A man falls every time he pulls trigger; if he rushes at a fellow, so great is the fear his awful presence inspires that the wretched Arab sinks down and actually expires through fright.
The doctor has seen some wonderful stage fights, but the equal of this, never.

He laughs, yet finds himself almost stupefied with amazement.
Truly, the Victoria cross would well become this remarkable hero.
One or two of the dead men do not seem to have had enough, or else are dissatisfied with the manner of their taking off.

At any rate, they stagger to their feet, and have to be put to sleep again by energetic means.
Philander comes near making a mess of it all by his enthusiasm.

It is a regular picnic to the small professor.
In the beginning he aimed his gun at one of the brigands.

The weapon is strange to him, being a long Arabian affair, with a peculiar stock, but Philander has some knowledge of weapons, shuts his eyes, and pulls the trigger.
The report staggers him.