"Good-by, everybody.

Good-by!" He wheeled again, staggered to his feet on dry ground, and ran swiftly along the eastern wall, up the rising field, straight toward his mark.
Of the men on the knoll, a few fired and missed, the others, neutrals to their will, stood fixed in wonder.

Four or five, as the runner neared, sprang out to intercept, but flew apart like ninepins.

The watchers in the boat saw the halberd flash high in the late afternoon sun, the frightened pony swerve, and his rider go down with the one sweep of that Homeric blow.
The last they saw of Heywood, he went leaping from sight over the crest, that swarmed with figures racing and stumbling after.
The unheeded sentinel in the marsh fled, losing his great hat, as the boat drifted round the point into midstream..