With Kitchener in the Soudan : a story of Atbara and Omdurman

" I don't think he was really angry, for when I went to him the next evening he was a good deal milder. Of course he did say again that I had done wrong, but not in the same tone as before; and he seemed a good deal interested in what I told him about Mahmud, and how my boy had risked his life to rescue me and had succeeded almost by a miracle. He said there is a lot of good in these black fellows if one could but get at it. They have never had a chance yet, but, given good administration and the suppression of all tribal feuds with a stern hand, they might be moulded into anything." " And are you coming back to us now, Mr. Hilliard?" " I have no idea. I don't suppose anything will be settled for a time. There is not likely to be much doing anyway, except on the railway, and even your gun-boats will have an easy time of it, as there is not an enemy left on this side of the sixth cataract. The Dervishes who escaped are pretty sure to cross the Atbara. There are enough of them still, when they rally, to beat off any attacks that might be made by our tribesmen from Kassala."

CHAPTER XIII

THE FINAL ADVANCE

A FEW days after the return of head-quarters to Berber, Mahmud was sent down-country, and Fatma was permitted to accompany him. She expressed to Gregory in touching terms her gratitude for what he had done for her.

" We have been of mutual assistance," said Gregory. " I have the same reason to be grateful to you as you have to thank me. I saved your life and you saved mine. You were very kind to me when I was a captive—I have done as much as I could for you since you have been with us; so we are quits. I hope you will be happy with Mahmud. We do not treat our prisoners badly, and except that he will be away from the Soudan, he will probably be more comfortable than he has ever been in his life."

Gregory was now employed in the transport department, and journeyed backwards and forwards with large convoys of camels to the head of the railway. The line was completed to Berber, but the officers charged with its construction were indefatigable, and as fast as the materials came up, it was pushed on towards the Atbara. Complete as had been the victory on that river, the Sirdar saw that the force which had been sufficient to defeat the twenty thousand men under Mahmud was not sufficiently strong for the more onerous task of coping with three times that number, fighting under the eye of the Khalifa, and certain to consist of his.best and bravest troops. He therefore telegraphed home for another British brigade and additional artillery, with at least one regiment of cavalry—an arm in which the Egyptian army was weak.

Preparations were at once made for complying with the request. The 21st Lancers, 1st battalion of Grenadier Guards, 2nd battalion of the Rifle Brigade, 2nd battalion of the 5th Lancashire Fusiliers, a field-battery, a howitzer-battery, and two forty-pounders to batter the defences of Omdurman should the Khalifa take his stand, were sent. A strong detachment of the Army Service Corps and the Royal Army Medical Corps was to accompany them, but they had yet some months to wait, for the advance would not be made until the Nile was full and the gun-boats could ascend the cataract. However, there was much to be done, and the troops did not pass the time in idleness. Atbara Fort was to be the base, and here the Egyptian battalions built huts and storehouses. The Soudanese brigades returned to Berber, and the transport of provisions and stores for them was thus saved. The British at Darmali were made as comfortable as possible, and no effort was spared to keep them in good health during the ensuing hot weather. A small theatre was constructed, and here smoking concerts were held. There was also a race meeting, and one of the steamers took parties of the men who were most affected by the heat for a trip down the Nile. They were practised in long marches early in the morning, and although, of course, there was some illness, the troops on the whole bore the heat well. Had there been a prospect of an indefinitely long stay the result might have been otherwise, but they knew that in a few months they would be engaged in even sterner work than the last battle, that Khartoum was their goal, and with its capture the power of the Khalifa would be broken for ever and Gordon avenged.

Early in April the railway reached Abadia, a few miles from Berber, and in a short time a wonderful transformation took place here. From a sandy desert, with scarce a human being in sight, it became the scene of a busy industry. Stores were sorted and piled as they came up by rail. Three gun-boats arrived in sections, and these were put together. They were stronger and much better defended by steel plates than the first gun-boats, and each of them carried two six-pounder quick-firing guns, a small howitzer, four Maxims, and a searchlight. They were, however, much slower than the old boats, and could do very little in the way of towing.

Besides these, eight steel double-deck troop barges were brought up in sections and put together. Three Egyptian battalions came up from Merawi to aid in the work, which not only included building the gun-boats and barges, but executing the repairs to all the native craft and putting them in a thoroughly serviceable state. In June the railway reached the Atbara, and for the first time for two years and a half the officers who had superintended its construction had a temporary rest. The stores were now transferred from Abadia to the Atbara, and two trains ran every day, each bringing up something like two hundred tons of stores. In the middle of July two Egyptian battalions left Atbara and proceeded up the Nile, one on each bank, cutting down trees and piling them for fuel for the steamers. As the river rose, four steamers came up from Dongola, together with a number of sailing boats, and in the beginning of August the whole flotilla, consisting of ten gun-boats, five unarmed steamers, eight troop barges, and three or four hundred sailing boats, were all assembled.

By this time the reinforcements from home were all at Cairo, and their stores had already been sent up. It was arranged that they Avere to come by half-battalions, by squadrons, and by batteries, each one day behind the other. To make room for them, two Egyptian battalions were sent up to the foot of the Shabluka cataract. The six black battalions left Berber on July 30th, and arrived at Atbara the next day.

There were now four brigades in the infantry divisions instead of three, two battalions having been raised from the Dervishes taken at the battle of Atbara. These were as eager as any to join in the fight against their late comrades. This was scarcely surprising. The Baggara, the tyrants of the desert, are horsemen. The infantry were for the most part drawn from the conquered tribes. They had enlisted in the Khalifa's force partly because they had no other means of subsistence, partly from their innate love of fighting. They had, in fact, been little better than slaves; and their condition as soldiers in the Egyptian army was immeasurably superior to that which they had before occupied.

Broadwood, with nine squadrons of Egyptian cavalry, was already on the western bank of the river opposite Atbara, and was to be joined at Metemmeh by the camel corps and another squadron of horse from Merawi. On the 3rd of August the six Soudanese battalions left Fort Atbara for the point of concentration a few miles below the cataract. To the sides of each gun-boat were attached two of the steel barges; behind each were two native craft. All were filled as tightly as they could be crammed with troops. They were packed as in slavers, squatting by the side of each other as closeby as sardines in a box. The seven steamers and the craft they took with them contained six thousand men, so crowded that a spectator remarked that planks might have been laid on their heads, and that you could have walked about on them, while another testified that he could not have shoved a walking-stick between them anywhere. White men could not have supported it for an hour, but these blacks and Egyptians had a hundred miles to go, and the steamers could not make more than a knot an hour against the rapid stream, now swollen to its fullest.

While they were leaving, the first four companies of the Rifle Brigade arrived. Every day boats laden with stores went forward, every day white troops came up. Vast as was the quantity of stores sent off, the piles at Atbara did not seem to diminish. Ninety days' provisions, forage, and necessaries for the whole force had been accumulated there, and as fast as these were taken away they were replaced by others from Berber. Like everyone connected with the transport or store department, Gregory had to work from daybreak till dark. Accustomed to a warm climate, light in figure, without an ounce of spare flesh, he was able to support the heat, dust, and fatigue better than most, and as he himself said, it was less trying to be at work even in the blazing sun than to lie listless and sweating under the shade of a blanket. There was no necessity now to go down the line to make enquiries as to the progress of the stores or of the laden craft on their way up; the telegraph was established, and the Sirdar at Atbara knew the exact position of every one of the units between Cairo and himself, and from every station he received messages constantly and dispatched his orders as frequently. There was no hitch whatever. The arrangements were all so perfect that the vast machine, with its numerous parts, moved with the precision of clock-work. Everything was up to time. For a train or steamer, or even a native boat, to arrive half an hour after the time calculated for it was almost unheard of.

The Sirdar's force of will seemed to communicate itself to every officer under him, and it is safe to say that never before was an expedition so perfectly organized and so marvellously carried out. At Atbara the Sirdar saw to everything himself. A brief word of commendation to those working under him cheered them through long days of toil—an equally curt reproof depressed them to the depths. Twice when Gregory was directing some of the blacks piling large cases as they were emptied from the train, anathematizing the stupid, urging on the willing, and himself occasionally lending a hand in order to show how it should be done, the Sirdar, who, unknown to him, had been looking on, rode up and said shortly, "You are doing well, Mr. Hilliard!" and he felt that his offence of jumping overboard had been condoned. General Hunter, himself indefatigable, had more occasion to notice Gregory's work, and his commendations were frequent and warm.

The lad had not forgotten the object with which he had come to the front. After Atbara he had questioned many of the prisoners who from their age might have fought at El Obeid, but none of these had done so. The forces of the Khalifa came and went as there was occasion for them. The Baggara were always under arms, but only when danger threatened were the great levies of foot assembled; for it would have been impossible, in the now desolate state of the Soudan, to find food for an army of a hundred thousand men. All agreed, however, that, with the exception of the Egyptian artillerymen, they heard that no single white man had escaped. Numbers of the black soldiers had been made slaves; the whites had perished—all save one had fallen on the field. That one had accompanied a black battalion who had held together, and, repulsing all attacks, had marched away. They had been followed, however, and after repeated attacks had dwindled away until they had finally been broken and massacred.

With the Khalifa's army were several emirs who had fought at El Obeid, and these would no doubt be able to tell him more; but none of those who were taken prisoners at the Atbara had heard of any white man having escaped the slaughter of Hicks's army.

Just as the general movement began, the force was joined by three companies of Soudanese. These had marched from Suakim to Berber, two hundred and eighty-eight miles, in fifteen days, an average of nineteen miles a day,—a record for

such a march, and one that no European force could have performed. One day, after marching thirty miles, they came to a well and found it dry, and had to march thirty miles farther to another water-hole, a feat probably altogether without precedent.

" You had better fall back upon your old work, Hilliard," the General said the day before they started. "As my 'aide' I shall find plenty for you to do, now that I command the whole division."

"Thank you very much, sir! I don't think that I shall find any work hard after what I have been doing for the past four months."

" You have got your horse?"

" Yes; he is in good condition, for I have had no riding to do for some time."

" Well, you had better get him on board one of the gyasses we shall tow up to-morrow. All our horses will embark this evening. We shall be on board at daybreak. Our private camels are going with the marching column; you had better put yours with them. No doubt they will join us somewhere. Of course your kit will be carried with us."

It was a delight to Gregory to be on the water again. There was generally a cool breeze on the river and always an absence of dusb. He was now half-way between seventeen and eighteen, but the sun had tanned him to a deep-brown and had parched his face, thus adding some years to his appearance, so that the subalterns of the newly-arrived regiments looked boyish beside him. The responsibilities of his work had steadied him, and though he retained his good spirits his laugh had lost the old boyish ring. The title of Bimbashi, which had seemed absurd to him seven months before, was now nothing out of the way, for he looked as old as many of the British subalterns serving with that rank in the Egyptian army.

Returning to the little hut that Zaki, with the aid of some of the blacks, had built for him, he gave his orders, and in a short time the camel—a very good one, which he had obtained in exchange for that which he had handed over to the transport—started with its driver to join those that were to carry up the baggage and stores of General Hunter and his staff. These were in charge of a sergeant and three privates of one of the Soudanese battalions. Gregory had got up a case of whisky, one of bottled fruit, and a stock of tea and sugar from Berber. No tents could be carried, and he left his tente d'abri at the stores with his canteen, taking on board in his own luggage a plate, knife, fork, and spoon, and a couple of tumblers. When the camels had started, he saw his horse put on board, and then took a final stroll round the encampment.

The change that had occurred there during the past fortnight was striking. Then none but black faces could be seen; now it was the encampment of a British force with its white tents and all their belongings. The contrast between the newly-arrived brigade and the hardy veterans who had fought at the Atbara was striking. Bronzed and hearty, inured to heat and fatigue, the latter looked fit to go anywhere and do anything, and there was hardly a sick man in the four regiments. On the other hand, the new-comers looked white and exhausted with the heat. Numbers had alreacty broken down, and the doctors at the hospital had their hands full of fever patients. They had scarcely marched a mile since they landed in Egypt, and were so palpably unfit for hard work that they were, if possible, to proceed the whole way in boats in order to be in fighting condition when the hour of battle arrived.

The voyage up the river was an uneventful one. It seemed all too short to Gregory, who enjoyed immensely the rest, quiet, and comparative coolness. The Sirdar had gone up a week before they landed at Wady Hamed. Here the whole Egyptian portion of the army, with the exception of the brigade that was to arrive the next day, was assembled. The blacks had constructed straw huts; the Egyptians erected shelters, extemporized from their blankets; while the British were to be installed in tents which had been brought up in sailing boats. The camp was two miles in length and half a mile wide, surrounded by a strong zareba. The Egyptian cavalry and the camel corps had arrived. On the opposite side of the river was a strong body of friendly Arabs, nominally under the Abadar sheik, but in reality commanded by Major Montague Stuart-Wortley. By the 23rd of August the whole force had arrived, and the Sirdar reviewed them drawn up in battle array, and put them through a few manoeuvres as if in action. General Gatacre commanded the British division— Colonel Wauchope the first brigade, and Lyttleton the second. As before, Macdonald, Maxwell, and Lewis commanded the first three Egyptian brigades, and Collinson that newly-raised, General Hunter being in command of the division.

The force numbered in all about twenty thousand, and although destitute of the glitter and colour of a British army under ordinary circumstances, were as fine a body of men as a British general could wish to command, and all alike eager to meet the foe. The British division had with them two batteries and ten Maxims, and the Egyptian division five batteries and ten Maxims.

As Gregory was strolling through the camp he passed where the officers of one of the British regiments were seated on boxes round a rough table, over which a sort of awning had been erected.

"Come and join us, Hilliard. We are having our last feast on our last stores, which we got smuggled up in one of the gun-boats," the Major called out.

"With pleasure, sir."

The officer who was sitting at the head of the table made room beside him.

" You men of the Egyptian army fare a good deal better than we do, I think," the Major went on. " That institution of private camels is an excellent one; we did not know that they would be allowed. But after all it is not a bad thing that we did not have them, for there is no doubt it is as well that the soldiers should not see us faring better than they. There is bother enough with the baggage as it is. Of course it is different in your case. There are only two or three white officers with each battalion, and it would not strike your black troops as a hardship that you should have different food from themselves. They are living as well as, or better than, they ever did in their lives. Three camels make no material addition to your baggage-train, while as there are thirty or forty of us it would make a serious item in ours, and the General's keen eyes would spot them at once."

"Our camels are no burden to the army," Gregory said; "they only have a few pounds of grain a day, and get their living principally on what they can pick up. When they go on now, they will each carry fifty pounds of private grain. They get five pounds when there are no bushes or grass, so that the grain will last them for a fortnight."

"I suppose you think that the Dervishes mean fighting?"

" I think there is no doubt about it. All the fugitives that come in say that the Khalifa will fight, but whether it will be in the defence of Omdurman, or whether he will come out and attack us at Kerreri, none can say. The Khalifa keeps his intentions to himself."

"By the bye, Hilliard, I don't think you know my right-hand neighbour; he only joined us an hour before we started, having been left behind at Cairo sick. Mr. Hartley, let me introduce you to Mr. Hilliard—I should say Bimbashi Hilliard; he is on General Hunter's staff."

The young lieutenant placed an eye-glass in his eye and bowed to Gregory.

" Have you been in this beastly country long?" he asked.

"If you include Lower Egypt, I have been here eighteen years."

"Dear me!" the other drawled; "the climate seems to have agreed with you."

"Fairly well," Gregory replied; "I don't mind the heat much, and one doesn't feel it while one is at work."

" Hartley has not tried that yet," one of the others laughed; "work is not in his line. This most unfortunate illness of his kept him back at Cairo, and he brought such a supply of ice with him when he came up that he was able to hand over a hundredweight of it to us when he arrived. I don't think, Major, that in introducing him you should have omitted to mention that but for a temporary misfortune he would be the Marquis of Langdale; but in another two years he will blossom out into his full title, and then I suppose we shall lose him."

Gregory, whose knowledge of the English peerage was extremely limited, looked puzzled.

" May I ask how that is?" he said. " I always thought that the next heir to a title succeeded to it as soon as his father died."

"As a rule that is the case," the Major said, "but the present is an exceptional one. At the death of the late marquis the heir to the title was missing. I may say that the late marquis only enjoyed the title for two years. The next of kin, a brother of his, had disappeared, and up to the present no news has been obtained of him. Of course he has been advertised for, and so on, but without success. It is known that he married, but as he did so against the wish of his father he broke off all communication with his family, and it is generally supposed that he emigrated. Pending any news of him the title is held in abeyance.

"He may have died; it is probable that he has done so, for he could hardly have escaped seeing the advertisements that were inserted in every paper. Of course, if he has left children they inherit the title. After a lapse of five years Mr. Hartley's father, who was the next heir and who died five years ago, applied to be declared the inheritor of the title, but the peers or judges or someone decided that twenty-one years must elapse before such an application could be even considered. The income has been accumulating ever since, so that at the end of that time it is probable that Mr. Hartley will be allowed to assume the title.

" Will the estates go with the title, Hartley?"

"Oh, I should say so, of course!" the other drawled; "the title would not be of much use without them."

"Nonsense, my dear fellow!" another said; "why, a fellow with your personal advantage and a title would be able to command the American market and to pick up an heiress with millions."

The general laugh that followed showed that Hartley was by no means a popular character in the regiment.

"The fellow is a consummate ass," the man on Gregory's left whispered. "He only got into the service as a Queen's cadet; he could no more have got in by marks than he could have flown. No one believes that he had anything the matter with him at Cairo; but he preferred stopping behind and coming up by himself without any duties, to taking any share in the work. He is always talking about his earldom, —that is why the Major mentioned it, so as to draw him out."

"But I suppose he is really heir to it?"

" Yes, if no one else claims it. For aught that is known, there may be half a dozen children of the man that is missing, knocking about somewhere in Canada or Australia; if so, they are safe to turn up sooner or later. You see, as the man had an elder brother he would not have counted at all upon coming to the title. He may be in some out-of-the-way place where even a colonial newspaper would never reach him, but sooner or later he or some of his sons will be coming home and will hear of the last earl's death, and then this fellow's nose will be put out of joint. I am sure every one in the regiment would be glad, for he is an insufferable ass. I suppose, when he comes into the title he will either cut the army altogether or exchange into the Guards."

The party presently broke up, having finished the last bottle of wine they had brought up. Gregory remained seated by the Major, discussing the chances of the campaign and the points where resistance might be expected. The other officers stood talking a short distance off. Presently Gregory caught the words—

" How is it that this young fellow calls himself Bimbashi, which, I believe, means major?"

"He does not call himself that, although that is his rank. All the white officers in the Egyptian army have that rank, though they may only be lieutenants in ours."

"I call it a monstrous thing," the drawling voice then said, " that a young fellow like this, who seems to be an Egyptian by birth, should have a higher rank than men here who have served fifteen or twenty years."

The Major got up and walked across to the group.

