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.  He floundered on until midnight.  The Norther was blowing as fiercely as ever, and he and Old Jack were brought up by a thicket too dense for them to penetrate.

Ned understood now that he was lost.  Instinct had failed absolutely.  Brave and resourceful as he was he uttered a groan of despair.  It was torture to be so near the end of his task and then to fail.  But the despair lasted only a moment.  The courage of a nature containing genuine greatness brought back hope.

He dismounted and led his horse around the thicket.  Then they came to a part of the woods which seemed thinner, and not knowing anything else to do he went straight ahead.  But he stopped abruptly when his feet sank in soft mud.  He saw directly before him a stream yellow, swollen and flowing faster than usual.

Ned knew that it was the San Antonio River, and now he had a clue.  By following its banks he would reach the town.  The way might be long, but it must inevitably lead him to San Antonio, and he would take it.

He remounted and rode forward as fast as he could.  The river curved and twisted, but he was far more cheerful now.  The San Antonio was like a great coiling rope, but if he followed it long enough he would certainly come to the end that he wished.  The Norther continued to blow.  He and his horse were a huge moving shape of white.  Now and then the snow, coating too thickly upon his serape, fell in lumps to the ground, but it was soon coated anew and as thick as ever.  But whatever happened he never let the San Antonio get out of his sight.

He was compelled to stop at last under a thick cluster of oaks, where he was somewhat sheltered from the wind and snow.  Here he dismounted again, stamped his feet vigorously for warmth and also brushed the snow from his faithful horse.  Old Jack, as usual, rubbed his nose against the boy’s arm.

The horse was a source of great comfort and strength to Ned.  He always believed that he would have collapsed without him.  As nearly as he could guess the time it was about halfway between midnight and morning, and in order to preserve his strength he forced himself to eat a little more.