about midnight
It pointed to a ranch-type establishment that lay sprawled out in a billow of dead area . I eyed it warily and kept on driving because my plans did not include marching up to the front door like a rug peddler . Instead , I went on to the next town , some twenty miles away , which I reached about dark . I stopped for a leisurely dinner , saw a moving picture at the drive-in , killed a few at the bar , and started back to the way station about midnight . The name , dug from the mailbox , was Macklin . Again I did not turn in . I parked the car down the highway by about three miles , figuring that only a psi of doctor 's degree would be able to dig anything at that distance .