It was a young, handsome face that he saw, lying so quietly and peacefully on the white pillow, that he exclaimed-- "Surely this man is not dead ?" The Doctor shook his head.

"I have often seen them like that," he said.
"He is shot through the heart." Then they went to the other bed, where poor Charles lay.

Sam gently raised the black curls from his face, but none of them spoke a word for a few minutes, till the Doctor said, "Now let us come and see his brother." They crossed the yard, to a slab outbuilding, before which one of the troopers was keeping guard, with a loaded carbine, and, the Sergeant coming across, admitted them.
Seven or eight fearfully ill-looking ruffians lay about on the floor, handcuffed.

They were most of them of the usual convict stamp, dark, saturnine looking fellows, though one offered a strange contrast by being an Albino, and another they could not see plainly, for he was huddled up in a dark corner, bending down over a basin of water, and dabbing his face.

The greater part of them cursed and blasphemed desperately, as is the manner of such men when their blood is up, and they are reckless; while the wounded ones lay in a fierce sullen silence, more terrible almost than the foul language of the others.
"He is not here," said Sam.