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 c