five o'clock in the morning
The correctness of his inference brought a brief smile to his lips when he crossed the creek that skirted the orchard , and heard a stable door creak softly behind him . He was to be followed again -- and watched , but he did not look back or pause to listen for the hoofbeats of his unsolicited escort . On the soft mud of the road , he would hardly have heard them , had he bent his ear and drawn rein . He rode at a walk , for his train would not leave until five o'clock in the morning . There was time in plenty . It was cold and depressing as he trudged the empty streets from the livery stable to the railroad station , carrying his saddlebags over his arm . His last farewell had been taken when he left the old mule behind in the rickety livery stable .