“That he began by being rude and ended in being unbearable.”
Here Phil Evans noticed that day was beginning to break. A gleam, still faint, filtered through the narrow window opposite the door. It ought thus to be about four o’clock in the morning for it is at that hour in the month of June in this latitude that the horizon of Philadelphia is tinged by the first rays of the dawn.
But when Uncle Prudent sounded his repeater—which was a masterpiece from his colleague’s factory—the tiny gong only gave a quarter to three, and the watch had not stopped.
“That is strange!” said Phil Evans. “At a quarter to three it ought still to be night.”
“Perhaps my watch has got slow.” answered Uncle Prudent.
“A watch of the Wheelton Watch Company!” exclaimed Phil Evans.
Whatever might be the reason, there was no doubt that the day was breaking. Gradually the window became white in the deep darkness of the cell. However, if the dawn appeared sooner than the fortieth parallel permitted, it did not advance with the rapidity peculiar to lower latitudes. This was another observation—of Uncle Prudent’s—a new inexplicable phenomenon.
“Couldn’t we get up to the window and see where we are?”
“We might.” said Uncle Prudent. “Frycollin, get up!”
The Negro arose.