Seven o'clock
In ten minutes the sweat was rolling . No halt -- no pause -- no command , except the everlasting `` Close up ! close up ! '' Seven o'clock ... we turn to the right -- northwest -- a neighbourhood road ; ... fields ; ... thickets ; ... hills -- not so much dust now , but the sun getting hotter and hotter , and hotter and hotter getting our thirst . And Sunday morning ... Close up ! close up ! Hear it ?