In London he had scarcely dared admit so much even to himself.

Here, in this vast solitude, he was more master of himself--dreams which seemed to him the most beautiful and the most daring which he had ever conceived, filled his brain and stirred his senses till the blood in his veins seemed flowing to a new and wonderful music.

Those were wonderful moments for him.
His pipe was nearly out, and a cooler breeze was stealing over the plain.

After all, perhaps an hour or so's sleep would be possible now.
He stretched himself and yawned, cast one more glance across the moonlit plain, and then stood suddenly still, stiffened into an attitude of breathless interest.

Yonder, between two lines of shrubs, were moving bodies--men, footsore and weary, crawling along with slow, painful movements; one at least of them was a European, and even at that distance Trent could tell that they were in grievous straits.