Table of Contents

THE MARCH TO MAGDALA.

PREFACE.

INTRODUCTORY CHAPTER.

On board Transport General Havelock, December 1st, 1867.

Annesley Bay, December 4th.

Annesley Bay, December 6th.

Koomaylo, December 9th.

Koomaylo, December 12th.

Upper Sooro, December 13th.

Camp, Senafe, December 16th.

Senafe, December 19th.

Senafe, December 20th.

Camp, Senafe, December 23d.

Camp, Senafe, December 26th.

Zulla, Annesley Bay, January 2d, 1868.

Zulla, Jan. 6th.

Zulla, January 19th.

Zulla, January 22d.

Senafe, January 31st.

Senafe, February 3rd.

Goun-Gonna, February 4th.

Attegrat, February 7th.

Attegrat, February 13th.

Attegrat, February 17th.

Ad Abaga, Feb. 20th.

Dongolo, Feb. 26th.

Doullo, February 29.

Antalo, March 4th.

Antalo, March 7th.

Antalo, March 11th.

Meshech, March 14th.

Mahkan, March 16th.

Ashangi Lake, March 19th.

Lât, March 21st.

Dildee, March 24th.

Santarai, March 29th.

Scindee, April 5th.

Dalanta, April 5th.

Dalanta, April 7th.

Before Magdala, April 14th.

Before Magdala, April 16th.

Antalo, May 1st.

Footnotes

Transcriber’s Note

THE MARCH TO MAGDALA.

LONDON:

ROBSON AND SON, GREAT NORTHERN PRINTING WORKS,

PANCRAS ROAD, N.W.

THE

MARCH TO MAGDALA.

BY G. A. HENTY,

SPECIAL CORRESPONDENT OF THE “STANDARD;” AUTHOR OF “A SEARCH FOR A SECRET,” ETC.

LONDON:

TINSLEY BROTHERS, CATHERINE STREET, STRAND.

1868.

[pg v]

PREFACE.

In submitting to the public in a collected form the Letters which have already appeared in the daily press, a Special Correspondent has the option of one of two courses. The one course is, to publish the Letters as nearly as possible as they originally stood, as a journal written from day to day, and from week to week; the other, to recast the whole, to rewrite the Letters, and to give a continuous narrative of the expedition as of a past event. The second of these courses has the advantage of unity of purpose; it will contain fewer errors, fewer mistaken predictions of the probable course of events, and, above all, less of the repetitions which must unavoidably occur in a series of letters. The style, too, will naturally be far smoother and more polished than in the original letters, written as they usually were in haste and under circumstances of great difficulty. But, on the other hand, such a narrative would lose much of the freshness which original letters possess, and it would be deficient in that interest which a knowledge of the hopes and [pg vi]fears, the doubts and anticipations, the plans destined to be frustrated, and the opinions constantly varying with the course of events, must give to a narrative. The present tense too is far more pleasant and less monotonous than the preterite. I have therefore determined, in submitting my Letters for republication, to adhere as closely as possible to the original form and matter; not hesitating, however, to make many additions, alterations, and excisions, where subsequent information or the course of events have proved my opinions or conclusions to have been erroneous.

The present work does not profess to be a scientific record of the expedition. It gives neither statistics, general orders, nor official documents. This will no doubt be hereafter done by some officer far better qualified for the task than I can be. It is merely the plain narrative of a looker-on, who accompanied the expedition from the commencement of December 1867, when affairs at Zulla were at their worst, to the closing scene at Magdala. At the same time, I have not shrunk from stating my own opinions as to the course of events. A great disaster like that of the complete break-down of the Transport-train at Zulla cannot occur without grievous blame attaching to somebody. I conceive it to be one of the first duties of a correspondent to state fearlessly the persons and the causes which, [pg vii]in his opinion, have brought on a great public disaster. Unpleasant, therefore, though it be to find fault, I have not hesitated to assign the blame where I consider it was due. This I did in the very first letter I wrote from Zulla after landing, before I had gone up to Senafe; and the opinion I then expressed, I now, after months have elapsed, and after hearing the matter discussed in every light, do not hesitate to reaffirm.

With the exceptions I have alluded to, the Letters are the same in form and substance as when they appeared in the columns of the Standard; and although, for the reasons I have given, I am convinced that it is the wisest course to leave them so, yet, remembering as I do the circumstances of haste, fatigue, and difficulty under which they were written, I cannot but feel extreme diffidence in submitting them to the public “with all their errors on their head.”

G. A. H.

[pg 1]

INTRODUCTORY CHAPTER.

The Abyssinian expedition has, from the time it was first determined upon, attracted an amount of attention, not only in Great Britain but throughout the civilised world, altogether disproportionate to the strength of the army employed, or to the extent of the interests at stake. The total force engaged was under, rather than over, 10,000 men; not one-fifth the strength of an army which we might ourselves put into the field for a campaign in India; scarcely a fiftieth of the force at the command of either of the great Continental Powers. It was clearly not the magnitude of the expedition, then, which attracted attention: it was the extraordinary and novel circumstances under which it was undertaken; the almost insurmountable difficulties to be overcome; the unknown nature of the country to be traversed, and the romantic disinterestedness of the motives which led England to embark upon it, which has rendered it one of the most interesting and notable campaigns ever undertaken. Since the expedition of Pizarro and Cortes in the middle ages, no such novel and hazardous expedition is on record. The country itself was like that of the far-famed Prester John—everything about it smacked of the marvellous. It was more mountainous, more inaccessible, more war-loving, more wild than any other country in the [pg 2]world. The king with whom we waged war was a potentate who by his military talents had raised himself from a comparatively obscure position to the sovereignty of all Abyssinia: he was enlightened beyond his race; patronised strangers, encouraged manufactures, endeavoured in every way to improve the condition of his country, and was yet a bloodthirsty tyrant. The people themselves were a strange race, far more civilised than other African nations, Christians in the midst of a Mahometan and Pagan continent, a mixture of many races—African, Greek, Arab, and Jew. Altogether it was a land of romance. Nor had travellers done much to enlighten us as to the country. Some had described it as fertile in the extreme; others had spoken of it as a land of mountain and defile, where no sustenance could be hoped for for the army. They had united only in prophesying evil things—hunger and thirst, inaccessible mountain and pathless wastes, fever, cholera, small-pox, dysentery, the tetse-fly, tapeworm, and guinea-worm. We were to be consumed with fire; we were to be annihilated with stones rolled upon us when in ravines; we were to be cut off in detail upon our marches; we were to be harassed to death by repeated night and day attacks. All these and many other prophecies were freely uttered, and it really appeared as if our expedition was to partake strongly of the nature of a forlorn-hope. The friends of officers and men said good-bye to them as if they were going to certain death, and insurance-offices doubled and trebled the premium upon their lives. All this assisted to raise the public interest and anxiety to the highest point. It is needless now to say that almost the whole of the adverse predictions were entirely falsified, and that we have met with no diffi[pg 3]culties whatever beyond mountain and ravine, the want of transport, and the scarcity of food.

Generally as the subject is known, it is yet necessary, before commencing the history of the campaign, to say a few words upon the events which preceded and caused it; and as the subject has been exhausted by Dr. Beke in his able work on the Abyssinian captives, I cannot do better than preface my story with a brief epitome of the facts recited in his volume. Dr. Beke was well-acquainted with Mr. Plowden, our late Consul there, and knew thoroughly the whole of the events which led to the captivity of the English party, and he was in intimate communication with their friends here. His statements are supported by numerous official documents; and this volume, in which he now sets forth the state of the case, may be apparently received with confidence as reliable in every particular.

The kingdom of Abyssinia is of extreme antiquity, and was once a great and flourishing empire. It has been ruled by a succession of monarchs claiming direct descent from Menilek, the son of King Solomon by the Queen of Sheba. For the last century the legitimate monarch has had very little power, the real authority being in the hands of the most powerful of the chiefs of the various tribes composing the empire, and who, as in turns they became dominant, assumed the title of ras or vizier, keeping the puppet emperor in a state of honourable captivity, administering affairs and carrying on wars without the slightest reference to his wishes and opinions. The kingdom of Abyssinia consists of an immense elevated plateau or table-land, of great fertility, and possessing a temperate and agreeable climate. At its north-eastern extremity it approaches very nearly to [pg 4]the sea, the port of Massowah at that point being its natural outlet. Towards the south the table-land trends away from the sea, being separated from it by a wide low-lying plain, inhabited by Mahometan tribes. The religion of the natives of Abyssinia itself has been from very early times Christian, and they possess a native version of the Scriptures which dates from the fourth century of the Christian era. The laws of this singular people are, like our own, founded upon the code of Justinian. The various tribes which form the empire, although acknowledging the supremacy of the emperor, are yet virtually independent, paying a mere nominal tribute, and making war upon and deposing him whenever they feel strong enough to do so. These tribes are very numerous, but the principal may be considered to be those inhabiting Tigre, which is the province nearest to Massowah, and therefore commanding the avenues of approach to the interior; Amhara, the capital, lying to the south of Tigre, Lasta in the centre, and Shoa, Godjam, and Kwara to the west. Of these Tigre is the representative of the ancient kingdom. It is almost entirely surrounded by the river Takkazye, which separates it from the rest of the empire; and its inhabitants speak the language of the ancient Ethiopic, in which is the early version of the Bible. Since the middle of the sixteenth century the Turks have claimed the entire seaboard, but have only occupied the Sawakin and Massowah.

In the year 1810 the English Government, alarmed at the attempts of the French to obtain a footing in Egypt, dispatched Mr. Salt, afterwards Consul-General in Egypt, to Abyssinia, to open friendly relations with that power; and that gentleman, being unable to penetrate beyond Tigre, the [pg 5]chief of which country was at the time the ras, or most powerful chief in the kingdom, delivered the letter from King George, and the accompanying presents, to that personage. Almost simultaneously, however, the power of the French in the Indian Ocean was annihilated, and a few years afterwards the fall of Napoleon relieving the British Government of all fear of French aggression in the East, the diplomatic relations between England and Tigre came to an end. A constant jealousy and struggle, however, appears to have been maintained between the Protestant and Roman Catholic missions, which were alternately fostered and expelled by the various sovereigns of the country.

In 1847 a British consulate was established, Mr. Plowden being selected for the post. He unfortunately committed the great error of entering into friendly relations with the potentate of Amhara, in place of the independent chief of Tigre, who, possessing the only outlet of communication, rendered an alliance with Amhara completely nugatory to both parties. Mr. Plowden himself, when too late, seems to have discovered that he had committed an error, and wrote to the Earl of Clarendon, who was then Foreign Secretary, that he feared that little commercial advantage could be obtained. His lordship replied that, having made the treaty and established the consulate, her Majesty’s Government were reluctant to renounce all hope of benefit, and begged him to suggest some plan of establishing himself at Massowah or some other seaport, and of keeping up a communication with the interior.

Mr. Plowden in his report gave full details as to the country, and especially the northern portion, into which the Egyptians were constantly making plundering expeditions, [pg 6]carrying off the cattle and inhabitants, and selling the latter as slaves. Consul Plowden wrote strongly to the Egyptian authorities upon their conduct, and in consequence of his representations Lord Clarendon remonstrated energetically with the Viceroy of Egypt upon his aggressions against Abyssinia. While this was going on, a remarkable man had made his appearance. Dedjatj Kassai was chief of one of the Kawra tribes. A man of great ambition and talent, he conceived the design of making himself master of the whole of Abyssinia, and in turn attacked and defeated the neighbouring potentates, and speedily conquered the whole of the country, with the exception only of Tigre, and then assumed the title of the Emperor Theodore. Theodore is described in Mr. Plowden’s despatches as a man of good impulses, and a desire to rule well and wisely, but of a violent temper, and an inordinate pride in his kingly dignity and position. With him Mr. Plowden entered into negotiations for a treaty with England, for the despatch of an embassy to this country, and for the establishment of the British consulate in Abyssinia, with power and jurisdiction in all cases in which a British subject might be interested.

The Emperor objected to the clause conferring jurisdiction on the Consul, but promised to give the matter his earnest attention when he should find time to do so, as he was most favourably disposed towards England. Lord Clarendon highly approved of the course Consul Plowden was pursuing, and stated that the Queen would have much pleasure in receiving, and treating with due honour, the ambassadors whom his Majesty might send to her Court. The ratification of this treaty and the sending the embassy were put off in consequence of the constant wars in which Theodore was engaged [pg 7]with rebellious tribes in various parts of his empire, but he always expressed himself as willing to carry out these engagements as soon as he could find leisure to enable him to do so. In March 1860, Consul Plowden was killed during his journey back to Massowah, from which he had been absent at the Court of Theodore for five years.

Mr. Layard most wrongfully accused Mr. Plowden, in a speech delivered in the House of Commons on June 30th, 1865, of breach of duty. He stated that Consul Plowden, “instead of attending to the object with which he was placed there, that of encouraging commercial intercourse between Great Britain and Abyssinia, plunged into local intrigues.... Her Majesty’s Government at once sent out instructions for him to return to his post at Massowah, and no longer to interfere in their local differences.” This accusation brought forth an indignant protest upon the part of Consul Plowden’s brother. He showed that Mr. Plowden was accredited to Abyssinia, and not to Massowah, which is a Turkish port without trade, and with no British subjects or interests to protect, and only valuable as the means of entry into Abyssinia, and of communication with Europe, and obviously for that reason only made the head-quarters of the consulate. The duties of the Consul were to watch and counteract foreign intrigue, to keep peace between Abyssinia and Egypt, to put down the slave-trade, and to encourage commerce; duties which it is evident he could not perform if remaining at Massowah, separated from the seat of the empire by a hostile tribe. Mr. Plowden pointed out that his brother had commenced his consulship by going into the interior with letters and presents to the reigning potentate, and that he had during his whole term of office remained [pg 8]there with but few intermissions, his last visit there lasting for five years without a break. That during all this time he corresponded regularly with the Foreign Office, who were aware of his movements, and by whose instruction he was guided. Thus Mr. Plowden showed conclusively that the reckless attack which Mr. Layard so chivalrously made, five years after his death, upon an officer who had nobly performed most difficult duties, was altogether without foundation. Upon Consul Plowden’s death Captain Cameron was gazetted “her Majesty’s Consul in Abyssinia,” but it was only on February 9th, 1862, that he arrived at Massowah. His instructions were rather vague, a good deal being necessarily left to his own discretion, but he was generally enjoined to carry on Consul Plowden’s policy, to continue the negotiations for the treaty, and for the despatch of an embassy to England. Massowah was of course to be his head-quarters, but no injunctions were given him against going into the interior. On the contrary, he was furnished with letters and presents to the Emperor, to whom Earl Russell introduced him, and requested Theodore’s protection and favour in his behalf. Captain Cameron, during the period which elapsed between his appointment and his departure for his post, had been thoroughly instructed in the progress which had been made in the negotiations by Consul Plowden, and had full authority to take them up at the point at which they were at that gentleman’s death, and Mr. Stern, the missionary, was requested by Earl Russell himself to remain in London at that time in order to discuss with Captain Cameron the contemplated embassy and other matters. And yet, in the face of this, Mr. Layard ventured to say, in his place in Parliament, on October 31, 1865, when quoting Consul Cameron’s [pg 9]despatch on the subject, “Now this was altogether contrary to the instruction he had received.” Consul Cameron was received with great state and courtesy by the Emperor Theodore, who again expressed his desire to send an embassy to England. But a day or two after the Consul reached the Abyssinian Court the intelligence arrived that our Consul at Jerusalem, who had been always looked upon, and who had acted as the protector of the Abyssinian colony there, had received orders from the Foreign Secretary to withdraw that protection, and that consequently their convent had been plundered by the Armenians. This affair of the Jerusalem Abyssinians is told by Dr. Beke with great clearness, but space forbids me here to enter upon it; suffice it that Earl Russell without the smallest cause or pretext withdrew the protection, or rather good offices, which had been extended by Lord Malmesbury to the Abyssinian colony, and which had been one cause of the goodwill with which England was regarded in Abyssinia.

