Yes, it was a man--a dim great figure in armor, standing erect, with both hands on the upper wire--and, of course, there was a smell of burning flesh.

Poor fellow, dead as a door-nail, and never knew what hurt him.

He stood there like a statue--no motion about him, except that his plumes swished about a little in the night wind.

We rose up and looked in through the bars of his visor, but couldn't make out whether we knew him or not--features too dim and shadowed.
We heard muffled sounds approaching, and we sank down to the ground where we were.

We made out another knight vaguely; he was coming very stealthily, and feeling his way.