Then ensued a really glorious
mill. Hassan fought with head and fists and feet, Stephen with fists
alone. Dodging his opponent's rushes, he gave it to him as he passed,
and soon his coolness and silence began to tell. Once he was knocked
over by a hooked one under the jaw, but in the next round he sent the
Arab literally flying head over heels. Oh! how those Zulus cheered,
and I, too, danced with delight. Up Hassan came again, spitting out
several teeth and, adopting new tactics, grabbed Stephen round the
middle. To and fro they swung, the Arab trying to kick the Englishman
with his knees and to bite him also, till the pain reminded him of the
absence of his front teeth. Once he nearly got him down--nearly, but
not quite, for the collar by which he had gripped him (his object was
to strangle) burst and, at that juncture, Hassan's turban fell over
his face, blinding him for a moment.
Then Stephen gripped him round the middle with his left arm and with
his right pommelled him unmercifully till he sank in a sitting
position to the ground and held up his hand in token of surrender.
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