He wrapped his heavy serape about himself, lay down on the bottom of the boat, pillowed his head on his arm, and went to sleep.
When he awoke, it was day and they were floating on a broad sheet of shallow water, which he knew instinctively was Xochimilco.

The wind was still blowing, and one of the boys steered the bergantin.

Benito, Juana and the other boy sat up, with their faces turned toward the rosy morning light, as if they were sun-worshipers.

Ned also felt the inspiration.

The world was purer and clearer here than in the city.