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. Circumstance and place seemed to the boy so full of wild
romance that he forgot, for the time, his own fate and the message that
he wished to bear to those far Texans.
It was very cold that night on the heights, and, now and then, a little
snow was blown about by the wind, but Ned kept warm by the fire and
between the two serapes.
Pages:
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114