twenty-five minutes past eight
From his army-kit he produced a boot-brush and a can of tan polish , and fell to work , finding in the accustomed task some slight surcease from his troubles . His boots polished to his satisfaction , he selected from the stock of old civilian clothing a respectable riding-suit of English whip-cord , inspected it carefully for spots , and , finding none , donned it . A clean starched chambray shirt , set off by a black-silk Windsor tie , completed his attire , with the exception of a soft , wide , flat-brimmed gray-beaver hat , and stamped him as that which he had once been but was no longer -- a California rancher of taste and means somewhat beyond the average . It was twenty-five minutes past eight when he concluded his leisurely toilet ; so he stepped out of his room , passed round two sides of the porched patio , and entered the dining-room . The long dining-table , hewed by hand from fir logs by the first of the Noriagas , had its rough defects of manufacture mercifully hidden by a snow-white cloth , and he noted with satisfaction that places had been set for five persons . He hung his hat on a wall-peg and waited with his glance on the door . Promptly at eight-thirty , Carolina , smiling , happy , resplendent in a clean starched calico dress of variegated colors , stepped outside the door and rang vigorously a dinner-bell that had called three generations of Noriagas and an equal number of generations of Farrels to their meals .