ten o'clock
His wrath strangled him . He clutched at the darkness in front of him , his breath fairly whistling between his teeth . That night he walked the streets until the morning , wondering what now he was to do to fight the wolf away . The morning of the next day towards ten o'clock he was on Kearney Street , still walking , still tramping the streets , since there was nothing else for him to do . By and by he paused on a corner near a music store , finding a momentary amusement in watching two or three men loading a piano upon a dray . Already half its weight was supported by the dray 's backboard . One of the men , a big mulatto , almost hidden under the mass of glistening rosewood , was guiding its course , while the other two heaved and tugged in the rear .