Upon the day after this the Emperor saw Captain Cameron, told him that he had well considered the subject of the treaty, about which there would be no difficulty, and he presented him with a letter which he had written to her Majesty. In this, after many expressions of regard and good wishes, the Emperor expresses his intention of attacking the Turks on account of their constant aggressions upon him, and requests her Majesty to arrange for the safe-conduct of the ambassadors, whom he is prepared to send at once to England. Upon receiving this letter Consul Cameron at once started for the sea-coast. He was, however, stopped upon his way by a rebel chief; but his letters were sent down by a native messenger, and arrived in London the 12th February 1863. Captain Cameron himself, accompanied by the Emperor’s re[pg 10]presentative and a strong escort, proceeded to Bogos, to examine into the truth of the alleged inroads of the Turks or Egyptians, as they are indifferently called, into that province. Finding that these were still continued, Captain Cameron wrote to Consul-General Colquhoun at Alexandria, begging him to remonstrate with the Egyptian Government. He also wrote to Earl Russell from Bogos, and twice to the Emperor, acquainting him with the steps he was taking for the protection of his subjects, in these respects taking as guide the conduct of his predecessor, Consul Plowden, acting, as the advocate of the cause of the Christian Abyssinians against the Turks, in perfect accord with the representative and favourite of the Emperor, who was his companion. It is therefore clear that there is not the least foundation for Earl Russell’s ill-advised allegation, “the chief cause of the Emperor’s anger with Consul Cameron was this journey to Bogos.” His proceedings, however, incurred the displeasure of both the Egyptian Government and the home authorities. In Mr. Plowden’s time Egypt had been in a state of disorganisation, and therefore the British Government had, on receiving their Consul’s account of the atrocities executed by the Egyptian troops upon the inhabitants of Bogos, addressed the energetic remonstrances of our Foreign Minister to the Viceroy; but now things were changed. Egypt was compact and strong, and Earl Russell would not for worlds offend so well regulated an ally; therefore a sharp reproof was sent off to Captain Cameron to mind his own business, and to return to Massowah. Such is the effect of a changed state of things, and poor Consul Cameron, by not reflecting on this, was blamed for doing precisely the same for which Consul Plowden had gained much credit.

[pg 11]

When Captain Cameron returned to the Court in July, after his lengthened absence, his position was not a pleasant one, for he was still without an answer to the Emperor’s letter to the Queen, which had been sent off October 31st of the previous year; he had not, indeed, received as yet an answer to his own despatch enclosing that letter; for owing to delays it had not, as has been said, reached England until February the 12th, and Earl Russell had not thought it of sufficient importance to answer it for more than two months afterwards, and then without making the slightest allusion to the Emperor’s letter which it enclosed.

After the Consul had parted with the Emperor’s representative at Bogos, he had made a visit into the Egyptian province of Soudan, in accordance with instructions he had received from the Foreign Office, to inquire into the prospects of cotton-growing there, as the subject of Egyptian cotton was then attracting great notice in England. This expedition added to the anger which the Emperor Theodore felt at not having received an answer to his letter to her Majesty. The following conversation took place at his first interview with Captain Cameron, and plainly enough testifies as to the real cause of the Emperor’s anger:

“Where have you been since you parted from Samuel at Bogos?”

“Into the frontier provinces of Soudan.”

“What for?”

“To see about cotton and trade, and so forth.”

“Who told you to go there?”

“The British Government.”

“Have you brought me an answer from the Queen of England?”

[pg 12]

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because I have not received any communication from the Government upon the subject.”

“Why, then, do you come to see me now?”

“I request permission to return to Massowah.”

“What for?”

“Because I have been ordered by the Government to go there.”

“So,” exclaimed the exasperated monarch, “your Queen can give you orders to go and visit my enemies the Turks, and then to return to Massowah; but she cannot send a civil answer to my letter to her. You shall not leave me till that answer comes.”

Captain Cameron then, in July 1863, became a prisoner,—not in bonds, indeed, but a prisoner upon parole. In September the answer arrived from the Emperor Napoleon, to whom Theodore had despatched a letter at the same time as to the Queen. This answer gave great offence, as it was written by Marshal O’Neil, and not by the Emperor himself. Its contents, too, were singularly ill-judged, and the missive was torn to pieces before a council of the dignitaries by the Emperor, and trodden under foot. The French Consul and a companion were peremptorily ordered to quit the Abyssinian territory.

In October arrived Earl Russell’s answer to Captain Cameron, but without the slightest allusion to Theodore’s letter. Up to this time no cause of dispute whatever had arisen between Messrs. Stern and Rosenthal and the Emperor; but the fury which Theodore felt at the slight so wantonly passed upon him by the British Foreign Secretary now [pg 13]burst upon the heads of the whole of that nation. On October the 15th Captain Cameron’s servant, or messenger, was seized and beaten; and in the evening of the same day Mr. Stern’s two servants were seized and beaten so cruelly that they both died the same night. Mr. Stern himself, who was standing by at the time, happened, in his horror at the proceeding, to place his hand to his mouth. It was at once said he was biting his thumb at the Emperor, which is considered a threat of revenge; and he was accordingly seized and cruelly beaten, and his life was also for some time despaired of. For some time nothing further took place, and then the Emperor, who desired to justify in some way his fit of rage against a man with whom he had had no dispute or cause of complaint, had all Mr. Stern’s and Mr. Rosenthal’s books and papers examined and read, this office being performed by a Frenchman named Bardel, who appears throughout to have been a treacherous and bitter enemy of the English party. Enough criminatory matter was found here, in the shape of remarks in their diaries upon the conduct of the Emperor, and they were condemned to death; but this was commuted to imprisonment.

On Nov. 22d a young Irishman named Kearns arrived with another despatch from the Foreign Office,—probably the one of August 13th, but which contained no allusion whatever to the Emperor’s letter. This naturally exasperated Theodore more than ever, and Captain Cameron was now ordered to be chained upon both hands. On the 4th of January Captain Cameron, his attendants, and the missionaries, were all put in fetters, and confined in the common prison. The cause of this fresh proof of the wrath of the King is reported by Mr. Steiger, a member of the Scottish mission, to have [pg 14]been the arrival of the head of the Abyssinian convent at Jerusalem with the news that the British Consul there had declined to interfere in their behalf. Is anything further necessary to establish the fact that the treatment of the unfortunate missionaries was a mere episode incidental to the main question, which was entirely between the Emperor Theodore and the British Government?

As to the long imprisonment, the torture and indignities inflicted upon the captives, they are already well known to the public. Let us now see what steps were taken by the late Government to procure their release.

The news of the imprisonment of Captain Cameron appeared in the Paris and London papers of the 15th of December; but no one could believe it, the favour in which the British Consul stood being a matter of notoriety. Lord Clarendon, however, stated in the House of Lords, in the debate on February 9, 1866, that the news had been received at the early date given of the Consul’s detention; but it was only upon March 16, 1864, or three months after it was known at the Foreign Office, that the London Society for promoting Christianity among the Jews received and made public the sad intelligence. Mrs. Stern wrote a petition to the Queen, asking her to send a letter under the sign-manual, written by herself to the Emperor. Lord Shaftesbury handed this letter to Earl Russell, adding his own prayer to that of Mrs. Stern’s, and requesting him to present the petition to the Queen. On the following day, May 7th, Earl Russell returned the petition, unpresented, to Lord Shaftesbury, saying that “after much deliberation he had come to the conclusion that he ought not to advise the Queen to write to the King of Abyssinia.”

So matters might have remained to the present day had [pg 15]not a note which Captain Cameron had written during his captivity been received by his relatives, and by them most indiscreetly published in the papers. In this he said that there was no hope of his release unless an answer was sent to the Emperor’s letter. Everyone was filled with indignation at the delay of fourteen months which had taken place in sending an answer to so important a document, and Earl Russell and his colleagues came to the conclusion that after all they ought to advise her Majesty to reply to the letter, which she accordingly did, and towards the end of June the letter was sent off. But so inefficiently was this done, that after it had reached Cairo it was sent back to England to have alterations made in it, and even then it was not perfect, for it was discovered many months afterwards that the royal signet had not been attached, and a fresh letter was accordingly sent out in February or March 1865. The person selected to carry out this delicate business was a Mr. Rassam, who had acted as paymaster to the men employed by Mr. Layard at Nineveh, and who was instructed to demand the release of Consul Cameron, but that as the other captives were not British subjects, he was not to speak too authoritatively in their behalf. But Mr. Rassam had, Dr. Beke affirms, another and far more delicate mission. “He was to make a good case for the British Government—to remove the blame from their shoulders, even if it were thrown on those of anyone else. It did not matter who might be the scapegoat as long as the Government were exonerated. This is said quite advisedly.” Mr. Rassam went to Massowah, where he remained a year doing apparently nothing whatever. Dr. Beke thinks that all along, both in this and in his subsequent conduct, when he went into [pg 16]the interior and saw the Emperor, his conduct was not, to say the least of it, judicious. The release of the prisoners when Mr. Rassam did at last see the Emperor and present the Queen’s letter, and their subsequent imprisonment, together with Mr. Rassam, are known to all.

Throughout all the numerous debates in the Houses of Parliament during this period, Earl Russell and Mr. Layard persistently endeavoured to burke all discussion by declaring that it would come to the ears of the Emperor; but when at last the House insisted upon being no longer put off with vague generalities, these two gentlemen, who had so deprecated anything being said which might hurt the feelings of the Emperor Theodore, were now guilty of applying the strongest and most offensive epithets to him, which, had they come to the knowledge of the Emperor, would have insured the instant execution of his captives. This was, to say the least of it, a strange and peculiar instance of inconsistency upon the part of these thoughtful statesmen. In consequence of these debates in the House, Earl Russell at length found that it was a matter which could no longer be tampered with, and he himself appointed Mr. Palgrave to start for Abyssinia to endeavour to effect the release of the Consul and his companions in captivity. Mr. Rassam, however, prevented anything being done by this gentleman. Nothing, indeed, if Dr. Beke is to be trusted, can be more extraordinary than the conduct of this person. He received the news of his recall while he was, as usual, waiting quietly at Massowah. Instantly he embarked in the steamer which brought the intelligence, steamed to Suez, and from there telegraphed to her Majesty’s agent and Consul-General in Egypt that Consul Cameron had been released. This is [pg 17]proved to have been utterly without foundation, but it had the desired effect of putting a stop to Mr. Palgrave’s progress, that gentleman having arrived at Cairo, and being upon the point of proceeding up the Nile. Mr. Rassam declined all fellowship with Mr. Palgrave, and refused to agree to the proposition that one should proceed up the Nile and the other viâ Massowah. Mr. Rassam then took the presents brought by Mr. Palgrave, and started back for Massowah, from whence he did what there is no apparent reason why he should not have done at first, started for the interior. Mr. Palgrave remained at Cairo to await the result of Mr. Rassam’s mission. There he remained when the news came, in March 1866, that the captives were released, and were on their way to the coast; there he remained until Mr. Flad arrived in Egypt with the news of the detention of Mr. Rassam and the captives; and then, extraordinary to state, when it would seem that he might be of use, he started off by the first steamer to England.

As Dr. Beke says, the whole matter is an enigma which requires solution. This sudden passage of Mr. Rassam to Egypt upon the news of his recall being received by him, the untrue telegram which he sent off from thence, and which put a stop to Mr. Palgrave’s expedition—in short, every incident connected with the conduct of Mr. Layard’s ex-paymaster requires a most searching investigation.

Such is the account given by Dr. Beke; and as Mr. Layard, although openly attacked, has never disproved a single statement alleged against him, but has contented himself with vehement personal attacks upon Dr. Beke (probably upon the principle of the lawyer—“when you have no [pg 18]case, blackguard your opponent”), it must be assumed that in all material points Dr. Beke’s statements are correct.

Such was the state of things when the Conservative Ministry came into power; and after another fruitless effort to ransom the prisoners, war was determined upon as the only resource remaining.

The announcement of the intention of Government was received with general satisfaction. It was not a war for which any enthusiasm was felt; there was no national glory to be gained, no national advantage; but a national stain was to be wiped off, and a party of our countrymen rescued from a position into which they had fallen by no fault whatever of their own, but by the disgraceful lâches of the Government they served; therefore it may be said that England in general, if it did not enter heartily into the war, and winced a little at the thought of the probable enormous expense, yet cordially acquiesced in its necessity. War once determined upon, the columns of the newspapers were inundated with suggestions from everyone who had ever been in Abyssinia, and from a vast number of persons who had not; and these, although they differed upon almost every point, yet agreed upon piling danger upon difficulty, and horror upon horror, until the very air, earth, and water of Abyssinia seemed to swarm with worms and other creeping things. In the mean time the preparations went steadily on. Officers were sent from England to Egypt, Spain, and various parts of the Mediterranean to purchase mules; Woolwich was busied with the preparation of mountain guns; transports were taken up, hospital-ships were fitted out, and large quantities of tents and other stores sent out from the Tower. This was nearly all which England was to [pg 19]contribute, for it was determined that the expedition should be entirely an Indian one, and that Bombay should have the honour as well as the responsibility of all the arrangements.

