eleven o'clock
`` Sandie , '' shouted the head keeper , `` and you , Tom , get up out of yir beds this meenut ; the poachers are after the pheasants . My word , takin ' them alive , as I 'm a livin ' man , to sell them for stock : and broad daylight ; it beats everything . He ` ill be an old hand , frae Dundee maist likely . And the impidence o ` t , eleven o'clock in the forenoon an ' the end o ' September . Dod : it 's a depairture in poachin ' . '' And as the sight of Mr. Byles burst on his view , surrounded by trustful birds , and the two Dowbiggins trying very feebly to drop the net on a specially venturesome one , the head keeper almost lost the power of speech . `` Dinna let us interrupt you , '' and Mr. Byles looked up to see three armed keepers commanding their helpless party , and one of them purple with rage .