He was one of the best known of the prisoners in Andersonville; bright, active, always cheerful, and forever in motion during waking hours,--every one in the Prison speedily became familiar with him, and all addressed him as "Sergeant Frankie." If any one on the passing trains had caught a glimpse of him, that glimpse would have been followed almost inevitably with a shout of: "Hello, Sergeant Frankie! What are you doing there ?" Then the whole game would have been up.

Frank escaped this by persistent watchfulness, and by busying himself on the opposite side of the engine, with his back turned to the other trains.
At last when nearing Griswoldville, Frank, pointing to a large white house at some distance across the fields, said: "Now, right over there is where my uncle lives, and I believe I'll just run over and see him, and then walk into Griswoldville." He thanked his friends fervently for their kindness, promised to call and see them frequently, bade them good by, and jumped off the train.
He walked towards the white house as long as he thought he could be seen, and then entered a large corn field and concealed himself in a thicket in the center of it until dark, when he made his way to the neighboring woods, and began journeying northward as fast as his legs could carry him.

When morning broke he had made good progress, but was terribly tired.

It was not prudent to travel by daylight, so he gathered himself some ears of corn and some berries, of which he made his breakfast, and finding a suitable thicket he crawled into it, fell asleep, and did not wake up until late in the afternoon.
After another meal of raw corn and berries he resumed his journey, and that night made still better progress.
He repeated this for several days and nights--lying in the woods in the day time, traveling by night through woods, fields, and by-paths avoiding all the fords, bridges and main roads, and living on what he could glean from the fields, that he might not take even so much risk as was involved in going to the negro cabins for food.
But there are always flaws in every man's armor of caution--even in so perfect a one as Frank's.

His complete success so far had the natural effect of inducing a growing carelessness, which wrought his ruin.
One evening he started off briskly, after a refreshing rest and sleep.
He knew that he must be very near Sherman's lines, and hope cheered him up with the belief that his freedom would soon be won.
Descending from the hill, in whose dense brushwood he had made his bed all day, he entered a large field full of standing corn, and made his way between the rows until he reached, on the other side, the fence that separated it from the main road, across which was another corn-field, that Frank intended entering.
But he neglected his usual precautions on approaching a road, and instead of coming up cautiously and carefully reconnoitering in all directions before he left cover, he sprang boldly over the fence and strode out for the other side.