As soon as orders were received from England to fit out an expedition with all speed, Sir Seymour FitzGerald, the Governor of Bombay, and Sir Robert Napier, Commander-in-chief of the Bombay army, set to work in earnest. The greatest credit is undoubtedly due to the former for his untiring zeal and earnestness; he was indefatigable: but at the same time I doubt greatly the wisdom of committing the arrangements connected with a great expedition of this sort to a civilian, who necessarily must be unacquainted with the requirements of an army, and who must be entirely guided by the advice of his council. The consequence was that Sir Robert Napier was obliged to consult the Governor on every point, and the Governor again had to consult his own military adviser, an officer necessarily of far less standing than Sir Robert Napier, who was thus liable to be overruled, nominally by the Governor, but in reality by a subordinate officer. Thus, as one instance out of many, Sir Robert Napier’s plan for a transport train, which was sent in to the Governor for sanction early in September, was entirely put aside, and the new scheme was not issued by the Governor for two months afterwards; thus Sir Robert, who when he once arrived in Abyssinia was solely responsible, was liable to have the whole of his arrangements destroyed by the break-down of a transport train, with the organisation of which he had nothing whatever to do.

As the present is merely a narrative of the march of the army to Magdala, I must pass cursorily over the prepara[pg 20]tions in Bombay. I will, however, give a few extracts from the memoranda issued by Sir Robert Napier, and which will be sufficient to show how accurately he estimated the difficulties of the work to be done, and how thoroughly he thought over every detail.

In his memorandum of August 8th, Sir Robert Napier estimates that he will require 12,000 men, for that 2000 must remain at the port, and at Post No. 1 upon the high land (Senafe); 2000 men at Antalo, or at some similar point in advance; and 2000 men to keep open communication with the advanced column, and to support it if necessary.

In minute of August 31st, he farther develops his plans. He there speaks of Post No. 1 as at Zulla, Post No. 2 as at Senafe, Post No. 3 as at Antalo, which, he says, “will be one of great importance, and should be very strong.” “Post No. 4 will probably be not far from Socota, which will also be a very vital point. It is in a difficult and rugged country, and will be our last main base of supplies from which the operating force will be supported.” Farther on he says: “It will be necessary to convey to our extreme base, which for convenience I will call Socota, for the force required to hold that mountainous country, and for the corps of operation (probably in all 7000 men), supplies for four months.” In the same minute he says: “On advancing from Post No. 2 (Senafe) the leading division will move forward at once to Antalo, and the remainder of the advancing force will take post upon the road to cover the transit of supplies for five months from No. 2 to No. 3, being posted at stations where they may obtain water and forage, and then supplies will be passed on to the front for 9000 men. From Antalo the same process will be repeated until the supplies for 7000 men shall [pg 21]have been carried to Post No. 4 at Socota. From that point the operative column will act with supplies for one or two months as may be convenient.”

These extracts are exceedingly interesting, as they show the original plans of the campaign as laid down by Sir Robert Napier. In the course of the narrative, it will be seen how entirely this plan had to be deviated from, owing to the scarcity of food and forage, and the partial break-down of the transport train; how Post No. 4, described as of “vital” importance, had to be altogether dispensed with; and how, in consequence, the army, when within five or six days of Magdala, were almost destitute of supplies, while their base at Antalo was two hundred miles distant.

On September 12th Sir Robert issued an excellent memorandum on the fitting-up of the ships and the appliances for landing animals, and making many suggestions for the health and comfort of the troops.

In regard to the selection of the troops to form the expedition, Sir Robert himself chose the various regiments. A considerable discussion arose between the different Presidencies, Madras and Bengal naturally wishing to contribute as large a quota as possible. Upon this subject the General wisely said, September 5th: “I consider it especially of advantage to have the native regiments, if possible, of one army, as they work in harmony with and rely upon each other; if they are of different Presidencies, feelings of great bitterness arise when one or other is left in the rear, and partialities are conjured up as the reason why one or other is not taken to the front.”

Considerable correspondence took place in relation to the formation and constitution of the pioneer force, concerning [pg 22]which the General’s opinion was overruled by that of his excellency the Governor. The following extract from memorandum of September 8th fully shows this: “I concluded that I should receive some formal and definite information of any change in his excellency’s views or plans, and I was therefore not prepared to learn from Colonel Marriott, when the expedition was nearly ready to proceed, that his Excellency had decided to submit entirely to Colonel Merewether the responsible duty of determining finally the point of debarkation, and of converting the reconnoissance into an occupation of the coast by a body of about 1500 men. Of all the various circumstances which may have led his Excellency to this conclusion, I am not fully informed; but I entertain strong objections to the question being left entirely to Colonel Merewether’s decision,—he being, in compliance with his Excellency’s opinion (expressed in his Excellency’s note to Colonel Marriott), in military command of the party,—because, while concurring entirely with his Excellency in his high estimation of that officer, it has seemed to me that Colonel Merewether has strong preconceived opinions in favour of a line of route which from the most recent reports, especially that of M. Munsinger, appears to me to be one that would be dangerous to the success of the expedition, and that his selection of a point of debarkation will be sensibly influenced by such very strong and sincere opinions.” Sir Robert Napier’s protest was attended to, and other officers were associated with Colonel Merewether; but this extract is sufficient to show how much was done by the Governor of Bombay without the concurrence or even consultation of Sir Robert Napier.

The general instructions to the pioneer force were precise: they were directed to select a place of landing, and then to [pg 23]inquire about the question of obtaining carriage and supplies from the natives (this last being Colonel Merewether’s special duty); and to Colonel Wilkins, R.E., was assigned specially to determine the adaptability of the shore for landing, the erection of piers, floating wharves, and shelter of all kinds; he was also ordered to advise upon the military value of positions selected, and to assist in general reconnoissance. But the point upon which above all others General Napier laid stress was, that the pioneer force should on no account push forward into the high land; he knew that there could be no possible utility in their so doing, and that it would entail a great and unnecessary labour to provision them at a distance from the sea, especially up so difficult a country. Both upon Colonel Merewether and Colonel Phayre did he impress this point. In his letter of the 9th October to the former officer he said, “It is not at all intended that this force shall take up a position on the high ground, for which its strength and composition are unfitted.” Farther on he says, “If news is satisfactory, Staveley’s brigade will sail, and upon its arrival the advance may be made.” To Colonel Phayre he was equally explicit. In a letter to him dated 9th October he says, “It is not of course intended that Colonel Field should move to the high table-land at Dexan, &c., but merely to take up such position as will cover the dépôt and protect the cattle.” And again farther on, “You will understand that it is not my desire to precipitate a lodgment upon the table-land, which we should have to maintain too long before advancing.”

How these officers carried out the instructions thus clearly and strongly laid down, we shall see hereafter.

It is needless now to enter into any detail of the prepara[pg 24]tions at Bombay, but it may be said that they were of the most extensive and complete character. Everything which could be thought of was provided for the health and comfort of the troops. Money was lavished like water; but, in the haste and bustle which prevailed, there is no question that the authorities were in many cases grossly imposed upon, and that stores were sent out of quality so utterly bad as to be perfectly useless. I may mention as an example the boots for the drivers of the transport train, which never lasted over a week, and very few of which attained even that comparatively respectable age. As with these, so with many other stores; but it is probable that cases of this sort are inseparable from a hastily-prepared expedition. The stores which were subsequently forwarded were very much better in quality.

After these introductory remarks, I begin my narrative from the date of my own sailing from Bombay.

[pg 25]

THE MARCH TO MAGDALA.

On board Transport General Havelock,

December 1st, 1867.

I am happy to say that, speaking personally, the Abyssinian expedition has begun. I am on my way to that cheerful and well-ordered country. Had I known on landing in Bombay that I should be detained there for a month, I should have made myself very comfortable, and should have enjoyed myself exceedingly. But I thought that, although the Commander-in-chief and the main body of the expedition were not sailing for two months, I should do better to push on at once. I accordingly applied for a passage, and was promised one as soon as possible. This phrase, “as soon as possible,” in the mouth of an ordinary individual, means something. From an official it means just nothing. It is merely one of those vague ambiguities in which the official mind delights. It is a phrase which admits of no argument whatever.

Day after day passed, and nothing came of it. A steamer or two started, but although we expressed our willingness to sleep on deck, and put up with any accommodation whatever, no room could be found. One of our number, hopeless and disgusted, took passage in the last Peninsular and [pg 26]Oriental steamer, and is probably at the present moment wandering about Aden, praying for a passage across. I thought it better to wait here until I could be taken direct to our destination. At last came the intelligence that our horses could be put on board a sailing-ship. This was something done, and I felt really thankful when, after a long day’s work, I left the ship’s side, leaving the horses and their syces on board. Indeed, the servant question is one of the most serious of those which present themselves to the mind of an intending Abyssinian expeditionist. It is not difficult to get one. You only have to speak, to get half-a-dozen servants and syces. But you know, both by the warnings of your friends and by your own instincts, that so many applicants, so many rogues. It is at present the very best profession in Bombay to get hired to a master going to Abyssinia, and to disappear two days before he leaves with his purse and any other portable valuables which may come handy. My first servant, a mild Hindoo of engaging aspect, was seized with a pulmonary affection, while his brother, who was servant to a friend of mine, was at the last moment melted by the tears of an aged and despairing mother, and both left us; but not until some hours after their departure did we find that they had, of course accidentally, carried away with them a considerable amount of specie and small valuables. When at last a servant is obtained who really does mean to go to Abyssinia, there is no little trouble to be gone through with him. He must have a month’s, or perhaps two months’, pay in advance. He must have an arrangement made for the payment of the greater part of his wages to his family during his absence. He must be provided, at your expense, with warm clothes, boots, blankets, &c.; and all this with the strong [pg 27]chance of his bolting at the last moment. One of my syces alarmed me greatly by not turning up on the morning when the horses were to be embarked; but he finally appeared upon the landing-stage just as they were being slung into a lighter, three hours after the time named. Whether he or any of the syces finally accompanied the horses I am unable to say, as the ship, instead of sailing that afternoon as positively settled by the authorities, was detained three or four days; and it is very probable that during that time the syces slipped ashore with their warm clothes, advance of wages, &c. This painful question cannot be solved until the ship with the horses arrives at Annesley Bay. Another four or five days passed, and then came the welcome order to go at once on board the General Havelock, which was to start the next day at noon. On board we accordingly went, but found, as we anticipated, that there was no chance of her starting for that day at any rate. The usual conflict of departments was taking place. Some department had ordered a force of twenty European soldiers and fifty Sepoys belonging to the transport train to come on board. This they did. Then came a committee of some other department, and questioned whether the Havelock was fit to carry this force, and whether they had not better be transferred to some other ship. Finding that the men’s things were all below, it was determined to leave them as they were. Then the same committee, with a view, I suppose, of making the vessel more comfortable, determined to send three and a half tons of gunpowder on board, and with this intent sent a carpenter in the course of the afternoon, who took down the only available bath, and prepared to convert the same into a powder-magazine. The next morning the same carpenter came [pg 28]on board and brought some more tools, and then returned to shore. In the afternoon he fetched the tools away. In the mean time one department had sent the water-lighter alongside; but another department had sent no tanks on board to receive it. Presently that department sent some tanks, but as it had not occurred to it to measure the hatchways, the tanks were considerably larger than the opening down which they had to go, so they had to be taken away and a fresh set of tanks brought on board. Then, long after dusk, the water-ship again came alongside, and we took in our water. In the mean time we went ashore to the department which had sent us on board, to ask when it was probable that the Havelock would really sail. We were assured by that department that she had already started, and we had great difficulty in persuading it that she was still at anchor, and likely to remain so. The next morning, the powder not having arrived, and nothing more having been heard either of it or of the carpenter, our captain got up steam and started; and it is by no means improbable that the powder, with one or two committees of departments, are at present cruising about Bombay harbour looking for the Havelock. And yet ours is an absolutely favourable example, for a steamer last week was detained six days after the date of the embarkation of its passengers. And if this confusion exists now, when only one or two vessels are starting a-week, what a scene of confusion will it be when the main body of the force sails! It always is so, and always will be so, as long as our army is managed by a set of independent departments, who have no concert whatever between them. We have here the quartermaster-general’s department, the commissariat, the land-transport, the marine, the adjutant-[pg 29]general’s department, the ordnance, and so on ad infinitum. Military men are the first and loudest to complain of this multiplication of offices without union or concert, which work together well enough in quiet times, but which in emergencies paralyse each other’s efforts, and cause a confusion in exact proportion to their own number. It needs some military reformer of an iron will, and an assured parliamentary support, to put an end to all this, to do away with the independence of the various departments of the service, and to make them all subordinate branches of the adjutant-general’s office; so that a general upon service may give his orders to his adjutant-general only, and the latter may instruct the officers of the departments under him as to what should be done. All indents and orders should be given to him alone, and he should be responsible for the working of the several branches. In some respects it turned out to be as well that we had not started at the time named, for at night, when the rations were served out to the troops, it was found that both the porter and arrack, which form a somewhat important part of a soldier’s rations, had not been sent on board by the commissariat. Great was the consternation. However, fortunately next day, while departments were skirmishing over water and water-tanks, and the carpenter was going and coming with his tools, there was time to send to the commissariat, and for them to repair their error.

The General Havelock is a steamer of about 250 tons, and the object of her builders appears to have been to combine the maximum of rolling qualities with the minimum of speed. In calm weather she can steam six and a half knots an hour; in a slight swell she can roll to an angle of thirty-[pg 30]five degrees. Having said this, I have said all that can be said in dispraise of the vessel. She has capital accommodation for a ship of her size, a snug little poop-deck, extremely comfortable seats and chairs, a perfect absence of any smell from the engine-room, and one of the jolliest skippers in existence. So we are very comfortable. We are five in number; three officers of the Land Transport Corps, and two “specials;” and as we get under the awnings on the poop-deck, while a fair breeze is helping us along at the rate of eight knots an hour, we agree that we have all the advantages of keeping a steam-yacht without the expense. The charge Government makes to officers while on board is eight rupees a-day, which is handed over to the captain of the ship, who has to supply everything for that sum. I do not think that the captain of the Havelock will be a gainer by this transaction. We all sleep on deck, not from necessity, for there are plenty of berths below, but partly because the nights on deck are charming, although a little cold, and partly from horror of a species of monster, which appears to me to be as large as cats—but this may be the effect of imagination and extreme terror—and to run much faster. They have many legs, and horns resembling bullocks’. They are fearless of man, and indeed attack him with ferocity. I call them vampires—their ordinary name is cockroaches. This sleeping on deck is attended with occasional drawbacks. Last night I was awakened by a splash of water on my face. Thinking it was spray, I pulled my rug over my face, but only for an instant, for a rush of water came down upon me as if emptied from a bucket. In an instant everyone was upon his feet, and began dragging his bed over to the leeward side of the ship. But it was no use. The rain tore [pg 31]across the deck as if pumped by a hundred steam fire-engines, and nothing remained for us but to beat a retreat down through the cabin staylight, for to go outside the awning by the ordinary poop-ladder was out of the question. Our first amazement and consternation over, we had a great laugh as we gained the cabin-floor, drenched through, and with our silk sleeping-dresses clinging to us in the most uncomfortable manner. By the time we had changed these the storm was over as suddenly as it had begun, and taking fresh rugs we soon regained our beds, which, turned over, were dry enough on the lower side for all practical purposes.

