Two began to play guitars and they sang a plaintive song to the music.

The others, smoking cigarritos, listened attentively and luxuriously.

Ned imitated them perfectly.

He, too, lying upon his elbow before the pleasant fire, felt the influence of the music, so sweet, so murmurous, speaking so little of war.

One of the men handed him a cigarrito, and, lighting it, he made pretense of smoking--he would not have seemed a Mexican had he not smoked the cigarrito.
Lying there, Ned saw many tents, evidence of a camp that was not for the day only, and he beheld officers in bright uniforms passing among them.
His heart gave a great jump when he noticed among them a heavy-set, dark man.