ten o'clock
The previous occupants had already left strong evidences in the patio , which had been converted into a manure pile . The walls , once whitewashed , were now faded and cracked , revealing the bare unbaked adobe ; the floor had been torn up by the hoofs of animals ; the orchard was littered with rotted branches and dead leaves . From the entrance one stumbled over broken bits of chairs and other furniture covered with dirt . By ten o'clock , Luis Cervantes yawned with boredom , said good night to Blondie and War Paint , who were downing endless drinks on a bench in the square , and made for the barracks . The drawing room was alone furnished . As he entered , Demetrio , lying on the floor with his eyes wide open , trying to count the beams , gazed at him . `` It 's you , eh ?