Shuddering, he turned away. The dead man, with his withered face and staring eyes, had a truly horrifying appearance.
“What’ll we do with him?” asked Jack, after a short pause.
Charlie considered a moment, then answered, while he unfastened the bands which tied the dead man to the dead horse:
“Lend a hand here, boys! It’s our duty to give him a Christian burial. Let’s push him in the gully.”
In a few moments the dead man was released; Charlie took him by the shoulders, Jack and I by the legs, and so we carried him to the place indicated, and, by our united efforts, soon had a grave dug, in which he was laid. After this had been filled in, we rolled stones and small rocks over it to prevent the wolves from disturbing the dead.
It was night before we had finished our work. A solemn stillness reigned over all; no sound was to be heard, and, with uncovered heads, we uttered a short prayer.
“God be merciful to this poor sinner,” added Charlie.
Then we silently returned to the hut.
We retired that night earlier than usual, and even in my dreams the ghostly rider appeared to me. I awoke several times bathed in perspiration, disturbed by the loud howls piercing the stillness of the night. Wolves were eagerly fighting over the bones of the dead horse.
Next day I returned home, and related to my astonished friends the end of the mysterious rider.[Pg 54]