nearly midnight
Sitting alone under the trees , he had taken a sheet of paper from his pocket-case and was writing by the light of the rising moon . One letter was short and easily written , for with a few words he had brought it to a close , then folded and in a bold and vigorous hand addressed it . The other was far longer ; and over this one , thinking deeply , erasing some words and pondering much over others , he spent a long hour . It was nearly midnight , and he was chilled to the heart , when he stiffly rose and took his way among the blanketed groups to the camp-fire around which so many of his wearied comrades were sleeping the sleep of the tired soldier . Here he tore to fragments and scattered in the embers some notes and letters that were in his pockets . They blazed up brightly , and by the glare he stood one moment studying young Rollins 's smooth and placid features ; then he looked around on the unconscious circle of bronzed and bearded faces . There were many types of soldier there , -- men who had led brigades through the great war and gone back to the humble bars of the line-officer at its close ; men who had led fierce charges against the swarming Indians in the rough old days of the first prairie railways ; men who had won distinction and honorable mention in hard and trying frontier service ; men who had their faults and foibles and weaknesses like other men , and were aggressive or compliant , strong-willed or yielding , overbearing or meek , as are their brethren in other walks of life ; men who were simple of heart , single in purpose and ambition , diverse in characteristics , but unanimous in one trait , -- no meanness could live among them ; and Jerrold 's heart sank within him , colder , lower , stonier than before , as he looked from face to face and cast up mentally the sum of each man 's character .