I tell you it felt fine, marching at the head of a regiment.

Alice got a lift on the Cocked-Hatted One's horse.

It was a red-roan steed of might, exactly as if it had been in a ballad.

They call a grey-roan a 'blue' in South Africa, the Cocked-Hatted One said.
We led the British Army by unfrequented lanes till we got to the gate of Sugden's Waste Wake pasture.

Then the Colonel called a whispered halt, and choosing two of us to guide him, the dauntless and discerning commander went on, on foot, with an orderly.