Not much wind was blowing, and it, too, was melodious.

Henry lay with his head on a little heap of ashes, which was covered by his under blanket, and, for the first time since he had brought the warning to Wyoming, he was free from all feeling of danger.
The picture itself of the battle, the defeat, the massacre, the torture, and of the savage Queen Esther cleaving the heads of the captives, was at times as vivid as ever, and perhaps would always return now and then in its original true colors, but the periods between, when youth, hope, and strength had their way, grew longer and longer.
Now Henry's eyelids sank lower and lower.

Physical comfort and the presence of his comrades caused a deep satisfaction that permeated his whole being.

The light wind mingled pleasantly with the soft summer rain.

The sound of the two grew strangely melodious, almost piercingly sweet, and then it seemed to be human.