midnight
I soon discovered that the Dunkelbergs had fallen from their high estate in our home and that Silas Wright , Jr. , had taken their place in the conversation of Aunt Deel . In the pathless forest we had a little companion that always knew its way . No matter how strange and remote the place might be or how black the night its tiny finger always pointed in the same direction . By the light of the torch at midnight , in blinding darkness , I have seen it sway and settle toward its beloved goal . It seemed to be thinking of some far country which it desired to recommend to us . It seemed to say : `` Look ! I know not which way is yours , but this -- this is my way and all the little cross roads lead off it . ''