midday
But -- a pebble killed Goliath . H. J. Owens , whose eyes were the wrong shade of blue , sat upon a rocky hilltop which overlooked the trail from Flying U Coulee and a greater portion of the shack-dotted benchland as well , and swept the far horizons with his field glasses . Just down the eastern slope , where the jutting sandstone cast a shadow , his horse stood tied to a dejected wild-currant bush . He laid the glasses across his knees while he refilled his pipe , and tilted his hatbrim to shield his pale blue eyes from the sun that was sliding past midday . H. J. Owens looked at his watch , nevertheless , as though the position of the sun meant nothing to him . He scowled a little , stretched a leg straight out before him to ease it of cramp , and afterwards moved farther along in the shade . The wind swept past with a faint whistle , and laid the ripening grasses flat where it passed .