Over the engine-room is a large bridge-deck, and here are the quarters of the European soldiers, twenty-five in number, while the sepoys occupy the main deck. Both the Europeans and sepoys are volunteers from various regiments into the Land Transport Train. This is a newly-organised corps, and is only formed for the purposes of the expedition, both officers and men returning at its conclusion to their regiments. It is commanded by Major Warden, and consists of fourteen divisions, each containing two thousand baggage-animals. To look after each of these divisions are a captain and two subalterns, together with thirty-eight men—Europeans and sepoys, who are divided into four classes. When it is remembered that among the two thousand animals are oxen, horses, mules, camels, and elephants, and that there will be an attendant to each two animals, it will be seen that the post of officer in a division of the Land Transport Corps will be by no means a sinecure. His difficulties, too, will be heightened by the fact that the drivers will be men of innumerable nationalities and races—Spaniards and Italians with the mules, Greeks from Smyrna and Beyrout, [pg 32]Egyptians and Nubians, Arabs and Affghans, together with men from all the varied tribes of India. The sepoys who are with us do not appear to me at all the sort of men for the service. They belong entirely to infantry regiments, and are quite unaccustomed to horses. The Hindoo is not naturally a horseman; and to take a number of infantry sepoys and put them on horses, and set them at once to severe work, is an absurdity, which will be speedily demonstrated to be such by the men being knocked up and in hospital by the end of the first week. Only men belonging to the native cavalry should have been allowed to volunteer. It is true that many of the Europeans also belong to line regiments, but the same objection does not hold good to them, for most Englishmen are more or less accustomed to horses, and if not they soon fall into it.

Annesley Bay, December 4th.

Our voyage has not terminated so uneventfully as it began, and I am no longer writing on board the General Havelock, but on the Salsette, a very fine Peninsular and Oriental steamer, having a portion of the 33d regiment from Kurrachee on board, and having the Indian Chief, with another portion of the same regiment, in tow. This Red-Sea navigation is a most intricate and dangerous business, and this western shore is in particular completely studded with islands and coral-reefs. These islands differ entirely in their character—some are bold rocks rising perpendicularly from the water with rugged peaks and fantastic outlines, and attaining an elevation of two or three hundred feet; others, far more dangerous, are long flat islets, rising only two or [pg 33]three feet above the sea, and imperceptible on a dark night at a distance of fifty yards. Still others, again, most dangerous of all, have not yet attained the dignity even of islets, although millions of little insects work night and day to bring them up to the surface. These are the coral-reefs, which, rising from a depth of many fathoms to within a few feet of the surface, form so many pitfalls to the unsuspecting mariner. The General Havelock was running along the coast with a favourable breeze, and we had been all the morning watching the low shore, with its stunted bushes and the strangely-conical hills which rise from it, bearing a fantastic resemblance to haycocks, and barns, and saddles, and with a mighty range of mountains in the distance. These mountains had a strange interest to us, for among and over them we have to go. They were our first sight of Abyssinia, and were by no means encouraging as a beginning. In this way we spent the morning, and after lunch were about to resume doing nothing, when we were startled by hearing the man who was standing in the chains heaving the lead, shout out, “Five fathoms!” His call two minutes before had been ten fathoms. The captain shouted “Stop her!” “Turn her astern!” and the chief engineer leapt below to see the order carried out. In the momentary pause of the beat of the screw, the leadman’s voice called out “Two fathoms!” The screw was reversed, and a rush of yellow foaming water past the side of the ship told us at once that it was at work, and that the sandy bottom was close to her keel. Very gradually we stopped, and were congratulating ourselves on the near shave we had had, when, looking over her side, we saw that, vigorously as the screw was working astern, the ship remained just where [pg 34]she was. The General Havelock was palpably ashore. At first we were disposed to make light of the affair, for, grounding as she did imperceptibly, we imagined that she would get off with little difficulty. Accordingly we first worked ahead, then astern, but with an equal absence of result. The head and stern both swung round, but she was fast amidships, and only moved as on a pivot. The troops were now ordered on deck, and were massed, first aft and then forward; but the General Havelock gave no sign. Then it was resolved to roll her, the men running in a body from side to side. Then we tried to jump her off. The whole of the Europeans and sepoys were set to jump in time—first on one side, and then on the other. A funnier sight, eighty men, black and white, leaping up and down, and then going from side to side, could not be conceived. Everyone laughed except those who swore when their naked feet were jumped upon by the thick ammunition-boots of some English soldier. Presently the laughter abated, for everyone was getting too hot even to laugh. The scene was strangest at this time, and reminded me, with the leaping figures, the swarthy skins, and the long hair, more of a New Zealand war-dance than anything I had ever seen. Hours passed in experiments of this sort, but still the General Havelock remained immovable, only when the sun went down and the wind rose she rolled almost as heavily as if afloat, and lifted on the waves and fell into her bed with a heavy bump which was very unpleasant. Boats were now lowered and soundings taken, and it was found that the water was deeper on nearly every side than at the exact spot upon which we had struck. Hawsers were got out and the men set to work at the capstan; but the anchors only drew [pg 35]home through the sandy bottom, and brought up branches of white coral. Part of the crew were all this time occupied in shifting the cargo. But in spite of every effort the ship remained perfectly fast. It was evident that she would not move until a portion at least of her cargo was removed from her. While we were debating how this was to be done, for the shore on either side was a good mile distant, the wind fresh, and the boats small, an Arab dhow, which we had observed running down, anchored about a hundred yards off. The Sheik came on board, and after immense talk agreed to come alongside for three or four hours to take a portion of the cargo and the troops on board, and so to lighten our ship. When the bargain was closed, and the sum to be paid agreed upon, he discovered that there was not water enough for his boat to float alongside. The negotiations thus came to an end, and the Sheik returned to his own craft. Soon after another and larger dhow came up and anchored at a short distance. We sent off to see if he could help us, but it seemed that he had no less than seventy-two camels on board bound for Annesley Bay. How the poor brutes could have been stowed in a boat which did not look large enough to hold twenty at the very most, I cannot imagine, and they had come in that state all the way from Aden. About an hour after we had got ashore, a large steamer, which we knew by her number to be the Salsette, with a ship in tow, had passed at a distance of about three miles, and to her we signalled for assistance. She, however, passed on, and anchored with her consort under the lee of an island, and about six miles off. We had given up all hopes of aid from her, and had begun as a last resource to throw our coal overboard, when at nine o’clock in the evening we saw [pg 36]a boat approaching with a lug-sail. When she came alongside she turned out to belong to the Salsette, which had most fortunately orders to anchor at the spot where we had seen her. We found, on conversation with the officer who had come on board, that, loaded with troops as she was, it would not be safe for her to come within towing distance of us, and therefore that she must leave us to our fate, especially as we did not appear to be in any immediate danger. They kindly offered, however, to take my fellow-correspondent and myself on board, an offer which we gratefully accepted, as it was quite possible that we might not be off for another week. When we arrived on board the Salsette we were received with the greatest kindness, and before starting in the morning had the satisfaction of seeing the signal flying from the Havelock of “We are afloat.”

Relieved from all anxiety on account of our late shipmates, our servants, and our luggage, we enjoyed the run to Annesley Bay exceedingly. It is an immense bay, and, indeed, a finer harbour, once in, could hardly be imagined. The entrance, however, is intricate and dangerous. Long shoals extend for miles near its mouth, and there are several islands within the bay itself. All eyes, or rather all telescopes, were directed towards the spot which was to be our destination. My glass, one by Salomans, is a wonderful instrument for its size, and is indeed far better than any I have tried it against since I left England. My first impressions of our landing-place are, I confess, anything but pleasing. A mist hangs over the land, which excludes a view of the hills, or, indeed, of anything except the foreshore. This is a dead flat, covered with low bushes. The town consists of about fifty tents and marbuees, a large skeleton of a wooden storehouse, piles of hay [pg 37]and grain-bags, hundreds of baggage-animals, with a throng of natives wandering about. There is but one pier, and this is still in course of construction. In the harbour are anchored a dozen or so of transports and a few native dhows. Some of these dhows are occupied in transporting forage and stores from the ships to shore; and as they cannot themselves approach within a distance of a couple of hundred yards of the shore, long lines of natives transport the goods upon their heads to land. One ship is unloading mules; this she accomplishes by lowering them on to a raft, upon which they are towed with ropes to within a short distance of the shore, when the horses are pushed or persuaded to alight and walk. The Havelock came in just before sunset, about two hours after ourselves. I have not yet been ashore. The Beloochees, who arrived yesterday in the Asia and the Peckforten Castle, are landing to-day.

Annesley Bay, December 6th.

I had not intended to write again until the time of the departure of the next mail, as my last letter went off only yesterday morning; but two companies of the 33d regiment are to land this afternoon and to start at midnight, and as this is the first body of European troops who have landed, I think it as well to accompany them to Senafe, sixty miles distant, where Colonels Merewether and Phayre have gone up with the pioneer force. They will not advance beyond this point for some time, and I shall therefore, when I have seen the passes, return, after a few days’ stay there, to this place, which is at present the main point of interest. I should not move from it, indeed, were it not that there is [pg 38]some doubt whether the King of Tigré will permit us to pass. He is at present stationed near the head of the pass with a body of 7000 men, but I fancy his only object in this is to make us buy his friendship at as high a rate as possible. If he really means mischief it will be a very serious matter indeed; for, although we should of course scatter his forces easily enough, it would give us such an enormous line of march to be guarded that it would be impossible to move a step until we had completely subdued Tigré. I sincerely hope that this will not be the case. But another week or two will show; and in the mean time, as I shall have plenty of opportunities of writing on the subject, I must return to my present topic, which is the state of things at the landing-place here. It is not, as I said in my last, a cheerful place to look at from on board ship, but it is very far worse on landing. The pier is nearly finished, and is a very creditable piece of work indeed. It is of stone, and about 300 yards long, and is wide enough for a double line of rails. One line is already laid down, and saves an immensity of labour; for the goods are landed from the native boats, which bring them from the ship’s side, are put on to the trucks, and are run straight into the commissariat yard, which is fifty yards only from the end of the pier. Before this pier was finished everything had to be carried on shore upon the heads of the natives; and as a boat cannot approach within 300 yards of shore, owing to the shallow water, it may be imagined how slowly the work of debarcation went on. The pier is ridiculously insufficient for the purpose. Even now the ships are lying in the harbour for days, waiting for means of landing their goods, although lines of natives still supplement the pier, and pass bales of goods through [pg 39]the water on their heads. When the whole expedition is here there will be a complete dead-lock, unless a very great increase of landing accommodation is afforded. The commissariat yard is piled with enormous quantities of pressed hay, Indian and English, grain, rice, &c. They are well arranged, and in such weather as we have at present there is no fear of their taking damage from being exposed to the air, especially as the precaution has been taken to have trusses of pressed hay laid down as a foundation for the piles of grain-bags. The commissariat yard is distinguished by the fact that here only do we see women—bright-coloured, picturesquely-clad creatures, a hundred of whom have been sent across from India to serve as grinders of corn. Beside the commissariat tents are a few others belonging to the other departments, and these, with a large unfinished wooden storehouse, at which a dozen Chinese carpenters are at work, constitute the camp at the landing-place. But this is only a small portion of the whole, the main camp being a mile and a half inland; and, indeed, there are half-a-dozen small camps, a cluster of tents scattered within the circle of a mile.

The reason why the main camp was fixed at such an inconvenient distance from the landing-place was, that water was at first obtainable from wells sunk there. But this supply has ceased some time, and it would be better to concentrate the offices of the departments near the landing-place, and that every soul whose presence down here is not an absolute necessity should be sent up to Koomaylo, which is fourteen miles inland, and which is the first place at which water can be obtained. As it is, all living things, man and beast, have to depend for their supply of water upon the ships. Every steamer in harbour is at work night and day [pg 40]condensing water, the average expense being twopence-halfpenny a gallon for the coal only. The result is of course an enormous expense to the public, and very great suffering among the animals.

Leaving the camp, I proceeded to the watering-place, and here my senses of sight and smell were offended as they have not been since the days of the Crimea. Dead mules and camels and oxen lay everywhere upon the shore, and within a short distance of it. Here and there were heaps of ashes and charred bones, where an attempt had been made to burn the carcasses. Others, more lately dead, were surrounded by vultures, who, gorged with flesh, hardly made an effort to rise as we approached. One ox had fallen only a few minutes before we reached it, and several vultures were already eying it, walking round at a respectful distance, and evidently not quite assured that the animal was dead. Here and there half-starved mules wandered about, their heads down, their ears drooping, and their eyes glazing with approaching death. Some would stagger down to the sea-side, and taste again and again the salt water; many of them, half-maddened by thirst, would drink copiously, and either drop dead where they stood, or crawl away to die in the low scrub.

