midnight
With a glance upward at the dimly lighted windows of Sir Leicester 's room , he sets off , full-swing , to the nearest coach-stand , picks out the horse for his money , and directs to be driven to the shooting gallery . Mr. Bucket does not claim to be a scientific judge of horses , but he lays out a little money on the principal events in that line , and generally sums up his knowledge of the subject in the remark that when he sees a horse as can go , he knows him . His knowledge is not at fault in the present instance . Clattering over the stones at a dangerous pace , yet thoughtfully bringing his keen eyes to bear on every slinking creature whom he passes in the midnight streets , and even on the lights in upper windows where people are going or gone to bed , and on all the turnings that he rattles by , and alike on the heavy sky , and on the earth where the snow lies thin -- for something may present itself to assist him , anywhere -- he dashes to his destination at such a speed that when he stops the horse half smothers him in a cloud of steam . `` Unbear him half a moment to freshen him up , and I 'll be back . '' He runs up the long wooden entry and finds the trooper smoking his pipe . `` I thought I should , George , after what you have gone through , my lad .