midnight
It was the candidate 's eighth speech that day , but Harley , who was in analytical mood , could see no decrease either in his energy or spontaneity of thought and expression . The words still came with the old dash and the old power , and the audience always hung upon them , the applause invariably rising like the rattle of rifle-fire . They had started at daylight , hurrying across the monotonous Western plains , in a dusty and uncomfortable car , stopping for a half-hour speech here , then racing for another at a second little village , and then a third race and a third speech , and so on . Nor was this the first day of such labors ; it had been so week after week , and always it lasted through the day and far into the darkness , sometimes after midnight . But there was no sign to tell of it on the face of the candidate , save a slight redness around the edge of the eyelids , and a little hoarseness between the speeches when he talked to his friends in an ordinary tone . The village in which Grayson was speaking was a tiny place of twelve or fifteen houses , all square , unadorned , and ugly , standing in the centre of an illimitable prairie that rolled away on either side exactly like the waves of the sea , and with the same monotony . It was a weather-beaten gathering .