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"Eight o'clock will suit me very well." Wilson lit his pipe and with arms folded on the top rail of the barnyard fence gazed down across the partially-cleared, fire-dotted sweep to where, a mile distant, a long, densely timbered point of land stood darkly silhouetted against the sheen of a rising moon. "Why, Captain Acton's daughter, Miss Lucy Acton!".
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Conrad
They went out to the stable and Wilson saddled the roan. "I'll be back in an hour or so," called the deacon as he rode away. As he climbed the rail fence his eyes swept the Settlement below, resting at length on the jail-like wall in the edge of the Scroggie timber, above which the tall derrick protruded like a white, scarred face. "Humph!" he mused, "Scroggie and Hinter must either have struck water, or give up. Their rig's quiet after chuggin' away day and night for weeks." Maddoc was silent for a moment. Then his square chin shot forward. "I think that Mr. Johnston went a little too far there," Wilson ventured..
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