noon
The deep hush of noon hovered over the vast solitude of Canadian forest . The moose and caribou had fed since early dawn , and were resting quietly in the warmth of the February sun ; the lynx was curled away in his niche between the great rocks , waiting for the sun to sink farther into the north and west before resuming his marauding adventures ; the fox was taking his midday slumber and the restless moose-birds were fluffing themselves lazily in the warm glow that was beginning to melt the snows of late winter . It was that hour when the old hunter on the trail takes off his pack , silently gathers wood for a fire , eats his dinner and smokes his pipe , eyes and ears alert ; -- that hour when if you speak above a whisper , he will say to you , `` Sh-h-h-h ! Be quiet !