Now, however, he looked dangerous.
Driving his boots into the mud, Wilkinson braced himself, with one foot so placed that it might trip his antagonist.

Then he set his lips as he met the shock.

Charnock struck him with his shoulder and forced him backwards by the weight of the bag.

The mud slipped under his feet; he staggered and clawed at the bank, but his fingers found no hold.

They plowed through the miry gravel, and falling face downwards, he rolled down the hill.
Charnock lurched across the gully and stopped when he reached the shelf.
Wilkinson had swung round on his descent and his head was lowest.