The day was again hot.

October, even, did not seem able to break that singular heat, and the dust was soon billowing about them in columns, stinging and burning them.

The sergeant the night before had taken a short cut through the hills, but the brigades, needing wide spaces, marched along the roads and through the fields.

A portion of their own army was hidden from them by ridges and forest, and Dick did not know whether Buell with the other half of the army had come up.
After a long and exhausting march they stopped, and the Winchester regiment and the Ohio lads concluded that they had been wrong after all.

No battle would be fought that day.