eleven o'clock
Presently , the Ranger swung the chestnut aside from the wagon road , to follow a narrow trail through the chaparral . To the artist , the little path in the darkness was invisible , but he gave his horse the rein and followed the shadowy form ahead . Three-quarters of an hour later , they came out into the main road , again ; near the Carleton ranch corral , a mile and a half below the old camp in the sycamores behind the orchard of the deserted place . It was now eleven o'clock and the ranch-house was dark . Without dismounting , Brian Oakley called , `` Hello , Henry ! '' There was no answer . Moving his horse close to the window of the room where he knew the rancher slept , the Ranger tapped on the sash .