one o'clock
The night was clear and dark , the pike a pale limestone gleam between the shadowy hills . Hour by hour there sounded a clattering of hoofs , squads of cavalry , reports , couriers , staff . There was , too , a sense of Stonewall Jackson somewhere on the pike , alert with grey-blue eyes piercing the dark . Toward one o'clock firing burst out on the north . It proved an affair of outposts . Later , shots rang out close at hand , Fremont having ordered a cavalry reconnoissance . The grey met it with clangour and pushed it back .