eight o'clock
`` Not yet , '' he muttered , and returned the packet to his pocket unopened . `` I told her I would beat the game . I 've bucked old John Barleycorn 's line and scored a touchdown ; the hardest of the fighting is past , but there is just a chance that I might miss goal . '' Bill looked at his watch ; it was eight o'clock . He stood up , wincing as his injured foot touched the floor , and hobbled across the room where he wrenched a rough , split shelf from the wall . This , together with some sticks of firewood , he rolled in a blanket , placing it near the stove . He added more wood until the bundle was about the size and shape of a man , and covered it with his other two blankets .