While this process was going on, the rest, leaning on their muskets, were anxiously grouped around the spot where Philips had fallen.  At first, only the outline of a man of large stature and proportions could be seen lying in a cramped position, as if produced by some strong convulsive agony, and then when the fire began to kindle and crackle, the dress could be distinguished, and then as the light grew brighter, the scalpless head, and then the marked and distorted features of the murdered master of the house, who lay in a pool of blood that slowly trickled along the crevices of the floor.  His hands were firmly clenched upon the barrel of a rifle which had been broken off at the stock, that now lay a few yards beyond, while the features, sternly set in death, bore a mingled expression of defiance and resolution.  A cut, as from a tomahawk had laid open his left temple, while on several parts of his body could be seen thick encrustations of blood that had exuded through the rent clothing, marking the seat of several stabs and gunshot wounds.  It was evident that Mr. Heywood had not lost his life without a desperate, struggle, for independently of the testimony afforded by his broken rifle, which he seemed to have used with fierce determination, the heavy table had been overthrown, and the few articles of necessary furniture in the room evidently displaced.

“What a tale, this, to carry back,” gravely remarked Weston.  “I wouldn’t take the corporal’s stripes to-morrow, and be the first man to tell Miss Heywood of it.”

“Supposing we get back at all,” said Cass.  “Though we’re safe enough for the present, I’ve no notion these devils will let us off go soon.”

“There’s no great danger now,” interrupted the corporal.  “I defy them, if they’re not stronger than we saw them this morning, to get into the house, with six good firelocks to defend it.”

“But they may set fire to it, and burn us out,” persevered the apprehensive man with the hooked nose and the peaked chin; “I’ve heard of those things before.”

“Burn your granny out, Nutcrackers; look at them logs well, and say if it would’nt take hell-fire itself to burn ’em through in a month, but corporal, had’nt we better divide the ammunition.  We don’t know, as Cass says, what the imps are about, and what trouble they may give us yet.”

“Right, Green, there’s nothing like being on the sure side, and so, my lads look to the pouches.  Weston, there’s a candle in that stone bottle on the shelf—­light it, and put it on the table as soon as you have got that on its legs again.”

The examination was soon made.  Each small cartouch box, expressly made for light excursions, contained, with the exception of the single cartridge which Collins had fired, the usual allowance of fifteen rounds.  Two of these however—­those of Green and Philips—­had been so saturated by long immersion in the water, that they were wholly unserviceable.  They were therefore emptied and dried, and the deficiency supplied from the pouches of their comrades, thus leaving about a dozen charges to each man.