There we laid also the body of the man I had shot in the night.

He was a young savage, naked to the waist, and curiously tattooed on the forehead with the device of what seemed to be a rising or setting sun.
I observed that Shalah looked closely at this, and that his face wore an unusual excitement.

He said something in his own tongue, and, when the trench was dug, laid the dead man in it so that his head pointed westwards.
We wrought in a dogged silence, and Elspeth's cheery whistling was the only sound in that sullen morning.

It fairly broke my heart.

She was whistling the old tune of "Leezie Lindsay," a merry lilt with the hill wind and the heather in it.