three o'clock
He had shaken the sawdust of the sham arena from his high , tight-fitting boots ; he would shake off the white dust of France , and the effeminate soil of all Europe also , and embark at once for his own country and the Far West ! A more practical and experienced man would have sold his horse at the nearest market and taken train to Havre , but Alkali Dick felt himself incomplete on terra firma without his mustang , -- it would be hard enough to part from it on embarking , -- and he had determined to ride to the seaport . The spectacle of a lithe horseman , clad in a Rembrandt sombrero , velvet jacket , turnover collar , almost Van Dyke in its proportions , white trousers and high boots , with long curling hair falling over his shoulders , and a pointed beard and mustache , was a picturesque one , but still not a novelty to the late-supping Parisians who looked up under the midnight gas as he passed , and only recognized one of those men whom Paris had agreed to designate as `` Booflo-bils , '' going home . At three o'clock he pulled up at a wayside cabaret , preferring it to the publicity of a larger hotel , and lay there till morning . The slight consternation of the cabaret-keeper and his wife over this long-haired phantom , with glittering , deep-set eyes , was soothed by a royally-flung gold coin , and a few words of French slang picked up in the arena , which , with the name of Havre , comprised Dick 's whole knowledge of the language . But he was touched with their ready and intelligent comprehension of his needs , and their genial if not so comprehensive loquacity . Luckily for his quick temper , he did not know that they had taken him for a traveling quack-doctor going to the Fair of Yvetot , and that madame had been on the point of asking him for a magic balsam to prevent migraine .