The bed itself was about thirty feet wide, although the water did not have a width of more than ten feet.
Everything was now quite dry, as the wind had been blowing all day.

But the breeze had died with the night, and the camp was so still that Ned could hear the faint trickle of the water over the sand.

It was a fair night, with a cold moon and cold stars looking down.

The air was full of chill, and Ned began to walk up and down again in order to keep warm.
He noticed Roylston still sitting with eyes wide open and the rifle across his lap.
As Ned came near in his walk the merchant turned his bright eyes upon him.
"I hear," he said, "that you have seen Santa Anna." "More than once.

Several times when I was a prisoner in Mexico, and again when I was recaptured." "What do you think of him ?" The gaze of the bright eyes fixed upon Ned became intense and concentrated.
"A great man! A wickedly great man!" Roylston turned his look away, and interlaced his fingers thoughtfully.
"A good description, I think," he said.