Hunter had passed on ahead with the balance of his command, and when Crook came up, the Confederates fell upon the baggage train and artillery. The shooting lasted nearly half an hour, but strange to say, but few were killed or wounded. The soldiers had marched all day with scarcely anything to eat, and after the skirmish marched to the foot of North Mountain, where they went into camp at ten o'clock that night.
The rumor that a large body of the enemy was close on their heels caused the march to be resumed at four o'clock in the morning. Everybody was tired out and intensely hungry, but no one cared to risk the chance of capture and a term in Libby Prison.
"I'd rather die than go to a Southern prison," declared one old veteran, and his feeling was the feeling of all. On they tramped without a mouthful to eat. Once a wrong road was taken, and the Twentythird Ohio had a march of eight miles that was useless. The men were ready to drop in their tracks, and all sorts of equipments were cast aside as being too heavy to carry.
