"Now that the hour is come, my fear is fled . . ." "Into thy hands O Lord, into Thy hands . . ." So it seemed that even then Gordon knew that Death was drawing near him, and was greeting with a fearless face the martyrdom that he was soon to endure. Yet all the while he never wavered, and his bravery seemed to give courage to the feeblest hearted. He who had never taken any pride in decorations or in medals--save one--tried to cheer his soldiers by having a decoration made and distributed--"three classes: gold, silver, pewter." A Circassian in the Egyptian Service, speaking of Gordon in after years, said: "He never seemed to sleep. He was always working and looking after the people." In the early days of those dark months, Frank Power had written of him that all day he was cheering up others, but that through the night he heard his footfall overhead, backwards and forwards, backwards and forwards, sleepless, broken in heart, bearing on his soul the burden of those he had no power to save. At dawn he slept. All day he went the rounds, cheering up the people, seeing to the comfort of every one, feeding the starving as well as he could. For two days at a time he would go without food, that his portion might go to others. They were living on roots and herbs when the siege was done. All the night he spent on the top of his tower, watching and praying. Many times in the day did men see the spare figure standing on that yellow-white tower, staring, with eyes that grew tired with longing, into the far-away desert, looking for the help that never came. [Illustration: Looking for the help that never came] But, after many delays, an English army was actually on the march. It was a race of about 1800 miles up the Nile from the sea--a race between Victory and the Salvation of the beleaguered city and its defender on one side, and Defeat, Death, and the Mahdi on the other. Lord Wolseley, who commanded the expedition, offered L100 to the regiment that covered the distance first. Some fierce battles were fought on the way, and many brave lives were lost. On 14th December 1884, Gordon wrote to his sister: "This may be the last letter you will receive from me, for we are on our last legs, owing to the delay of the expedition. However, God rules all, and, as He will rule to His glory and our welfare, His will be done. . . . "I am quite happy, thank God, and, like Lawrence, I have '_tried_ to do my duty.'" On the same day he wrote in his journal: "I have done my best for the honour of our country. Good-bye.--C. G. Gordon." The last message of all was one that bore no date, and was smuggled out of Khartoum in a cartridge case by one who had been his servant:-- "What I have gone through I cannot describe. The Almighty God will help me." In the camp of the Mahdi lay an Austrian prisoner, Slatin Pasha.