"I will tell you why, Mr. Hartley," he said in a loud voice. "It is because, for the purpose of the war in this country, they know infinitely more than the officers of our army. They talk the languages, they know the men. These blacks will follow them anywhere to the death. As for Mr. Hilliard, he has performed feats that any officer in the army, whatever his rank, would be proud to have done. He Avent in disguise into the Dervish camp at Metemnieh, before Hunter's advance began, and obtained invaluable information. He jumped overboard from a gun-boat to save a drowning Dervish woman, although to do so involved almost certain capture and death at the hands of the Dervishes. In point of fact his escape was a remarkable one, for he was tied to a tree in the first line of the Dervish defences at Atbara, and was only saved by what was almost a miracle. He may not be heir to an earldom, Mr. Hartley, but he would do more credit to the title than many I could name. I hear him well spoken of by everyone as an indefatigable worker, and as having performed the most valuable services. Captain Keppel, on whose gun-boat he served for two or three months, spoke to me of him in the highest terms, and General Hunter has done the same. I fancy, sir, that it will be some years before you are likely to distinguish yourself so highly. His father was an officer who fell in battle, and if he happened to be born in Egypt, as you sneeringly said just now, all I can say is that, in my opinion, had you been born in Egypt you would not occupy the position which he now does."

Gregory had walked away when the Major rose, and he did not return to the party. It was the first time that he had run across a bad specimen of the British officer, and his words had stung him. But, as he said to himself, he need not mind them, as the fellow's own comrades regarded him, as one of them said, as " an insufferable ass ". Still, he could not help wishing to himself that the missing heir might turn up in time to disappoint him.

General Hunter started next day at noon with two of his brigades and the mounted troops, the other two brigades following at nightfall. The previous night had been one of the most unpleasant Gregory had ever spent. The long-expected rain had come at last. It began suddenly; there was a flash of lightning, and then came a violent burst of wind which tore down the tents and the flimsy shelters of the Egyptians and Soudanese. Before this had ceased, the rain poured down in a torrent; lightning, wind, and rain kept on till morning, and when the start was made everyone was soaked to the skin. The Egyptian baggage left at the same time in native craft.

That evening they arrived at the mouth of the Shabluka Cataract. Here it had been expected that the advance would be opposed, as strong forts had been erected by the enemy, the river narrowed greatly, and precipitous rocks rose on either side. Through these the course was winding and the current ran with great strength, the eddies and sharp bends making it extremely difficult for the gun-boats to keep their course; indeed it would have been impossible for them to get up had the forts been manned, as they would have had to pass within two hundred yards of the guns. But although the forts could hardly have been attacked by the gun-boats, they were commanded by a lofty hill behind them, and the scouts had discovered some weeks before that the Dervishes had retired from the position and that the passage would be unopposed. Maxwell's and Collinson's brigades started at four that afternoon, and the next day the whole division was established at El Hejir above the cataracts.

Lyttleton's brigade started at five o'clock A.M. on the 25th, the gun-boats and other steamers moving parallel with them along the river. At five in the afternoon the first brigade followed, and two days afterwards the camp was entirely evacuated and the whole of the stores well on their way towards El Hejir. On the previous day two regiments of Wortley's column of friendly natives also marched south.

The Sirdar and head-quarters, after having seen everything off, went up in a gun-boat, starting at nine in the morning.

As usual the Soudanese troops had been accompanied by a considerable number of their wives, who were heavily laden with their little household goods, and in many cases babies. They trudged patiently along in the rear of the columns and formed an encampment of their own half a mile away from the men's, generally selecting a piece of ground surrounded by thick bush, into which they could escape should Dervish raiders come down upon them.

The stores arrived in due course. One of the gun-boats, however, was missing—the Zccfir, with three gyasses in tow, having suddenly sunk ten miles north of Shendy owing to being so deeply loaded that the water got into the hold. Those on board had just time to scramble into the boats or swim to shore. No lives were lost, though there were many narrow escapes. Among these were Commander Keppel and Prince Christian Victor, who were on board. Fortunately, another steamer soon came along and took the gyasses, with the shipwrecked officers and crew on board, and towed them up to El Hejir.

It had been intended to stay here some little time, but the Nile continued to rise to an altogether exceptional height, and part of the camp was flooded. At five o'clock, therefore, the Egyptian brigades started, with the guns on their right and the steamers covering their left, while the cavalry and camel corps were spread widely out in advance to give notice of any approaching Dervish force. As usual the soldiers' wives turned out, and as the battalions marched past, shouted encouragement to their husbands, calling upon them to behave like men and not to turn back in battle. The presence of the women had an excellent effect on the soldiers, and in addition to their assistance in carrying their effects, they cooked their rations, and looked after them generally. The Sirdar, therefore, did not discourage their presence in the field, and even supplied them with rations when it was impossible for them to obtain them elsewhere. In the afternoon the two white brigades also moved forward. At nine o'clock they arrived at their camping-ground, and the whole army was again collected together.

Next morning the four squadrons of Egyptian horse, with a portion of the cavalry, went forward to reconnoitre, and one of the gun-boats proceeded a few miles up the river. Neither saw anything of the enemy. There had been heavy rain during the night; this had ceased at daybreak, and a strong wind speedily dried the sands, raising such clouds of dust that it was difficult to see above a few yards. The storm had also the effect of hindering the flotilla. On the other side of the river Stuart - Wortley's friendlies had a sharp brush with some Dervishes, whom they had come upon raiding a village whose inhabitants had not obeyed the Khalifa's orders to move into Omdurman. As the rain-storms continued, it was decided by a council of war that the health of the troops would suffer by a longer stay.

On the 29th, therefore, the army set out in order of battle, ready to encounter the Khalifa's attack, but arrived without molestation at Urn Teref, a short distance from Kerreri, where it was expected the enemy would give battle. The camp was smaller than those hitherto made, and was protected by a strong zareba. The sentries were doubled and patrols thrown out. Heavy rain set in after sunset, and almost a deluge poured down. The tents had been left behind, and as the little blanket-shelters were soon soaked through, their occupants were speedily wet to the skin. It was still raining when at half-past five the force again started. As before, the army was marching in fighting order. The day was cool and cloudy, and at one o'clock they halted at a village called Merreh or Seg. The cavalry had come into touch with the Dervish patrols, but the latter, although numerous, avoided combat. In one of the deserted villages was found one of Wingate's spies in Dervish attire. He had left Omdurman thirty hours before, and brought the news that the Khalifa intended to attack at Kerreri.

This place had been chosen because there was current an old prophecy by a Persian sheik to the effect that English soldiers would one day fight at Kerreri and be destroyed there. It had therefore become an almost holy place to the Mahdists, and was called the death-place of all the infidels, and once the Khalifa and his followers made a pilgrimage to it. A few shots were fired during the night, and fires blazed on the hills to notify to Omdurman our precise position.

The troops started again soon after daylight, facing now to the right and marching westward, to leave the bush and broken ground and get out in the open desert stretching away to Omdurman. The cavalry were widely spread out, and the Lancers ascended to the top of the hill of El Teb, from which a view of the Dervish camp was obtained.

It lay some ten miles due south. The Dervishes were disposed in three long lines stretching from within two thousand yards of the Nile out into the desert, being careful to get, as they believed, beyond the range of the four gun-boats that steamed quietly up. After a short march the force halted near the river, two miles north of Kerreri. The place was convenient for camping, but the banks of the river were steep, and there was much difficulty in watering the horses and transport animals.

" We are in for another bad night," one of the General's staff said to Gregory as the evening approached.

"It looks like it; clouds are banking up fast. If the rain would but come in the daytime instead of at night one would not object to it much. It would lay the dust and cool the air; besides, on the march we have other things to think of, and though of course we should be drenched to the skin, we should not mind it. But it is very unpleasant lying in a pool of water with streams running in at one's neck."

"As to one's blanket, it is like a sponge five minutes after the rain begins," the officer said.

"I am better off in that respect," Gregory remarked, "for when I left my little tent behind, I kept a waterproof sheet instead of my second blanket. I had intended to use it tent fashion, but it was blown down in a minute after the first storm burst. Now I stand up, wrap my blanket tightly round me, while my boy does the same with the waterproof sheet, and I keep moderately dry, except that the water will trickle in at the end near my neck; but, on the other hand, the wrapping keeps me so hot that I might almost as well lie uncovered in the rain."

The staff had intended taking a few tents with them, but these were practically of no use at all, as all canvas had to be lowered by the time that "lights out" sounded, and after that hour no loud talking was permitted in the camp. This might have been a privation had the weather been fine, but even the most joyous spirit had little desire for conversation when the rain was falling in bucketfuls over him. The officers of the white division lay down by their men in the position they would occupy if an attack by the enemy took place. The officers of the Egyptian regiments lay together just in rear of their men. As soon as the " last post" sounded absolute silence reigned. The sentries placed a very short distance out kept their senses of sight and hearing on the alert, and with eye and ear strove to detect the approach of a lurking foe. Jaalin scouts were stationed outside the zareba, so as to give an early warning of the approach of the enemy; but no reliance could be placed upon them, for, altogether without discipline, they would probably creep under bushes, and endeavour to find some shelter from the pitiless downpour.

Had the Khalifa known his business he would have taken advantage of the tempestuous nights and launched his warriors at the camp. Confident as the officers of the expedition were in the ability of their men to repulse any assault that might be made in the daylight, it was felt that such an attack would cause terrible loss, and possibly grave disaster, if delivered at night. The enemy might not be discovered until within a few yards of the camp, the swish of the rain and the almost incessant crash of thunder would deaden the sound of their approach, and long before the troops could leap to their feet and prepare to receive them calmly, the Dervishes would be upon them. As the latter were enormously stronger in numbers, the advantage of superior weapons would be lost in a hand-to-hand fight, and in the inevitable confusion, as the troops in reserve would be unable to open fire while ignorant of the precise position of friends and foes. The Khalifa, however, was relying upon prophecy. It was at Kerreri that the infidel army was to be utterly destroyed, and he may have thought that it would be tempting fate were he to precipitate an action before the invaders reached the spot where their doom had been pronounced.

Even more miserable than night was the hour before dawn. Lying still, drenched to the skin as they were, Nature prevailed, and the men obtained some sleep; but when they rose to their feet and threw off the sodden blankets, they felt the full misery of eight hours' drenching; they were cold now as well as wet, and as they endeavoured to squeeze the water from their clothes, and to restore circulation by swinging their arms, but few words were spoken, and the rising of the sun, which was regarded as a terrible infliction during the day, was eagerly looked for. No sooner did it appear above the horizon than the spirits of the men rose rapidly, and they laughed, joked, and made light of the inconveniences of the situation. An hour later their clothes were nearly dry. By

SECOND

BATTLE OF OMDURMAN

Showing the 1st. Attack

at 6,45 a.m.

& the KHALIFA'S ATTACK

at 9,40 a,m.

that time they were all well on their way, the brigades as before marching in echelon—Wauchope's brigade on the left, Lyttleton's farther to the right but more to the rear, the three Egyptian brigades farther out on the plain, the 21st Lancers scouting the ground in front of the British division, and the native cavalry and camel corps out beyond the right of the Egyptians. All expected that at least they should have a skirmish before they reached Kerreri, where they were to encamp, but as they advanced it was found that the Dervishes had fallen back from that line and had joined the Khalifa's main force near Omdurman.

By ten in the morning the army had arrived at its camping - place, which was in the southern part of the ground occupied by the straggling village. As usual, both extremities of the line rested on the Nile, forming a semicircle, in which the baggage animals and stores were placed, in charge of Collinson's brigade. The gun-boats took up their position to cover the ground over which an enemy must approach to the attack. While the infantry were settling down, the cavalry and camel corps went out scouting. Signallers soon mounted a rugged hill named Surgham, and from here a fine view was obtained of Omdurman and the Khalifa's army. Omdurman was six miles away, covering a wide tract of ground, with but few buildings rising above the general level, the one conspicuous object being the great tomb of the Mahdi with its white dome. In the outskirts of the town were the white tents of the Dervish army. For the present these were unoccupied, the whole force being drawn up in regular line out on the plain, about half-way between the town and Surgham Hill.

It was formed in five divisions, each of which was bright with banners of all colours, sizes, and shapes. The Khalifa's own division was in the centre, where his great black banner, waving from a lofty flagstaff, could be plainly made out.

The Lancers, Egyptian cavalry, and camel corps continued to advance, capturing several parties of footmen, principally Jaalins, who probably lagged purposely behind the retiring Dervishes in order to be taken. At times the cavalry attempted to charge the Dervish horsemen when these approached, but in no case did the latter await the attack. Presently, above the occasional musketry fire came the boom of a heavy gun. There was a thrill of excitement in the camp. The gun-boats had arrived opposite Omdurman and had opened fire upon the Dervish river-side forts. These Avere strongly constructed, but, as in the forts at Metemmeh and Shabluka, the embrasures were so faultily constructed that the guns could only be brought to bear upon the portion of the river directly facing them, and the four gun-boats passed them without receiving any material damage, and were so able to maintain the bombardment without receiving any fire in return. At the same time they landed the forty-pounder guns on an island but a short distance from the town, and thence opened fire with lyddite shells upon it. The howitzers were trained upon the Mahdi's tomb and soon great holes were knocked in the dome.

It could be seen from the top of the hill that this caused great excitement in the Dervish lines, and a number of their horsemen rode out against the Lancers and drove in their advance scouts; but on the main body of the regiment moving forward they fell back to their line, and almost immediately a heavy body of infantry moved out, their intention evidently being to surround and cut off the regiment, while at the same time a general advance took place. The Colonel of the Lancers dismounted a portion of his men, and these checked the advance of the enemy until the rest fell back.

The news of the advance was signalled to General Kitchener, and the whole force at once took their position in fighting order. Believing that a general attack on the camp would now be made, the cavalry fell back on either flank, so as to clear the Avay for the fire of the artillery and infantry. The Dervishes had a good view of our camp from the top of Surgham, but the Khalifa apparently considered that it was

too late in the day for a general attack, and drew off his men to their former position, and the rest of the afternoon and evening passed quietly.

As the men ate their meal of tinned meat and biscuit they were in higher spirits than they had been since the advance began. Hitherto they had been in constant apprehension lest the Dervishes should shun a battle, and would retire across the desert to El Obeid or elsewhere, and that they would have to perform interminable desert marches, only to find, on arriving at the goal, that the enemy had again moved off. The events of the day, however, seemed to show that this fear was groundless, and that the Khalifa had determined to fight a decisive battle for the defence of his capital, The British soldier is ready to support any fatigue and any hardship with a prospect of a fight at the end, and during the advance he is always haunted by the fear that the enemy will retire or give in on his approach. This fear was stronger than usual on this expedition, for there was no question as to the greatly superior mobility of the Dervishes, and it was evident that if they chose to avoid fighting they had it in their power to do so.

CHAPTER XIV

OMDURMAN

THE night passed quietly, except that shots were occasionally fired by Dervishes who crept up within range, and that once a mounted man, who had apparently lost his way, rode fearlessly into camp, and then, finding himself close to the troops, turned his horse and galloped off again. No shot followed him, as the orders were strict that the camp was not to be alarmed unless in the case of a serious attack.

At half-past three the bugle sounded, and the troops were soon astir. The animals were watered and fed, and the men had a breakfast of cocoa or tea, with biscuits and tinned meat. At half-past four Colonel Broad wood, commanding the Egyptian cavalry, sent out a squadron to the hills on the west, and another to Surgham Hill. The latter arrived at their destination at two minutes past five, when daylight had just broken. The officer in command saw at once that the Dervish army had been reinforced in the night, and were marching to attack us.

News was at once sent back to the camp, where all was in readiness for an advance. No news could have been more welcome. It was one thing to attack the Dervishes in their chosen position, and to carry the narrow streets of Omdurman at the point of the bayonet—the Dervishes had shown at Abu Hamed how desperately they could fight under such circumstances — and another to meet them while attacking our position in the open. This was protected along the line occupied by the white troops by a hedge, while the three Egyptian brigades had constructed shelter trenches. These afforded a vastly better defence against a foe advancing by daylight, although they would not be so effective in checking a sudden and determined rush* in the darkness.

Preparations were at once made to oppose the enemy. The Sirdar and his staff were already mounting when the news arrived; the horses were now taken to the rear, the reserve ammunition-boxes lifted from the mules' backs and the animals led to a sheltered jDosition behind some huts.

The guns were wheeled up into positions between the infantry brigades. The troops were disposed in line two deep, two companies of each battalion, with the stretchers and bearers, taking post at a short distance farther back to reinforce the front line if hardly pressed, and to supply it from the reserve store of ammunition. Already the gun-boats had recommenced the bombardment of Omdurman and the mosque of the Mahdi, but as soon as news came that the Dervishes were advancing to the attack, they were signalled to return to cover the flank of the zareba. On their arrival they took up a position whence they could shell the line by which the Dervishes were advancing, and which would bring them apparently five or six hundred yards west of Surgham Hill. The Lancers at once started forward to cover the left flank of the position. In a few minutes they reached Surgham Hill and joined the Egyptian squadron there.

The sight from the crest of Surgham Hill was grand. The enemy's front extended over three miles. The lines were deep and compact, and the banners floated above them. They were advancing steadily and in good order, and their battle-cries rose and fell in measured cadence. Their numbers were variously estimated at from fifty to seventy thousand—a superb force, consisting of men as brave as any in the world, and animated by religious fanaticism and an intense hatred of those they were marching to assail. In the centre were the Khalifa's own corps, twenty thousand strong. On their right was the banner of Yacoub, his brother, and beyond, two divisions led by well-known emirs, while on his left was the division led by his son, Osman, known as Sheik Ed Din, the nominal commander-in-chief of the whole force.

The 21st Lancers, out in skirmishing order, were speedily driven back by the Dervishes, and retired into the zareba. When the latter came near enough to see the small British force, a shout of exultation rose from their ranks, for they felt certain now of surrounding and annihilating the infidels, according to the prophecy. On our side the satisfaction was no less marked. The front line moved forward to the thorny hedge and prepared to open fire above it. The black troops uttered a joyful shout of defiance as they took their places in their trenches.

When the enemy were two thousand eight hundred yards away the three batteries on the left of the zareba opened fire, and two batteries on the right, and a number of Maxims, joined in pouring shell and bullets into the thickest of the Dervish mass round the Khalifa's banner.

The effect was terrible. For a moment the Dervish lines halted, astonished at the storm to which they were exposed. But it was only for a moment. The wide gaps were filled up, and at a quicker pace than before, the great line swept on, the banner-bearers and Baggara horsemen pushing forward to the front to encourage the infantry. Seeing how persistently they were coming on, the Sirdar ordered the men of Lyttleton's brigade to open fire at long range. The Grenadiers were the first to begin, firing volleys in sections. The other regiments of the brigade were soon hard at it, but neither they nor the Maxims appeared to be doing serious execution, while the terrible effect of the shell fire could really be seen. But although great numbers of the enemy were killed or wounded by the bursting shells, there was no halt in the forward movement.

