seven
o'clock
`` Got 'em all over ten States , '' he answered , as I questioned him with delight at the presence of our old friends . Then while I crouched and stirred , he took his long knife out , cut great armfuls of cedar boughs , threw them in a shadow at the foot of a tall old oak , and with a bundle of sticks swept upon them a great pile of dry leaves into the form of a huge nest . The golden glow was just fading as I lifted the pot and poured his portion in his bowl , then mine in the other , while he cut the black loaf he had taken from his bundle into hunks with his knife . It was after seven o'clock , and the crescent moon hung low by the ridge , waiting for the sun to take its complete departure before setting in for its night 's joy-ride up the sky . It was eight before Pan finished his slow browsing in his bowl and came over to crouch with me out on the ledge of rock that overlooked the world below us . Clusters of lights in nests of gray smoke were dotted around over the valley , and I knew the nearest one was Riverfield ; indeed I could see a bunch of lights a little way apart from the rest , and I felt sure that they were lighting the remaining revelers at my wedding-feast at Elmnest . The Golden Bird had gone sensibly to roost on one of the low limits of the old oak , and he reminded me of the white blur of Polly 's wedding bell , which I had caught a glimpse of as I ran through the hall at Elmnest . ''