Slone put on more wood, for the keen wind was cold and cutting; and then he lay down, his head in his saddle, with a goatskin under him and a saddle-blanket over him.
All three were soon asleep.

The wind whipped the sand and ashes and smoke over the sleepers.

Coyotes barked from near in darkness, and from the valley ridge came the faint mourn of a hunting wolf.

The desert night grew darker and colder.
The Stewart brothers were wild-horse hunters for the sake of trades and occasional sales.

But Lin Slone never traded nor sold a horse he had captured.