He snatched the sword of a dead Abati and ran at them roaring like a bull.

They hacked and cut at him, but the end of it was that he drove them right out of the passage, while I followed, firing past him.
"Well, those who were left of the blackguards bolted, and when they had gone the Sergeant tumbled down.

The women and I carried him back here, but he never said another word, and at last you turned up.

Now he's gone, God rest him, for if ever there was a hero in this world he was christened Samuel Quick!" and, turning aside, the Professor pushed up the blue spectacles he always wore on to his forehead, and wiped his eyes with the back of his hand.
With grief more bitter than I can describe we lifted up the body of the gallant Quick and, bearing it into Maqueda's private apartment, placed it on her own bed, for she insisted that the man who had died to protect her should be laid nowhere else.

It was strange to see the grim old soldier, whose face, now that I had washed his wounds, looked calm and even beautiful, laid out to sleep his last sleep upon the couch of the Child of Kings.