They had fought, yes, but fought each his own losing individual battle after what had been a night surprise.
The swollen and blackened features of the dead men stared up, mutilated as savages alone mark the fallen.

Two were staked out, hand and foot, and ashes lay near them, upon them.

Arrows stood up between the ribs of the dead men, driven through and down into the ground.

A dozen mules, as Jackson had said, drooped with low heads and hanging ears, arrow shafts standing out of their paunches, waiting for death to end their agony.
"Finish them, Jackson." Wingate handed the hunter his own revolver, signaling for Kelsey and Hall to do the same.

The methodical cracking of the hand arms began to end the suffering of the animals.
They searched for scraps of clothing to cover the faces of the dead, the bodies of some dead.