He wandered away a little into the open fields in order to find easier going, but he came back presently to the forest lining the bank of the river, for fear he should lose his direction. The yellow torrent of the Rappahannock was now his only sure guide and he stuck to it. He wondered why the rain and wind did not die down. It was not usual for a storm so furious to last so long, but he could not see any abatement of either. He became conscious after a while of a growing weakness, but he had recalled all the powers of his will and it was triumphant over his body. He trudged on on feet that were unconscious of sensation, and his face as if the flesh were paralyzed no longer felt the beat of the rain. A mile or two further and in the swish of the storm he heard hoofbeats again. Looking forth from the bushes he saw another line of horsemen, but now they were going in the direction of Pope's army. Dick recognized these figures. Shapeless as he might appear on his horse that was Colonel Winchester, and there were the broad shoulders of Sergeant Whitley and the figures of the others. He rushed through the dripping forest and shouted in a tone that could be heard above the shriek of wind and rain. Colonel Winchester recognized the voice, but the light was so dim that he did not recognize him from whom it came. Certainly the figure that emerged from the forest did not look human. “Colonel,” cried Dick, “it is I, Richard Mason, whom you left behind!” “So it is,” said Sergeant Whitley, keener of eye than the others. The whole troop set up a shout as Dick came forward, taking off his dripping cap. “Why, Dick, it is you!” exclaimed Colonel Winchester in a tone of immeasurable relief. “We missed you and your horse and hoped that you were somewhere ahead. Your horse must have broken loose in the storm. But here, you look as if you were nearly dead! Jump up behind me!” Dick made an effort, but his strength failed and he slipped back to the ground. He had not realized that he was walking on his spirit and courage and that his strength was gone, so powerful had been the buffets of the wind and rain. The colonel reached down, gave him a hand and a strong pull, and with a second effort Dick landed astride the horse behind the rider. Then Colonel Winchester gave the word and the sodden file wound on again. “Dick,” said the colonel, looking back over his shoulder, “you come as near being a wreck as anything that I've seen in a long time. It's lucky we found you.” “It is, sir, and I not only look like a wreck but I feel like one. But I had made up my mind to reach General Pope's camp, with the news of the Confederates crossing, and I think I'd have done it.” “I know you would. But what a night! What a night! Not many men can be abroad at such a time. We have seen nothing.” “But I have, sir.” “You have! What did you see?” “A mile or two back I passed a line of Southern horsemen, just as wet and bedraggled as ours.”