noon
At first the way was entirely familiar to her . It passed few habitations , and of those the dwellers were not yet abroad , since it was scarce day . As time went on she got to the little settlement at the foot of the first mountain , and had to explain to everybody her destination and ambition . Beyond this , she stopped occasionally for direction , she met more people ; yet she was still in the heart of the mountains when noon found her , and she crept up a wayside bank and sat down alone to eat her bite of corn pone . Guided by the instinct -- or the wood-craft -- of the mountain born and bred , she had sought out one of the hermit springs of beautiful freestone water that hide in these solitudes . When she had slaked her thirst at its little ice-cold chalice , she raised her head with a low exclamation of rapture . There , growing and blowing beside the cool thread of water which trickled from the spring , was a stately pink moccasin flower .