He kindled a fire and burnt the ends of the sticks into red embers.

Making a bundle of these, he put them under his arm, the dull, glowing ends backward, and then mounted his horse.
It was just about dark when he faced down into the valley.

When he reached level ground he kept to the edge of the left slope and put Nagger to a good trot.

The grass and brush were scant here, and the color of the sand was light, so he had no difficulty in traveling.
From time to time his horse went through grass, and its dry, crackling rustle, showing how it would burn, was music to Slone.

Gradually the monuments began to loom up, bold and black against the blue sky, with stars seemingly hanging close over them.