one o'clock in the morning
If to-morrow brings no relief I want to quit for good and all . '' But the long weeks of indecisive warfare , in camp as in the field , were destined to have their climax at last . Well for the little battalion , perhaps , was it , after all , that officers and men alike were boiling over with repressed , pent-up fury for action , for when the morrow came it called each soldier into line , and gave him giant work to do . Somewhere towards one o'clock in the morning , under the glitter and sheen of the myriad stars overhead , while , all but the guard , the troopers slept peacefully upon the prairie turf and , all but a few early risers , their chargers , too , were drowsing undisturbed by the occasional querulous yelp of the coyote , -- somewhere , far out over the dim , shadowy slopes to the westward , there rose upon the night the faint sound of a trumpet call , seemingly miles away . In his extreme caution Chrome had posted little parties full a mile out from the bivouac , north , east , and west , and it was while slowly riding to the westernmost of these that the officer of the guard first thought he heard the sound . A corporal of Cranston 's troop was at his heels . `` Yes , sir , '' he said , in answer to the low , eager question , as the two reined in their horses , `` I could almost swear I heard it .