About midnight
After supper the Rough Red went directly from the cook-camp to the men 's camp . FitzPatrick , sitting lonely in the little office , heard the sounds of debauch rising steadily like mysterious storm winds in distant pines . He shrugged his shoulders , and tallied his day 's scaling , and turned into his bunk wearily , for of holidays there are none in the woods , save Sunday . About midnight someone came in . FitzPatrick , roused from his sleep by aimless blunderings , struck a light , and saw the cook looking uncertainly toward him through blood-clotted lashes . The man was partly drunk , partly hurt , but more frightened . `` They 's too big fer me , too big fer me ! ''