midnight
I pulled up my pony . The sound kept up -- a discreet , persistent chopping ; then I saw , up above , the moonlit top of a palm shuddering , though all about it the others remained motionless , petrified as if of solid silver . It was a very simple thing after all : some one in there was cutting down a palm to get bananas , an occupation very common in the Philippines , and very pacific , in spite of the ominous air given to it by the gigantic bolo used . However , something prompted me to draw the midnight harvester out . '' ` Heh , _ ladron _ , what are you doing there ? ' I shouted in dialect . '' ` There was a most sudden silence .