bullet-pouch over his shoulder, he started off through the woods.

But where should he go?  His escape, and the manner in which it was accomplished, had doubtless aroused the entire country.  The woods around him were filled with rebels, and the question was, in which direction should he turn to avoid them?  After some hesitation, he determined to go as directly through the woods, toward the river, as possible, and, if discovered, trust to his woodcraft and swiftness of foot to save him.  With this determination, he shouldered his rifle and walked rapidly on, taking care, however, to keep a good look-out on all sides, and to make as little noise as possible.  All sounds of the pursuit had died away, and the woods were as silent as midnight.  But even this was a source of fear to Frank; for he knew not what tree or thicket concealed an enemy, nor how soon the stillness would be broken by the crack of a rifle and the whistle of a hostile bullet.

At length the sun went down, and it began to grow dark; but still Frank walked on, wishing to get as far away from the scene of the fight as possible.  Presently he heard a sound that startled him:  it was the clatter of horses’ hoofs, on a hard, well-beaten road.  Nearer and nearer came the sound, and, in a few moments, a company of cavalry passed by, and Frank could distinctly hear them laughing and talking with each other.