He was a young fellow who, as I noted, had turned his head away and hidden his eyes with his hand when the horror was done yonder.
All the others were dead except the officer who had worked the deed.

He was still living, but both his hands and one of his feet had been blown away.

Presently he died, screaming to God for mercy.
We passed on and came to a barn with wide doors that swung a little in the wind, causing the rusted hinges to scream like a creature in pain.
On each of these doors hung a dead man crucified.

The hat of one of them lay upon the ground, and I knew from the shape of it that he was a Colonial soldier.
"Did you not tell me," said Oro after surveying them, "that these Germans are of your Christian faith ?" "Yes; and the Name of God is always on their ruler's lips." "Ah!" he said, "I am glad that I worship Fate.

Bastin the priest need trouble me no more." "There is something behind Fate," I said, quoting Bastin himself.
"Perhaps.