More miserable still was the appearance of the camels. Several native boats were unloading them at a distance of two or three hundred yards from shore. The water was not more than three or four feet deep; but when the poor beasts were turned into it most of them lay down, with only their heads above water, and positively refused to make an effort to walk to land. Some never were able to make the effort, and their bodies drifted here and there in the smooth [pg 41]water. Some of the camels had got within fifty yards of shore, and then had lain down, looking, with their short bodies and long necks, like gigantic water-fowl. Those who had been driven ashore were in little better plight. Their bones seemed on the very point of starting through their skin, and they lay as if dead upon the sand, uttering feebly the almost human moaning and complainings peculiar to the camel. Others had recovered a little. These were endeavouring to browse the scanty leaves on the bushes around. Some of these camels have been twenty days on the voyage, and during this time have been crowded together like sheep in a pen, with next to nothing either to eat or drink during the whole time. The wonder is that any of them survived it. Government suffers no loss by the death of these unfortunates, as a contractor agreed to deliver them here in a fair condition, and only those who survive the voyage, and recover something of their former strength, are accepted and paid for. At least, this is one version of the story. The other is, that they are consigned to the Land Transport Corps. That body, however, receive no intimation of their coming, and boatload after boatload of camels arrive, and wander away from the beach to die for want of the water within their reach. At a mile from the landing-place the scene is painful in the extreme. Camels and mules wander about in hundreds without masters, without anything. Here they strive for a few days’ existence by plucking scanty shoots; here they sicken and die. The scenes were frightful everywhere, but were worst of all at the watering-troughs. These were miserably-contrived things. Only ten or a dozen animals could approach at once; they were so unevenly placed, that when one end was full to overflowing there was not an inch of water at [pg 42]the other; and beside this, at a time when water was worth its weight in gold, they leaked badly. They were only supplied with water for an hour or so in the morning, and for a similar time in the evening; and in consequence the scene was painful in the extreme. There was a guard to preserve order, but order could not have been kept by ten times as many men. There were hundreds of transport animals, with one driver to each five or six of them. What could one driver do with six half-mad animals? They struggled, they bit, they kicked, they fought like wild-beasts for a drink of the precious water for which they were dying. Besides these led animals were numerous stragglers, which, having broken their head-ropes, had gone out into the plain to seek a living on their own account. For these there was no water; they had no requisition pinned to their ears, and as they failed thus scandalously to comply with the regulations laid down by the authorities, the authorities determined that they should have no water. They were beaten off. Most of them, after a repulse or two, went away with drooping heads to die; but some fought for their dear lives, cleared a way to the trough with heels and teeth, and drank despite the blows which were showered upon them. I inquired of the Land Transport Corps why these scattered mules are not collected and fed. I am told that nearly the whole of these mule- and camel-drivers have deserted and gone to Massowah. And so it is. The mules and camels are dying of thirst and neglect; the advanced brigade cannot be supplied with food; the harbour is becoming full of transports, because there are no means of taking the men inland, although there are plenty of animals; and all this because the land transport men desert. The officers of that corps work like slaves; they are up early and [pg 43]late, they saddle mules with their own hands, and yet everything goes wrong. Why is all this? One reason undoubtedly is, that the animals have been sent on before the men. A few officers and a comparatively small body of native followers are sent out, and to them arrive thousands of bullocks, thousands of mules, thousands of camels. The Arab followers, appalled by the amount of work accumulating upon them, desert to a man, the officers are left helpless. Had a fair number of officers and followers been sent on to receive the animals as they came, all might have gone well. It was simply a miscalculation. And so it is, I regret to say, in some other departments. You apply for a tent, and are told there are no bell-tents whatever arrived. You ask for a pack-saddle, and are told by the quartermaster-general that there is not a single pack-saddle in hand, and that hundreds of mules are standing idle for want of them. You ask for rations, and are informed that only native rations have yet arrived, and that no rations for Europeans have been sent, with the exception of the sixty days’ provisions the 33d regiment have brought with them. Why is this? There are scores of transports lying in Bombay harbour doing nothing. Why, in the name of common sense, are they not sent on? The nation is paying a very fair sum for them, and there they lie, while the departments are pottering with their petty jealousies and their petty squabbles.

The fact is, we want a head here. Colonels Merewether and Phayre have gone five days’ march away, taking with them all the available transport. Brigadier-General Collings only arrived yesterday, and of course has not as yet been able to set things in order. I am happy to say that General Staveley arrived last night, and I believe that he will soon [pg 44]bring some order into this chaos. The fact is, that in our army we leave the most important branch of the service to shift for itself. Unless the Land Transport Train is able to perform its duty, nothing can possibly go right; but the Land Transport Corps has no authority and no power. It is nobody’s child. The commissariat owns it not, the quartermaster and adjutant-general know nothing whatever of it. It may shift for itself. All the lâches of all the departments are thrown upon its shoulders, and the captains who are doing the work may slave night and day; but unaided and unassisted they can do nothing. The land transport should be a mere subordinate branch of the commissariat; that department should be bound to supply food at any required point. Now, all they have to do is to join the other departments in drawing indents for conveyance upon the unhappy land transport, and then sitting down and thanking their gods that they have done everything which could be expected of them. General Staveley is an energetic officer, and will, I believe, lose no time in putting things straight. Even to-day things look more hopeful, for General Collings yesterday afternoon put the services of 200 Madras dhoolie-bearers at the disposition of the Transport Corps to supply the place of the mule- and camel-drivers who have deserted. I have therefore every hope that in another week I shall have a very different story to tell. In addition, however, to the mortality caused by the voyage, by hardships, and by bad food and insufficient water, there is a great mortality among the horses and mules from an epidemic disease which bears a strong resemblance to the cattle-plague. Ten or twelve of the mules die a day from it, and the 3d Native Cavalry lost ninety horses from it while they were here. The [pg 45]district is famous, or rather infamous, for this epidemic; and the tribes from inland, when they come down into the plain, always leave their horses on the plateau, and come down on foot. The Soumalis and other native tribes along this shore are a quarrelsome lot, and fights are constantly occurring among the native workmen, who inflict serious, and sometimes fatal, injuries upon each other with short, heavy clubs resembling Australian waddies. The washing, at least such washing as is done, is sent up to Koomaylo. Yesterday two dhoolies, or washermen, were bringing a quantity of clothes down to the camp, when they were set upon by some natives, who killed one and knocked the other about terribly, and then went off with the clothes.

Some of the ships have brought down the horses in magnificent condition. The Yorick, which has carried the horses of the officers of the 33d, is a model of what a horse-ship should be. The animals are ranged in stalls along the whole length of her main-deck, and the width is so great that there is room for a wide passage on either side of the mast. These passages were laid down with cocoa-nut matting, and the animals were taken out every day—except once when the vessel rolled too much—and walked round and round for exercise. In consequence they arrived in just as good condition as they were in upon the day of starting. While I am writing, the Great Victoria is signalled as in sight. This vessel contains, it is said, the Snider rifles, the warm clothing, the tents, and many other important necessaries. Her arrival, therefore, will greatly smooth difficulties and enable the troops to advance.

At the time that the above letter was written I had only [pg 46]been a few hours upon shore, and was of course unable to look deeper than the mere surface. I could therefore only assign the most apparent reason for the complete break-down of the transport train. The disaster has now become historical, and rivalled, if it did not surpass, that of the worst days of the Crimea; and as for a time it paralysed the expedition, and exercised throughout a most disastrous influence, it is as well, before we proceed up the country, that we should examine thoroughly into its causes.

After a searching inquiry into all that had taken place prior to my arrival, I do not hesitate to ascribe the break-down of the transport train to four causes, and in this opinion I may say that I am thoroughly borne out by ninety-nine out of every hundred officers who were there. The first cause was the inherent weakness of the organisation of the transport train, the ridiculous paucity of officers, both commissioned and noncommissioned, the want of experienced drivers, and the ignorance of everyone as to the working of a mule-train. The second cause was the mismanagement of the Bombay authorities in sending animals in one ship, drivers in another, and equipments scattered throughout a whole fleet of transports, instead of sending each shipload of animals complete with their complement of drivers and equipments, as was done by the Bengal authorities. The third cause was the grossly-overcoloured reports of the officers of the pioneer force as to the state of water and forage, and which induced the Bombay authorities to hurry forward men and animals, to find only a bare and waterless desert. The fourth reason was the conduct of the above-mentioned officers in marching with all the troops to Senafe, in direct disobedience of the orders they had received. This last [pg 47]cause was the most fatal of all. In spite of the first three causes all might, and I believe would, have gone tolerably well, had it not been for the fourth.

At Koomaylo and at Hadoda, each thirteen miles distant from Zulla, there was water in abundance, together with bushes and browsing-ground for the camels. Had the animals upon landing been taken at once to these places, and there allowed to remain until the time approached for a general forward movement of the whole army, as Sir Robert Napier had directed, everything would have gone well. The officers would have had plenty of time to have effected a thorough and perfect organisation; the men would have learnt their new duties, and would have acquired some sort of discipline; the camels could have gone to Zulla and brought out forage for the mules; not an animal need have remained at Zulla, not one have suffered from thirst; and the immense expense of condensing water for them would have been avoided, besides the saving of life of many thousands of animals. But what happened? As I have shown in the previous chapter, General Napier had said to Colonel Merewether, in his parting instructions, “It is not at all intended that this force shall take up a position upon the high land, for which its strength and composition are not fitted;” and again, he had written at the end of October, “that if the news were satisfactory, Staveley’s Brigade would sail, and upon its arrival the advance may be made.” To Colonel Phayre he had written October 9th: “It is not of course intended that Colonel Field should move to the high table-land at Dexan, &c., but shall merely take up such position as will cover the dépôt and protect the cattle;” and again, in the same letter: “You will understand that it is not my desire [pg 48]to precipitate a lodgment upon the table-land, which we should have to retain too long before advancing.” General Napier, then, had been as explicit as it was possible for a man to be in his orders that no advance should take place; and he had specially said, in his memorandum of 7th September, the subject of the transport train, that “great care should be taken to prevent their being overworked.” And yet, in spite of these orders, Colonels Merewether and Phayre, together with Colonel Wilkins,—to whom the making of piers, &c., had been specially assigned by the General in his instructions to the pioneer force,—with Colonel Field and the whole of the troops, start up to Senafe on or about the 1st of December! And this at a time when two or three large transports might be expected to arrive daily! The consequences which might have been expected ensued. The unfortunate animals, the instant they arrived, were saddled, loaded, and hurried off without a day to recover from the fatigue of the voyage. The muleteers were in like way despatched, without a single hour to acquire a notion of their duties.

Senafe is five days’ march from Zulla, up a ravine of almost unparalleled difficulty.

Up and down this ravine the wretched animals stumbled and toiled, starving when in the pass, and dying of thirst during their brief pauses at Zulla; the fortunate ones dying in scores upon the way, and the less happy ones incurring disease of the lungs, which, after a few painful weeks, brought them to the welcome grave. And all this to feed Colonels Merewether and Phayre and the troops at Senafe. Cui bono? No one can answer. No one to this day has been able to offer the slightest explanation of the extraordinary course adopted by these officers. If Colonel Mere[pg 49]wether had felt it his duty to go to Senafe in order to enter into political relations with the chiefs in the neighbourhood, and to arrange for the purchase of animals and food, a small escort would have enabled him to do so. Not only was their absence disastrous to the mule-train, but it was productive of the greatest confusion at Zulla. There no one was left in command. Astounding as it may appear to every military man, here, at a port at which an amount of work scarcely, if ever, equalled, had to be got through, with troops, animals, and stores arriving daily in vast quantities, there was at the time of my arrival absolutely no “officer commanding,”—not even a nominal head. Each head of department did his best; but, like Hal o’ the Wynd, he fought for his own hand. The confusion which resulted may be imagined but cannot be described. Having thus briefly adverted to the causes which led to the breakdown of the transport train, I continue my journal.

Koomaylo, December 9th.

I mentioned in my letter of two days since, that the news from the front was, that the King of Tigré, with an army of 7000 men, was inclined to make himself unpleasant. Our last “shave,” that of yesterday, goes into the opposite extreme, and tells us that the Kings of Shoa and Lasta have both sent to Colonel Merewether, and have offered to attack Theodore. The hostilities and the alliances of the kings of these tribes are, of course, matters of importance; but as these native potentates seldom know their own minds for many hours together, and change from a state of friendship to one of hostility at a moment’s notice, or for a fancied affront, I do not attach much importance to any of them, with the ex[pg 50]ception of the King of Tigré, through whose dominions we have to pass. If he allows us to pass to and fro without interference, we can do very well without the alliance of Shoa or of Lasta. We are strong enough to conquer Theodore, even if he were backed by the three kings named; and now we have got everything ready, the difference of expense between a war of a few weeks’ duration and one of twice as many months, will be comparatively trifling. As for the troops, nothing would cause such disgust as to return without doing anything, after all the preparations which have been made. I do not think, however, that it would make much difference in our movements now, even if the prisoners are given up. Of course, had they been released a year ago, in consequence of our entreaties or in exchange for our presents, we should have been contented; but now we must demand something more than a mere delivery of the prisoners. There is compensation to be made for their long and painful sufferings, and an attempt at any rate made to obtain some sort of payment for our enormous expenses. I attach, therefore, little importance to what is doing at Senafe, but consider the state of the preparations at the landing-place at Annesley Bay to be the central point of interest. For the last two days much has been done towards getting things in order. Pack-saddles in abundance have been landed. Sir Charles Staveley has disembarked, and is hard at work; and in the Land Transport Corps, in particular, great things have been done. Captain Twentyman, who is in command, laid a number of suggestions before the general, which he at once sanctioned. Fodder was strewed near the watering-place, and as the starving animals strayed down they were captured. One hundred and fifty of them were handed over to the Beloo[pg 51]chee regiment, whose men cheerfully volunteered to look after them. Tubs were obtained from the commissariat to supplement the absurdly-insufficient troughs at the watering-place, and which were only kept full of water at certain times of the day. The 200 Madras dhoolie bearers, who have been transferred to the transport, are doing good work, and there is every hope that in another week things will be straight, and the wretched stragglers who at present shock one with their sufferings be again safely hobbled in line with other animals.

The work which the officers of this corps get through is prodigious. Captains Twentyman, Warren, and Hodges, and Lieutenant Daniels, are beginning to forget what a bed is like, for they are at work and about for more than twenty hours out of the twenty-four. Indeed, I must say that I never saw a greater devotion to duty than is shown by the officers of the various departments. The quartermaster’s department, the commissariat, and others, vie with each other in the energy which they exhibit, and the only thing to be wished is that there were a little more unanimity in their efforts. Each works for himself. Whereas if they were only branches of an intendance générale, the heads of the departments might meet each other and their chief of an evening, each state their wants and their wishes, concert together as to the work to be performed next day, and then act with a perfect knowledge of what was to be got through. However, this is a Utopia which it is vain to sigh for. Probably till the end of time we shall have separate departments and divided responsibilities; and between the stools the British soldier will continue to fall, and that very heavily, to the ground.

