No tents were set, but a large fire was built, partly of dry stems of the giant cactus.

The cactus burned rapidly with a light, sparkling blaze, and left a white ash, but the heavier wood, mixed with it, made a bed of coals that glowed long in the darkness.
Ned sat beside the fire on his serape with another thrown over his shoulders, as the night was growing very chill with a sharp wind whistling down from the mountains.

The kindness of his captors did not decrease, and he found a genuine pleasure in the human companionship and physical comfort.

Almonte found a comfortable place, took a guitar out of a silken case, and hummed and played a love song.

No American officer would have done it at such a time and place, but it seemed natural in him.
Ned could not keep from being attracted by the picture that he presented, the handsome young officer bending over his guitar, his heart in the song that he played, but ready at any instant to be the brave and wary soldier.