noon
She led on and on and up and down , never at fault , with familiar landmarks near and far . Cleve hung close to her , and now his call to her or to the pack-horse took on a keener note . Every rough and wild mile behind them meant so much . They did not halt at the noon hour . They did not halt at the next camp-site , still more darkly memorable to Joan . And sunset found them miles farther on , down on the divide , at the head of Lost Canon . Here Joan ate and drank , and slept the deep sleep of exhaustion .