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. Against the wall hang
several articles of female apparel--all of a costly kind. They are of
silk and silk-velvet, richly brocaded; while on a second table, slab
like the first, he can distinguish bijouterie, with other trifles
usually belonging to a lady's toilet.

These lie in front of a small mirror set in a frame which appears to be
silver; while above is suspended a guitar, of the kind known as
_bandolon_.

The sick man sees all these things with a half-bewildered gaze, for his
senses are still far from clear. The costly articles of apparel and
adornment would be appropriate in a lady's boudoir or bed chamber. But
they appear strange, even grotesque, in juxtaposition with the
roughly-hewn timbers of what is evidently a humble cottage--a log cabin!

Of course he connects them with her, that singular being who has
succoured, and perhaps saved his life. He can have no other conjecture.
He remembers seeing a house as they approached its outside. It must be
that he is now in; though, from the last conscious thought, as he felt
himself swooning in the saddle, all has been as blank as if he had been
lying lifeless in a tomb. Even yet it might appear as a dream but for
the voice of Walt Wilder, who, outside, seems labouring hard to make
himself intelligible to some personage with whom he is conversing.

Hamersley is about to utter a cry that will summon his comrade to his
side, when he perceives that the voices are becoming fainter, as if the
two speakers had gone outside the house and were walking away from it.
Feeling too weak even for the slightest exertion, he remains silent,
taking it for granted they will soon return.

It is broad daylight, the sun glancing in through an aperture in the
wall that serves for a window. It has neither frame nor glass, and
along with the bright beams there drifts in a cool breeze laden with the
delicious fragrance of flowers, among which he can distinguish the
aromatic perfume of the wild China tree. There are voices of birds
mingling their music with the sough of falling water--sounds very
different from those of the desert