< Page:A C Doyle - The White Company.djvu
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ILLUSTRATIONS

THE FINAL BOUT
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 Frontispiece
'ART READY, THEN, FAIR SON?' SAID THE ABBOT
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JOHN HURLED HIM ACROSS THE ROOM
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HE FLECKED THE BEAST ACROSS THE SNOUT
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JOHN'S IRON GRIP FELL UPON HIS WRIST
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'STILL HERE!' HE SNARLED
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'IT IS INDEED YOUNG MASTER FORD'
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HE LEFT THE ROPE AND CLUNG TO THE FACE OF THE CLIFF
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