three o'clock
That word -- home -- sounded oddly enough to David up here three hundred miles from civilization . He fancied that he heard the dogs shuffling in the snow , and the satisfied rasping of their master 's hands . Father Roland did not return into the tent again that night . David fell asleep , but was roused for breakfast at three o'clock , and they were away before it was yet light . Through the morning darkness Mukoki led the way as unerringly as a fox , for he was now on his own ground . As dawn came , with a promise of sun , David wondered in a whimsical sort of way whether his companions , both dogs and men , were going mad . He had not as yet experienced the joy and excitement of a northern homecoming , nor had he dreamed that it was possible for Mukoki 's leathern face to break into wild jubilation .