He was a much younger man, possibly not over thirty, and his face was ghastly.

The third lay where he had fallen from exhaustion after crawling through the hole.

Both wore service coats, with holsters at their sides.
The man against the snow-wall was making an effort to rise.

He sagged back, and grinned up apologetically at McKay.
"Dam' fine of you, old man," he mumbled between blistered lips.
"I'm Porter--'N' Division--taking Superintendent Tavish to Fort Churchill--Tavish and his daughter.

Made a hell of a mess of it, haven't I ?" He struggled to his knees.
"There's brandy in our kit.