nearly eight o’clock
Such firearms are to be found in farmhouses , hanging against the wall over the chimney-piece . The young man caressed his weapon with affection ; twenty times or more he pulled the trigger , thrust his little finger into the barrel , and examined the butt attentively . By degrees he grew full of youth enthusiasm , combined with childish frolicsomeness , and ended by levelling his weapon and aiming at space , like a recruit going through his drill . It was now very nearly eight o'clock , and he had been holding his gun levelled for over a minute , when all at once a low , panting call , light as a breath , came from the direction of the Jas-Meiffren . `` Are you there , Silvere ? '' the voice asked . Silvere dropped his gun and bounded on to the tombstone .