Suddenly over the crest and sides of the Surgham Hill the division of the Dervish right, reinforced by a portion of Yacoub's division, appeared, and over fifteen thousand men came streaming down the hill waving banners and shouting their war-cries. They were led by their emirs on horseback, but the infantry kept pace with these, occasionally discharging their rifles at random. The guns of the three batteries and one of the Maxims were swung round and opened upon them. They were less than a mile aAvay, and the whole of Gatacre's division opened a terrific fire. Still the Dervishes held on, leaving the ground they passed over white with fallen men. From seventeen hundred yards the sights had to be lowered rapidly, but at a thousand yards they held their foe. No man could cross the ground swept by the hail of balls. So rapid and sustained was the fire that men had to retire to refill their pouches from the reserve ammunition, and the rifles were so heated that they could no longer be held. In some cases the men changed their weapons for those of the companies in reserve, in others these companies closed up and took the places of the front line. Not for a moment was there any cessation in the fire.

Unable to do more, Yacoub's men moved towards the front and joined the main body, whose advance had been checked by the fire of Maxwell's Egyptian brigade. A few rounds had been fired by the three cannon that the Khalifa had brought out with him, but they all fell short. On our side the casualties had been few. In their desperate attempt to get at close quarters the Dervish riflemen had not stopped to reload the weapons they had discharged, and there was practically no return to the awful fire to which they had been exposed.

But while Yacoub's force had been terribly punished, and the main body, brought to a stand-still at a distance of fourteen hundred yards, had suffered almost as heavily, the battle had not gone so well to the right of our position, towards which the Khalifa was now moving. Broadwood's horse and the camel corps had been driven off the hill they occupied, and so fierce was the attack that three of the guns of the horse-battery had to be left behind. The camel corps were ordered to retire rapidly and make for shelter to the right rear of the camp. The force made two or three stands, and the Egyptian cavalry more than once charged the pursuing horsemen. The gunboats opened fire and covered the final retirement of the camel corps, which had lost eighty men. The cavalry did not retire to the zareba, but continued to fall back, occasionally turning and facing the enemy, until they were five miles away, when the Dervishes gave up the pursuit, and sat down to rest after their tremendous exertions.

Although forced to retire, the cavalry had done good service, for they had drawn off a great body of the enemy at a critical moment, and these were unable to return and take part in the battle still raging. At length the Khalifa moved off with all his force behind the western hills, and for a short time there was a lull in the battle. Many of the wounded tribesmen crawled up to within seven or eight hundred yards of the zareba and there opened fire. Their aim was good, and men began to drop fast in spite of the volleys fired to clear off the troublesome foe. But their fire was soon disregarded, foi from the ravines in the range of low hills behind which the Khalifa's force had disappeared, a mass of men burst out at a hard run. From their shelter behind Surgham Hill a portion of the force who were there also swept down to join the Khalifa, while Yacoub advanced from the south-west, and another body from the west.

Instantly the infantry and artillery fire broke out again. On the previous day the distance had been measured and marked on several conspicuous objects, and the storm of shells tore the ranks of the enemy and the rifles swept them with a rain of bullets. But in face of all this the Dervishes continued to advance at a run, their numbers thinning every minute. Two or three hundred horsemen, with their emirs, dashed at the zareba at full gallop; shrapnel, Maxim, and rifle bullets swept their ranks, but nearer and nearer they came, with lessening numbers every yard, until the last of them fell within about two hundred yards of Maxwell's line. Animated by the example, the infantry rushed forward. The black flag was planted within nine hundred yards of Maxwell's left, but in addition to the Egyptian fire the cross-fire of the British divisions poured upon those around it. The main body began to waver, but the Khalifa and his emirs did their best to encourage and rally them. The flag was riddled with balls, and the men who held it were shot down; but others seized the post of honour until a pile of bodies accumulated round it.

At last but one man remained standing there. For a minute he stood quietly immovable, then fell forward dead. Then the Dervishes lost heart and began to fall back in ones and twos, then in dozens, until the last had disappeared behind the hills. The troops then turned their attention to the men who, lying in shelter, were still maintaining their fire. There were fully a thousand of these, and the greater portion of our casualties took place from their fire while the troops were occupied in repelling the main attack. It was not long, however, before bullets and shell proved too much for them, and those who survived crawled away to join their kinsmen behind the hills It was eight o'clock now, and the victory had apparently been won. Some ten thousand of the Khalifa's best troops had been killed or wounded. In the British division one officer and one man had been killed, and three officers and sixty-five men wounded. The latter were at once placed on board the hospital barges ; fresh ammunition Avas served out, and half an hour after the last shot was fired the army prepared to march on Omdurman.

It was most important that they should arrive at the town before Ed Din's Dervishes should reach it, for unless they could do so, the loss that would be incurred in capturing it would be vastly greater than that which had been suffered in the battle. At nine o'clock the start was made. The troops advanced in brigades, Lyttleton led on the left, Wauchope was on his right, Maxwell somewhat in the rear, while still more to the right came Lewis, and farther out on the plain Mac-donald. They formed roughly half a semicircle. Lyttleton, followed by Wauchope, was to march between the river and Surgham Hill, Maxwell was to cross over the hill, while Lewis and Macdonald were to keep farther out to the right. Collin-son's Egyptian brigade was to guard the stores and materials left behind.

The 21st Lancers scouted ahead of the British brigades to discover if any foe were lurking behind Surgham Hill. When about half a mile south of the hill they saw a small party of Dervish cavalry and some infantry, who were hiding in what looked like a shallow water-course. The four squadrons rode forward at a gallop. A sharp musketry fire opened upon them, but without hesitation they dashed headlong at the Dervishes, when they found that, instead of a hundred and fifty foemen as they had supposed, some fifteen hundred Dervishes were lying concealed in the water-course. It was too late to draw rein, and with a cheer the cavalry rode down into the midst of the foe. There was a wild, fierce fight, lance against spear, sabre against sword, the butt-end of a rifle or the deadly knife. Some cut their way through unscathed; others were surrounded and cut off. Splendid feats of heroism were performed. Many of those who got over returned to rescue officers or comrades, until at last all the survivors climbed the bank.

The brunt of the fighting fell upon the two central squadrons. Not only were the enemy thickest where they charged, but the opposite bank of the deep nullah was composed of rough boulders almost impassable by horses; these squadrons lost sixteen killed and nineteen Avounded. Altogether twenty-two officers and men were killed and fifty wounded, and there were one hundred and nineteen casualties among the horses. Once across, the survivors gathered at a point where their fire commanded the water-course, and, dismounting, speedily drove the Dervishes from it. On examining it afterwards it was found that sixty dead Dervishes lay where the central squadrons had cut their way through.

The charge in its daring and heroism resembled that of the 23rd Light Dragoons at Talavera. The fall into the ravine on that occasion was much deeper than that into which the Lancers dashed, but it was not occupied by a desperate force; and although many were injured by the fall, it was in their subsequent charge against a whole French division that they were almost annihilated.

Both incidents were, like the Balaclava charge, magnificent, but they were not war. A desperate charge to cover the retreat of a defeated army is legitimate and worthy of all praise even if the gallant men who make it are annihilated, but this was not the case at Talavera nor at Omdurman. It was a brilliant but a costly mistake. The bravery shown was superb, and the manner in which officers and men rode back into the struggling mass to rescue comrades beyond all praise; but the charge should never have been made, and the lives were uselessly sacrificed.

As yet all was quiet at other points. Bodies of the enemy could be seen making their way towards Omdurman. The battery opposite the town had from early morning been keeping up a fire from its heavy guns upon it, but, save for the occasional shot of a lurking Dervish, all was quiet elsewhere.

While the cavalry charge was in progress Gregory had moved along the line of the Egyptian brigades with General Hunter. Suddenly, from behind the hills where the Khalifa had fallen back with his defeated army, a column of fully twelve thousand men, led by the banner-bearers and emirs, poured out again. A strong body sprang forward from another valley and made for the south-eastern corner of Mac-donald's brigade, which had moved almost due west from the position it had occupied in the zareba, while the large force that had chased away the Egyptian cavalry were seen returning to attack him in the rear. General Hunter, who was riding between Macdonald's and Lewis's brigades, which were now a good mile apart, exclaimed to Gregory, who happened to be the nearest officer to him, " Ride to Macdonald and tell him to fall back if possible!" Then he turned and galloped off to fetch up reinforcements. But the need was already seen, the sudden uproar had attracted the attention of the whole army, and the Sirdar instantly grasped the situation. The moment was indeed critical. If Macdonald's brigade were overwhelmed it might have meant a general disaster, and the Sirdar at once sent orders to Wauchope's brigade to go at the double to Macdonald's aid.

Fortunately Colonel Long, who commanded the artillery, had sent three batteries with Macdonald's brigade. Collinson's brigade were far away near the river, Lewis's were themselves threatened. It was evident at once that no assistance could reach Macdonald in time. When Gregory reached him the Dervishes were already approaching.

" It cannot be done," Macdonald said sternly, when Gregory delivered the message; "we must fight!" Indeed, to retreat would have meant destruction. The fire would have been ineffective, and the thirty thousand fierce foes would have been among them. There was nothing to do but to fight.

Macdonald had marched out with the 11th Soudanese on his left, the 2nd Egyptians in the centre, and the 10th Soudanese on the right—all in line; behind, in column, were the 9th Soudanese. The last were at once brought up into line to face the advancing enemy. Fortunately, the Sheik Ed Din's force was still some little distance away. The batteries took their place in the openings between the battalions, and the Maxim-Nordenfeldts were soon carrying death into the advancing foe, while the Martini-Henry with which the black and Egyptian troops were armed mowed them down as by a scythe. The Soudanese battalions fired, as was their custom, individually, as fast as they could load; the Egyptian battalion by steady volleys. Still the enemy pressed on, until they were within two hundred yards of the line. The emirs and other leaders, Baggara horse and many spearmen, still held on until they fell a few feet only from the steady infantry. The rear ranks of the Dervishes now began to fall back, and the desperate charges of their leaders grew feebler; but Ed Din's division was now within a thousand yards. Macdonald, confident that the main attack was broken, threw back the 9th Soudanese to face it, and wheeled a couple of his batteries to support them.

The already retreating Dervishes, encouraged by the arrival of Ed Din's division, returned to the attack. The 11th Soudanese swung round to aid the 9th in their struggle with Ed Din's troops. The charges of the Dervishes were impetuous in the extreme. Regardless of the storm of shell and bullets they rushed on, and would have thrust themselves between the 9th and 11th had not the 2nd Egyptians, wheeling at the double, thrown themselves into the gap. The Dervishes pressed right up to them, and bayonet and spear frequently crossed; but in a fight of this kind discipline tells its tale. The blacks and Egyptians maintained their lines steadily and firmly, and against these individual effort and courage even of the highest quality were in vain. The ground being now cleared, the gun-boats opened with Maxim and cannon upon the rear of the Dervishes. The camel corps coming up, each man dismounted and added his fire to the turmoil; and finally three of Wauchope's battalions arrived, and the Lincolns, doubling to the right, opened a terrible flank fire. The Dervishes broke and fled, not, as usual, sullenly and reluctantly, but at full speed, stooping low to escape the storm of bullets that pursued them.

Zaki had throughout the day kept close to Gregory, ready to hold his horse when he dismounted; but, quick-footed as he was, he was left behind when his master galloped across to Macdonald. He was up, however, in the course of a minute or two, and Gregory was glad to see him, for the horse was kicking and plunging at the roar of the approaching enemy, and was almost maddened when to this was added the crash of the batteries and musketry.

"Put my blanket round his head, Zaki," Gregory said when the black ran up; " wrap it round so that he cannot see. Hold the bridle with one hand and stroke him with the other, and keep on talking to him; he knows your voice. I don't want to dismount if I can help it, for with my field-glasses I see everything that is taking place, and I will tell you how matters are going."

For the moment it seemed as if the surging crowd streaming down must carry all before it, but the steadiness with which the 9th Soudanese moved into their place on the flank of the line, and the other regiments remained as if on parade, soon reassured him. The terrible slaughter that was taking place in the ranks of the Dervishes soon showed that in that quarter at least there was no fear of things going wrong, but he could not but look anxiously towards the great mass of men approaching from the north. It was a matter of minutes. Would the present attack be repulsed in time for the position to be changed to meet the coming storm? Occasionally Grego^ looked back to see if reinforcements were coming. Wauchope's brigade was visible over the tops of the scattered bushes. The movements of the line showed that they were coming on at the double, but they were farther away than Ed Din's host, and the latter were running like deer.

He felt a deep sense of relief when the 9th Soudanese were thrown back, performing the movement as quietly and steadily as if on a di^ill-ground, and two batteries of artillery galloped across to their support. He had hardly expected such calm courage from the black battalion. As to the bravery of the Soudanese troops there was no question. They were of the same blood and race as their foes, and had shown how bravely they could fight in many a previous battle, but he was not prepared for the steady way in which they worked under such novel circumstances; and although they too must have known that every moment was of consequence, they moved without haste or hurry into the new position, scarcely glancing at the torrent which was rushing on towards them.

Not less steadily and quietly did the 11th, considered to be the crack regiment of the brigade, swing round, and as calmly and firmly did the Egyptian battalion — composed of the peasants who, but twenty years before, had been considered among the most cowardly of people, a host of whom would have fled before a dozen of the dreaded Dervishes—march into the gap between the two black regiments and manfully hold their own. And yet he could not but feel sorry for the valiant savages who under so awful a fire still pressed forward to certain death, their numbers withering away at every step until they dwindled to nothing, only to be replaced by a fresh band, which darted forward to meet a similar fate; and yet, when he remembered the wholesale slaughter at Metemmeh, the annihilation of countless villages and of their inhabitants, and, above all, the absolute destruction of the army of Hicks Pasha, the capture of Khartoum, the murder of Gordon, and the reduction to a state of slavery of all the peaceful tribes of the Soudan, he could not but feel that the annihilation of these human tigers and the wiping out of their false creed was a necessity.

When the last shot was fired he dismounted and leant against his horse, completely unnerved by the tremendous excitement that had been compressed into the space of half an hour. Zaki was in ecstasy at the victory. The ruthless massacre of so many of his tribesmen, the ruin of his native village, and the murder of his relations was avenged at last. The reign of the Dervishes was over; henceforth men could till their fields in peace. It was possible that even yet he might find his mother and sisters still alive in the city but a few miles away, living in wretched existence as slaves of their captors. Tears of joy streamed down his cheeks. He would have liked to help to revenge the wrongs of his tribe, but his master needed him: and moreover, there was no place for an untrained man in the ranks of the Soudanese regiments. They were doing their work better than he could. Still, it was the one bitter drop in his intense joy that he had not been able to aid in the conflict. He expressed this to Gregory. " You have had your share in the fight, Zaki, just as I have had. I have not fired a shot, but I have been in the battle, and run its risks, and so have you. Each of us has done his duty, and we can say for the rest of our lives that we have borne our share in the great battle that has smashed up the power of the Khalifa and the rule of the Dervishes."

CHAPTER XV

KHARTOUM

THERE was no pause or rest for the troops who had been fighting for so many hours in the heat of the African sun. It was all-important to occupy Omdurman before the remnants of the Khalifa's army reached it, and as it was known that the Khalifa himself had returned there, it was hoped that he might be captured. It was ten o'clock when Macdonald's brigade fired their last shot. In half an hour the troops went forward again.

The field presented a terrible appearance, being thickly dotted

with dead, from the Surgham Hill across the plain and round by the Kerreri Hills to the spot where Macdonald's brigade had made their stand. There were comparatively few wounded, for, wiry and hardy as they were, the wounded Dervishes, unless mortally hit, were for the most part able to crawl or walk away, which they had done unmolested, for on each occasion after the bugle sounded cease firing not a shot was fired at them. But of dead there were fully ten thousand scattered more or less thickly over the plain.

From the position in which they were placed, the Egyptian troops as they marched south passed the spot where the Khalifa's flag was still flying as it had been left after its last defenders had fallen. Slatin, who was with the army, rode over the plain at the Sirdar's request to ascertain if any of the Dervish leaders were among the fallen. He recognized many, but the Khalifa, his son Ed Din, and Osman Digna were not among them. The last-named had ever been chary of exposing himself, and had probably, as was his custom, viewed the battle from a safe distance. But round the flag were the Khalifa's brother Yacoub and ten or twelve of the leading emirs.

On our side the loss had been comparatively slight. Our total number of casualties, including the wounded, was five hundred and twenty-four, towards which Macdonald's brigade contributed one hundred and twenty-eight. Marching steadily on, the force halted in the outlying suburb of Omdurman at mid-day to obtain much-needed food and water. As soon as the cavalry had watered their horses they were sent round to the south of the town to cut off fugitives, and some of the gun-boats moved up to their support. Deputations of the townsfolk, Greeks and natives, came out and offered to surrender. They said that the Khalifa was in his house, and that he had about a thousand of his body-guard with him, but that they could not offer any successful resistance. The town was full of fugitive Dervishes; many thousands of them were there—among them a great number of wounded.

At half-past four the Sirdar with his staff entered the town accompanied by Maxwell's Egyptian brigade. Only a few shots were fired; the Dervish courage was broken. It was to the followers of the Prophet, and not to the infidels, that the plains of Kerreri had proved fatal. It was their bodies and not those of the white soldiers that were strewn there so thickly. The promise of the Khalifa had been falsified, the tomb of the Mahdi was crumbling into ruins, the bravest of their troops had fallen—what more was there to be done ? As Slatin Pasha rode in at the head of the troops he was instantly recognized by the people, among whom for years he had been a prisoner; and on his assurances that mercy would be shown to all if there was no resistance, numbers of the Dervishes came out from their houses and huts and laid down their arms. The women flocked out into the streets, uttering their long and quavering cries of welcome. To them the entry of the British was a relief from a living death, as almost all were captives taken in war or in the Dervish raids upon quiet villages. They could scarce even yet believe that they were free—that their tyrants were slain or fugitives. Intense was the surprise and relief of the population when they were told that there would be no looting—no harm done to any by the conquerors; that all would be free, if they chose, to depart to their homes, and to take their few belongings with them.

The scene in the town was awful,—the stench overpowering! The Dervishes were absolutely ignorant of all sanitary methods,—pools of the foulest slush abounded, and thousands of dead animals in all stages of decomposition lay about the streets. Among them were numerous dead bodies, principally of girls and women who had been killed by their brutal husbands or masters to prevent them from falling into the hands of the British. There were also many dead Dervishes, and others desperately wounded. Strangely enough, the latter did not seem to regard their victorious enemy with the hate that had been exhibited by many of the wounded in the field, and some of them half-raised themselves and saluted the Sirdar and his staff as they passed along.

Presently there was a commotion in the crowd. The wall of the great granary had been breached by some of the lyddite shells, and the grain had poured out into the street. The natives near ran up to gather it, and finding that they were not molested by the British, the news spread rapidly; the crowds in the streets melted away, and the inhabitants, foi the most part half-starved, made a mad rush to the spot, where in a short time many thousands of men, women, and children were hard at work gathering and carrying off the grain.

