Their aggressiveness was gone, and they had the appearance of whipped curs.
A fifth came in out of the night.

He was limping, and dragging a torn foreleg.

The head and throat of one of the others was red with blood.

They all lay flat on their bellies, as if expecting condemnation.
"We have failed," their attitude said; "we are beaten, and this is all of us that are left." Mutely Bruce and Langdon stared at them.

They listened--waited.