noon
-- a flashing of color , a twinkling of whiteness -- and went back empty . While Arnaux cleft the air of the valley as a stone from a sling , to be lost -- a white-winged bird -- a spot with flashing halo -- and , quickly , a speck in the offing . On down the dear valley of Hudson , the well-known highway ; for two years he had not seen it ! Now he dropped low as the noon breeze came north and ruffled the river below him . Home ! home ! home !