four o'clock
It had something of the look of a preposterous hay-cart , with the ends of blue-painted poles sticking out in front and trailing behind . Following this was a great , white-swathed wheeled box drawn by four horses . It was certainly a curious affair , whatever it was , but neither Calico nor Old Jeff gave it much heed , nor did they waste a glance on the distant tail of the procession , for behind the wheeled box was a thing which held their gaze . In the gray four o'clock light it seemed like an enormous cow that rolled menacingly forward ; not as a cow walks , however , but with a swaying , heaving motion like nothing commonly seen on a Maine highway . Instinctively both horses thrust their muzzles toward the thing and sniffed . Without doubt Old Jeff was frightened . Perhaps not for nine generations had any of his ancestors caught a whiff of that peculiarly terrifying scent of which every horse inherits knowledge and dread .