He twisted Schillingschen's great splay beard into a wisp and wrenched it, forcing his head back, holding the knife-hand in his own left, and spitting between the German's parted teeth; then threw all his weight on him suddenly, and they went down together, Coutlass on top and Schillingschen stabbing violently in the direction of his ribs.
Letting go the beard, Coutlass rained blows on the German's face with his free fist.

Made frantic by that assault Schillingschen squirmed and upset the Greek's balance, rolled him partly over and, blinded by a very rain of blows, slashed and stabbed half a dozen times.

Coutlass screamed once, and swore twice as the knife got in between his bones.
The German could not wrench it out again.

With both hands free now, the Greek seized him by the throat and began to throttle him, beating with his forehead on the purple face the while his steel fingers kneaded, as if the throat were dough.
We were not at all inclined to stop Coutlass from killing the man.

We came closer, to see the end, and Coutlass caught sight of us at last.
"Shoot him!" he screamed.