He had been smoking a cob pipe when the silent assassin’s hatchet struck him, and the pipe now remained clenched between his set teeth. At first, for the dead leaves stuck to him, we could not see that he had been scalped, but when we turned him over the loose and horrible features, all wrinkled where the severed brow-muscles had released the skin, left us in no doubt.

“This man never uttered that abominable cry,” I said, shuddering. “Is there yet another missing from the guard?”

“Oh, no, sir,” said the soldier who had dragged him. “That there was a heifer bawling when them devils cut her throat.”

He stood scratching his head and gazing blankly down at his dead comrade.

“Jesus,” he drawled. “What be I a-goin’ for to tell his woman now?”