four o'clock
Awake and conscious , so stout a soldier as he would be the last to give way to childish exhibition of suffering , yet twice Drummond knew him to be awake despite his protestation of dozing , and he did not at all like it that Wing should bury his face in his arms , hiding it from all . What could have occurred to change this buoyant , joyous , high-spirited trooper all on a sudden into a sighing , moaning , womanish fellow ? Surely not a wound of which , however painful , any soldier might be proud . Somewhere along towards four o'clock , when it was again Patterson 's watch and Drummond arose from his blanket after a refreshing sleep of nearly two hours and he and his faithful sentry were standing just outside the mouth of the cave , they distinctly heard the same moan of distress . `` Is there nothing we can do to ease the sergeant , sir ? '' whispered Patterson . `` This makes the second time I have heard him groaning , and it 's so unlike him . ''