He fight quick, but not a bad man." "Well, he won't fight much more, I am thinking," replied the Sergeant.
A second man lay on his back in a pool of blood, insensible.

His face showed ghastly beneath its horrible smear of blood and filth.
"Bring me that lantern," commanded the Sergeant.
"My God!" cried Jacob, "it is Rosenblatt!" "Rosenblatt?
Who is he ?" "De man dat live here, dis house.

He run store.

Lots mon'.
My God! He dead!" "Looks like it," said the Sergeant, opening his coat.

"He's got a bad hole in him here," he continued, pointing to a wound in the chest.