At sunset Slone was more shut in than for several hours.

He could tell the time was sunset by the golden light on the cliff wall again overhanging him.

The slope was gradual up to this pass to the saddle, and upon coming to a spring, and the first pine-trees, he decided to halt for a camp.

The mustang was almost exhausted.
Thereupon he hobbled the horses in the luxuriant grass round the spring, and then unrolled his pack.

Once as dusk came stealing down, while he was eating his meal, Nagger whistled in fright.