midnight
The sound of violins and the shuffle of feet became faint , and the last gay voice died in the distance . Only now and then , when the horses ' feet fell in unison , there drifted after them the note of a violin -- like a wind at night in an old casement . And then the three riders were presently aware of being quite alone on a windless waste , with a sentinel yucca standing on a distant height here and there between them and the descending moon , and distant groups of mesquite wreathing themselves in the silver mist of early morning . It had been a little past midnight when they left the Quemado . Sylvia , riding between the two men , was so obviously under some sort of constraint that Harboro sought to arouse her . `` I 'm afraid you overtaxed yourself , Sylvia , '' he suggested . `` It 's all been pleasant , but rather -- heroic . ''