She must be recognized by him once more, must show to him that she still counted on his pledge, on his friendship, his protection.

Yet she did not wake him, but went close to his prostrate form and bent over it, even holding her breath for a while.
He slept profoundly.

The war-paint on his face was sorely blurred; the campaign had not improved his appearance,--the face with closed eyes resembled a lump of dirt rather than a human head, his kilt was tattered, and his legs covered with scars and scratches.

The circular sandals, much dilapidated, were tied to the belt; and close to them was another object, which Shotaye began to examine attentively, while her eyes flashed at the sight of it.

It was a piece of human skin covered with gore and straight hair partly plaited.