A little further away was Jackson.

No fires had been lighted in his camp, but nevertheless he was not a shadow.

That personality, quiet and modest, was so intense, so powerful that it seemed to Harry to become luminous, to radiate light in the blackness of the night.

It was imagination, he knew, at work again, but it was Jackson who had loosed its springs.
"Can you see your watch, George ?" he whispered to Dalton.
"Yes, and its says only twenty minutes past three in the morning." "And our signal guns began about twenty minutes ago.

They will have nearly four hours in which to work before the sun rises and we can see them well enough to take good aim." "And maybe longer than that, Harry.