about seven o’clock
I was on the central boss of a huge upland country , and could see everything moving for miles . In the meadows below the road half a mile back a cottage smoked , but it was the only sign of human life . Otherwise there was only the calling of plovers and the tinkling of little streams . It was now about seven o'clock , and as I waited I heard once again that ominous beat in the air . Then I realized that my vantage-ground might be in reality a trap . There was no cover for a tomtit in those bald green places . I sat quite still and hopeless while the beat grew louder .