nine o'clock
Major James Edward Makerstone Agar had simply disappeared . His limited baggage was attached to the smaller belongings of General Michael , and no explanation was offered by that dreaded officer . To him the cold seemed to be a matter of indifference ; for he stood about watching every movement of the men with a supreme disregard for the driving snow or the knife-like wind that whistled over the northern scarp . Under his calculating eye they worked to such effect that by nine o'clock the little column was on the downward march . Again General Michael rode through that lone , lorn country lying between India and Russia . Again his melancholy face with keen but hopeless eyes passed through the darksome valleys where , if legend be true , a race as old as his has lived since the children of Abraham set forth to wander over the earth . For twenty years this man had haunted these vales and hills , seeking , ever seeking , his own aggrandisement and nothing else .