The pursuit, however, had been much delayed; and the Massachusetts regiment, although ridden into by their own cavalry, fell back in good order, protected by a strong line of skirmishers on either side of the turnpike.  The Confederate order of march was now changed.  Three companies, who were recruited from the district and knew the ground, were ordered to the front.  The 5th Virginia, four or five hundred yards from the skirmish line, were to follow in support.  The cavalry and guns were left in rear; and the troops once more took up the line of march.

For more than an hour they tramped slowly forward.  The darkness grew more intense, and the chaff and laughter—­for the soldiers, elated by success, had hitherto shown no sign of fatigue—­died gradually away.  Nothing was to be heard but the clang of accoutrements, the long rumble of the guns, and the shuffle of weary feet.  Men fell in the ranks, overpowered by sleep or faint with hunger, and the skirmishers, wading through rank fields of wheat and clover, stumbling into ditches, and climbing painfully over high stone walls, made tardy progress.  Again and again the enemy’s volleys flashed through the darkness; but still there was no halt, for at the head of the regiments, peering eagerly into the darkness, their iron-willed commander still rode forward, as regardless of the sufferings of his men as of the bullets of the Federal rear-guard, with but one thought present to his mind—­to bring Banks to battle, and so prevent his escape from Winchester.  The student of Napoleon had not forgotten the pregnant phrase:  “Ask me for anything but time!” The indiscipline of Ashby’s cavalry had already given Banks a respite; and, undisturbed by his reverses, the Union general had shown himself capable of daring measures.  Had the Confederates halted at Newtown or at Bartonsville, the troops would doubtless have been fresher for the next day’s work, but the morning might have seen Banks far on his way to the Potomac, or possibly strongly reinforced.

When the Confederate infantry had met and overthrown their enemy it would be time enough to think of food and rest.  So long as the men could stand they were to follow on his traces.  “I rode with Jackson,” says General Taylor, “through the darkness.  An officer, riding hard, overtook us, who proved to be the chief quartermaster of the army.  He reported the waggon trains far behind, impeded by a bad road in the Luray Valley.  “The ammunition waggons?” sternly.  “All right, sir.  They were in advance, and I doubled teams on them and brought them through.”  “Ah!” in a tone of relief.

“To give countenance to the quartermaster, if such can be given on a dark night, I remarked jocosely, “Never mind the waggons.  There are quantities of stores in Winchester, and the general has invited one to breakfast there tomorrow.”  Jackson took this seriously, and reached out to touch me on the arm.  Without physical wants himself, he forgot that others were differently constituted, and paid little heed to commissariat.  But woe to the man who failed to bring up ammunition.  In advance his trains were left behind.  In retreat he would fight for a wheelbarrow."* (* Destruction and Reconstruction page 65.)