About nine o'clock
When I first went to Dunregan I used to pity Salamander , on hearing him every morning enter our hall with a gust of air that seemed cold enough to freeze a walrus , and proceed to strike a light and kindle our fire . My own nose , and sometimes an eye , was all that protruded from the buffalo robe at such times . But Salamander never shivered , and always grinned , from which I came to understand that my pity was misplaced . About nine o'clock each night he left us to look after the great Carron stove ourselves , and we were all pretty good stokers . Self-interest kept us up to duty . Sometimes we overdid it , raising the dull-red to brightness now and then . On this particular occasion , in the exuberance of his feelings , Lumley , before bursting into my room , had heaped on as much dry wood as the stove could hold .