Silent and cold, they added to his own feeling of desolation.

He wondered what had become of his comrades.
Perhaps Sherburne had been taken, or killed.

He was not one to surrender, even to overwhelming numbers, without a fight.
But he would go on.

Drawing the blanket more tightly around his body, he turned into the narrow road by which he had come, and urged his horse into that easy Southern gait known as a pace.

He would have been glad to go faster, but he was too wise to push a horse that had already been traveling twenty hours.
Harry did not yet feel secure by any means.