seven o'clock
The pace was leisurely ; for the carriage they were going to meet had been timed to leave Alagón fifteen miles away at four o'clock . There was but one road . They could scarcely miss it . It was seven o'clock when they halted at a roadside inn . Sarrion quitted the saddle and went indoors to order coffee while Marcos sat on his tall black horse scanning the road in front of him . The valley of the Ebro is flat here , with bare , brown hills rising on either side like a gigantic mud-fence . Strings of carts were making their way towards Saragossa .