about nine at
night
After this we rode on in silence through the twilight . I glanced now and then at my companion , the boldest of our partisan leaders , and already a sharp thorn in the side of General Howe 's extended line . He was slight , well made , and dark , with some resemblance to Arthur Wynne , but with no weak lines about a mouth which , if less handsome than my cousin 's , was far more resolute . I was ready to drop from my rough steed when we began , about nine at night , to see the camp-fires of our army on either side of Skippack Creek . A halt at the pickets , and we rode on around the right flank among rude huts , rare tents , rows of spancelled horses , -- we call it `` hobbled '' nowadays , -- and so at last to a group of tents , the headquarters of the small cavalry division . `` Halt ! '' I heard ; and I literally almost tumbled off my horse , pleased to see the last of him .