About midnight
His way lay always upward toward the crests of the high mountains of the Blue Ridge Range . The roads he traversed were scarcely more than trails -- too steep in their ascent to have been traveled by wagons that might wear them into thoroughfares . During the many hours of his riding he saw no sign of human habitation anywhere , and no prospect of finding food for himself or his horse , though both were famishing . About midnight , however , he came upon a bit of wild pasture land on a steep mountain side , where his horse at least might crop the early grass of the spring . There he halted , removed his saddle and bridle , and turned the animal loose , saying : `` Poor beast ! You will not stray far away . There 's half an acre of grass here , with bare rocks all around it .