The others lay as they were.

It was the gloom in our hollow--the velvety shadows in which we lay with granite boulders scattered between us, and no alertness on our part that saved that day, although Coutlass acted instantly and creditably, once awake.
Schillingschen stood there looking down on us, with his feet planted squarely on the rim of the hollow, and Mauser rifle under one arm.

His great splay beard flowed sidewise in the evening wind.

One hand he held over his eyes, trying to make out details in the dark, as stupid as we were.

He stood with his back to the setting sun, exposing himself without any thought of the risk he ran, his huge, filled-out head refusing stubbornly to take in the truth of what had happened.
Once convinced, the Prussian mind is not readily unconvinced.