three o'clock
He drove on , plunging into the deep hollow beyond the house , and keeping for several miles the road they had taken on that Sunday together ; but he did not make the turn that brought them back to the village again . The pale sunset was slanting over the snow when he reached the Junction , for he had slackened his colt 's pace after he had put ten miles behind him , not choosing to reach a prospective purchaser with his horse all blown and bathed with sweat . He wished to be able to say , `` Look at him ! He 's come fifteen miles since three o'clock , and he 's as keen as when he started . '' This was true , when , having left his baggage at the Junction , he drove another mile into the country to see the farmer of the gentleman who had his summer-house here , and who had once bantered Bartley to sell him his colt . The farmer was away , and would not be at home till the up-train from Boston was in . Bartley looked at his watch , and saw that to wait would lose him the six o'clock down-train .