He was not homesick.

The Sunland was very dim and distant, and such memories had no power over him.

Far more potent were the memories of his heredity that gave things he had never seen before a seeming familiarity; the instincts (which were but the memories of his ancestors become habits) which had lapsed in later days, and still later, in him, quickened and become alive again.
Sometimes as he crouched there, blinking dreamily at the flames, it seemed that the flames were of another fire, and that as he crouched by this other fire he saw another and different man from the half-breed cook before him.

This other man was shorter of leg and longer of arm, with muscles that were stringy and knotty rather than rounded and swelling.

The hair of this man was long and matted, and his head slanted back under it from the eyes.