[pg 52]

On the afternoon of the 7th the first two companies of the 33d regiment were to land; and this spectacle was particularly interesting, as they were the first European regiment to land upon the shores of Abyssinia. A large flat, towed by a steam-barge, came alongside, and the men, with their kit-bags and beds, embarked on board them. As they did so, the regimental band struck up, the men and their comrades on board ship cheering heartily. It was very exciting, and made one’s blood dance in one’s veins; but to me there is always something saddening in these spectacles. This is the third “Partant pour la Syrie” that I have seen. I witnessed the Guards parade before Buckingham Palace. I saw them cheer wildly as the band played and the Queen waved her handkerchief to them; and six months afterwards I saw them, a shattered relic of a regiment, in the Crimea. Last year I described a scene in Piacenza, on the eve of the march of the Italian army into the Quadrilateral. There, too, were patriotic songs and hearty cheerings, there were high hopes and brave hearts. A week after I saw them hurled back again from the land they had invaded, defeated by a foe they almost despised. Fortunately, in the present case I have no similar catastrophe to anticipate. As far as fighting goes, her Majesty’s 33d regiment need fear nothing they will meet in Abyssinia, or, indeed, in any part of the world. It is a regiment of veterans; it won no slight glory in the Crimea, and a few months later it was hurried off to aid in crushing the Indian mutiny. In India they have been ever since, and are as fine and soldierlike a set of men as could be found in the British army. We were to have landed at two o’clock, but a few of the little things which always are found to be done at the last moment delayed us half [pg 53]an hour; and that delay of half an hour completely changed the whole plans of the day. It had been intended that, after landing, the men should remain quiet until five o’clock, by which time the heat of the day would be over; that they should then pack the baggage upon the camels, which were to start at once with a guard, that the men should lie down and sleep till midnight, and that they should then march, so as to arrive at Koomaylo at five o’clock in the morning. All these arrangements, admirable in their way, were defeated by this little half-hour’s delay. There was not a breath of wind when we left the ship, but in the quarter of an hour the passage occupied the sea-breeze rushed down, and when we reached the pier the waves were already breaking heavily. Time after time the man-of-war’s boats came to us as we lay thirty yards off, and took off a load each time; once, too, we drifted so close to the end of the pier that the men were able to leap off upon the rough stones. In this way all the troops got off except the baggage-guard. But by this time the surf had increased so much, that the boats could no longer get alongside; accordingly the tug had to tow the barge a couple of hundred yards out, and there to remain until the sea-breeze dropped. In consequence it was nine in the evening before the baggage got ashore, and nearly one in the morning before the camels had their loads; and even then some of the men’s beds had to be left behind. Considering the extreme lateness of the hour, and the fact that the moon would soon be down, I thought it best to get a sleep until daylight. Under the shelter of a friendly tent I lay down upon the sand until five o’clock, and then, after the slight toilet of a shake to get rid of loose sand, I started.

The road from Annesley Bay to Koomaylo can hardly be [pg 54]termed either interesting or strongly defined. It at first goes straight across the sand, and, as the sand is trampled everywhere, it is simply impossible to follow it. We were told that the route lay due west, but that just where the jungle began there was a sign-post. Compass in hand, we steered west, and entered the low thorny scrub which constitutes the jungle. No sign-post. We rode on for a mile, when, looking back at the rising sun, I saw something like a sign-post in the extreme distance. Riding back to it, it proved to be the desired guide, and the road from here is by daylight distinct enough. For the first six miles it runs across a dead-level of sand, covered with a shrub with very small and very scanty leaves, and very large and extremely-abundant thorns. Bustards, grouse, deer, and other game are said to be very abundant here, but we saw none of them. A sort of large hawk was very numerous, but these were the only birds we saw. At about six miles from the sea the ground rises abruptly for about ten feet in height, and this rise ran north and south as far as the eye could reach. It marked unquestionably the level of the sea at some not very remote period. From this point the plain continued flat, sandy, and bushy as before for two miles; but after that a rocky crag rose, rather to our right, and the sand became interspersed with stones and boulders. Our path lay round behind the hill, and then we could see, at about four miles’ distance, a white tent or two, at the mouth of an opening in the mountain before us. These white tents were the camp at Koomaylo. About three miles from Koomaylo we came upon a very curious burial-place. It was in a low flat, close to a gully, and covered a space of perhaps fifty yards square. The graves were placed very close together, and consisted of square piles of stones, not thrown [pg 55]together, but built up, about three feet square and as much high. They were crowned by a rough pyramid of stones, the top one being generally white. Underneath these stone piles was a sort of vault. From this point the ground rose more steeply than it had yet done.

Koomaylo is situated at the mouth of the pass which takes its name from it. The valley here is about half-a-mile wide. It is rather over thirteen miles from the sea, and is said to be 415 feet above the sea-level; but it does not appear to be nearly so high. At any rate, its height does not make it any cooler; for, hot as it is at Annesley Bay, it is at least as hot here. The greatest nuisance I have at present met with in Abyssinia are the flies, which are as numerous and irritating as they are in Egypt. Fortunately they go to sleep when the sun goes down; and as there are no mosquitoes to take their place, one is able to sleep in tranquillity. We found on arriving at Koomaylo that the troops had not been in very long. They had got scattered in the night, owing to some of the camels breaking down; had lost their guides, lost each other, and lost the way. Finally, however, all the troops came in in a body under their officers at about eight o’clock. The animals were not quite so unanimous in their movements; for a number of them took quite the wrong road, and went to Hadoda, a place about six miles from here, to the north, and twelve miles from Zulla. There are wells there, so they got a drink, and came on in the course of the day. A few, however, have not yet turned up, and one of these missing animals bore a portion of my own luggage and stores. The others will perhaps arrive; but I have a moral conviction that that animal will never again make his appearance. As the men were too tired upon their arrival [pg 56]to pitch their tents, many of which indeed had not yet arrived, they were allowed to take possession of a number of tents which had been pitched for head-quarters. When we arrived they were all shaken down; the men were asleep in the tents, and the camels had gone down to water. The first step was to go down to water our horses and mules, the next to draw rations for ourselves, our followers, and beasts. The watering-place is a quarter of a mile from this camp, which is on rather rising ground. The wells are, of course, in the bed of what in the rainy season must be a mighty torrent fifty yards wide.

I have seen many singular scenes, but I do not know that I ever saw a stranger one than these wells presented. They are six in number, are twelve or fourteen feet across, and about twelve feet deep. They are dug through the mass of stones and boulders which forms the bed of the stream, and three of the six have a sort of wooden platform, upon which men stand to lower the buckets to the water by ropes. The other wells have sloping sides, and upon them stand sets of natives, who pass buckets from hand to hand, and empty them into earth troughs, or rather mud basins, from which the animals drink. The natives while so engaged keep up the perpetual chant without which they seem to be unable to do any work. The words of this chant vary infinitely, and they consist almost always of two words of four or five syllables in all; which are repeated by the next set of men, with the variation of one of the syllables, and in a tone two notes lower than that used by the first set. Round these wells are congregated a vast crowd of animals—flocks of goats and small sheep, hundreds in number, strings of draught-bullocks, mules, ponies, horses, and camels, hundreds of natives, with their [pg 57]scanty attire, their spears, their swords exactly resembling reaping-hooks, and their heavy clubs. Here are their wives and sisters, some of them in the ordinary draped calico, others very picturesquely attired in leathern petticoats, and a body-dress of a sort of sheet of leather, going over one shoulder and under the other arm, covering the bust, and very prettily ornamented with stars and other devices, formed of white shells. Round their necks they wear necklaces of red seeds and shells. Some of them are really very good-looking, with remarkably intelligent faces. The scene round the wells is very exciting, for the animals press forward most eagerly, and their attendants have the greatest difficulty in preserving order, especially among the mules and camels. The supply, however, is equal to the demand, and by the end of the day the wells are nearly deserted, except by the soldiers, who like to go down and draw their water fresh from the wells. The upper wells, where buckets with ropes only are used, are really very fair water; those for the animals are not clear, but are still drinkable. All have a taste somewhat resembling the water from peat-bogs. Natives are employed digging more wells, which can be done, for the quantity which is drawn appears to make little or no difference in the level of the water in the present wells. Some of the camels occasionally get quite furious; to-day I saw one, whose saddle had slipped round under its belly, begin to jump and plunge most wildly, with its head in the air, and uttering the most uncouth cries. There was a general stampede, especially among the mules, many of whom have, I fancy, never seen a camel before. It was some minutes before the animal could be caught and forced down upon its knees by its driver, and by that time he had quite cleared the ground in his neighbourhood. The camels are kept as much [pg 58]as possible kneeling, and there were a hundred or two near him at the time he commenced his evolutions. When one camel rises, all in his neighbourhood always endeavour to do the same; and the efforts of these beasts to rise, the shouts of their drivers, and the stampede of the mules, made up a most laughable scene. Near the wells is another large graveyard; the tombs here are rather more ornate than those I have already described, some of them being round, and almost all having courses of white quartz stones. Upon the top of many of these tombs are two or three flat stones, placed on end, and somewhat resembling small head- and foot-stones. As there is no inscription upon them it would be curious to find out the object with which the natives erect them.

Having finished watering our horses, we proceeded to the commissariat tent. Here an immense quantity of work is got through, all the animals and men drawing their rations daily; and I have heard no complaint of any sort, except that some Parsees, while I was getting my rations, came up and complained bitterly because there was no mutton, and it was contrary to their religion to eat beef. The commissariat officer regretted the circumstance, but pointed out that at present no sheep had been landed, and that the little things of the country are mere skin and bone, and quite unfitted for the troops. The Parsees, who were, I believe, clerks to one of the departments, went off highly discontented. The moral of this evidently is that Parsees should not go to war in a country where mutton is scarce. As for the Hindoos, I cannot even guess how they will preserve their caste intact. It is a pity that their priests could not give them a dispensation to put aside all their caste observances for the time they may be out of India. [pg 59]As it is, I foresee we shall have very great difficulty with them.

Koomaylo, December 12th.

When I wrote two days ago I hardly expected to have dated another letter from Koomaylo. I had prepared to start for Senafe, leaving my baggage behind me, and returning in ten days or so. The great objection to this plan was that neither at Zulla nor here are there any huts or stores where things can be left. The only thing to be done, therefore, was to leave them in the tent of some friend; but as he, too, might get the route at any moment, it would have been, to say the least of it, a very hazardous proceeding. The night before last, however, I received the joyful and long-expected news that the ship which had left Bombay with my horses six days before I started myself was at last in harbour. My course was now clear; I should go down, get my horses, and then go up to Senafe, carrying my whole baggage with me. Vessels and troops are arriving every day, and the accumulations of arrears of work are increasing in even more rapid proportion. Major Baigrie, the quartermaster-general, is indefatigable, but he cannot unload thirty large vessels at one little jetty, at whose extremity there is only a depth of five feet of water. Unless something is done, and that rapidly, and upon an extensive scale, we shall break down altogether. It is evident that a jetty, at which at most three of these country boats can lie alongside to unload, is only sufficient to afford accommodation for one large ship, and that it would take several days to discharge her cargo of say one thousand tons, using the greatest despatch possible. How, [pg 60]then, can it be hoped that the vessels in the harbour, whose number is increasing at the rate of two or three a-day, are to be unloaded? In the Crimea great distress was caused because the ships in Balaclava harbour could not manage to discharge their stores. But Balaclava harbour offered facilities for unloading which were enormous compared to this place. There was a wharf a quarter of a mile long, with deep water alongside, so that goods could be rolled down planks or gangways to the shore from the vessels. The harbour was land-locked, and the work of unloading never interrupted. Compare that with the present state of things. A boat-jetty running out into five-foot water, and only approachable for half the day owing to the surf, and, as I hear, for months not approachable at all. It can be mathematically proved that the quantity of provision and forage which can be landed from these boats, always alongside for so many hours a-day, would not supply the fifth of the wants of twenty-five thousand men and as many animals. Everything depends upon what the state of the interior of the country is. If we find sufficient forage for the animals and food for the men—which the most sanguine man does not anticipate—well and good. If not, we must break down. It is simply out of the question to land the stores with the present arrangements in Annesley Bay, or with anything like them. The pier-accommodation must be greatly increased, and must be made practical in all weather, that is to say, practical all day in ordinary weather. To do this the pier should be run out another fifty yards, and should then have a cross-pier erected at its extremity. The native boats could lie under the lee of this and unload in all weathers, and there would [pg 61]be sufficient depth of water for the smaller transports to lie alongside on the outside in calm weather, and to unload direct on to the pier. I know that this would be an expensive business, that stone has to be brought from a distance, &c. But it is a necessity, and therefore expense is no object. I consider that the railway which is to be laid between the landing-place and this point will be of immense utility to the expedition; but I believe it to be a work of quite inferior importance in comparison with this question of increased pier-accommodation. There is no doubt that in spite of the troops and animals arriving from Bombay before things were ready for them here, things would have gone on far better than they have done, had there been any head to direct operations here. But the officers of the various departments have been working night and day without any head whatever to give unity and object to their efforts. I understand that General Staveley was astonished to find that before the arrival of General Collings, two days previous to himself, there had been no head to the expedition.

Sir Robert Napier was fully alive to the extreme importance of this question of wharfage, for in his memorandum of September 12th he recommended that planking, tressles, piles, and materials to construct wharves should be forwarded with the 1st Brigade. “There cannot,” he proceeded, “be too many landing-places to facilitate debarkation, and on such convenience will depend the boats being quickly cleared, and the stores removed from them dry. It would be advisable that a considerable number of empty casks should be forwarded to be used as rafts, or to form [pg 62]floating-wharves for use at low water, particularly should the shores shelve gently. Spars to form floating shears should also be forwarded.” Thus Sir Robert Napier, himself an engineer, had long before foreseen the extreme importance of providing the greatest possible amount of landing accommodation; and yet three months after this memorandum was written, and two months after the arrival of the pioneer force at Zulla, an unfinished pier was all that had been effected, and Colonel Wilkins, the officer to whom this most important work had been specially intrusted, was quietly staying up at Senafe with Colonels Merewether, Phayre, and Field. A second pier was not completed until the end of February, and consequently many vessels remained for months in harbour before their cargoes could be unloaded, at an expense and loss to the public service which can hardly be over-estimated.

