about midnight
I crawled out of my nest and built a fire , while Jim dressed the chicken , and got the water to boiling , and the chicken was put in . For three hours we boiled the chicken , but each hour made it tougher . I told Jim he might be a success as a horse-thief , but when it come to stealing tender poultry he was a lamentable failure , but he said it was the only hen on the place , and if I did n't want to eat it I could retire to my couch and he would set up with the hen . I was so hungry , and the smell of the boiling hen was so Savory , that I remained awake , and at about midnight Jim announced that he had succeeded in prying off a piece of the breast , so we speared the hen out of the water , laid it on the frame of a grindstone in the gin-house , and sat down to the festive board . `` Will you have the light or the dark meat , '' asked Jim , with a politeness that would have done credit to a dancing-master . I told , him I preferred the dark meat , so he took hold of one leg and I the other , and we pulled the hen apart . The hen seemed to be copper-rivetted , for when I got a chunk of it down , and it chinked up a vacant place in the stomach , it did seem as though there was nothing like hen to save life .