“So it is,” said Sergeant Whitley, keener of eye than the others.
The whole troop set up a shout as Dick came forward, taking off his dripping cap.
“Why, Dick, it is you!” exclaimed Colonel Winchester in a tone of immeasurable relief. “We missed you and your horse and hoped that you were somewhere ahead. Your horse must have broken loose in the storm. But here, you look as if you were nearly dead! Jump up behind me!”
Dick made an effort, but his strength failed and he slipped back to the ground. He had not realized that he was walking on his spirit and courage and that his strength was gone, so powerful had been the buffets of the wind and rain.
The colonel reached down, gave him a hand and a strong pull, and with a second effort Dick landed astride the horse behind the rider. Then Colonel Winchester gave the word and the sodden file wound on again.
“Dick,” said the colonel, looking back over his shoulder, “you come as near being a wreck as anything that I've seen in a long time. It's lucky we found you.”
“It is, sir, and I not only look like a wreck but I feel like one. But I had made up my mind to reach General Pope's camp, with the news of the Confederates crossing, and I think I'd have done it.”
“I know you would. But what a night! What a night! Not many men can be abroad at such a time. We have seen nothing.”
“But I have, sir.”
“You have! What did you see?”