August noon
He could see nothing , could hear nothing . Blue Knickers had withdrawn ; he could mark no prowling figures . Only among the tree-trunks a pale wisp of smoke meandered upwards , telling of a camp-fire behind . About him was the drowsy buzz-z-z of an August noon . A cabbage butterfly sailed by . The creature 's insufferable airs annoyed him . The fate of Nelson , the life of a noble lad , these were nothing to it , curse it for its callousness !