five o'clock
Another man , he whose son lay dying in the village , shot down by the guards , was there , sad-eyed yet stern-faced , to stay and dissuade them . The one train up from the East that day -- the only one that could come , for now the road was blown out in a dozen places down the gorge -- had brought with it Nolan and Shiner , with two or three friends at their back , and Nolan and Shiner , in spite of their wrongs , were pleading hard for peace , pleading so hard , so earnestly , that by 5 P.M. many a man , American born , had seen the force of their reasoning and had stepped back from the front . But among the killed was a poor lad from the mountains of Bohemia . Among the vengeful throng were swarms of foreigners who could understand little or nothing of what Nolan and his friends were saying , and who speedily would have scorned it could they have understood , for at five o'clock another speaker took the stand , a man of the people he called himself , a foreigner long on our shores , yet fluent in the language of the Slavs , and in ten minutes the torrent was turned . With terror in his eyes , a man who had long worked with Nolan , a foreigner , too , came running to the silent , anxious little group of Anglo-Saxons . `` Nolan -- Nolan , '' he cried . `` He says you was traitor !