For there was no further need for him to throw away his own life in the belated effort at rescue.
The three black figures had regained their feet.

And, on the trampled lawn-edge in front of them lay a huddle of white, with darker stains splashed here and there on it.

The body lay in an impossible posture--a posture which Nature neither intends nor permits.

It told its own dreadful story, to the most uninitiated of the three onlookers at the window.
With dragging feet, Milo Standish turned back, and reentered the house, as he had gone out of it.
"I am a coward!" he said, heavily.

"I could have saved him.
Or we could have fought, back to back, till we were killed.
It would have been a white man's way of dying.