Still laughing, as if blindfolded fighting was his meat and drink, he reached again, and this time his fingers closed on enemy flesh.

Judging by the yells, they hurt, too.
There must have been at least another minute of cat-and-dog-fight struggling--hands being stepped on and throats clutched--before Goodenough rolled himself free from an antagonist in front and, groping for the flashlight, found it and flashed it on.

The first thing I recognized by its light was the face of Narayan Singh, with wonderful white teeth grinning through his black beard within six inches of my nose.
"Damn you!" I laughed.

"You weigh a ton.

Get off--you nearly killed me!" "Nearly, in war-time, means a whole new life to lose, sahib.