The bully pitched upon his head on the rough stones of the yard, and turned a complete somersault with the violence of his fall.
A shout of amazement went up from the spectators.

This end of the struggle was totally unexpected.
The successful combatant remained standing with the sweat pouring from his face and the blood still running down his chin.

He stretched out his arms with a slow, mechanical movement as if to test the condition of his muscles after the tremendous strain he had put upon them.

Then, still as it were mechanically, he felt the torn collar-band of his shirt, with speculative fingers.

Finally he whizzed round on the heels and stared at the huddled form of his fallen foe.
A shabby little man with thick, sandy eyebrows had gone to his assistance, but he lay quite motionless in a twisted, ungainly attitude.
The flare of the lamp was reflected in his glassy, upturned eyes.