His eyes--great dark ones they were, too--were staring out of his head.

I thought he was dead, and called out to father and Jim that he was.
They ran up, and we lifted him off after undoing some straps and a rope.
He was tied on (that was what the half-caste was waiting for at the top of the gully).

When we laid him down his head fell back, and he looked as much like a corpse as if he had been dead a day.
Then we saw he had been wounded.

There was blood on his shirt, and the upper part of his arm was bandaged.
'It's too late, father,' said I; 'he's a dead man.

What pluck he must have had to ride down there!' 'He's worth two dead 'uns yet,' said father, who had his hand on his pulse.