Eleven o'clock
Eleven o'clock , and all 's well ! '' Cadet Prescott , midway on his post , came to a halt , bringing his rifle to port arms . `` Post number three ! Eleven o'clock , and all 's well . '' Nor did the plebe return his rifle to his shoulder and resume pacing until he heard the hail taken up and repeated by the man on number four . Thus the call traveled the rounds , back to number one , and died out . Just an instant later Plebe Prescott became suspicious that something was wrong in his immediate vicinity .