The sun set in red and gold behind the western mountains, and the Army of the Potomac still rested in its camp, although privates even knew that precious hours were being lost, and that booming cannon might already be telling the defenders of Harper's Ferry that Jackson was at hand.
Nor were they far wrong.

While McClellan lingered on through the night, never moving from his camp, Jackson and his generals were pushing forward with fiery energy and at dawn the next day had surrounded Harper's Ferry and its doomed garrison of more than twelve thousand men.
But these were things that Dick could not guess that night.

One small detachment had been sent ahead by McClellan, chiefly for scouting purposes, and in the darkness the boy who had gone a little distance forward with Colonel Winchester heard the booming of cannon.

It was a faint sound but unmistakable, and Dick glanced at his chief.
"That detachment has come into contact with the rebels somewhere there in the mountains," he said, "and the ridges and valleys are bringing us the echoes.

Oh, why in Heaven's name are we delayed here through all the precious moments! Every hour's delay will cost the lives of ten thousand good men!" And it is likely that in the end Colonel Winchester's reckoning was too moderate.