It was nip and tuck like a steeplechase, with the shots crashing and echoing and thousands of voices yelling; only once did I check for an instant, when I saw young Lieutenant Sturt shot out of his saddle; he rolled into a drift and lay screaming, but it would have done no good to stop. No good to Flashy, anyway, and that was what mattered.
Flashman, p.195, Pan edition, 12th printing, 1979.
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