midnight
I 'm a fisherman but no hunter . ` Tai n't of ` en we git a roast bird ! '' So Terabon sat by the stove , writing . He wrote for more than an hour -- everything he could remember , with the aid of his pencilled midnight notes , about that long run down . With his maps before him he recognized the bends and reaches , the sandbars and islands which had loomed up in the dark . Of all the parts of the river , the hundred miles from Island No. 10 down to Fort Pillow became the most familiar to his thoughts , black though the night had been . Even each government light began to have characteristics , and the sky-line of levee , wilderness , sandbar , and caving bank grew more and more defined .