midnight
It was a cramped and halting conversation with the Indian 's scant English and the American 's halting Spanish ; sometimes they were unable to understand each other , but they came at last to some sort of agreement , though Juan shook his head mutinously again and again , murmuring -- '' _ No , no ! Señor Don Diego ! No ! _ '' It was almost midnight when Jimsy called them all down into the _ sala _ . They came , wondering , one by one , Carter , Mrs. King , -- Richard King had fallen asleep after his half dozen swallows of water -- and Honor , and Josita , her head muffled in her _ rebozo _ , her brown fingers busy with her beads . Jimsy King was standing in the middle of the room , standing insecurely , his legs far apart , the decanter in his hand , the decanter which had been more than half full when Honor left the room and had now less than an inch of liquor in it . Yaqui Juan , his face sullen , his eyes black and bitter , crouched on the floor , his arms about his knees .