eight o'clock in the morning
Neither heard the quiet fall of moccasined feet a dozen yards away . Neither saw the gleaming eyes and the thin , dark face of Jean Croisset , the half-breed , as they walked swiftly in the direction of the Saskatchewan . Howland was glad that for a time there was an excuse for his silence . It began to dawn on him that this was an extraordinary adventure for a man on whose shoulders rested the responsibilities of one of the greatest engineering tasks on the continent , and who was due to take a train for the seat of his operations at eight o'clock in the morning . Inwardly he was experiencing some strange emotions ; outwardly he smiled as he thought of what Van Horn would say if he knew the circumstances . He looked down at his companion ; saw the sheen of her hair as it rippled out from under her fur turban , studied the soft contour of her cheek and chin , without himself being observed , and noticed , incidentally , that the top of the bewitching head beside him came just about to a level with his cigar which he was smoking . He wondered if he were making a fool of himself .