three in the morning
I raised myself on my elbow and watched him passing among the slumbering soldiers . Even now I can see Jack Stillwell 's fair girl-face with the dim light on it as he slept beside me . What a picture that face would make if my pen were an artist 's brush ! At three in the morning I wakened again . It was very dark , but I knew some one was near me , and I judged instinctively it was Forsyth . It was sixty hours before I slept again . For five days every movement of ours had been watched by Indian scouts .