A part of its clothes still remained, but the head had broken from its column, and the white and fleshless skull lay facing them.

Out of tattered and dust-crumbling sleeves reached the naked bones of hands and arms.

And on the floor lay another of these things, in a crumpled and huddled heap, only the back of the skull showing, like the polished pate of a bald man.

These things they saw first, and then two others: on the table were a heap of age-blackened and dusty sacks, and out of the back of the crumbling thing that guarded them stuck the long buckhorn hilt of a knife.
"They must ha' died fighting," said MacDonald.

"An' there, Johnny, is their gold!" White as death Joanne stood in the door and watched them.