"Or a sentinel for the castle," put in Jim.
He felt around at his feet until he picked up a suitable rock, then closely followed by the engineer, he approached cautiously the figure against the rock, then Jim deliberately went up and looked into the man's face.
"He's dead," said Jim in a quiet voice. "I've seen too many like him not to know."
"Who do you suppose got him," queried the engineer.
"Those friends of ours on the hill, no doubt," said Jim. "Yes, it's their work," he declared, as he ran his hand along under the man's coat; "stabbed in the back." The unfortunate fell heavily against Jim's shoulder and one of his legs straightened out convulsively.
"You have a pretty fair quality of nerve, my friend," remarked the engineer in cool admiration.
"Strike a light, John," said Jim, "and see if we can get a line on this poor fellow."
The engineer drew a pretty trinket of a match box from his upper vest pocket and struck a match near the face. There was such a direct living look in the man's half-closed eyes, that the engineer dropped the match with an involuntary expression of surprise and shock.
"What's the matter with you, John?" asked Jim with a touch of sharpness in his voice. The engineer was a man of usual nonchalant nerve, whose bravery had always seemed a by-product of his nature and not due to an effort of the will, which gave point to Jim's question.
"I am getting shaky in my old age, Captain," replied the engineer.