noon
He waded ashore now and went on , his pole over his shoulder , whistling , filled with an enjoyment that he could not for the world have described ; but which was born amid the singing of the stream , the droning of bees , the noises of birds and insects , in a lazy murmur that filled all the quiet valley . It was rare fun following the winding of that stream ; among little hills , by the edges of meadows and through groves of mingled cedars and birches . Now and then he would rest and watch its noiseless flowing , past some spot where the branches hung close over the water ; where the stream flowed so smoothly and quietly that the shadows asleep on its surface were never disturbed . The noon hour came , and Little Tim seated himself for his luncheon on a knoll carpeted with thick , tufted grass . A kingfisher , disturbed by his arrival , went rattling on his way upstream . And as the boy drew from his dingy blouse a scrap of brown paper , enclosing a bit of bread and cheese , and laid it down beside him , the stream seemed to be dancing just before him at the tune he whistled ; a swinging , whirling dance from shore to shore ; a butterfly dance , through a setting of buttercups and daisies ; with here and there a shaft of sunlight thrown upon it , where the thin clouds parted . Afternoon came , and the shadows of the low hills were thrown far across the stream .