midday
Where the herd had been there was nothing , not even a blot . It was as the desert , and the vanished herd a mirage . It was like the far northland tight in the grip of winter , like the ocean at night . It was the Dakota frontier at midday . Again time passed and , motionless as at first , wide eyed , the man lay looking out . The pony was sound asleep now . Its nostrils widened and narrowed rhythmically and it snored at intervals .