about eleven o'clock
Mrs. Weldon rocked her child in her arms , and only thought of him . Only Cousin Benedict slept , perhaps , for he alone did not suffer from the common impression . His faculty for looking forward did not go so far . Suddenly , about eleven o'clock , a prolonged and grave roaring was heard , with which was mingled a sort of sharper shuddering . Tom stood up and stretched out his hand toward a dense thicket , a mile or more distant . Dick Sand seized his arm , but he could not prevent Tom from crying in a loud voice : `` The lion ! the lion ! ''