Two or three times he fell down.

Once he knocked his shoulder so heavily against a tree that he went headlong.
Since he had turned his back upon the fight his fears had been wondrously magnified.

Death about to thrust him between the shoulder blades was far more dreadful than death about to smite him between the eyes.

When he thought of it later, he conceived the impression that it is better to view the appalling than to be merely within hearing.

The noises of the battle were like stones; he believed himself liable to be crushed.
As he ran on he mingled with others.