Explore "Captain Fly-By-Night" by Johnston McCulley on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
The fire died down for lack of fuel, until only a small bed of coals remained to glow like a great red eye in the black night. There was no moon. The caballero, warm and dry, had spread his cloak on the ground and was stretched upon it, half asleep, listening to the rushing of the creek and the screeching of the wind that swept up the valley from the sea.
He sensed the presence of human beings near him, and without changing his position on the cloak he let his right hand slip slowly along his side until it gripped the butt of his pistol. And there he remained, trying to pierce the black night with his eyes, ears strained to catch the slightest sound.