He slept heavily, refreshingly.
He awoke to the craving for food, and immediately started a small fire outside and boiled coffee in a nice new aluminum pail that held two quarts and had an ornamental cover.

The oil stove he dismissed from his mind with a snort of contempt.

And because nearly everything he saw was catalogued in his mind as a luxury, he opened cans somewhat extravagantly and dined off strange, delectable foods to which his palate was unaccustomed.

He still thought it was mighty queer, but that did not impair his appetite.
Afterwards he went out to look after William, remembering that horses were said to have died in this place.

William was almost within kicking distance of the spring, as if he meant to keep an eye upon the water supply even though that involved browsing off brush instead of wandering down to good grass below the camp.
Casey knelt stiffly and drank from the spring, laving his face and head afterward as if he never would get enough of the luxury of being wet and cool.