For all that, it sounds in Hamersley's ears sweet as the most seraphic music, since in its tones he recognises the voice of Walt Wilder.
A joyous throb thrills through his heart on discovering that his comrade has rejoined him.

After their parting upon the plain he had his fears they might never come together again.
Walt is not within sight, for the conversation is carried on outside the room.

The invalid sees that he is in a room, a small one, of which the walls are wood, roughly-hewn slabs, with furniture fashioned in a style corresponding.

He is lying upon a _catre_, or camp bedstead, rendered soft by a mattress of bearskins, while a _serape_ of bright-coloured pattern is spread over him, serving both for blanket and counterpane.
In the apartment is a table of the rudest construction, with two or three chairs, evidently from the hand of the same unskilful workman, their seats being simply hides with the hair on.

On the table is a cup with a spoon in it, and two or three small bottles, that have the look of containing medicines.
All these objects come under his eyes at the first dim glance; but as his vision grows clearer, and he feels strength enough to raise his head from the pillow, other articles are disclosed to view, in strange contrast with the chattels first observed.