six o'clock
The rare , untempered sunshine of the Rockies poured into his window from a world outside , wonderful as the early morning of creation . The hillside opposite was bathed miraculously in a flood of light , in which grasshoppers fiddled triumphantly their joy in life . The sources of his dreams discovered themselves in the bawl of thirsty cattle and the regular clicking of a windmill . A glance at his watch told him that it was six o'clock . `` Time to get up , Steve , '' he told himself , and forthwith did . He chose a rough crash towel , slipped on a pair of Howard 's moccasins , and went down to the river through an ambient that had the sparkle and exhilaration of champagne . The mountain air was still finely crisp with the frost , in spite of the sun warmth that was beginning to mellow it .