Sunday noon
`` That is just the story I should expect Harris to tell . '' And sore at heart , and far from satisfied , the general suggested a nightcap , and Willett presently left him , though not , as it subsequently transpired , for the adjutant 's quarters and for bed . It was late the following day before his next appearance near the Archers . Sunday morning had come , as peaceful and serene as any that ever broke on New England village , and Sunday noon , hot and still , and many an hour since early sun up anxious eyes had scanned the old McDowell trail , visible in places many a mile before it disappeared among the foothills of the Mazatzal , but not a whiff of dust rewarded the eager watchers . Archer 's binocular hung at the south-west pillar of the porch , and another swung at the northward veranda of the old log hospital . The road to Dead Man 's Cañon wound along the west bank of the stream , sometimes fording it for a short cut , and that road , the one by which Sanchez should have come , was watched wellnigh as closely as the other . Nothing up to luncheon time had been seen or heard of human being moving without the limits of the post ; nothing by Lilian Archer of her gallant of the night before .