In the meantime the Sirdar, with a party of Maxwell's brigade, passed along by the side of the great wall enclosing the buildings and square mile of ground in which were the Khalifa's house, the tomb of the Mahdi, the arsenal, storehouses, and the homes of the principal emirs. As soon as they had turned the corner of the wall, in view of the tomb and the Khalifa's house, a brisk fire was opened by the garrison. Fortunately the wall was not loopholed, and they had to get on the top of it or on to the flat roofs of the houses to fire. Maxwell's men soon silenced them, and on the troops passing in through the breaches and along the wall, most of the Dervishes at once surrendered. For a time further advance was barred by an inner wall that still intervened between them and the Khalifa's house.

After the gun-boats' fire had cleared away a number of the Dervishes clustered outside the south wall, the Sirdar and his staff entered by a gateway and moved towards the Khalifa's house. This was searched by Slatin Pasha and several officers and soldiers, but to the general disappointment it was found that the Khalifa had escaped but a short time before, carrying with him his treasure, his wives having been sent off as soon as he returned from the field of battle. The Mahdi's tomb was a ruin; a large portion of the dome had been knocked away, and the falling fragments had smashed the iron railings that surrounded the tomb itself. There was nothing more to be done. The pursuit of the Khalifa, mounted as he would be on fresh horses, was out of the question. It was already almost dark, and men and horses had been at work since before daybreak. The town was in a very disturbed state—large numbers of the Dervishes were still possessed of their arms, and the greater portion of the troops were withdrawn from the pestilential town. Next morning a larger force was marched in, and the work of disarmament completed.

The cavalry went out and scouted the country and brought in large numbers of prisoners. The men belonging to the tribes that had renounced Mahdism—Jaalin and others—were at once allowed to leave for their homes, and numbers of others whose appearance was peaceful, and who had at once given up their arms, were also released; but there were still no fewer than eleven thousand prisoners, among them pome of the Khalifa's emirs. Many of the townspeople had started the previous evening for the field of battle to bury the bodies of their friends who had fallen, and to bring in the wounded. Of the latter, after our own men had been attended to, fully nine thousand received aid and attention from the British doctors.

On the morning after the occupation, the work of purification began. Great numbers of the unwounded prisoners and of the townspeople were set to work to clean the streets, and in a couple of days the wider thoroughfares and avenues had been thoroughly cleansed. Having but little to do, Gregory went into the Khalifa's arsenal. This building was full of war material of all kinds, including a perfectly-appointed battery of Krupp guns, numbers of old cannon, modern machine-guns, rifles and pistols mixed up with musical instruments, suits of chain armour, steel helmets, hundreds of battle flags, and thousands of native spears, swords, and shields. Besides these the collection comprised ivory, percussion-caps, lead, copper, and bronze, looms, pianos, sewing-machines, boilers, steam-engines, agricultural implements, ostrich feathers, wooden and iron bedsteads, paints, india-rubber, leather water-bottles, clothes, three state-coaches, and an American buggy. There were also a modern smithy, where gunpowder, shell, bullets, and cartridge-cases were made and stored, and a well-appointed engineers' shop and foundry, with several steam-engines, turning-lathes, and other tools. The machinery had been brought from Gordon's arsenal at Khartoum, where the foreman had been employed, and the workmen were for the most part Greeks.

The battle was fought on Friday, the 2nd of September. On Sunday a flotilla of boats containing detachments from all the British and Egyptian regiments, and every officer who could be spared from duty, proceeded up the river to Khartoum. The ruined and deserted city looked delightful after the sand, dirt, and wretchedness of Omdurman. The gardens of the governor's house and other principal buildings had run wild, and the green foliage was restful indeed to the eye after the waste of sand, rock, and scrub that had been traversed by the army on its way from Wady Haifa. The vessels drew up opposite a grove of tall palms. Beyond them appeared what had been the government house. The upper story was gone, the windows were filled up with bricks, and a large acacia stood in front of the building.

The troops formed up before the palace in three sides of a square—the Egyptians were to the left looking from the river, and the British to the right,—the Sirdar and the generals of the divisions and brigades facing the centre. Two flagstaff's had been raised on the upper story. The Sirdar gave the signal, and the British and Egyptian flags were run up. As they flew out, one of the gun-boats fired a salute, the Guard?' band struck up "God Save the Queen!" and the band of the 11th Soudanese then played the Khedive's hymn, while the Generals and all present stood in salute with their hands to the peak of their helmets. The Sirdar's call for three cheers for the Queen was enthusiastically responded to, every helmet being raised. Similar cheers were then given for the Khedive, the bands again struck up, and twenty-one guns were fired.

As the last gun echoed out, the Guards played the Dead March in " Saul", and the black band the march called " Toll for the Brave ", the latter in memory of the Khedive's subjects who had died with Gordon. Then minute-guns were fired, and four chaplains—Anglican, Presbyterian, Methodist, and Catholic— by turns read a psalm or a prayer. The pipers then wailed a dirge, and finally the Soudanese bands played Gordon's favourite hymn, "Abide with me".

At the conclusion General Hunter and the other officers shook hands with the Sirdar one by one. Kitchener himself was deeply moved, and well he might be! Fourteen years of his life had been spent in preparing for and carrying out this campaign, and now the great task was done. Gordon wks avenged; of the Dervish host the remnant were scattered fugitives. The Mahdi's cause, the foulest and most blood-stained tyranny that had ever existed, transforming as it did a flourishing province into an almost uninhabited desert, was crushed for ever; and it was his patient and unsparing labour, his wonderful organization, that had been the main factor in the work. No wonder that even the Iron Sirdar almost broke down at such a moment.

The bugles sounded, and the troops broke up their formation, and for half an hour wandered through the empty chambers of the palace and the wild and beautiful garden. Another bugle call, and they streamed down to the water's edge, took to the boats, and returned to Omdurman.

The long-delayed duty which England owed to one of her noblest sons had been done: Gordon had had his burial. None knew where his bones reposed, but that mattered little. In the place where he was slain all honour had been done to him, and the British flag waved over the spot where he disappeared for ever from the sight of his countrymen.

On Gregory's return he found Zaki in a state of the highest excitement.

"Why, what is the matter with you, Zaki?"

"Oh, master, I have found my two sisters!"

"That is good news indeed. I am very glad to hear it, Zaki. How did you find them?"

" While you were away, master, I had been walking through the town, and when I was passing near the outskirts a woman came to a door and looked very hard at me. Then she suddenly drew aside the cloth from her face and cried,Surely it is Zaki!' Then I knew her—she was my elder sister. Then another woman came to the door—it was my younger sister, and you can imagine my joy. Both had been married to Baggaras who had carried them off. Their husbands had gone to the battle and had not returned, and some neighbours who had gone to the battle-field next day brought back news that they had found both bodies, so one sister came to stay with the other. People had told them that it was safe to go out, and that no one was injured who did so; but they had a store of grain in the house, and they decided to wait and see what happened. One of them, seeing me come along, and observing that I belonged to the Jaalin, came out to ask me the news, and they were as delighted as I was at our meet-ing."

"And your mother, do they know anything of her!"

"She was killed, master," Zaki said sorrowfully. "I thought possibly it would be so. The Dervishes did not carry off old women; they killed them and the little children. I had never hoped to see her again, but I did think when we entered Omdurman that my sisters might be here."

"What are they going to do!"

" They will go down to Berber. I have told them that many of the people here are going down, and that they will find no difficulty in joining a party. They are sure to find people they know at Berber, for most of the Jaalin who have escaped have gone there since we occupied the place. I told them that I would give them what money I had, for since I have been in my lord's service I have had no occasion to spend aught that he has paid me."

" I have no doubt, Zaki, that I can arrange for them to go down in one of the empty store-boats. I believe that many of the captives who have been released will be sent down that way, and of course I shall be glad to give your sisters enough to keep them for some time at Berber."

" My lord is too good," Zaki said gratefully.

"Nonsense, Zaki! You saved my life, and I owe you a great deal. I will go down at once to the river—that is, if your sisters are ready to start to-morrow,—and I have no doubt the transport officer will give me an order for them to go in one of the boats."

As he had expected, he had no difficulty in making arrangements. Several of the native boats that had already landed their stores would leave on the following day, and Gregory obtained an order for the passage of the two women. He then drew some money from the paymaster, and on his return to head-quarters gave Zaki a hundred dollars for his sisters. The black was overpowered with joy, and, going off, returned with the two girls—for they were little more. Each took one of Gregory's hands and pressed it to her forehead and heart, and murmured her thanks.

"Do not thank me," he said; "it is but a small part of the debt that I owe your brother. I do not know whether he has told you that he saved my life at the risk of his own."

"I have been thinking, my lord," Zaki said, "that it would be well for them to go down in the boat as far as Don-gola. Our village is not many miles from that place, and many of our people fled there, and doubtless they will return to their villages and plant their fields now that they have no longer any fear of the Dervishes. At any rate they are certain to meet friends at Dongola."

"Very well, I will get the order altered; there will be no difficulty about that. I shall be very glad to know that you will have a home to go to when this war is quite over."

" I shall never go as long as my lord will keep me," Zaki said fervently.

" I certainly shall not part with you, Zaki, as long as I remain in this country, which will probably be for a long time."

The next day Zaki aided in carrying his sisters' goods down to the river bank, and saw them on board one of the native craft, which carried also fifteen or twenty other fugitives.

" Now, Mr. Hilliard," General Hunter said that morning, " you can devote yourself to the object for which you came here. Unquestionably there must be many among the prisoners who fought at El Obeid. You may gather all particulars of the battle from their lips. The greater portion of the white troops will march down the country at once. Of course I don't know what your plans may be, but unless you have a very good reason to the contrary I should certainly advise you to retain your position in the Egyptian army. A great deal of work will have to be done before matters are quite settled down, and then civil administration of some sort will of course be formed, under which you would certainly obtain a far better post than you could hope to get at home."

"I have quite made up my mind to do so, sir. Certainly when I left Cairo I had no idea of remaining permanently in the service; but I have been so exceptionally fortunate, owing largely to your kindness, that I have been seriously thinking the matter over, and am quite determined that if I can obtain an appointment I will remain here. I have no ties whatever either in Lower Egypt or in England, no way of earning my living there, and possibly, as I have begun so early, I may rest in time in what will no doubt become an important branch of the Egyptian administration."

"I am glad to hear that you take that view. We all grumble at the Soudan, and yet there are few of us but would be sorry to leave it; and there can be no doubt whatever that, under our administration, it will in time become a magnificently rich and fertile province."

Being relieved from other duty at present, Gregory Avent to the great yard near the mosque, called the Praying Square, where the majority of the Dervish prisoners were confined.

Addressing a man of some five-and-forty years, he asked him in Arabic whether many among the prisoners had fought against Hicks at El Obeid.

The man hesitated.

"I am not asking on the part of the Sirdar," Gregory said; "and you may be sure that if no punishment is inflicted against those who have fought against us now, there can be no thought of punishment for a thing that happened so many years ago. My father was, I believe, one of the English officers killed there; but as he spoke Arabic well it is just possible he was not killed, but, like Slatin and Neufeld, was kept as a slave, in case he might be useful."

"There are many here who fought against Hicks," the native said. "I myself fought there, and nearly all the Baggara who are as old as I am were there also. I have never heard of a white man who escaped death. When we broke into the square the English General and his officers charged into the middle of us, and all fell. I was not close at the time, but I saw their bodies an hour afterwards."

"My father was not a fighting officer; he was the interpreter, and may not have been near the others. When the attack by your people was made, I have heard that one of the Soudanese regiments held together and marched away, and that there was a white officer with them."

" That was so. Two days afterwards we surrounded' them. They fought hard, and at last, when we had lost many men, we offered that if they would surrender and become the Mahdi's men they would be spared. Most of them did so, just as some of our tribesmen taken by you at Atbara have now taken service with you."

"But the white officer—what became of him?'

"I cannot say," the native said. "I have no memory of him. He may have fallen before they surrendered—who can say ? Certainly I do not remember a white man being killed after they did so. I will ask others who were there, and to-morrow will tell you what they say."

It was a busy day in Omdurman. The army that had made such efforts and achieved so great a triumph marched in military order, with bands playing, through the town. The Sirdar had a double motive in ordering them to do so. In the first place, it was a legitimate triumph of the troops thus to march as conquerors through the town; in the second place, the sight would impress not only the inhabitants but the Dervish prisoners with a sense of the power of those who henceforth would be their masters, and undoubtedly the show had the desired effect. The orderly ranks as they swept along, the proud demeanour of the men, their physique and equipment, created a profound impression among the natives. Half of them were their own kinsmen, many of whom had fought for the Khalifa and had now aided in defeating him. This was what had been accomplished by drill and discipline, and the influence of white officers. The Soudanese were evidently well fed and cared for; not even the haughty Baggara held their heads so high.

Especially admired were the artillery, battery following battery in perfect order. These were the guns that had carried death into the ranks of the Dervishes, against whose fire even the fanatical bravery of the followers of the Khalifa was unable to stand. When the march past was concluded there was scarce one of the prisoners who Avould not gladly have enlisted. On the following day Gregory again went to the Praying Square. The man he had the morning before seen, at once came up to him.

"I have enquired of many who were at El Obeid, my lord," he said. " All say that there was no white man in the camp when the black battalion surrendered, though one had been seen while the fighting was going on; nor was the body of one found where the fight had taken place on the previous day. It was a matter of talk among the Dervishes of the time, for they had lain in a circle round the enemy, and were convinced that no one passed through their lines. Those who surrendered said that he had taken the command, and had exposed himself to the hottest fire and encouraged them, telling them that the more bravely they defended themselves the more likely they were to obtain favourable terms. The night before, he had advised them to accept any offer the Dervishes might make, but on the following morning he was missing, and none could give any account of what had become of him. The same tale is told by all to whom I have spoken."

The story made a profound impression upon Gregory. It seemed possible that the father of whom he had no remembrance might have been the sole white survivor of Hicks's army. True, there was nothing to prove that he was the white man who had joined the black battalion that escaped the first day's massacre. There were other non-combatants, Vizitelly, the artist of the Illustrated London News, and O'Donovan, the correspondent of the Daily News. Either of these might also have been at any other portion of the square when the attack commenced, and unable to join Hicks and his officers in their final charge into the midst of the enemy. Still, it was at least possible that his father was the man who had retired from the field with the black battalion, and who had afterwards so strangely disappeared. If so, what had become of him all these years ? Had he made off in disguise only to be murdered by wandering bands? Had he been concealed for months in the hut of a friendly tribesman? What had he been doing since? Had he been killed in trying to make his way down? Had he been enslaved, and was he still lingering on in a wretched existence? He could hardly hope that he had fallen into friendly hands, for had he been alive he would surely have managed, with his knowledge of the country, to make his way down, or to reach Khartoum when it was still held by the Egyptians.

At any rate Gregory concluded that he might find out whether any European had arrived there during the siege. He went down to the river and took a native boat across to Khartoum. At the ceremony on Sunday many natives watched the arrival of the flotilla, and some of these might have been there in Gordon's time. He had no great hopes of it, but there was just a chance. The flags were still flying over the governor's house when he landed, and a detachment of Egyptian troops was stationed there. A native officer came down when he landed.

"I have come across to question some of the natives," he said. "I believe some are still living here."

" Oh, yes, bimbashi! there are a good many scattered about among the ruins; they come in bringing fruit and fish for sale. I think they mostly live down by the river-side."

Gregory kept on till he came to the huts occupied by the fishermen and men who cultivated small plots of ground. He found several who had lived at Khartoum when it was captured, and who had escaped the general massacre by hiding till nightfall and then making their way up the river in boats. None of them could give him the information he sought, but one suggested that he was more likely to hear from the Greeks and Turks who worked in the Khalifa's arsenal and foundries, as they had been spared for the services they would be able to render to the Mahdi. Eeturning to Omdur-man he went to the machine-shop. Here work had already been resumed, as repairs were needed by several of the gunboats. He went up to the foreman, a man of some sixty years of age.

" You were engaged in the city during the siege, were you not?" he said in Arabic, with which he knew the foreman must be thoroughly acquainted.

" Yes, sir, I had been here ten years before that."

" I am very anxious to learn whether any white man who had survived the battle of El Obeid ever reached this town before its capture."

The man thought for some time. "Yes," he said, "a white man certainly came here towards the end of the siege. I know, because I happened to meet him when I was going home from work, and he asked me the way to the governor's. I should not have known him to be a white man, for he had a native attire and was as black from exposure to the sun as any of the

Arabs. I gave him directions, and did not ask him any questions; but it was said afterwards that he was one of Hicks's officers. Later, I heard that he went down in the steamer with Colonel Stewart."

"You did not hear his name?" Gregory asked anxiously. "No, sir."

"Did he talk Arabic well?"

"Extremely well; much better than I did at the time." " Do you remember how long he arrived before the steamer started?"

"Not very long, sir, though I really cannot tell you how long it was."

"After you were cut off, I suppose?" " Certainly it was, but I cannot say how long." " No one else here would know more about it than you do ?" "No, sir; I should think not. But you can ask them." He call i up some of the other workmen. All knew that a white officer of Hicks Pasha's army was said to have returned. One of them remembered that he had come down once with Gordon to see about some repairs required to the engines of a steamer, but he had never heard his name, nor could he recall his personal appearance, except that he seemed to be a man about thirty. But he remembered once seeing him again on board Stewart's steamer, as they had been working at her engines just before she started.

After thanking the foreman Gregory returned to the hut where he and two other officers of Hunter's staff had taken up their quarters. He was profoundly depressed. This white man might well have been his father; but if so, it was even more certain than before that he had fallen. He knew what had been the fate of Stewart's steamer, the remains of which he had seen at Hebbeh. The Colonel and all with him had accepted the invitation of the treacherous sheik of that village, and had been massacred. He would at least go there, and endeavour to learn from some of the natives the particulars of the fate of those on board, and whether it was possible that any of the whites could have escaped. After sitting for some time in thought he went to General Hunter's quarters and asked to see him.

The General listened sympathetically to his story. " I never for a moment thought that your father could have escaped," he said, "but from what you tell me it is possible that he did so, only to perish afterwards. But I can well understand how, having learnt so much, you should be anxious to hear more. Certainly I will grant your request for leave to go down to Hebbeh. As you know, that place was taken and destroyed by the river column under Earle, or rather under Brackenbury, for Earle had been killed in the fight at Kirbekan. Numerous relics were found of the massacre, but the journal Stewart was known to have kept was not among them. Had it been there it would no doubt have mentioned the survivor of Hicks's army who was coming down the river with him. The place was deserted when Brackenbury arrived; it certainly was so when we came up. Since then some of the inhabitants have probably returned, and may know of places where plunder was hidden away on the approach of Bracken-bury's column. No doubt the offer of a reward would lead to their production.