We had quite a small excitement here this afternoon. I was writing quietly, and thinking what a hot day it was, when I heard a number of the soldiers running and shouting. I rushed to the door of my tent and saw a troop of very large monkeys trotting along, pursued by the men, who were throwing stones at them. Visions of monkey-skins flashed across my mind, and in a moment, snatching up revolvers and sun-helmets, three or four of us joined the chase. We knew from the first that it was perfectly hopeless, for the animals were safe in the hills, which extended for miles. However, the men scattered over the hills, shouting and laughing, and so we went on also, and for a couple of hours climbed steadily on, scratching ourselves terribly with the thorn-bushes which grow everywhere—and to which an [pg 63]English quickset-hedge is as nothing—and losing many pounds in weight from the effect of our exertions. Hot as it was, I think that the climb did us all good. Indeed, the state of the health of everyone out here is most excellent, and the terrible fevers and all the nameless horrors with which the army was threatened in its march across the low ground, turn out to be the effect of the imagination only of the well-intentioned but mischievous busybodies who have for the last six months filled the press with their most dismal predictions. I have heard many a hearty laugh since I have been here at all the evils we were threatened would assail us in the thirteen miles between Annesley Bay and this place. We were to die of fever, malaria, sunstroke, tetse-fly, Guinea-worm, tapeworm, and many other maladies. It is now nearly three months since the first man landed, and upon this very plain there are at present thousands of men, including the Beloochee regiment and other natives, hundreds, taking Europeans only, of officers, staff and departmental, with the conductors, inspectors, and men of the transport, commissariat, and other departments. From the day of the first landing to the present time there has not been one death, or even an illness of any consequence, among all these men upon this plain of death. As for the two companies of the 33d, their surgeon tells me that the general state of their health is better than in India, for that there has not been a single case of fever or indisposition of any kind in the five days since they landed, whereas in India there were always a proportion of men in hospital with slight attacks of fever. All this is most gratifying, and I believe that all the other dangers and difficulties will, when confronted, prove to have been equally exaggerated. The difficulties of the pass to the [pg 64]first plateau, 7000 feet above the sea, have already proved to be insignificant. There are only four miles of at all difficult ground, and this has already been greatly obviated by the efforts of the Bombay Sappers. The December rains have not yet begun, but yesterday and to-day we have heavy clouds hanging over the tops of the mountains. The rain would be a very great boon, and would quite alter the whole aspect of the country. The whole country, indeed, when not trampled upon, is covered with dry, burnt-up herbage, presenting exactly the colour of the sand, but which only needs a few hours’ rain to convert it into a green plain of grass, sufficient for the forage of all the baggage-animals in the camp.

While I have been writing this the Beloochees and a company of Bombay Sappers and Miners have marched into camp, with their baggage and camels. The Beloochees are a splendid regiment—tall, active, serviceable-looking men as ever I saw. Their dress is a dark-green tunic, with scarlet facings and frogs, trousers of a lighter green, a scarlet cap, with a large black turban around it; altogether a very picturesque dress. The Sappers and Miners are in British uniform. Both these corps go on early to-morrow morning to Upper Sooro. I have not decided yet whether I shall accompany them, or go on by myself this evening.

A letter has just come down from Colonel Merewether saying that all is going on well at Senafe. The King of Tigré has sent in his adhesion, and numbers of petty chiefs came in riding on mules, and followed by half-a-dozen ragged followers on foot, to make their “salaam.” I do not know that these petty chiefs, who are subjects of the King of Tigré, are of much importance one way or another, but their friendship would be useful if they would bring in a few hundred [pg 65]head of bullocks and a few flocks of sheep. It is, I understand, very cold up there, and the troops will have need of all their warm clothing.

Upper Sooro, December 13th.

I must begin my letter by retracting an opinion I expressed in my last, namely, that the defile would probably turn out a complete bugbear, as the fevers, guinea-worm, and tetse flies have done. My acquaintance with most of the passes of the Alps and Tyrol is of an extensive kind, but I confess that it in no way prepared me for the passage of an Abyssinian defile. I can now quite understand travellers warning us that many of these places were impracticable for a single horseman, much less for an army with its baggage-animals. Had not Colonel Merewether stated in his report that the first time he explored the pass he met laden bullocks coming down it, I should not have conceived it possible that any beast of burden could have scrambled over the terrible obstacles. Even now, when the Bombay Sappers have been at work for three weeks upon it, it is the roughest piece of road I ever saw, and only practicable for a single animal at once. It is in all twelve miles; at least, so it is said by the engineers, and we took, working hard, seven hours to do it; and I found that this was a very fair average time. A single horseman will, of course, do it in a very much shorter time, because there are miles together where a horse might gallop without danger. I remained at Koomaylo until the afternoon, as it was too hot to start till the sun was low. Nothing happened during the day, except the arrival of the Beloochees and Bombay Engineers. The soldiers had two or [pg 66]three more chases after the monkeys, of which there are extra ordinary numbers. I need hardly say that they did not catch any of them: a dog, however, belonging to one of the soldiers seized one for a moment, but was attacked with such fury by his companions that it had to leave its hold and beat a precipitate retreat. I have just been watching a flock or herd—I do not know which is the correct term—of these animals, two or three hundred in number, who have passed along the rocks behind my tent, at perhaps thirty yards’ distance. They have not the slightest fear of man, and even all the noise and bustle of a camp seem to amuse rather than alarm them. They are of all sizes, from the full-grown, which are as large as a large dog, down to tiny things which keep close to their mothers, and cling round their necks at the least alarm. The old ones make no noise, but step deliberately from rock to rock, sitting down frequently to inspect the camp, and indulge in the pleasure of a slight scratch. These full-sized fellows have extremely long hair over the head and upper part of the body, but are bare, disagreeably so, towards the caudal extremity. The small ones scamper along, chattering and screaming; they have no mane or long hair on the head. The old monkeys, when they do make a sound, bark just like a large dog. In the afternoon an enormous number of locusts came down the pass, and afforded amusement and diet to flocks of birds, who were, I observed, rather epicures in their way, for on picking up many of the dead bodies of the locusts, I found that in every case it was only the head and upper part of the thorax which had been eaten. I shall accept this as a hint; and in case of the starvation days with which this expedition is threatened—in addition to innumerable other evils—really coming on, I shall, when we [pg 67]are driven to feed on locusts, eat only the parts which the birds have pointed out to me as the tit-bits. I am happy to say that there is no probability of our being driven to that resource at present; for on our way here yesterday I passed considerable quantities of native cattle, and any quantity is procurable here, and as for goats they are innumerable. We bought one this morning for our servants for the sum of a rupee. The commissariat have made up their minds that all servants and followers must be Hindoos, and therefore abstainers from meat, and so issue no meat whatever in their rations—nothing, indeed, except rice, grain, a little flour, and a little ghee. Now, the fact is that the followers are generally not Hindoos. Many of the body-servants are Portuguese, Goa men; and the horse-keepers are frequently Mussulmans, or come from the north-west provinces, where they are not particular. Even the mule-drivers are Arabs, Egyptians, and Patans, all of whom eat flesh. It thus happens that the whole of our five servants are meat-eaters, and it is fortunate that we are able to buy meat from the natives for them, especially as they have really hard work to do; and in the cold climate we shall enter in another day or two meat is doubly necessary.

We had intended to start at three o’clock, but it was four before our baggage was fairly disposed upon the backs of the four baggage-animals—two strong mules and two ponies—and we were in the saddles of our riding-horses. Our route, after leaving the wells, ran, with of course various turnings and windings, in a south-westerly direction. The way lay along the bottom of the valley, a road being marked out by the loose stones being removed to a certain extent, and laid along both sides of the track. The valley for the first seven [pg 68]or eight miles was very regular, of a width of from 200 to 300 yards. Its bottom, though really rising gradually, appeared to the eye a perfect flat of sand, scattered with boulders and stones, and covered with the thorny jungle I have spoken of in a previous letter. This scrub had been cleared away along the line of road, or there would have been very little flesh, to say nothing of clothes, left upon our bones by the time we came to our journey’s end. Backward and forward, across the sandy plain, as the spurs of the hills turned its course, wound the bed of the torrent—I should think that we crossed it fifty times. It is probable that on occasions of great floods the whole valley is under water. To our left the hills, though rocky and steep, sloped somewhat gradually, and were everywhere sprinkled with bushes. On the right the mountain was much more lofty, and rose in many places very precipitously. Sometimes the valley widened somewhat, at other times the mountains closed in, and we seemed to have arrived at the end of our journey, until on rounding some projecting spur the valley would appear stretching away at its accustomed width. Altogether, the scenery reminded me very much of the Tyrol, except that the hills at our side were not equal in height to those which generally border the valleys there.

At half-past six it had become so dark that we could no longer follow the track, and the animals were continually stumbling over the loose stones, and we were obliged to halt for half-an-hour, by which time the moon had risen over the plain; and although it was some time longer before she was high enough to look down over the hill-tops into our valley, yet there was quite light enough for us to pursue our way. In another three-quarters of an hour we came upon a sight [pg 69]which has not greeted my eyes since I left England, excepting, of course, in my journey through France—it was running water. We all knelt down and had a drink, but, curiously enough, although our animals had been travelling for nearly four hours enveloped in a cloud of light dust, they one and all refused to drink; indeed, I question if they had ever seen running water before, and had an idea it was something uncanny. This place we knew was Lower Sooro, not that there was any village—indeed, I begin to question the existence of villages in this part of the world, for I have not yet seen a single native permanent hut, only bowers constructed of the boughs of trees and bushes. But in Abyssinia it is not villages which bear names; it is wells. Zulla, and Koomaylo, the Upper and Lower Sooro, are not villages, but wells. Natives come and go, and build their bowers, but they do not live there. I fancy that when there is a native name, and no well, it is a graveyard which gives the name. We passed two or three of these between Koomaylo and Sooro, all similar to those I have already described. From Lower to Upper Sooro is a distance of four miles. It is in this portion of the road that the real difficulties of the pass are situated, and I never passed through a succession of such narrow and precipitous gorges as it contains. The sides of these gorges are in many places perfectly perpendicular, and the scenery, although not very lofty, is yet wild and grand in the extreme, and seen, as we saw it, with the bright light and deep shadows thrown by the full moon, it was one of the most impressive pieces of scenery I ever saw. The difficulty of the pass consists not in its steepness, for the rise is little over three hundred feet in a mile, but in the mass of huge boulders which strew its bottom. Throughout its length, indeed, the [pg 70]path winds its way in and out and over a chaos of immense stones, which look as if they had but just fallen from the almost overhanging sides of the ravine. Some of these masses are as large as a good-sized house, with barely room between them for a mule to pass with his burden. In many places, indeed, there was not room at all until the Bombay Sappers, who are encamped about half-way up the pass, set to work to make it practicable by blasting away projecting edges, and in some slight way smoothing the path among the smaller rocks. In some places great dams have been formed right across the ravine, owing to two or three monster boulders having blocked the course of the stream, and from the accumulated rocks which the winter torrents have swept down upon them. Upon these great obstacles nothing less than an army of sappers could make any impression, and here the engineers have contented themselves by building a road up to the top of the dam and down again the other side. We were three hours making this four-mile passage, and the labour, the shouting, and the difficulties of the way, must be imagined. Of course we had dismounted, and had given our horses to their grooms to lead. Constantly the baggage was shifting, and required a pause and a readjustment. Now our tin pails would bang with a clash against a rock one side; now our case of brandy—taken for purely medicinal purposes—would bump against a projection on the other. Now one of the ponies would stumble, and the other nearly come upon him; now one of the mules, in quickening his pace to charge a steep ascent, would nearly pull the one which was following, and attached to him, off his feet; then there would be a fresh alarm that the ponies’ baggage was coming off. All this was repeated over and over again. There were shouts in English, [pg 71]Hindostanee, Arabic, and in other and unknown tongues. Altogether it was the most fatiguing four miles I have ever passed, and we were all regularly done when we got to the top. I should say that the water had all this time tossed and fretted between the rocks, sometimes hidden beneath them for a hundred yards, then crossing and recrossing our path, or running directly under our feet, until we were within a few hundred yards of Upper Sooro, when the ravine widening out, and the bottom being sandy, the stream no longer runs above the surface. Altogether it was a ride to be long remembered, through that lonely valley by moonlight in an utterly unknown and somewhat hostile country, as several attempts at robbery have been made by the natives lately upon small parties; and although in no case have they attacked a European, yet everyone rides with his loaded revolver in his holster. A deep silence seemed to hang over everything, broken only by our own voices, except by the occasional thrill of a cicada among the bushes, the call of a night-bird, or by the whining of a jackal, or the hoarse bark of a monkey on the hills above.

It was just eleven o’clock when we arrived at Upper Sooro. An officer at once came to the door of his tent, and with that hospitality which is universal, asked us to come in and sit while our tent was being pitched. We accepted, and he opened for us a bottle of beer, cool, and in excellent condition. Imagine our feelings. Brandy-and-water would have been true hospitality, but beer, where beer is so scarce and so precious as it is here, was a deed which deserves to be recorded in letters of gold. I forbear to name our benefactor. The Samaritan’s name has not descended to us; the widow who bestowed the mite is nameless. Let it be so in the pre[pg 72]sent case. But I shall never cease to think of that bottle of beer with gratitude.

My tent was now pitched; my servant procured some hot water and made some tea; and having taken that and some biscuit, and having seen that the horses were fed, I slightly undressed, lay down upon my water-proof sheet, and lighted a final cigar, when to my horror I observed many creeping things advancing over the sheet towards me. Upon examination they turned out to be of two species—the one a large red ant, the other a sort of tick, which I found on inquiring in the morning are camel-ticks. They are a lead colour, and about the size of sheep-ticks, but they do not run so fast. This was, indeed, a calamity, but there was nothing to be done. I was far too tired to get up and have my tent pitched in another place; besides, another place might have been just as bad. I therefore wrapped myself as tightly as I could in my rug, in hopes that they would not find their way in, and so went to sleep. In the morning I rejoiced greatly to find that I had not been bitten; for they bite horses and men, raising a bump as big as a man’s fist upon the former, and causing great pain and swelling to the latter.

I describe thus minutely the events of every day, because the life of most officers and men greatly resembles my own, and by relating my own experience I give a far more accurate idea of the sort of life we are leading in Abyssinia than I could do by any general statements.

Upper Sooro is a large commissariat dépôt, exceedingly well managed by Conductor Crow. It is a new basin of five hundred yards long by two hundred across, a widening out of the pass. It is selected for that reason, as it is the only place along the line near water where a regiment could en[pg 73]camp. Owing to its elevation above the sea the temperature is very pleasant, except for two or three hours in the middle of the day. Another agreeable change is that the thorny bushes have disappeared, and a tree without prickles, and which attains a considerable size, has taken their place.

At seven o’clock this morning the Beloochees began to arrive, having started at midnight. The advanced guard were therefore exactly the same time doing the distance that we were. Their baggage, however, has been dropping in all day, for it was loaded on camels, and most of these animals stuck fast in the narrow passages of the pass, and had to be unloaded to enable them to get through; and this happened again and again. The pass, in fact, is not, as yet, practicable for camels; mules can manage it, but it is a very close fit for them, and it will be some time yet before camels can pass with their burdens. I suppose after to-day’s experience camels will not be again employed this side of Koomaylo until the pass has been widened. Some of the poor animals were stuck fast for a couple of hours before they could be extricated. There are now a hundred of them lying down within fifty yards of my tent. I consider the camel to be the most ridiculously-overpraised animal under the sun. I do not deny that he has his virtues. He is moderately strong—not very strong for his size, for he will not carry so much as a couple of good mules; still he is fairly strong, and he can go a long time without water—a very useful quality in the desert, or on the sea-shore of Abyssinia. But patient! Heaven save the mark! He is without exception the most cantankerous animal under the sun. When he is wanted to stand up, he lies down; when he is wanted to lie down, he will not do it on any consideration; and once down he jumps up again the moment his driver’s [pg 74]back is turned. He grumbles, and growls, and roars at any order he receives, whether to stand up or lie down; whether to be loaded or to have his packs taken off. When he is once loaded and in motion he goes on quietly enough; but so does a horse, or a donkey, or any other animal. After having made himself as disagreeable as possible, there is small praise to him that he goes on when he cannot help it. I consider the mule, which people have most wrongfully named obstinate, to be a superior animal in every respect—except that he wants his drink—to the much-bepraised camel.

