The Indians had no thought to guard me.

We lay down under the moon, and that bronze host slept, naked beautiful statues, in every attitude of rest.
The moon shone until there was silver day.

Juan Lepe was not sleeping.
There was no wind, but he watched a branch move.

It looked like a man's arm, then it moved farther and was a full man,--an Indian, noiseless, out clear in the moon, from the wood.

I knew him.