She is not of their number.

If he has ever seen her before their encounter on the Staked Plain, it must have been while passing along the street of some Mexican city.
And this could scarcely be, in his silent reflection; for such a woman once seen--even but for a moment--could never be forgotten.
He lies pondering on all that has passed--on all he can now recall.
Walt had got back, then, to the place where they parted.

He must have found food and water, though it matters now no more.

Enough that he has got back, and both are in an asylum of safety, under friendly protection.

This is evident from the surroundings.
Still feeble as a child, the effort of thought very soon fatigues him; and this, with the narcotic influence of the flower perfume, the songs of the birds, and the soothing monotone of the waters, produces a drowsiness that terminates in a profound slumber.