noon
A wooden staff projects some five feet above the topmost roof peak of the Arrowhead ranch house , and to this staff is affixed a bell of brazen malignity . At five-thirty each morning the cord controlling this engine of discord is jerked madly and forever by Lew Wee , our Chinese chef . It is believed by those compelled to obey the horrid summons that this is Lew Wee 's one moment of gladness in a spoiled life . The sound of the noon bell , the caressing call of the night bell -- these he must know to be welcome . The morning clangour he must know to be a tragedy of foulest import . It is undeniably rung with a keener relish . There will be some effort at rhythm with the other bells , but that morning bell jangles in a broken frenzy of clangs , ruthlessly prolonged , devilish to the last insulting stroke .