He shivered, and the horse
under him shivered, too. Once more he wrapped around his body the
grateful folds of the serape and he drew on a pair of buckskin gloves, a
part of his winter equipment.
Then he rode on straight toward San Antonio as nearly as he could
calculate. The Norther increased in ferocity. It brought rain, hail and
snow, and the night darkened greatly. Ned began to fear that he would
get lost. It was almost impossible to keep the true direction in such a
driving storm. He had no moon and stars to guide him, and he was
compelled to rely wholly upon instinct. Sometimes he was in woods,
sometimes upon the plain, and once or twice he crossed creeks, the
waters of which were swollen and muddy.
The Norther was not such a blessing after all. He might be going
directly away from San Antonio, while Santa Anna, with innumerable
guides, would easily reach there the next day. He longed for those
faithful comrades of his. The four of them together could surely find a
way out of this.
He prayed now that the Norther would cease, but his prayer was of no
avail. It whistled and moaned about him, and snow and hail were
continually driven in his face. Fortunately the brim of the sombrero
protected his eyes.
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