about nine o'clock
Charley shook her head and lapsed into silence again . Roger refilled his pipe and replenished the fire . The flames leaped up and turned the gray Navajo to rose color . The night wind which Roger had learned to expect about nine o'clock swooped down the chimney . The faint bark and long drawn howl of a coyote pack sounded from the valley and from behind the adobe rose a whimper that increased to a scream that was almost human . Roger sat forward in his chair . `` Wild cats ! ''