eight o'clock
The father made no further protest . He helped him saddle the horse , buckled the stirrups to fit his little bare legs and gave him as clear directions as he could . `` The moon 'll be shinin ' all night , Boy , '' were his last words . `` Yer can cross the river before eight o'clock . Ef ye git lost on t ` other side ax yer way frum the fust house ye come to -- '' The Boy nodded , and when had fixed his bare toes in the stirrups he leaned low and whispered : `` You wo n't give up , Pa , will ye ? You 'll fight for her till I get back ? '' The big gnarled fist closed over the little hand on the pommel of the saddle , and the father 's voice was husky : `` As long as there 's breath in her body -- hurry now . ''