No moonlight reached them there.

Jackson paused, listening to the rising fire of the skirmishers.

A rifle suddenly flashed in the thickets before them.
Northern troops, lost in the bush and the darkness, were coming directly their way.
Jackson turned and, followed by his staff, rode toward his own lines.
The men of a North Carolina regiment, dimly seeing a group of horsemen coming down upon them, thought they were about to be attacked, and an officer gave an order to fire.

He was obeyed at once, and the most costly volley fired by Southern troops in the whole war sent the deadly bullets whistling into Jackson's group.
Officers and horses fell, shot down by their own men.

Jackson was struck in the right hand and received two bullets in his left arm.
One cut an artery and another shattered the bone near the shoulder.
The reins dropped from his hands, and his horse, the famous Little Sorrel, broke violently away, rushing through the woods toward the Northern lines.