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 Julian, careless of his own safety, shouting and raising his hands tried to make it clear to his men that the enemy had fled in disorder, and, to rouse them to a still more furious pursuit, rushed boldly into the fight. His guards, 1 who had scattered in their alarm, were crying to him from all sides to get clear of the mass of fugitives, as dangerous as the fall of a badly built roof, when suddenly—no one knows whence 2 —a cavalryman's spear grazed the skin of his arm, pierced his ribs, and lodged in the lower lobe of his liver.
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