Before searching the pockets Steinmetz took out his own handkerchief and laid it over a face which had become unrecognizable.

The horse was standing over them.

It bent its head and sniffed wonderingly at that which had once been its master.
There was a singular, scared look in its eyes.
Steinmetz pushed aside the enquiring muzzle.
"If you could speak, my friend," he said, "we might want you.

As it is, you had better continue your meal." Paul was unbuttoning the dead man's clothes.

He inserted his hand within the rough shirt.
"This man," he said, "was starving.