We thought he was dead.

He was a young man, an indian in the usual dress, apparently a Zapotec.

His face was bloody and his shirt was soaked in front with blood, which had trickled down upon the ground forming a pool in which he lay.

We could see no deep wound, but, as he lay upon his side, there may have been such.

Near him in the road there lay a knife, the blade covered with blood.