about eight in the evening
About a score of young fellows and hired farm-hands of the ruder sort came riding and trudging to Weeks ' barn , where there was a barrel of cider on tap . Here they blackened their faces with charcoal and stimulated their courage , for it was well known that Holcroft was anything but lamblike when angered . `` He 'll be like a bull in a china shop , '' remarked Tim , `` but then there 's enough of us to handle him if he gets too obstrep ` rous . '' Armed with tin pans and horns which were to furnish the accompaniment to their discordant voices , they started about eight in the evening . As they moved up the road there was a good deal of coarse jesting and bravado , but when they approached the farmhouse silence was enjoined . After passing up the lane they looked rather nervously at the quiet dwelling softly outlined in the moonlight . A lamp illumined the kitchen window , and Tim Weeks whispered excitedly , `` He 's there .