Jackson Gregory

“ When he struck, a man must give back; when he thrust, a man must go down; when a thirsting blade drank of his own blood, his roar was like the cry of a wounded lion.
Now it seemed that the struggle had swept like great whirlpools about two centers. Tiyo and Muyingwa had been swept apart, both wounded, both standing grimly up to their bloody work. A surging knot of men contended near the edge of the cliffs. Close to Yahoya's kiva, Muyingwa was in the center of a ring of glittering blades seeking him.
Through this ring of men came Northrup, like a mad bull breaking through a flimsy fence. ”

“ But Muyingwa, hard pressed as he was, had seen, and the knife he was wielding now drove between Northrup and instant death, buried to the hilt in the body of the man over him. Northrup jerked himself to his feet, his groping hand sweeping up his fallen spear, blacker rage than ever before in his heart that he had seemed a lesser man than Muyingwa. And before his berserk rush men fell back, muttering.
There was a great shout from the men at the cliff's edge. Northrup, pursuing a man who fled nimbly before him, saw a dozen forms racing to meet him and braced himself against them. ”

“ Tiyo's men, mistaken in the reason for Muyingwa's retreat, thinking that they had to do with men whose hearts were already failing them, bore on at a run, lifting their voices in a hideous charging shout. Each man carried his stabbing spear drawn a little back at his hip, so that when the moment came a quick thrust outward would drive the keen edges through a man's body. It came to Northrup, even at the moment before the running line struck, that Tiyo's was the better generalship, that Muyingwa's men, waiting, must go down before the force of the wild attack. ”