midday
and at its third repetition he turned his head in surprise , but was no more heeded than were the bluffs and flowers where he was taking his own undirected choice of way . He carried her over ground she knew by heart -- Corncliff Mesa , Crowheart Butte , Westfall 's Crossing , Upper Canyon ; open land and woodland , pines and sage-brush , all silent and grave and lustrous in the sunshine . Once and again a ranchman greeted her , and wondered if she had forgotten who he was ; once she passed some cow-punchers with a small herd of steers , and they stared after her too . Bear Creek narrowed , its mountain-sides drew near , its little falls began to rush white in midday shadow , and the horse suddenly pricked his ears . Unguided , he was taking this advantage to go home . Though he had made but little way -- a mere beginning yet -- on this trail over to Sunk Creek , here was already a Sunk Creek friend whinnying good day to him , so he whinnied back and quickened his pace , and Molly started to life . What was Monte doing here ?