"You may not have to be absent long; the British regiments are to go down at once, and several steamers will start to-morrow. I will give you an order to go with them. You will have no difficulty in getting back, for the Sirdar has already decided that the railway is to be carried on at once from Atbara to Khartoum, and has, I believe, telegraphed this morning that material and stores are to be sent up at once. Most of these will, no doubt, be brought on by rail, but grain, of which large quantities will be required for the use of our troops and of the population of the town, will come on by water. But no doubt your quickest way back will be to ride to Abu Hamed and take the train up to Atbara."

"I will be back as soon as I can, General. I am much obliged to you for letting me go."

" I will tell the Sirdar that I have given you leave, and why.

It is not absolutely necessary, but it is always well that one's name should be kept to the front."

The next day Gregory saw the General again. " I mentioned to the Sirdar that you wanted a fortnight's leave, and told him why. He simply nodded and said, 'Let him have a month if he wants it.' He had other things to think of, for this morning a small Dervish steamer came down the White Nile. They had the Khalifa's flag flying, and had not heard of what had taken place till one of the gun-boats ran alongside her. Of course she surrendered at once. It is a curious story they told. They left Omdurman a month ago with the Sapphire, which carried five hundred men. The object of the voyage was to collect grain. When they reached the old station of Fashoda they had been fired upon by black troops, with some white men among them, who had a strange flag flying. The firing was pretty accurate, for they had forty men killed and wounded, and the emir in command had disembarked and encamped his troops from the Sapphire on the opposite bank, and had sent the small steamer back to ask the Khalifa for orders.

" The story seemed so strange and improbable that I went down with the Sirdar to the boat, which had been brought alongside. There was no doubt that it had been peppered with balls. Some of the General's staff cut one of the bullets out of the wood-work, and these fully confirmed the story. They were not leaden balls or bits of old iron, but conical nickel bullets. They could only have been fired from smallbore rifles, so there were certainly white men at Fashoda. Of course no one can form any opinion as to who they are, or where they come from. They may be Belgians from the Congo; they may—but that is most improbable—be an expeditionary party of Italians. But Italy is withdrawing and not pushing forward, so I think it is out of the question that they are concerned in the matter.

"The question seems to lie between Belgians and French, unless an expedition has been sent up from our possessions on the great lakes. The Dervishes in the steamer can only

say that the flag is not at all like ours; but as their ignorance of colour is profound, they give all sorts of contradictory statements. Anyhow, it is a serious matter. Certainly no foreign power has any right to send an expedition to the Nile; and as certainly, if one of them did so, our government would not allow them to remain there, for beyond all question Fashoda is an Egyptian station and within Egyptian territory, which is at present as much as to say that a foreign power established there would be occupying our country."

" It seems an extraordinary proceeding, sir."

"Very extraordinary. If it were not that it seems the thing has absolutely been done, it would seem improbable that any foreign power could take such an extraordinary and unjustifiable course. It is lucky for them, whoever they are, that we have smashed up the Dervishes, for they would have made very short work of them, and the nation that sent them would probably never have known their fate."

CHAPTER XVI

A VOICE FROM THE DEAD

THAT afternoon Gregory heard that orders had been issued for five of the gun-boats to start up the river the first thing in the morning, that the Sirdar himself was going, and was to take up five hundred men of the 11th Soudanese. An order was also issued that all correspondents were to leave the next day for Cairo. Gregory had met one of them that evening.

"So you are all off, I hear, Mr. Pearson?"

"Yes; we did have a sort of option given us, but it was really no choice at all. We might go down instantly, or we must stay till the last of the white troops had gone down. That may be a very long time, as there is.no saying what may

come of this Fashoda business. Besides, the Khalifa has fairly escaped, and if out of the sixty thousand men with him some thirty thousand got off, they may yet rally round him, and in another two or three months he may be at the head of as large a force as ever. I don't think, after the way the Egyptians fought the other day, there will be any need for white troops to back them. Still, it is likely that a battalion or two may be left. However, we had practically to choose between going at once or waiting at least a month, and you may be sure that the censorship would be put on with a round turn, and that we should not be allowed to say a word of the Fashoda business, which would be the only thing worth telegraphing about. So we have all voted for going.

"Of course we understand that this pressure has been put upon us on account of this curious affair at Fashoda. Fortunately none of us are sorry to be off. There is certain to be a pause now for some time, and one does not want to be kicking one's heels about in this ghastly town; and though it is rather sharp and peremptory work, I cannot say that I think the Sirdar is wrong. Whoever these men may be, they must go, that is certain; but of course it will be a somewhat delicate business, and France—that is, if they are Frenchmen who are there—is sure to be immensely sore over the business, and it is certainly very desirable that nothing should be written from here that could increase that feeling. I have no doubt the Sirdar telegraphed home for instructions as soon as he got the news of the affair, and I imagine that his going up in the morning with five gun-boats is proof that he has already received instructions of some sort. I hope this force is not French. The feeling against us is tremendously strong in France, and they certainly will not like backing down; but they will have to do that or fight, and with all their big talk I don't think they are ready to risk a war with us, especially as, though their occupation of Fashoda would be an immense annoyance to us, it would be of no possible utility to them.

"By the way, we have all got to sell our horses. There is no possibility of taking them down, and it is a question of giving them away rather than of selling, for of course the officers of the British regiments do not want to buy. I have a horse for which I gave twenty-five pounds at Cairo. You are welcome to him. You can give me a couple of pounds for the saddle and things."

" I am very much obliged to you, but it would be robbery."

" Not at all. If you won't take him, I shall have him shot to-night. A horse could not possibly pick up food here, and would die of starvation without a master; and it would be still more cruel to give him to a native, for they are brutal horse-masters."

"Well, in that case I shall be glad indeed to have him, and I am extremely obliged to you."

"That is right. If you will send your man round I will hand it over to him."

" As you are going to-morrow, it is likely that I shall go with you, for I am going down also as far as Abu Hamed for ten days."

" That will be pleasant, though I do not know that it will be so for you, for I own the majority of us are rather sour-tempered at present. Though we may be glad enough to go, one does not care to be sent off at a moment's notice, just as fractious children are turned out of a room when their elders want a private chat. However, for myself I am not inclined to grumble. I want to go, and therefore I do not stand on the order of going."

Later, General Hunter gave Gregory an order for a passage in a steamer on which the correspondents of the various newspapers were going down.

"What shall we take, master?" Zaki asked.

"Just the clothes we stand in, Zaki. I have got a couple of the Dervish Remingtons and several packets of ammunition. I will take them, and I can get four more. We will

take them all down, as we know the people about Hebbeh are not disposed to be friendly. I don't suppose for a minute that they are likely to show any hostile feeling, for you may be sure that the fall of Omdurman has spread by this time over the whole land, and they will be on their best behaviour. Still, it is just as well to be able to defend ourselves, and I shall engage four men at Abu Hamed to go with us. I shall leave all my kit here."

It was a pleasant run down the river to Atbara. The correspondents were all heartily glad to be on their way home, and the irritation they had at first felt at being so suddenly ordered away at the moment when so unexpected and interesting a development occurred, had subsided. They had witnessed one of the most interesting battles ever fought, had seen the overthrow of the Mahdi, and were looking forward to European comforts and luxuries again. At Atbara ail left the steamer, which was to take in stores and go up again at once, and proceeded by a military train with the first of the returned European regiments. At Abu Hamed Gregory left them.

His first enquiry was whether any boats were going down the river. He learned that several native craft were leaving, and at once engaged a passage in one of them to Hebbeh. He had no difficulty whatever in engaging four sturdy Arabs from among those who were listlessly hanging round the little station. While he was doing this Zaki bought food for six men for a week, and in less than two hours from his arrival at Abu Hamed Gregory was on board. The boat at once dropped down the river, and as the current was running strongly, they were off Hebbeh next morning at eight o'clock. A boat put off, and took Gregory and his party ashore. As they were seen to land, the village sheik at once came down to them.

"Is there anything I can do for my lord?" he asked.

"Yes; I have come here to ascertain whether any of those who were present at the attack upon the party who landed from the steamer over there, are still living here. There is no question of punishment. On the contrary, I have come here to obtain information as to some private matters, and anyone who can give me that information will be well rewarded."

"There are but three men alive who were here at the time, my lord; there were more, but they fled when the boats with the white troops came up from Merawi. I believe they went to the Dervish camp at Metemmeh. The three here are quiet and respectable men. They were asked many questions, and guided the white officers to the place where Wad Etman stood—it was there that those who landed from the steamer first rested,—and to the place where the great house of Suleiman Wad Gamr, Emir of Salamat, stood. It was there that the much-to-be-regretted attack on the white men was made. When the white army came up six months afterwards, they blew up the house and cut down all the palm-trees in the village."

" I was with the force that came up from Merawi last year. Will you bring me the three men you speak of? I would question them one by one. Assure them that they need not be afraid of answering truthfully, even if they themselves were concerned in the attack upon the white officers and the crew of the steamer, for no steps will be taken against them. It is eighteen years since then, and no doubt their houses were destroyed and their groves cut down when the British column came here and found the place deserted. I am ready to reward them if I obtain the information I require from them."

The three men were presently brought to the spot where Gregory had seated himself in the shade of one of the huts. Zaki stood beside him, and the four armed men took post a short distance away. The first called up was a very old man. In reply to Gregory's questions he said: " I was already old when the steam-boat ran ashore. I took no hand in the business; the white men had done me no harm, while the followers pf the Mahdi had killed many of my family and friends. I

heard what was going to be done, and I stayed in my house. I call upon Allah to witness that what I say is true!"

"Do you know if any remains of that expedition are still in existence?"

"No, my lord. When the white troops came here some months afterwards I fled, as all here did; but I know that before they destroyed Wad Gamr's house they took away some boxes of papers that had been brought ashore from the ship, and were still in the house. I know of nothing else. The clothes of the men on board the steam-boat were divided among those who took part in the attack, but there was little booty."

Gregory knew that at Wad Gamr's house but few signs of the tragedy had been found when General Brackenbury's troops entered. Blood-stained visiting-cards of Stewart's, a few scraps of paper, and a field-glass had alone been discovered besides the boxes of papers.

The next man who came up said that he had been with the party who fell upon the engineers and crew of the boat by the river-side. " I was ordered to kill them," he said. " Had I not done so I should have been killed myself."

" Do you know whether any booty was hidden away before the English came ?"

"No, my lord, there was no booty taken; no money was found on board the steamer. We stripped her of the brass-work and took the wood ashore to burn. The sheik gave us a dollar and a half a man for what we had done. There may have been some money found on the ship, but as his own men were on board first and took all that they thought of value I have naught to say about it."

" And you never heard of anything being hidden before the British troops arrived?"

The Arab shook his head. "No, my lord, but there may have been, though I never heard of it. I went and fought at Kirbekan, and when we were beaten I fled at once to Berber, and remained there until the white troops had all gone down the country."

"I may want to question you again to-morrow," Gregory said. " Here are two dollars. I shall give you as much more if I want you again."

The third man was then called up. He was evidently in fear. "Do not be afraid to answer me truly," Gregory said. " If you do so, no harm will come to you whatever share you may have had in the affair; but if you answer falsely and the truth is afterwards discovered, you will be punished. Now, where were you when this business took place?"

"We were all ordered by Wad Gamr to gather near his house, and when the signal was given we were to run in and kill the white men. We saw them go up to the house. They had been told to leave their arms behind them; one of the sheik's servants came out and waved his arms, and we ran in and killed them."

"What happened then?"

"We carried the bodies outside the house. Then we took what money was found in their pockets, with watches and other things, in to the sheik, and he paid us a dollar and a half a head, and said that we could have their clothes. For my share I had a jacket belonging to one of them. When I got it home I found that there was a pocket inside, and in it was a book partly written on, and many other bits of paper."

"And what became of that?" Gregory asked eagerly.

" I threw it into a corner, it was of no use to me. But when the white troops came up in the boats and beat us at Kirbekan I came straight home and, seeing the pocket-book, took it and hid it under a rock, for I thought that when the white troops got here they would find it, and that they might then destroy the house and cut down my trees. Then I went away, and did not come back until the}' had all gone."

"And where is the pocket-book now]"

" It may be under the rock where I hid it, my lord. I have never thought of it since; it was rubbish."

"Can you take me to the place?"

"I think so; it was not far from my house. I pushed it

under the first great rock I came to, for I was in haste and wanted to be away before the white soldiers on camels could get here."

"Did you hear of any other things being hidden?"

"No; I think everything was given up. If this thing had been of value I should perhaps have told the sheik, but as it was only written papers and of no use to anyone, I did not trouble to do so."

" Well, let us go at once," Gregory said, rising to his feet. " Although of no use to you, these papers may be of importance."

Followed by Zaki and the four men, Gregory went to the peasant's house, which stood a quarter of a mile away.

"This is not the house I lived in then," the man said. " The white troops destroyed every house in the village, but when they had gone I built another on the same spot."

The hill rose steeply behind it. The peasant went on till he stopped at a large boulder. "This was the rock," he said, " where I thrust it under as far as my arm would reach. I pushed it in on the upper side." The man lay down. "It was just about here," he said. "It is here, my lord; I can just feel it, but I cannot get it out. I pushed it in as far as the tips of my fingers could reach it."

" Well, go down and cut a couple of sticks three or four feet long." In ten minutes the man returned with them. "Now take one of them, and when you feel the book push the stick along its side until it is well beyond it. Then you ought to be able to scrape it out. If you cannot do so, we shall have to roll the stone over. It is a big rock, but with two or three poles one ought to be able to turn it over."

After several attempts, however, the man produced the packet. Gregory opened it with trembling hands. It contained, as the man had said, a large number of loose sheets, evidently torn from a pocket-book and all covered with close writing. He opened the book that accompanied them. It was written in ink, and the first few words sufficed to tell him

that his search was over. It began: "Khartoum. Thank God, after two years of suffering and misery since the fatal day at El Obeid, I am once again amongst friends. It is true that I am still in peril, for the position here is desperate. Still, the army that is coming up to our help may be here in time; and even if they should not do so this may be found when they come, and will be given to my dear wife at Cairo if she is still there. Her name is Mrs. Hilliard, and her address will surely be known at the Bank."

"These are the papers I was looking for,"he said to Zaki; " I will tell you about them afterwards."

He handed ten dollars to the native, thrust the packet into his breast-pocket, and walked slowly down to the river. He had never entertained any hope of finding his father, but this evidence of his death gave him a shock. His mother was right, then; she had always insisted there was a possibility that he might have escaped the massacre at El Obeid. He had done so; he had reached Khartoum, he had started full of hope of seeing his wife and child, but had been treacherously massacred here. He would not now read this message from the grave, that must be reserved for some time when he was alone. He knew enough to be able to guess the details—they could not be otherwise than painful. He felt almost glad that his mother was not alive. To him the loss was scarcely a real one. His father had left him when an infant. Although his mother had so often spoken of him he had scarcely been a reality to Gregory, for when he became old enough to comprehend the matter it seemed to him certain that his father must have been killed. He could then hardly understand how his mother could cling to hope. His father had been more a real character to him since he started from Cairo than ever before.

He knew the desert now and its fierce inhabitants. He could picture the battle, and since the fight at Omdurman he had been able to see before him the wild rush on the Egyptian square, the mad confusion, the charge of a handful of white officers, and the one white man going off with the

GREGORY FINDS HIS FATHERS PAPERS

black battalion that held together. If, then, it was a shock to him to know how his father had died, how vastly greater would it have been to his mother! She had pictured him as dying suddenly, fighting to the last and scarce conscious of pain till he received a fatal wound. She had said to Gregory that it was better to think of his father as having died thus than lingering in hopeless slavery like Neufeld; but it would have been agony to her to know that he did suffer for two years, that he had then struggled on through all dangers to Khartoum, and was on his way back full of hope and love for her when he was treacherously murdered.

The village sheik met him as he went down.

"You have found nothing, my lord?"

"Nothing but a few old papers," he said.

"You will report well of us, I hope, to the great English commander?"

" I shall certainly tell him that you did all in your power to aid me."

He walked down towards the river. One of the men who had gone on while he had been speaking to the sheik, ran back to meet him.

"There is a steamer coming up the river, my lord."

" That is fortunate indeed," Gregory exclaimed. " I had intended to sleep here to-night, and to bargain with the sheik for donkeys or camels to take us back. This will save two days."

Two or three native craft were fastened up to the shore waiting for a breeze to set in strong enough to take them up. Gregory at once arranged with one of them to put his party on board the steamer in their boat. In a quarter of an hour the gun-boat approached, and they rowed out to meet her. As she came up Gregory stood up and shouted to them to throw him a rope. This was done, and an officer came to the side.

" I want a passage for myself and five men to Abu Hamed. I am an officer on General Hunter's staff."

"With pleasure. Have you come down from the front?" he asked, as Gregory stepped on board with the five blacks.

"Yes."

"Then you can tell me about the great fight. We heard of it at Dongola, but beyond the fact that we had thrashed the Khalifa and taken Omdurman, we received no particulars. But before you begin, have a drink. It is horribly annoying to me," he went on, as they sat down under the awning, and the steward brought tumblers, soda-water, some whisky, and two lemons. Gregory refused the whisky, but took a lemon with his cold water. "A horrible nuisance," the officer went on. "This is one of Gordon's old steamers; she has broken down twice. Still, I console myself by thinking that even if I had been in time very likely she would not have been taken up. I hope, however, there will be work to do yet. As you see, I have got three of these native craft in tow, and it is as much as I can do to get them up this cataract. Now, please tell me about the battle."

Gregory gave him an outline of the struggle, of the occupation of Omdurman, and of what might be called the funeral service of Gordon at Khartoum. It was dark before the story was finished.

"By the way," the officer said, as they were about to sit down to dinner, "while we were on deck I did not ask about your men. I must order food to be given them."

"They have plenty," Gregory said; "I brought enough for a week with me. I thought that I might be detained two or three days here and be obliged to make the journey by land to Abu Hamed."

" I have not asked you what you were doing at this out-of-the-way place, and how long you have been here?"

" I only landed this morning. I came down to search for some relics. My father was on board Stewart's steamer, and as there would be nothing doing at Omdurman for a few days I got leave to run down. I was fortunate in securing a boat at Abu Hamed on my arrival there, and I have been equally so now in having been picked up by you, so that I shall not be away from Omdurman more than seven days if I have equal

luck in getting a steamer at Atbara. I do not think I shall be disappointed, for the white troops are coming down and stores are going up for the Egyptian brigade, so that I am certain not to be kept there many hours. The Sirdar has gone up to Fashoda or I don't suppose I should have got leave."

"Yes; I heard at Merawi from the officer in command that some foreign troops had arrived there. I suppose nothing more is known about it?"

"No; no news will probably come down for another fortnight, perhaps longer than that."

"Who can they be?"

" The general idea is that they are French. They can only be French or a party from the Congo States."

" They have tremendous cheek whoever they are," the officer said. "It is precious lucky for them that we have given the Khalifa something else to think about, or you may be sure he would have wiped them out pretty quickly unless they are a very strong force, which doesn't seem probable. I hear the Sirdar has taken a regiment up with him."

