The heat of the sun was by this time intense, while the forest steamed from a succession of brief but drenching showers that had swept over it since they started.
As Dionysio comprehended what was wanted he proceeded, without a word, to construct a small bower of branches and palm leaves, beneath which he slung Ridge's hammock.

The young trooper's eyes were so leaden with sleep that he had no sooner slipped into this than he was lost in a dreamless slumber.
When he next awoke, greatly refreshed by his long nap, the great heat of the day was past, and the shadows of coming evening produced a pleasant coolness.

For a few minutes Ridge lay in a state of lazy content, gazing with languid interest at his surroundings.

The sky, so far as he could see it, was cloudless, the crisp leaves of a tall palm close at hand rustled in a light breeze like the patter of rain, gayly plumaged paroquets and nonpareils flitted across his line of vision, and the air was filled with the pleasant odor of burning wood, mingled with the fragrance of a cigarette that Dionysio smoked while squatted on his heels before a small fire.

A little beyond, Senorita, tethered to a tree, cropped at a small patch of coarse grass, and--but Ridge could not credit his senses until he had rubbed his eyes vigorously to make sure that they were doing their duty--another horse was sharing the grass-plot with her.