one o'clock
For a moment ago it had hidden under his horse 's belly , and now it ran beside him , ever lengthening , ever pushing farther to the eastward , a grim avowal that the day was passing . The miles fled behind him like lean greyhounds . The miles before him reached out in unshortened endlessness . It was one o'clock . He had been gone two hours -- he had done nothing . Now , far ahead , he caught sight of moving figures , saw a man yonder on horseback , saw another , hardly more than a drifting dot against the sky-line to the east , another yet to the west . They were still searching for her , still pushing deeper and deeper into the burning solitudes ; they had found nothing .