A strip of canvas made a carpet upon the hard earthen floor.

A hanging cloth concealed a portion of the rear end of the tent.

Such had been Battersleigh's quarters in many climes, under different flags, sometimes perhaps more luxurious, but nevertheless punctiliously neat, even when Fortune had left him servantless, as had happened now.
Colonel Battersleigh as he wrote now and then looked out of the open door.

His vision reached out, not across a wilderness of dirty roads, nor along a line of similar tents.

There came to his ear no neighing of horses nor shouting of the captains, neither did there arise the din of the busy, barren city.