"Yes, but I don't suppose any actual move will be made at present."

"No, I suppose it will be a diplomatic business; still, I should think they would have to go."

"No one has any doubt about that at Omdurman," Gregory said. "After all the expense and trouble we have had to retake the Soudan, it is not likely that we should let anyone else plant themselves on the road to the great lakes. When will you be at Abu Hamed, sir?"

" We shall be there about five o'clock,—at any rate I think you may safely reckon on catching the morning train. It goes, I think, at eight."

" I am sure to catch a train soon, for orders have been sent down that railway materials shall be sent up as quickly as possible, as it has been decided that the railway shall be carried on at once to Khartoum. I expect that as soon as the Nile falls they will make a temporary bridge across the Atbara."

It was six in the morning when the steamer arrived at Abu Hamed. Gregory at once landed, paid his four men, went up to the little station, and an hour later was on his way to Atbara Fort. He had but two hours to wait there, and reached Omdurman at three o'clock on the following afternoon. As he landed he met an officer he knew.

"Is there any news?" he asked.

" Nothing but Fashoda is talked about. It has been ascertained that the force there is undoubtedly French. The betting is about even as to whether France will back down or not. They have made it difficult for themselves by an outburst of enthusiasm at what they considered the defeat of England. Well, of course, that does not go for much except that it makes it harder for their government to give in."

" And has any news been received of the whereabouts of the Khalifa?"

" No. Broadwood with two regiments of Egyptian cavalry and the camel corps started in pursuit of the Khalifa and Osman an hour after it was found that they had got away. Slatin Pasha went with them. But as the horses had been at work all day they had to stop at half-past eight. They could not then get down to the water, and bivouacked where they had halted. At four in the morning they started again, and at half-past eight found a spot where they could get down to the river; then they rode fifteen miles farther. They were now thirty-five miles from Omdurman. One of the gun-boats had gone up with supplies, but owing to the Nile having overflowed could not get near enough to land them. Next morning they got news that the Khalifa was twenty-five miles ahead, and had just obtained fresh camels, so they were ordered to return to the town. They had picked up a good many of the fugitives, among them the Khalifa's favourite wife, who, doubtless, with other women had slipped away at one of has halting-places, feeling unable to bear the constant fatigues and hardships of the flight in the desert. The cavalry have since been out again, but beyond the fact

that the Khalifa had been joined by many of the fugitives from the battle and was making for Kordofan, no certain news has been obtained.

"At present nothing can be done in that direction. That horse you bought is all right."

" I really did not like taking him, for I already had one, and it looked almost like robbery giving him two pounds for it and the saddle."

"Others have done as well," the officer laughed; "one of the brigade staff bought a horse for a pound from Burleigh, who had given forty for it at Cairo. There was no help for it, they could not take horses down. Besides, it is not their loss after all; the newspapers can afford to pay for them, they must have been coining money of late."

"That reconciles me," Gregory laughed; "I did not think of the correspondents' expenses being paid by the papers."

" I don't know anything about their arrangements, but it stands to reason that it must be so in a campaign like this. In an ordinary war a man can calculate what his outlay might be, but on an expedition of this kind no one could foretell what expenses he might have to incur. Besides, the Sirdar has saved the newspapers an enormous expenditure. The correspondents have been rigidly kept down to messages of a few hundred words, whereas, if they had had their own way they would have sent down columns. Of course the correspondents grumbled, but I have no doubt their employers were very well pleased, and the newspapers must have saved thousands of pounds by this restriction."

" You are back sooner than I expected," General Hunter said when Gregory went in and reported his arrival. "It is scarce a week since you left."

" Just a week, sir. Everything went smoothly, and I was but three or four hours at Hebbeh."

'And did you succeed in your search?"

"Yes, sir; I most fortunately found a man who had hidden a pocket-book he had taken from the body of one of

the white men who were murdered there. There was nothing in it but old papers, and when Brackenbury's expedition approached he had hidden it away, and did not give it a thought until I enquired if he knew of any papers and other things connected with those on board the steamer. He at once took me to the place where he had hidden it under a great stone, and it turned out to be the note-book and journals of my father, who was, as I thought possible, the white man who had arrived at Khartoum a short time before the place was captured by the Dervishes, and who had gone down in the steamer that carried Colonel Stewart."

" Well, Hilliard," the General said kindly, " even the certain knowledge of his death is better than the fear that he might be in slavery. You told me you had no remembrance of him?"

"None, sir; but of course my mother had talked of him so often, and had several photographs of him—the last taken at Cairo before he left,—so that I almost seem to have known him. However, I do feel it as a relief to know that he is not, as I feared was remotely possible, a slave among the Baggara; but I think it is hard that after having gone through two years of trials and sufferings he should have been murdered on his way home."

"No doubt that is so. Have you read your father's diary yet?"

"No, sir; I have not had the heart to do so, and shall put it off until the shock that this has given n;c has passed away. I feel that a little hard work will be the best thing for me; is there any chance of it?"

" You have just returned in time. I am going up the Blue Nile to-morrow morning to clear out the villages, which no doubt are all full of fugitives. I am glad that you have come back; I was speaking of you to-day to General Bundle, who is in command. One of the objects of the expedition is to prevent Fadil from crossing the river. He was advancing from Gedareh at the head of ten thousand troops to join the Khalifa, and

was but forty miles away on the day after we took this place; but when he received the news of our victory he fell back. If he can cross he will bring a very formidable reinforcement to the Khalifa. We know that Colonel Parsons started from Kassala on the 7th, his object being to capture Gedareh during the absence of Fadil. He is to cross the Atbara at El Fasher, and will then march up this bank of the river till he is at the nearest point to Gedareh. It is probable that he will not strike across before the 18th or the 20th. His force is comparatively small, and we do not know how large a garrison Fadil will have left there. Altogether we are uneasy about the expedition. It is very desirable that Parsons should know that Fadil is retiring, and that, so far as we can learn from the natives, he has not yet crossed the Blue Nile. Gedareh is said to be a strong place, and once there, Parsons might hold it against Fadil until we can send him reinforcements. In order to convey this information to him we require someone on whom we can absolutely rely. I said that if you were here I felt sure that you would volunteer for the service. Of course it is to a certain extent a dangerous one, but I think that, speaking the language as you do, and as you have already been among the Dervishes, you might, even if taken prisoner, make out a good story for yourself."

" I would undertake the commission with pleasure," Gregory said. " I shall, of course, go in native dress."

" I propose that we carry you a hundred miles up the river with us, and there land you. From that point it would not be more than sixty or seventy miles across the desert to the Atbara, which you would strike forty or fifty miles above El Fasher. Of course you would be able to learn there whether Parsons had crossed. If he had, you would ride up the bank till you overtake him; if he had not, you would probably meet him at Mugatta, he must cross below that, as it is there he leaves the river."

" That seems simple enough, sir. My story would be that I was one of the Dervishes who had escaped from the battle.

here, and had stopped at a village, thinking that I was sahj from pursuit, until your boats came along, and that I then crossed the desert to go to Gedareh, where I thought I should be safe. That would surely carry me through. I shall want two fast camels—one for myself and one for my boy."

" These we can get for you from Abdul Azil, the Abadah sheik. Of course you will put on Dervish robes and badges ?"

" Yes, sir."

" I will go across and tell General Rundle, and obtain written instructions for you to carry dispatches to Parsons. I will give them to you when you go up on the boat in the morning. I will see at once about the camels, and ask the Intelligence people to get you two of the Dervish suits. You will also want rifles."

"Thank you, sir! I have a couple of Eemingtons, and plenty of ammunition for them. I have two spears also which I picked up when we came in here."

"We are off again, Zaki," he said when he returned to his hut, where the black was engaged in sweeping up the dust and arranging everything as usual.

" Yes, master." Zaki suspended his work. " When do we go?"

" To-morrow morning."

"Do we take everything with us?"

"No; I start in uniform. We shall both want Dervish dresses, but you need not trouble about them—they will be got for us."

" Then we are going among the Dervishes again?"

"Well, I hope we are not; but we may meet some of them. We are going with the expedition up the Blue Nile, and will then land and strike across the desert to the Atbara. That is enough for you to know at present. We shall take our guns and spears with us."

Zaki had no curiosity. If his master was going it was of course all right—his confidence in him was absolute. In about an hour a native from the Intelligence Department

brought down two Dervish dresses complete. They had still three hours before mess, and Gregory sat down on his bed and opened his father's pocket-book, which he had had no opportunity to do since it came into his possession.

CHAPTER XVII

A FUGITIVE

I DO not suppose," the diary began, " that what I write here will ever be read. It seems to me that the chances are immeasurably against it. Still, there is a possibility that it may fall into the hands of some of my countrymen when, as will surely be the case, the Mahdi's rebellion is crushed and order restored; and I intend, so long as I live, to jot down from time to time what happens to me, in order that the only person living interested in me, my wife, may possibly some day get to know what my fate has been. Therefore, should this scrap of paper and other scraps that may follow it be ever handed to one of my countrymen, I pray him to send it to Mrs. Hilliard, care of the manager of the Bank at Cairo. It may be that this, the first time I write, may be the last, and I therefore before all things wish to send her my heart's love, to tell her that my last thoughts and my prayers will be for her, and that I leave it entirely to her whether to return to England in accordance with the instructions I left her before leaving, or to remain in Cairo.

" It is now five days since the battle. It cannot be called a battle. It was not fighting; it was a massacre. The men, after three days' incessant fighting, were exhausted and worn-out, half-mad with thirst, half-mutinous at being brought into the desert, as they said, to die; thus, when the Dervishes rushed down in a mass the defence was feeble. Almost before we knew what had happened the enemy had burst in on one (M917) " s

side of the square. Then all was wild confusion—camels and Dervishes, flying Egyptians, screaming camp-followers, were all mixed in confusion. The other sides of the square were also attacked. Some of our men were firing at those in their front, others turning round and shooting into the crowded mass in the square. I was with a black regiment on the side opposite to where they burst in. The white officer who had been in command had fallen ill, and had been sent back a few days after we left Khartoum, and as I had been for weeks before that aiding him to the best of my powers, and there were no other officers to spare, Hicks asked me to take his place. As I had done everything I could for the poor fellows' comfort on the march, they had come to like me and to obey my orders as promptly as those of their former commander.

" As long as the other two sides of the square stood firm, I did so; but they soon gave way. I saw Hicks with his staff charge into the midst of the Dervishes, and then lost sight of them. Seeing that all was lost, I called to my men to keep together, to march off in regular order, and repel all assaults, as this was the only hope there was of getting free. They obeyed my orders splendidly. Two or three times the Dervishes charged upon them, but the blacks were as steady as rocks, and their volleys were so fatal that the enemy finally left us alone, preferring to aid in the slaughter of the panic-stricken Egj^ptians, and to share the spoil. We made for the wells. Each man drank his fill; those who had water-bottles filled them. We then marched on towards El Obeid, but before nightfall the Dervish horse had closed up round us. At daylight their infantry had also arrived, and fighting began.

" All day we held our position, killing great numbers but losing many men ourselves. By night our water was exhausted. Then the soldiers offered to attack the enemy, but they were twenty to one against us, and I said to them, 'No, fight one day longer if we can hold on. The Dervishes may retire or they may offer us terms.' So we stood. By the

next evening we had lost half our number. After they had drawn off, one of the Dervish emirs came in with a white flag and offered life to all who would surrender and would wear the badge of the Mahdi and be his soldiers. I replied that an answer should be given in the morning. When he had left I gathered the men together.You have fought nobly,' I said, 'but you have scarce a round of ammunition left. If we fight again to-morrow we shall all be slaughtered. I thank you in the name of the Khedive for all that you have done, but I do not urge you to reject the terms offered. Your deaths would not benefit the Khedive. As far as I am concerned you are free to accept the terms offered.'

" They talked for some time together, and then the three native officers who were still alive came forward.

"'Bimbashi,' they said, 'what will be done about you? We are Mahomedans and their countrymen, but you are a white man and a Christian. You would not fight for the Mahdi?'

" 'No,' I said, 'I would not fight for him, nor would I gain my life at the price of being his slave. I wish you to settle the matter without any reference to me. I will take my chance. I may not be here in the morning. One man might escape where many could not. All I ask is that I may not be watched. If in the morning I am not here, you can all say that I disappeared, and you do not know how. I do not myself know what I am going to do yet.'

" They went away, and in a quarter of an hour returned and said that the men would surrender. If they had water and ammunition they would go on fighting till the end; but as they had neither, they would surrender.

"I felt that this was best. The Soudanese love battle, and would as readily fight on one side as on the other. They have done their duty well to the Khedive, and will doubtless fight as bravely for the Mahdi.

" The men lay in a square as they had fought, with sentries placed to warn them should the Dervishes make a night-attack.

British troops would have been well-nigh maddened with thirst after being twenty-four hours without water and fighting all day in the blazing sun, but they felt it little. Thej r were thirsty, but in their desert marches they are accustomed to thirst and to hold on for a long time without water. I was better off, for I had drunk sparingly the day before from my water-bottle and had still a draught left in it.

"I waited until I thought that the men were all asleep; then I stripped and stained myself from head to foot. I had carried stain with me, in case I might have to go out as a native to obtain information. In my valise I had a native dress and a native cloth, in which I could have passed as a peasant, but not as one of the Baggara. However, I put it on, passed through the sleeping men, and went up to a sentry.

"You know me,' I said.I am your Bimbashi. I am going to try and get through their lines; but if it is known how I have escaped I shall be pursued and slain. Will you swear to me that if you are questioned you will say you know nothing of my flight?'

"' I swear by the beard of the Prophet,' the man said.May Allah protect you, my lord!'

"Then I went on. The night was fairly dark, and as the Dervishes were nearly half a mile away I had no fear of being seen by them. There were many of their dead scattered about, seventy or eighty yards from our square. I had all along felt convinced that it would be impossible to pass through their lines; therefore I went to a spot where I had noticed that a number had fallen close together, and went about examining them carefully. It would not have done to have chosen the dress of an emir, as his body might have been examined, but the ordinary dead would pass unnoticed. I first exchanged the robe for one marked with the Mahdi's patches. It was already smeared with blood. I then carried the body of the man whose robe I had taken off for some distance. I laid him down on his face, thinking that the absence of the patches would not be seen. Then I crawled

some thirty or forty yards nearer to the Dervishes, so that it would seem that I had strength to get that far before dying. Then I lay down partly on my side, so that the patches would show, but with my face downwards on my arm.

" I had, before dyeing my skin, cut my hair close to my head, on which I placed the Dervish's turban. The only property that I brought out with me was a revolver and this pocket-book. Both of these I buried in the sand; the pocket-book a short distance away, the pistol lightly covered and within reach of my hand, so that I could grasp it and sell my life dearly if discovered.

" Soon after daylight I heard the triumphant yells of the Dervishes, and knew that my men had surrendered. Then there was a rush of horse and foot, and much shouting and talking. I lifted my head slightly and looked across. Not a Dervish was to be seen in front of me. I felt that I had better move, so, taking up my pistol and hiding it, I crawled on my hands and knees to the spot where I had hidden this book, and then got up on to my feet and staggered across the plain as if sorely wounded and scarcely able to drag my feet along. As I had hoped, no one seemed to notice me, and I saw three or four other figures also making their way painfully towards where the Dervishes had encamped.

" Here were a few camels standing untended. Everyone had joined in the rush for booty—a rush to be met with bitter disappointment, for, with the exception of the arms of the fallen, and what few valuables they might have about their person, there was nothing to be gained. I diverged from the line I had been following, kept on until there was a dip in the ground that would hide me from the sight of those behind, then I started to run, and at last threw myself down in the scrub four or five miles away from the point from which I had started. I was perfectly safe for the present. The Dervishes were not likely to search over miles of the desert, dotted as it was with thick bushes. The question was as to the future. My position was almost as bad as could be; I was

without food or water, and there were hundreds of miles of desert between me and Khartoum. At every water-hole I should almost certainly find parties of Dervishes.

" From time to time I lifted my head and saw several large parties of the enemy moving in the distance. They were evidently bound on a journey, and were not thinking of looking for me. I chewed the sour leaves of the camel bush, and this to some extent alleviated my thirst. I determined at last that I would, in the first place, march to the wells towards which we had been pressing when the Dervishes came up to us. They were nearly three miles south of the spot where the square had stood. No doubt Dervishes would be there, but if discovered by them it was better to die so than of thirst. Half an hour before the sun sank I started. No horsemen were in sight, and if any were to come along I could see them long before they could notice me. Knowing the general direction, I was fortunate enough to get sight of the palm-grove which surrounded the wells before darkness set in.

"It lay about two miles away, and there were certainly moving objects round it. I lay down until twilight had passed, and then went forward. When within two or three hundred yards of the grove, I lay down again and Avaited. That the Dervishes would all go to sleep, however long I might wait, was too much to hope for. They would be sure to sit and talk far into the night of the events of the last three or four days. Shielding myself as well as I could by the bushes, I crawled up until I was in the midst of some camels which were browsing. Here I stood up, and then walked boldly into the grove. As I had expected, two or three score of Dervishes were sitting in groups, talking gravely. They had destroyed the Turks (as they always called the Egyptians and their infidel white leaders), but had suffered heavily themselves. The three hundred Soudanese who had surrendered, and who had taken service with the Mahdi, were but poor compensation for the losses they had suffered.

"A year ago,' one old sheik said,I was the father of eight

brave sons. Now they have all gone before me. Four of them fell in the assaults at El Obeid, two at Baria, and the last two have now been killed. I shall meet them all again in the abode of the blessed, and the sooner the better, for I have no one left to care for.' Others had tales of the loss of relations and friends, but I did not wait to listen further. Taking up a large water gourd that stood empty at the foot of one of the trees, I boldly walked to the well, descended the rough steps at the water's edge, and drank till I could drink no longer, and then, filling the gourd, went up again. No one noticed me. Had they looked at me they would have seen even in the darkness the great patches down the front of the robe, but I don't think anyone did notice me. Other figures were moving about from group to group, and I kept on through the grove until beyond the trees. I came out on the side opposite to that which I had entered, and, as I expected, found some of the Dervish horses grazing among the bushes.

"No guard was placed over them, as the}'' were too well trained to wander far. I went out to them and chose the poorest, which happened to be farther among the bushes than the others. I had thought the matter well over. If a good horse were taken, there would be furious pursuit as soon as it was missed, and this might be soon, for the Arabs are passionately fond of their favourite horses—more so than they are of their families. While I had been waiting at the edge of the wood more than one had come out to pat and fondle his horse and give it a handful of dates. But a poor animal would meet with no such attention, and the fact that he was missing was not likely to be discovered till daylight. Probably no great search would be made for it; the others would ride on, and its owner might spend some hours in looking about, thinking it had strayed away and was lying somewhere among the bushes.

