Many of them were good riflemen, particularly those from Ohio, and the cavalry of Ashby, Funsten and Sherburne found the woods very warm for them.

Horses were falling continually, and often their riders fell with them to stay.
Harry, in the center with the commander, heard the heavy firing to both right and left, and he glanced often at Jackson.

He saw his lips move as if he were talking to himself, and he knew that he was disappointed at this strong resistance.

Troops could move but slowly through woods in the face of a heavy rifle fire, and meanwhile Banks with his main body was escaping to Winchester.
"Mr.Kenton," said Jackson sharply, "ride to General Ashby and tell him to push the enemy harder! We must crush at least a portion of this army! It is vital!" Harry was off as soon as the last words left the general's lips.

He spurred his horse from the turnpike, leaped a low rail fence, and galloped across a field toward a forest, where Ashby's cavalry were advancing and the rifles were cracking fast.
Bullets from the Northern skirmishers flew over him and beside him, as he flew about the field, but he thought little of them.