The storm and time allied were now fighting for Pope.
He wandered away a little into the open fields in order to find easier going, but he came back presently to the forest lining the bank of the river, for fear he should lose his direction.

The yellow torrent of the Rappahannock was now his only sure guide and he stuck to it.

He wondered why the rain and wind did not die down.

It was not usual for a storm so furious to last so long, but he could not see any abatement of either.
He became conscious after a while of a growing weakness, but he had recalled all the powers of his will and it was triumphant over his body.
He trudged on on feet that were unconscious of sensation, and his face as if the flesh were paralyzed no longer felt the beat of the rain.
A mile or two further and in the swish of the storm he heard hoofbeats again.

Looking forth from the bushes he saw another line of horsemen, but now they were going in the direction of Pope's army.