" I had no thought of trying to return to Khartoum. The wells were far apart, and Dervish bands were certain to be moving along the line. It seemed to me that El Obeid was

the safest place to go to. True, it was in the hands of the Mahdists, but doubtless many wounded would be making their way there. Some doubtless would have wives and children, others might have come from distant villages, but these would all make for the town as the only place where they could find food, water, and shelter. Riding till morning I let the horse graze, and threw myself down among the bushes, intending to remain there until nightfall. In the afternoon, on waking from a long sleep, I sat up and saw a quarter of a mile away a Dervish making his way along on foot, slowly and painfully. This was the very chance I had hoped might occur. I got up at once and walked towards him. 'My friend is sorely wounded,' I said.

"'My journey is well-nigh ended,' he said. 'I had hoped to reach El Obeid, but I know that I shall not arrive at the well, which lies three miles away. I have already fallen three times; the next will be the last. Would that the bullet of the infidel had slain me on the spot!'

"The poor fellow spoke with difficulty, so parched were his lips and swollen his tongue. I went to the bush where I had left the gourd half-full of water. The man was still standing where I had left him, but when he saw the gourd in my hand he gave a little cry and tottered feebly towards me.

"' Let my friend drink,' I said. I held the gourd to his lips. 'Sip a little first,' I said; 'you can drink your fill afterwards.'

" 'Allah has sent you to save me,' he said; and after two or three gulps of water he drew back his head.Now I can rest till the sun has set, and then go forward as far as the well, and die there.'

'"Let me see your wound,' I said, 'it may be that I can relieve the pain a little.'

" He had been shot through the body, and it was a marvel to me how he could have walked so far; but the Arabs, like other wild creatures, have a wonderful tenacity of life. I aided him to the shelter of the thick bush, then I let him have

"TAKING THE BRIDLE I LED THE HORSE TOWARDS THE WELL'

another and longer drink, and bathed his wound with water. Tearing off a strip from the bottom of his robe, I bound it round him, soaking it with water over the wound. He had been suffering more from thirst than from pain, and he seemed stronger already. 'Now,' I said, 'you had better sleep.'

"' I have not slept since the last battle,' he said.I started as soon as it was dark enough for me to get up without being seen by the Turks. I have been walking ever since, and dared not lie down. At first I hoped that I might get to the town where my wife lived, and die in my own house. But that hope left me as I grew weaker and weaker, and I have only prayed for strength enough to reach the well, to drink, and to die there.'

"Sleep now,' I said.Be sure that I will not leave you. Is it not our duty to help one another? When the heat is over we may go on. I have a horse here which you shall ride. How far is it from the well to El Obeid?'

" It is four hours' journey on foot.'

" Good! Then you shall see your wife before morning. We will stop at the well to give my horse a good drink, and then, if you feel well enough to go on, we will not wait above an hour.'

" 'May Allah bless you!' the man said, and he then closed his eyes and at once went to sleep. I lay down beside him, but not to sleep. I was overjoyed with my good fortune. Now I could enter El Obeid boldly, and the wounded man being a native there, no questions would be asked me. I had a house to go to and shelter for the present. As to what might happen afterwards I did not care to think. Some way of escape would surely occur in time. Once my position as a Mahdist was fully established, I should be able to join any party going towards Khartoum, and should avoid all questioning; whereas if I were to journey alone I should be asked by every band I met where I came from, and might at any moment be detected if there happened to be any from the village I should name as my abode. It was all-important that this poor fellow should live until at least I had been with him two days in the town.

"From time to time I dipped a piece of rag in the gourd, squeezed a few drops of water between his lips, and then laid it on his forehead. When the sun began to get low I went out and caught the horse. As I came up the Dervish opened his eyes. 'I am better,' he said. 'You have restored me to life. My head is cool, and my lips no longer parched.'

"Now,' I said,I will lift you into the saddle. You had better ride with both legs on the same side, it will be better for your wound. There is a mound of earth a few yards away; if you will stand up on that I can lift you into the saddle easily. Now put your arms round my neck and I will lift you in the standing position; if you try to get up yourself your wound might easily break out again.'

"I managed better than I had expected, and, taking the bridle, led the horse towards the well.

"You must tell me the way,' I said,for I am a stranger in this part, having come from the Blue Nile.'

"'I know it perfectly,' he said, 'having been born in El Obeid. I fought against the Mahdists till we were starved out, and then as we all saw that the power of the Mahdi was great, and that Allah was with him, we did not hesitate to accept his terms and to put on his badges.'

"In less than an hour we saw the trees that marked the position of the well, and in another half-hour reached it. At least a score of wounded men were there, many of them so sorely hurt that they would get no farther. They paid little attention to us. One of them was known to Saleh—for the wounded man told me that that was his name—he also was from El Obeid. He was suffering from a terrible cut in the shoulder which had almost severed the arm. He told my man that it was given by one of the infidel officers before he fell. I thought it was as well to have two friends instead of one, and did what I could to bind his wound tip and fasten his arm firmly to his side. Then I said to him,My horse, after ihree hours' rest, will be able to carry you both. You can sit behind Saleh and hold him on with your unwounded arm.'

"' Truly, stranger, you are a merciful man and a good one. Wonderful is it that you should give up your horse to men who are strangers to you, and walk on foot yourself.'

"' Allah commands us to be compassionate to each other. What is a walk of a few miles? It is nothing, it is not worth speaking of. Say no more about it, I beseech you. I am a stranger in El Obeid, and you may be able to befriend me there.'

"Three hours later Abdullah, which was the name of the second man, mounted and assisted me to lift Saleh in front of him, and we set out for El Obeid. We got into the town at daybreak. There were few people about, and these paid no attention to us. Wounded men had been coming in in hundreds. Turning into the street where both the men lived, we went first to the house of Saleh, which was at the farther end, and was indeed quite in the outskirts of the place. It stood in a walled enclosure, and was of better appearance than I had expected. I went to the door and struck my hand against it. A voice within asked what was wanted, and I said, 'I bring home the master of the house; he is sorely wounded.'

" There was a loud cry, and the door opened and a woman ran out.

'"Do not touch him,' Abdullah exclaimed. 'We will get him down from the horse, but first bring out an angareb. We will lower him down on to that.'

" The woman went in and returned with an angareb. It was the usual Soudan bed, of wooden framework, with a hide lashed across it. I directed them how to lift one end against the horse so that Saleh could slide down on to it.

" 'Wife,' the Arab said when this was done, 'by the will of Allah, who sent this stranger to my aid, I have returned alive. His name is Mudil. I cannot tell you now what he has done for me. This house is his. He is more than guest, he is master. He has promised to remain with me till I die or am given back to life again. Do as he bids you in all things.'

"Abdullah would have assisted to carry the bed in, but I told him that it might hurt his arm, and I and the woman could do it. 'You had better go off at once to your own people, Abdullah. There must be many here who understand the treatment of wounds; you had better get one at once to attend to your arm.'

" 'I will come again this evening,' the man replied. 'I consider that I also owe my life to you; and when you have stayed a while here you must come to me. My wives and children will desire to thank you when I tell them how you brought me in here.'

" 'Is there any place where I can put my horse V I asked.

"Yes,' the woman replied;take it to that door in the wall. I will go and unfasten it.'

" There was a shed in the garden. Into this I put my horse, and then entered the house.

" Most of the Arab women know something of the dressing of wounds. Saleh's wife sent out a slave to buy various drugs; then she got a melon from the garden, cut off the rind, and mincing the fruit in small pieces squeezed out the juice and gave it to her husband to drink. When she had done this she set before me a plate of pounded maize which was boiling over a little fire of sticks when we went in.

"It is your breakfast,' I said.

" She waved her hand.

"'I can cook more,' she said; 'it matters not if we do not eat till sunset.'

"I sat down at once, for indeed I was famishing. The food had all been exhausted at the end of the first day's fighting. I had been more than two days without eating a morsel. I have no doubt I ate ravenously, for the woman, without a word, emptied the contents of the pot into my bowl and then went out and cut another melon for me. When the slave woman returned she boiled some of the herbs, made a sort of poultice of them, and placed it on the wound. Saleh had fallen asleep the moment he had drunk the melon juice, and did not move while the poultice was being applied.

"The house contained three rooms—the one which served as kitchen and living room; one leading from it on the right with the curtains hanging before the door (this was Saleh's room); and on the opposite side the guest-chamber. I have not mentioned that there were four or five children, all of whom had been turned out as soon as we entered, and threatened with terrible punishments by their mother if they made any noise.

" When I finished my meal I went into the guest-chamber, threw myself down on the angareb there, and slept till sunset. When I awoke I found that a native doctor had come and examined Saleh. He had approved of what the woman had done, told her to continue to poultice the wound, and had given her a small phial from which she was to pour two drops into the wound morning and evening. He said, what I could have told her, that her husband was in the hands of Allah. If He willed it, her husband would live. Of course I had seen something of wounds, for in the old times—it seems a lifetime back—when I was for two years searching tombs and monuments with the professor, there had been frays between our workmen and bands of robbers; and there were also many cases of injuries incurred in the work of moving heavy fragments of masonry. Moreover, although I had no actual practice, I had seen a good deal of surgical work, for when I was at the university I had some idea of becoming a surgeon, and attended the courses there and saw a good many operations. I had therefore, of course, a general knowledge of the structure of the human frame and the position of the arteries.

"So far, the wound, which I examined when the woman poured in what I suppose was a styptic, looked healthy and but little inflamed. Of course a skilled surgeon would have probed it and endeavoured to extract the ball, which had not gone through. The Soudanese were armed only with old muskets, and it was possible that the ball had not penetrated far, for if, as he had told me, he was some distance from the square when he was hit, the bullet was probably spent. I told the woman so, and asked her if she had any objection to my endeavouring to find it. She looked surprised.

" 'Are you, then, a hakim?'

"No, but I have been at Khartoum, and have seen how the white hakims find which way a bullet has gone. They are sometimes able to get it out. At any rate, I should not hurt him, and if, as is likely, the ball has not gone in very far—for had it done so he would probably have died before he got home—I might draw it out.'

"'You can try,' she said. 'You have saved his life and it is yours.'

"Bring me the pistol that your husband had in his belt.'

" She brought it to me. I took out the ramrod.Now,' I said, 'it is most important that this should be clean; therefore heat it in the fire so that it is red-hot, and then drop it into cold water.' When this had been done I took a handful of sand and polished the rod till it shone, and afterwards wiped it carefully with a cloth. Then I inserted it in the wound very gently. It had entered but an inch and a half when it struck something hard which could only be the bullet. It was as I had hoped, the ball had been almost spent when it struck him. Saleh was awake now, and had at once consented to my suggestion, having come to have implicit faith in me.

"It is, you see, Saleh, just as I had hoped. I felt sure that it could not have gone in far, as in that case you could never have walked twenty miles from the battle-field to the point where you met me. Now, if I had a proper instrument I might be able to extract the bullet. I might hurt you in doing so, but if I could get it out you would recover speedily; while if it remains where it is, the wound may inflame and you will die.'

"I am not afraid of pain, Mudil.'

" I could touch the ball with little finger, but beyond feeling that the flesh in which it was embedded was not solid to the touch, I could do nothing towards getting the ball out. I dare not try to enlarge the wound so as to get two fingers in. After thinking the matter over in every way I decided that the only chance was to make a tool from the ramrod. I heated this again and again, flattening it with the pistol-barrel till it was not more than a tenth of an inch thick; then I cut from the centre a strip about a quarter of an inch wide. I then rubbed down the edges of the strip on a stone till they were perfectly smooth, and bent the end into a curve. I again heated it to a dull red and plunged it into water to harden it, and finally rubbed it with a little oil. It was late in the evening before I was satisfied with my work.

"'Now, Saleh,' I said, 'I am going to try if this will do. If I had one of the tools I have seen the white hakims use, I am sure I could get the ball out easily enough, but I think I can succeed with this. If I cannot, I must make another Kite it, so as to put one down each side of the bullet. You soe, this curve makes a sort of hook; the difficulty is to get it under the bullet.'

" I understand,' he said.Do not mind hurting me. I have seen men die of bullets even after the wound seemed to heal. I know it is better to try and get it out.'

"It was a difficult job. Pressing back the flesh with my finger, I succeeded at last in getting the hook under the bullet; this I held firmly against it, and to my delight felt as I raised finger and hook together that the bullet was coming. A few seconds later I held it triumphantly between my fingers.

"There, Saleh, there is your enemy. I think, now, that if there is no inflammation it will not be long before you are well and strong again.'

"Truly, it is wonderful!' the man said gratefully. 'I have heard of hakims who are able to draw bullets from wounds, but I have never seen it done before.'

"If Saleh had been a white man I should still have felt doubtful as to his recovery, but I was perfectly confident that a wound of that sort would heal well in an Arab, especially as it would be kept cool and clean. Hard exercise, life in the open air, entire absence of stimulating liquors, and only very occasionally, if ever, meat diet, render them almost insensible to wounds that would paralyse a white. Our surgeons had been astonished at the rapidity with which the wounded prisoners recovered. Saleh's wife had stood by as if carved in stone while I performed the operation, but when I produced the bullet she burst into tears and poured blessings on my head.

"I am writing this on the following morning. Saleh has slept quietly all night; his hand is cool this morning, and I think I may fairly say that he is convalescent.

"Abdullah's wife came in yesterday evening and told the women here that her husband was asleep, but that he would come round in the morning. I warned her not to let him stir out-of-doors, and said I would come and see him.

"It has taken me five hours to write this, which seems a very long time to spend on details of things not worth recording; but the act of writing has taken my thoughts off myself, and I intend always to note down anything special. It will be interesting to me to read it if I ever get away; should I be unable to escape, I shall charge Saleh to carry it to Khartoum if he ever has the chance, and hand it over to the Governor there, to send down to Cairo.

"A week later. I am already losing count of days, but days matter nothing. I have been busy, so busy that I have not even had time to write. After I had finished my story so far, Saleh's slave woman took me to Abdullah's house. I found that he was in a state of high fever, but all I could do was to recommend that a wet rag should be applied, and freshly wetted every quarter of an hour; that his head should be kept similarly enveloped in wet bandages; and that his hands should be dipped in water very frequently. When I got back I found several women waiting outside Saleh's house. His wife had gossiped with a neighbour, and told them that I had got the bullet out of his wound. The news spread rapidly, and these women were all there to beg that I would see their husbands.

" This was awkward. I certainly could not calculate upon being successful in cases where a bullet had penetrated more deeply, and even if I could do so, I should at once excite the hostility of the native hakims, and draw very much more attention upon myself than I desired. In vain I protested that I was not a hakim, and had done only what I had seen a white hakim do. Finding that this did not avail, I said that I would not go to see any man except with one of the native doctors.

'"There are two here,' one of the women said; 'I will go and fetch them.'

" 'No,' I said; 'who am I that they should come to me? I will go and see them if you will show me where they live.'

"' Ah, here they come!' she said, as two Dervishes approached. I went up to them, and they said:We hear that you are a hakim who has done great things.'

'"I am no hakim,' I said; 'I was just coming to you to tell you so. The man I aided was a friend and was not deeply wounded. Having seen a white hakim take bullets from wounded men, I tried my best, and as the bullet was but a short way in I succeeded. If I had had the instruments I saw the infidel use it would have been easy, but I had to make an instrument, which sufficed for the purpose, although it would have been of no use had the bullet gone in deeper.'

" They came in and examined Saleh's wound, the bullet, and the tool I had made.

"'It is well,' they said; 'you have profited by what you saw. Whence do you come?'

" I told the same story that I had told Saleh.

"You have been some time at Khartoum?'

" Not very long,' I said; 'but I went down once to Cairo, and was there some years. It was there I came to know something of the ways of the infidels. I am a poor man and very ignorant, but if you will allow me I will act as your assistant, as I know that there are many wounded here. If you will tell me what to do I will follow your instructions carefully.'

"The two hakims looked more satisfied at finding that I was not a dangerous rival. One said: 'Among the things that have been brought in here is a box. Those who brought it did not know what it contained, and it was too strong for them to open, though of course they were able to hammer it and break it open. It contained nothing but many shining instruments, but the only one that we knew the purport of was a saw. There were two boxes of the same shape, and the other contained a number of little bottles of drugs; and Ave thought that maybe as the boxes were alike, these shining instruments were used by the white hakim.'

"'I can tell you that if I see them,' I said, and went with them. In a house where booty of all sorts was stored I saw the chests which I knew were those carried by Hicks's medical officer. The one contained drugs, the other a variety of surgical instruments—probes, forceps, amputating knives, and many other instruments of whose use I was ignorant. I picked out three or four probes and forceps of different shapes.

" 'These are the instruments,' I said, 'with which they take out bullets. With one of these thin instruments they search the wound until they find the ball. Sometimes they cannot find it, and even when they have found it they sometimes cannot get hold of it with any of these tools, which, as you see, open and shut.'

"What are the knives for?"

"They use the knives for cutting off limbs. Twice have I seen this done, for I was travelling with a learned hakim who was searching the tombs for relics. In one case a great stone fell on a man's foot and smashed it, and the hakim took it off at the ankle. In another case a man had been badly wounded by a bullet in the arm. He was not one of our party, but hearing of the hakim's skill he had made a journey of three days to him. The wound was very bad, and they said it "was too late to save the arm, so they cut it off above the elbow

"'And they lived?'

'"Yes, they both lived.'

"'Could you do that?'

"I shook my head. 'It requires much skill,' I said. 'I saw how it was done, but to do it one's self is very different. If there was a man who must die if an arm or a leg were not taken off, I would try to save his life, but I would not try unless it was clear that the man must die if it were not done. But you are learned men, hakims, and if you will take me as your assistant I will show you how the white doctors take out balls, and, if there is no other way, cut off limbs, and when I have once shown you you will do it far better than I.'

"The two men seemed much pleased. It was evident to them that if they could do these things it would widely add to their reputation, 'It is good,' they said; 'you shall go round with us and see the wounded, and we will see for ourselves what you can do. Will you want this chest carried?'

"'No,' I said; 'I will take these instruments with me. Should it be necessary to cut off a limb to try and save life, I shall need the knives, the saw, and this instrument, which I heard the white hakim call a tourniquet, and which they use for stopping the flow of blood while they are cutting. There are other instruments, too, that will be required.'

CHAPTER XVIII

A HAKIM

I SUCCEEDED in getting out two more bullets, and then handed the instruments to the hakims, saying that I had shown them all I knew, and would now leave the matter in their hands altogether, or would act as their assistant if they wished it. I had no fear that harm would come of it, for being so frequently engaged in war I knew that they had in a rough way considerable skill in the treatment of wounds. I had impressed upon them while probing the wounds that no force must be used, and that the sole object was to find the exact course the ball had taken. As to the amputations, they would probably not be attempted. A fighting Dervish would rather die than lose a limb, and were he to die under an operation his relatives would accuse the operator of having killed him.

" I remained at work with them for two or three days. In nearly half the cases they failed to find the course of the ball; but when they did so and the wound was not too deep, they generally succeeded in extracting it. They were highly pleased, and I took great pains to remain well in the background.

