noon
And alone in the hushed bigness of that land the man walked with his thoughts -- brooding , perhaps , over whatever it was that had so strangely placed him there -- dreaming , it may be , over that which might have been , or that which yet might be -- viewing with questioning , wondering , half-fearful eyes the mighty , untamed scenes that met his eye on every hand . Nor did anyone see him , for at every sound of approaching horse or vehicle he went aside from the highway to hide in the bushes or behind convenient rocks . And always when he came from his hiding place to resume his journey that odd smile of self-mockery was on his face . At noon he rested for a little beside the road while he ate a meager sandwich that he took from the pocket of his coat . Then he pushed on again , with grim determination , deeper and deeper into the heart and life of that world which was , to him , so evidently new and strange . The afternoon was well spent when he made his way -- wearily now , with drooping shoulders and dragging step -- up the long slope of the Divide that marks the eastern boundary of the range about Williamson Valley . At the summit , where the road turns sharply around a shoulder of the mountain and begins the steep descent on the other side of the ridge , he stopped .