The two went down together, I on top of both of them with blood running down my arm, for the man had started to use his knife at last, slashing out at random, and I rather think that slight cut he gave me saved the Sikh's life.
But you can make any kind of calculation afterwards, about what took place in absolute darkness, without the least fear of being proven wrong.

And since the Sikh and I agreed on that point no other opinion matters.
I think that between the two of us we had that man about nonplused, although we couldn't see.

I had his knife, and the Sikh was kneeling on his stomach, when a hundred and eighty pounds of bone and muscle catapulted at us from the rear and sprawled on us headlong, saved by only a miracle from skewering some one with a bayonet as he fell.
He laughed while he fought, this newcomer, and even asked questions in the Sikh tongue.

He had my arm in a grip like a vise and wrenched at it until I cursed him.

Then he found a leg in the dark and nearly broke that, only to discover it was the other Sikh's.