"They were very friendly with me; their fees were mostly horses, or carpets, or other articles, in accordance with the means of the patients, and of these they gave me a portion, together with some money which had been looted from the chests carrying silver for the purchase of provisions and the payment of troops. Although they made a pretence of begging me to remain always with them, I refused, saying that I saw I could no longer be of assistance to them. I could see they were inwardly pleased. They gave me some more money, and I left them, saying that I did not for a moment suppose that I could tell them anything further, but that if at any time they should send for me I would try and recall what I had seen the white hakims do in such a case as they were dealing with.

" In the meantime Saleh was progressing very favourably, and indeed would have been up and about had I not peremptorily ordered him to remain quiet.You are doing well,' I said; 'why should you risk bringing on inflammation merely for the sake of getting about a few days earlier?'

"Abdullah was also better but still extremely weak, and I had to order that meat should be boiled for some hours, and that he should drink small quantities of the broth three or four times a day. Many times a day women came to me to ask me to see to their husbands' wounds, and sometimes the wounded men came to me themselves. All the serious cases I referred to the hakims, and confined myself simply to dressing and bandaging wounds which had grown angry for want of attention. I always refused to accept fees, insisting that I was not a hakim, and simply afforded my help as a friend. I had the satisfaction, however, of doing a great deal of good, for in the medicine-chest I found a large supply of plaster and bandages. Frequently mothers brought children to me. These I could have treated with some of the simple drugs in the chest ; but I refused to do so, for I could not have explained in an}^ satisfactory way how I knew one drug from another, or was acquainted with their qualities. Still, although I refused fees I had many little presents of fowls, fruit, pumpkins, and other things. These prevented my feeling that I was a burden upon Saleh, for of course I put them into the general stock.

" So far, I cannot but look back with deep gratitude for the strange manner in which I have been enabled to avert all suspicion, and even to make myself quite a popular character among the people of El Obeid. One bottle I found in the medicine-chest was a great prize to me. It contained iodine, and with a weak solution of this I was able to maintain my colour. I did not care so much for my face and hands, for I was so darkened by the sun that my complexion was little fairer than that of many of the Arabs. But I feared that an accidental display of a portion of my body usually covered by my garments would at once prove that I was a white man. I had used up the stuff that I had brought with me when I escaped from the square, and having no means of procuring fresh stain, was getting uneasy, but this discovery of the iodine put it within my power to renew my colouring whenever it was necessary.

"About a month later.

" I have been living here quietly since I last wrote in this journal. The day after I had done so the Emir sent for me and said he had heard that I had taken bullets out of wounds, and had shown the two doctors of the town how to do so by means of instruments found in a chest that was among the loot brought in from the battle-field. I repeated my story to him, as to how I had acquired the knowledge from being in the service of a white hakim from Cairo who was travelling in the desert, and that I had no other medical knowledge except that I had seen in the chest a bottle which contained stuff like that the white doctors used in order to put a patient to sleep, so that they could take off a limb without his feeling pain.

"I have heard of such things being done by the Turkish hakims at Khartoum, but I did not believe them. It is against all reason.'

"I have seen it done, my lord,' I said.I do not say that I could take off a limb as they did, but I am sure that the stuff would put anyone to sleep.'

"I wish you to put it to the trial,' the Emir said.One of my sons came back from the battle with a bullet-hole through his hand. The hakim said that two of the bones were broken. He put bandages round, and my son said no more about it. He is a man who does not complain of slight troubles, but yesterday evening the pain became so great that he was forced to mention it, and when I examined his arm I found that it was greatly swelled. Slaves have been bathing it with cold water ever since, but the pain has increased rather than diminished.'

"' I will look at it, my lord, but I greatly fear that it is beyond my poor skill to deal with it.'

" The young man was brought in, and on removing the bandage I saw that the wound was in a terrible state and the arm greatly inflamed some distance up the wrist. It was a bad case, and it seemed to me that unless something was done mortification would speedily set in.

"The two doctors saw it an hour ago,' the Emir went on, 'and they greatly fear for his life. They told me that they could do nothing, but that as you had seen the white hakim do wonderful things you might be able to do something.'

"My lord,' I said, 'it is one thing to watch an operation, but quite another to perform it yourself. I think, as the doctors have told you, your son's life is in great danger, and I do believe that if there were white doctors here to take off his arm he might be saved, but I could not undertake it. The skill to do so is only acquired by long years of study. How can I, a poor man, know how to do such things'? Were I to attempt and fail, what would you say?—that I had killed your son, and that but for me he might have recovered.'

"'He will not recover,' the Emir said moodily. 'What say you, Abu? You have heard what this man says; what do you think?'

"I think, Father, that it were well to try. This man has used his eyes so well that he has taken the white man's instruments and drawn out bullets from wounds. I feel as if this wound will kill me; therefore, if the man fails I shall be none the worse. Indeed, it would be better to die at once than to feel this fire burning till it burns me up.'

"You hear what my son says ? I am of the same opinion. Do your best. Should you fail, I swear by the head of the Prophet that no harm shall come to you.'

" The wounded man was a fine young fellow of three or four and twenty.

"' If it is my lord's will, I will try,' I said; 'but I pray you to bear in mind that I do so at your command, and without much hope of accomplishing it successfully. It would, I think, be advisable that the limb should be taken off above the elbow, so that it will be above the spot to which the inflammation has extended.'

" The Emir looked at his son, who said:It matters not, Father, 'tis but my left arm, and I shall still have my right to hurl a spear or wield a sword.'

" I need not tell how I got through the operation. Everything required for it—the inhaler, sponges, straight and crooked needles, and thread—was in the chest. The young Arab objected to be sent to sleep. He said it might be well for cowards, but not for a fighting man. I had to assure him that it was not for his sake but for my own that I wished him to go to sleep, and that if I knew he was not suffering pain I might be able to do the thing without my hand trembling; but that if I knew he was suffering I should be flurried. I insisted that the hakims should be sent for. When they came I called them to witness that, at the Emir's command, I was going to try to do the operation I had seen the white doctor perform, although I was but an ignorant man and feared greatly that I might fail.

" I really was desperately nervous, though at the same time I did feel that having seen the operation performed two or three times, and as it was a simple one, I ought to be able to do it. Of course I had everything laid handy. The tourniquet was first put on the arm and screwed tightly. Then I administered the chloroform, which took its effect speedily. My nerves were braced up now, and I do think I made a fair job of it—finding and tying up the arteries, cutting and sawing the bone off, and making a flap; a few stitches to keep this together and it was done, and to my relief the Arab, who had lain as rigid as a statue, winced a little when the last stitch was put in. This was the point on which I had been most anxious. I was not sure whether the amount of chloroform he had inhaled might not have been too strong for him.

"' Do not try to move,' I said, as he opened his eyes and looked round, as if trying to remember where he was.

" As his eyes fell upon me he said,When are you going to begin?'

"I have finished,' I said,but you must lie quiet for some time; the slightest movement now might cause the flow of blood to burst out.'

"The Emir had stood staring at his son's quiet face, as if amazed beyond the power of speech. Four Dervishes had held the patient's limbs so as to prevent any accidental movement. A female slave had held a large basin of warm water, and another handed me the things I pointed to. I had begged the hakims to keep their attention fixed on what I was doing, in order that these also might see how the white doctor did such things. When his son spoke the Emir gave a gasp of relief.He lives,' he murmured, as if even now he could scarcely believe that this was possible, and as he put his hand upon my shoulder it trembled with emotion.Truly the ways of the white infidels are marvellous. Abu, my son, Allah ha: been merciful! He must have meant that you should not die, and thus have sent this man, who has seen the white hakims at work, to save your life! What is to be done now?' he went on, turning to me.

"'He should be raised very gently, and clothes put under his shoulder and head; then he should be carried on the angareb to the coolest place in the house. He may drink a little juice of fruit, but he had best eat nothing. The great thing is to prevent fever coming on. With your permission I will stay with him, for if one of the threads you saw me tie round these little white tubes in the arm should slip or give way, he would be dead in five minutes, unless this machine round the arm is tightened at once and the tube that carries the blood is tied up. It would be well that he should have a slave to fan him. I hope he will sleep.'

"The Emir gave orders for the bed to be carried to the room adjoining his harem.

"His mother and his young wife will want to see him,' he said to me,and when the danger that you speak of is past, the women will care for him. You will be master in the room, and will give such orders as you please.'

" Then he turned off and walked hastily away. I could see that he had spoken with difficulty, and that, in spite of his efforts to appear composed and tranquil, his mouth was twitching and his eyes moist.

"As soon as the bed had been placed by my directions near the open window, the four Dervishes left the room. The hakims were on the point of doing so, when I said:

" I will stay here for a few minutes, and will then come out and talk this matter over with you. I have been fortunate

indeed in remembering so well what I saw. I heard a white hakim explain how he did each thing, and why, to the sheik of the wounded man's party, and I will tell you what I remember of it, and you, with your wisdom in these matters, will be able to do it far better than I.'

" When they had retired, the door leading into the harem opened, and a woman, slightly veiled, followed by a younger woman and two slave girls, came in. I stopped her as she was hurrying towards her son.

"Lady,' I said,I pray you to speak very quietly, and in few words. It is most important that he should not be excited in any way, but should be kept perfectly quiet for the next two or three days.'

" 'I will do so,' she said. 'May I touch him?'

"You may take his hand in yours, but do not let him move. I will leave you with him for a few minutes. Please remember that everything depends upon his not being agitated.'

" I went out and joined the hakims.

"' Truly, Mudil, Allah has given you strange gifts,' one of them said. 'Wonderful is it that you should have remembered so well what you saw, and more wonderful still is it that you should have the firmness to cut and saw flesh and bone as if they were those of a dead sheep, with the Emir standing by to look at you!'

"I knew that his life, and perhaps mine, depended upon it. The Emir would have kept his oath I doubt not, but when it became known in the town that Abu, who is known to all for his bravery and goodness, died in my hands, it would not have been safe for me to leave this house.'

"I then explained the reason for each step that I took. They listened most attentively, and asked several questions, showing that they were intensely interested, and most anxious to be able to perform so wonderful an operation themselves. They were greatly surprised at the fact that so little blood flowed.

"'It seems,' I said, 'from what I heard the white hakim say, that the blood flowed through those little white tubes. By twisting the tourniquet very tight that flow of blood is stopped. The great thing is to find those little tubes, and tie them up. As you would notice, the large ones in the inside of the arm could be seen quite plainly. When they cannot be seen, the screw is unloosed so as to allow a small quantity of blood to flow, which shows you where the tubes are. You will remember that I took hold of each with the bent point of a small wire or a pair of these nippers, and, while you held it, tied the thread tightly round it. When that is done, one is ready to cut the bone. You saw me push the flesh back so as to cut the bone as high up as possible; that is because the white doctor said the flesh would shrink up and the bone would project. I cut the flesh straight on one side, and on the other with a flap that will, when it is stitched, cover over the bone and the rest of the flesh, and make what the hakim called a pad. He said all cutting-off of limbs was done in this way, but of course the tubes would not lie in the same place, and the cutting would have to be made differently; but it was all the same system. He called these simple operations, and said that anyone with a firm hand and a knowledge of where these tubes lie ought to be able to do it after seeing it done once or twice. He said, of course, it would not b& so neatly done as by men who had been trained to it, but that in cases of extreme necessity anyone who had seen it done once or twice, and had sufficient nerve, could do it, especially if they had ready at hand this stuff that makes the wounded man sleep and feel no pain. I listened very attentively, because all seemed to me almost like magic, but I certainly did not think that I should ever have to do such a thing myself.'

"'But what would be done if they had not that sleep-medicine?'

'"The hakim said that in that case the wounded man would have to be fastened down by bandages to the bed and held by six strong men, so that he could not move in the slightest. However, there is enough of that stuff to last a hundred times or more, for, as you see, only a good-sized spoonful was used.'

" The Emir, who had passed through the harem rooms, now opened the door.

"Come in,' he said.My son is quiet, and has not moved. He has spoken to his mother, and seems quite sensible. Is there anything more for you to do to him?"

"'I will put a bandage loosely round his arm, and bind it to his body so that he cannot move it in his sleep or on first waking. It will not be necessary for me to stay with him, as the ladies of the harem can look after him; but I must remain in the next room, so as to be ready to run in at once should they see that the wound is bleeding again. I have asked the hakims to make a soothing potion to aid him to sleep long and soundly.'

" As I went up to the side of the bed Abu smiled. I bent down to him, and he said in a low voice:

"All the pain has gone. May Allah bless you!'

"I am afraid that you will feel more pain to-morrow, but I do not think it will be so bad as it was before. Now, I hope you will try to go to sleep. You will be well looked after, and I shall be in the next room if you want me. The hakims will give you a soothing draught soon, and you can have cool drinks when you want them.'

" Things went on as well as I could have wished. In four or five days the threads came away, and I loosened the tourniquet slightly and strapped up the edges of the wound, which were already showing signs of healing. For the first twenty-four hours I had remained always on watch; after that the hakims took their turns, I remaining in readiness to tighten up the tourniquet should there be any rush of blood. I did not leave the Emir's house, but slept in a room close by that of the patient. There was now, however, no longer need for my doing so; the splendid constitution of the young Baggara had indeed from the first rendered any attendance unnecessary. There was no fever and very little local inflammation, and I was able to gladden his heart by telling him that in another fortnight he would be able to be up.

" The day I was intending to leave, the Emir sent for me. He was alone.

"' The more I think over this matter,' he said,the more strange it is that you should be able to do all these wonderful things after having seen it done once by the white hakim; the more I think of it, the more certain I feel that you are not what you seem. I .have sent for Saleh and Abdullah. They have told me what you did for them, and that you gave up your horse to them, and dressed their wounds, and brought them in here. They are full of praise of your goodness, and but few of my people would have thus acted for strangers. They would have given them a drink of water, and ridden on. Now, tell me frankly and without fear. I have thought it over, and I feel sure that you yourself are a white hakim who escaped from the battle in which Hicks's army was destroyed.'

"'I am not a hakim. All that I said was true—that although I have seen operations performed, I have never performed them myself. As to the rest, I answer you frankly, I am an Englishman. I did escape when the black Soudanese battalion surrendered three days after the battle. I was not a fighting officer; I was with them as interpreter. I may say that though I am not a hakim, I did for some time study with the intention of becoming one, and so saw many operations performed.'

" I am glad that you told me,' the Emir said gravely. 'Your people are brave and very wise, though they cannot stand against the power of the Mahdi. But were you Sheitan himself it would be nothing to me. You have saved my son's life. You are the honoured guest of my house. Your religion is different from mine, but as you showed that you were willing to aid followers of the Prophet and the Mahdi, although they were your enemies, surely I, for whom you have done so much, may well forget that difference.'

" I thank you, Emir; from what I had seen of you I felt sure that my secret would be safe with you. We Christians feel no enmity against followers of Mahomet—the hatred is all on your side. And yet, 'tis strange, the Allah that you worship and the God of the Christians is one and the same. Mahomet himself had no enmity against the Christians, and regarded our Christ as a great prophet like himself. Our Queen reigns in India over many more Mohamedans than are ruled by the Sultan of Turkey. They are loyal to her, and know that under her sway no difference is made between them and her Christian subjects, and have fought as bravely for her as her own white troops.'

"I had never thought,' the Emir said,that the time would come when I should call an infidel my friend; but now that I can do so, I feel that there is much in what you say. However, your secret must be kept. Were, it known that you are a white man you Avould be torn to pieces in the streets; and even were you to remain here, where assuredly none would dare touch you, the news would speedily travel to my lord the Mahdi, and he would send a troop of horse to bring you to him. Therefore, though I would fain honour you, I see that it is best that you should, to all save myself, continue to be Mudil. I will not even, as I would otherwise have done, assign you a house, and slaves, and horses in token of my gratitude to you for having saved the life of my son. Something I must do, or I should seem utterly ungrateful. I can at any rate give you rooms here and treat you as an honoured guest. This would excite no remark, as it would be naturally expected that you would stay here until my son is perfectly cured. I shall tell no one, not even my wife; but Abu I will tell, when he is cured, and the secret will be as safe with him as with me. I think it would please him to know. Although a Baggara like myself, and as brave as any, he is strangely gentle in disposition; and though ready and eager to fight when attacked by other tribes, he does not care to go on expeditions against villages which have not acknowledged the power of the Mahdi, and makes every excuse to avoid doing so. It will please him to know that the man who has saved his life is one who, although of a different race and religion, is willing to do kindness to an enemy, and will love and honour you more for knowing it.'

"'I thank you deeply, Emir, and anything that I can do for members of your family I shall be glad to do. I have a knowledge of the usages of many of the drugs in the chest that was brought here. I have not dared to say so before, because I could not have accounted for knowing such things.'

" So at present I am installed in the Emir's palace, and my prospects grow brighter and brighter. After the great victory the Mahdi has won, it is likely that he will be emboldened to advance against Khartoum. In that case he will no doubt summon his followers from all parts, and I shall be able to ride with the Emir or his son, and it will be hard if, when we get near the city, I cannot find some opportunity of slipping off and making my way there. Whether it will be prudent to do so is another question, for I doubt whether the Egyptian troops there will offer any resolute resistance to the Dervish hosts; and in that case I should have to endeavour to make my way down to Dongola, and from there either by boat or by the river bank to Assouan.

"A month later. I have not written for some time, because there has been nothing special to put down. All the little details of the life here can be told to my dear wife, if I should ever see her again, but they are not of sufficient interest to write down. I have been living at the Emir's house ever since. I do not know what special office I am supposed to occupy in his household—that is, what office the people in general think that I hold. In fact, I am his guest, and an honoured one. When he goes out I ride beside him and Abu, who has now sufficiently recovered to sit his horse. i consider myself as medical attendant in ordinary to him and his family. I have given up all practice in the town— in the first place because I do not wish to make enemies of the two doctors, who really seem very good fellows, and I am glad to find that they have performed two or three operations successfully; and in the second place, were I to go about trying to cure the sick, people would get so interested in me that I should be continually questioned as to how I attained my marvellous skill. Happily, though no doubt they must have felt somewhat jealous at my success with Abu, I have been able to do the hakims some service, put fees into their pockets, and at the same time benefited poor people here. I have told them that, just as I recognized the bottle of chloroform, so I have recognized some of the bottles from which the white hakims used to give powder to sick people.For instance,' I said,you see this bottle, which is of a different shape from the others. It is full of a white, feathery-looking powder. They used to give this to people suffering from fever—about as much as you could put on your nail for men and women, and half as much for children. They used to put it in a little water, and stir it up, and give it to them night and morning. They call it kena, or something like that. It did a great deal of good, and generally drove away the fever. This other bottle they also used a good deal. They put a little of its contents in water and it made a lotion for weak and sore eyes. They called it zing. They saw I was a careful man, and I often made the eye-wash and put the other white powder up into little packets when they were busy, as fever and ophthalmia are the two most common complaints among the natives.'