The gate was massive, of stout oaken planks heavily strapped with iron.

About it, and the gate-house, a good many guards were lying.

All showed evidence of having dropped asleep with irresistible suddenness.
Some were gaping, others foolishly grinning as if their last sensation had been agreeable--as indeed it had been--while others stared disconcertingly.

The chin of one showed an ugly burn where his Turkish cigarette had sagged, and had smoldered to extinction on the flesh.
One had a watch in his hand, while another gripped a newspaper.

In the gate-house, two had fallen face downward on the table that occupied the center of the rough room; checker-pieces lay scattered from the game they had been playing.