saw some guerrillas on the bank."

Frank accordingly concealed himself behind a stanchion, and his hand
trembled considerably as he cocked his musket and brought it to his
shoulder. They remained in this position for nearly a quarter of an hour,
when, suddenly, something stirred in the bushes.

"There they are," whispered the corporal, drawing himself entirely out of
sight, behind the chicken-coop. "Look out, they'll shoot in a moment."

Frank kept a close watch on the bushes, and presently discovered a white
object moving about among them.

"I see something, boys," he said; "but it don't look to me like a man."

"Yes, it is a man," exclaimed the corporal, excitedly. "Shoot him."

In obedience to the order, Frank raised his gun to his shoulder, and an
ounce ball and a couple of buckshot went crashing through the bushes. The
commotion increased for a moment, and then ceased, and something that
sounded very much like a groan issued from the woods.

"By gracious, you hit one of them," exclaimed the corporal. "That was a
good shot. We'll teach these rebs that it isn't healthy to go prowling
about here at night."

Frank hastily reloaded his musket, and they waited, impatiently, for
nearly an hour, for the other guerrilla to show himself, but the woods
remained as silent as death.