In the afternoon he was sitting up, drinking champagne and smoking cigarettes as cheery as possible, but he died in the night.

"Tom" went on more or less all day.

In the afternoon Natal correspondents dashed down to the Censor with telegrams that he had been put out of action.
They had seen him lying on his side.

I started to look for myself, and at the first 100 yards he threw a shell right into the off-side of the street, as though to save me the trouble of going further.

Another rumour, quite as confidently believed by the soldiers, was that the Devons had captured him with the bayonet and rolled him down the hill.