six o'clock
Barely half an hour later , while Glover waited with anxiety at the foot of the stairs , Gertrude reappeared , and with her loveliness all new , walked shyly and haltingly down each step toward him . Not a soul about the hotel office had stirred , and Glover led her to the retired little parlor , which was warm and dim , to reassure himself that the fluttering girl was all his own . Unable to credit the fulness of their own happiness they sat confiding to each other all the sweet trifles , now made doubly sweet , of their strange acquaintance . Before six o'clock , and while their seclusion was still their own , a hot breakfast was served to them where they sat , and day broke on storm without and lovers within . What shapes the legends of the Wickiup ? Is it because in the winter night the wind never sleeps in the gorge above the headquarters shack that despatchers talk yet of a wind that froze the wolf and the sheep and the herder to marble together ? Is it because McGraw runs no more that switchmen tell of the run he made over Sweetgrass the night he sent a plough through eight hundred head of sheep in less than a tenth as many seconds ?