midnight
It shall whisper to me from the wind . I shall hear it on running waters . It will hide in the morning music of a mocking-bird and in the lonely night cry of the cañon hawk . Her blood will go to make the red of the Indian flowers and her soul will rest at midnight in the lily that opens only to the moon . She will wait in the shadow for me , and live in the great mountain that is my home , and for ever step behind me on the trail . '' `` You will kill Willetts ? '' demanded Shefford .