noon
Did I believe in omens , the black storm that I set out in upon my horse would seem like one to-day . But I had been living in cities and smoke ; and Idaho , even with rain , was delightful to me . When the first landmark , the lone clump of cottonwoods , came at length in sight , dark and blurred in the gentle rain , standing out perhaps a mile beyond the distant buildings , my whole weary body hailed the approach of repose . Saving the noon hour , I had been in the saddle since six , and now six was come round again . The ranch , my resting-place for this night , was a ruin -- cabin , stable , and corral . Yet after the twelve hours of pushing on and on through silence , still to have silence , still to eat and go to sleep in it , perfectly fitted the mood of both my flesh and spirit . At noon , when for a while I had thrown off my long oilskin coat , merely the sight of the newspaper half crowded into my pocket had been a displeasing reminder of the railway , and cities , and affairs .