He would lead the troops onwards with the little cane he nearly always carried . . . . . . . . . Frontispiece
The Corporal was butted downstairs
The shell struck the ground five yards in front of him
With his own hands he dragged him from the ranks
Gordon appeared with soap, towels, a brush, a sponge, and a fresh suit of clothes
In the Soudan buying two children for a basketful of dhoora
There rode into their camp Gordon Pasha
Looking for the help that never came