The long "Ah-h!" was drawn by a flash and the report of a rifle. A
second and a third report came, and then the crash of a heavy fire.
The scouts and sentinels came running in, reporting that a great force
with batteries, presumably the whole army of Jackson, was at hand.

A deep murmur ran through the Union army, but there was no confusion.
The long hours of fighting had habituated them to danger. They were also
too tired to become excited, and in addition, they were of as stern stuff
at night as they had been in the morning. They were ready to fight again.

Formidable columns of troops appeared through the woods, their bayonets
glistening in the moonlight. The heavy rifle fire began once more,
although it was nearly midnight, and then came the deep thunder of cannon,
sending round shot and shells among the Union troops. But the men in
blue, harried beyond endurance, fought back fiercely. They shared the
feelings of Pennington. They felt that they had been persecuted, that
this thing had grown inhuman, and they used rifles and cannon with
astonishing vigor and energy.

Two heavy Union batteries replied to the Southern cannon, raking the
woods with shell, round shot and grape, and Dick concluded that in the
face of so much resolution Jackson would not press an attack at night,
when every kind of disaster might happen in the darkness. His own
regiment had lain down among the leaves, and the men were firing at the
flashes on their right. Dick looked for General Pope and his brilliant
staff, but he did not see them.

"Gone to bring up the reserves," whispered Warner, who saw Dick's
inquiring look.