A messenger passed through here yesterday from Abyssinia. He was bringing letters from Mr. Rassam to Colonel Merewether. He reports that Theodore is continuing his cruelties, and killing his soldiers in numbers. Under these circumstances one can hardly feel surprised at the news that, in spite of his efforts, he is unable to increase his army beyond seven or eight thousand men. He is still at Debra Tabor.

Camp, Senafe, December 16th.

I arrived here only half-an-hour since, and find that the post is on the point of starting. I therefore have only time to write a few lines to supplement my last letter, which was sent from Sooro. All description of the pass between that resting-place and Senafe I must postpone to my next letter, and only write to say that there is no particular news here. The messenger from Mr. Rassam arrived in the camp yesterday. He states that the King of Shoa’s men are between Theodore and Magdala, and that there is every hope that they will take the latter place, and liberate the prisoners. The reports about the King of Tigré are, to a certain extent, founded on fact. He [pg 75]has professed the greatest friendship, but there are sinister reports that he really means mischief, and for two or three days the pickets have been doubled. It is not thought that there is any foundation for the report of his intention to attack us. The situation of this camp is very pleasant—upon a lofty table-land, seven thousand feet above the sea, and with a delightfully bracing wind blowing over it, and reminding one of Brighton Downs in the month of May. At night I am told that the thermometer goes down below freezing-point. The camp is situated in a slight hollow or valley in the plain; through its centre flows a stream, which when the camp was first formed was knee-deep, but has greatly fallen off since, so much so that reservoirs are being formed and wells sunk in case the supply should cease. Short as the time is before the post goes, I might have sent you more intelligence were it not that Colonels Merewether and Phayre are both absent upon some expedition in the surrounding country, and I am therefore unable to draw any news from any official source. The health of everyone up here is excellent, and the horses are suffering less from the disease which has almost decimated them in the lower ground. There are plenty of cattle brought in for sale, but unfortunately the authorities have no money to buy them with.

Senafe, December 19th.

I wrote a few lines, upon my arrival here two days ago; but as the post was upon the point of starting, I could not do more than state that the rumours which had reached us down below respecting the King of Tigré were untrue, and that that monarch was at present pursuing a course of masterly inactivity. I will now, therefore, resume my [pg 76]letter at the point where my last regular communication ended—namely, at the station of Sooro, in the pass leading to this place. I do not apologise for making my description of this pass very detailed, for at present the whole interest of the expedition centres in the passage of the troops and baggage from Zulla to this point, and I feel sure that any particulars which may enable the public to picture to themselves the country through which our soldiers are marching will be read with keen interest. From Sooro to Rayray Guddy, the next regular station, is, according to the official report, twenty-eight miles; but I am convinced, and in this opinion I am borne out by every officer I have spoken to, that thirty-three would be much nearer the fact. Indeed, in every march up here the official distances are a good deal under the truth. But, indeed, the officers of the exploring force appear to have seen everything through rose-coloured spectacles. At Zulla they reported plenty of water, and they found, a short way further, an abundance of forage, which no one else has been able to discover before or since. It was on the strength of these reports of forage and water that the baggage-animals were hurried forward. I am not blaming the officers who made the reports. They simply acted as it is the nature of explorers to act. Every father thinks his own child a prodigy. Every discoverer believes that the country, or river, or lake which he has been the first to report on, is a country, river, or lake such as no man ever saw before. Over and over again this has happened, and disastrous consequences have ere now arisen from the persistent use by explorers of these rose-coloured spectacles. It is not more than four or five years—to give one example out of a thousand—since Dr. Livingstone reported that he had discovered a magnificent navigable [pg 77]river in Eastern Africa, with rice, cotton, and corn abounding upon its banks, and a climate beyond reproach. In consequence of this report the “Universities Mission” was organised, and a band of missionaries, headed by their bishop, Mackenzie, started. After months of struggle they arrived at the place of disembarkation, having already discovered that their noble stream was, at a good average time of year, about three feet deep. There they set up their mission; there, one by one, these noble fellows died of want and of fever, victims of an explorer’s rose-coloured spectacles. After that we must not grudge the few hundred mules that have fallen a sacrifice to the want of springs and forage which could be seen only through the glasses of the chiefs of the exploring party.

From Sooro to Rayray Guddy is too far a march to be made in one day along such a road as there is at present, and accordingly it is generally broken at a spot called Guinea-fowl Plain, where there is a well yielding a small supply of water, the colour of pea-soup. We had had quite sufficient of night-marching previously, and, having passed one day at Sooro, we started at ten o’clock the following morning. We had intended to have started an hour earlier; but making a start here is a very different thing from sending for a cab at an appointed time to catch a train. In the first place there are the trunks, which have been opened the night before, to close; there is the tent to strike and pack up. Then at the last moment you discover that your servants have not washed up the breakfast-things, and that your mule-wallah has not yet taken his animals to water. At last, when all is ready, comes the important operation of loading the four baggage-animals. Each load has to be adjusted with the nicest precision, or the very first piece of rough ground you arrive at, round goes the [pg 78]saddle, and your belongings come to the ground with a crash. With our two mules we have the “Otago saddle,” which is excellent. Indeed, in the opinion of almost everyone here, it is by far the best of the rival saddles. Upon these saddles we pack our own baggage, and once fairly adjusted this is pretty safe for the day. Not so the other animals, for which we have common mule-saddles. Upon these is piled a multifarious collection of bundles. Our servants’ five kits, our animals’ rugs and ropes, our tents, two sacks containing cooking-utensils and numerous etceteras, and a water-skin for use upon the road. The actual weight that these animals have to carry is not so great as that borne by the others; but the trouble of adjusting and fastening on is at least ten times as great. The loads have frequently to be taken off three or four times, and then when we think all is right, and get fairly into motion, we have not gone twenty yards before there is a gradual descending motion observed on one side of an animal, and a corresponding rise of the opposite burden, and we are obliged to stop and readjust everything, or in another minute or two the whole would have toppled over. These things ruffle the temper somewhat, and our equanimity is not improved by the intense stupidity which our native servants always manifest upon these occasions. They seem to have no eye. They heap bundles on the side which was before palpably the heaviest; they twist cords where cords can be of no earthly use: altogether they are horribly aggravating. However, by this time I am getting accustomed to these things, and take matters into my own hands, and insist on things being done exactly as I direct them. At ten o’clock, then, we were fairly off, and I do not know that I ever rode through a more monotonous valley than that between Sooro [pg 79]and Guinea-fowl Plain. It was the counterpart of that I described in my last letter as extending between Koomaylo and Lower Sooro. A dead flat of two or three hundred yards across, with the torrent’s bed winding across it, and spur after spur of mountain turning it every quarter of a mile. Some of the mountain views which we saw up the ravines were certainly very fine, but it became monotonous in the extreme after six hours’ march at the rate of little over two miles an hour. The vegetation, however, had changed since the preceding day. The thorny bush no longer covered everything, but a variety of shrubs now bordered the path, and the diversity of their foliage was a relief to the eye. Immense quantities of locusts were everywhere met with, making the ground yellow where they lay, and rising with a rustling noise, which was very discomposing to the horses at our approach. They did not eat all the shrubs, but the species upon which they fed were absolutely covered with them, and most of their favourite plants were stripped completely bare. Monkeys, or rather baboons, still abounded: we saw numerous large troops of them, which must have been over a hundred strong. It was about five o’clock when we reached Guinea-fowl Plain, which may have guinea-fowls, although we saw none; but which is most certainly not a plain, for at the place where the well is the valley is narrower than it had been for miles previously. Here we found some really large trees, and under them we pitched our tent. It was not long before our servants had fires lighted and dinner in a forward state. There were two or three other parties who had arrived before us, and, as it got dusk, all lighted fires; and, as each party, with their cooking and grooms’ fires, had at least three bonfires going, it made quite a pictur[pg 80]esque scene. The night was raw and cold, and we had a few drops of rain. It was fortunate that we had brought water with us for cooking purposes, for the water in the well was perfectly undrinkable.

The next morning we were again off early for our longest journey, that on to Rayray Guddy, where food would be procurable for horse and man, neither one nor the other being obtainable at Guinea-fowl Plain, where there is no commissariat station. We had carried our own food, and a small portion of grain for the horses; but they would have fared very badly had we not met some natives in the pass with a bundle of hay, and done a little barter with them for rice. The valley for the first twelve or fourteen miles from Guinea-fowl Plain greatly resembled in its general features that we had passed the day previously, but the vegetation became more varied and interesting every mile. We now had great trees of ivy, we had the evergreen oak, and occasionally gigantic tulip-trees. We had great numbers of a tree, or rather large shrub, of the name of which I am ignorant; its leaves more resembled the sprays of the asparagus when it has run far to seed than any other foliage I know, but the growth of the shrub was more like a yew. Upon its branches were vast quantities of a parasite resembling the mistletoe, whose dark-green leaves afforded a fine contrast to the rather bluish tint of the tree. Climbing everywhere over the trees, and sometimes almost hiding them, were creepers of various kinds; on the ground grew vast quantities of the aloe. There were, too, numerous cacti of various kinds, some thick and bulky, others no thicker than a lady’s little finger, and growing like a creeper over the trees. But, strangest of all, upon the hill-sides grew an immense plant, [pg 81]or rather tree, of the cactus tribe, which I had never seen before. It started by a straight stem fifteen or twenty feet high, and thicker than a man’s body. This branched out into a great number of arms, which all grew upwards, and to just the same height, giving it a strange and formal appearance, exactly resembling a gigantic cauliflower. I believe its name is Euphorbia candalabriensis, but do not at all vouch for this. Some of the mountain slopes were quite covered with this strange tree, but as a general thing it grew singly or in pairs. The tulip-trees were superb; they grew generally in rocky places, and with their huge twisted trunks, and glossy green leaves, and limbs more than a hundred feet long, they were studies for a painter.

At about three miles from Rayray Guddy the valley narrowed to a ravine, and we came upon running water. The pass from here to the station is steep and difficult, but nothing to that at Sooro. Having drawn our rations, and received the unwelcome intelligence that there was no hay, and only the scantiest possible amount of grain for our animals, we established our camp and went up to look at the land transport division, about a quarter of a mile higher up the valley. There were four or five hundred mules and ponies here, in good order, but hardly good condition; in fact, the work has been hard and forage scant. How hard the work has been, our journey of the two preceding days had testified. All along the line of march we had come across the carcasses of dead animals, from which great vultures rose lazily at our approach. As we approached Rayray Guddy the remains of the victims occurred much more frequently, and the air was everywhere impregnated with the fœtid odour. This was only to be expected, as the poor animals had been obliged to [pg 82]endeavour to accomplish the march of thirty miles from Sooro without food, and in most cases without water. No time should be lost in forming a small commissariat dépôt at Guinea-fowl Plain, where a ration of hay and grain could be served out to the animals as they pass through. The work these baggage-animals have to go through is extremely severe, and their half-starved appearance testifies that they have not sufficient food served out to them, and to expect them to do two days’ work on their one day’s scanty rations is a little too much even from mules. We found our friends who had started before us from Guinea-fowl Plain encamped up there with Captain Mortimer of the transport train. It was proposed that we should throw in our mess with them. We accordingly returned to our own encampment, took our meat and rum, our plates and knives and forks, and marched back again. In an hour dinner was ready, and in the mean time I was glad of an opportunity of inquiring how this advanced division of the transport train had got on. I found that they had, like the one down at Zulla, had the greatest trouble with their drivers. The officer complained bitterly of the class of men who had been sent out—Greeks, Italians, Frenchmen, Spaniards, the mere sweepings of Alexandria, Cairo, Beyrout, and Smyrna. The Hindoo drivers, he said, upon the whole, worked steadily, and were more reliable than the others, but were greatly wanting in physical strength. The Persians, on the contrary, were very strong and powerful men, and could load three mules while a Hindoo could load one; but they had at first given very great trouble, had mutinied and threatened to desert in a body, but, upon the application of the lash to two or three of the ringleaders, things had gone on more smoothly. The Arab drivers had [pg 83]almost all deserted. Even up here the mules still suffer from the disease which prevailed down upon the plain, and which carried off a hundred horses of the 3d Native Cavalry. It is very sudden in its action, and is in nearly every case fatal. The animals seem seized with some internal pain, arch their backs, and become rigid. In a short time the tongue grows black, a discharge takes place from the nostrils, and in a few hours, sometimes not more than one, from the time he is attacked, the animal is dead. At present, as with our cattle-disease, all remedies are ineffectual. Animals in good condition are more liable to be attacked than are the poorer ones. After dinner we returned to our tent, where, however, we did not pass a remarkably-pleasant night. In the first place, it was bitterly cold—the temperature of Rayray Guddy is indeed colder than it is here; and in the second, a mule had broken loose from its head-ropes, and came down to our encampment. Five or six times it nearly upset our tent by tumbling over the tent-ropes, in addition to which it made our horses so savage by going up among them, that we were afraid of their breaking loose. Four or five times, therefore, did we have to get up and go out in the cold to drive the beast away with stones. The grooms were sleeping at their horses’ heads, but were so wrapped up in their rugs that they heard nothing of it. The next morning it was so cold that we were really glad to be up and moving, and were on our way at a little before eight. The first six miles of the road is narrow and winding, and is as lovely a road as I ever passed. With the exception only of the narrow pathway, the gorge was one mass of foliage. In addition to all the plants I have mentioned as occurring below, we had now the wild fig, the laburnum, various sorts of acacia, and many others, [pg 84]One plant in particular, I believe a species of acacia, was in seed; the seed-pods were a reddish-brown, but were very thin and transparent, and when the sun shone upon them were of the colour of the clearest carmine. As these shrubs were in great abundance, and completely covered with seed-pods, their appearance was very brilliant. Among all these plants fluttered numerous humming-birds of the most lovely colours. Other birds of larger size and gorgeous plumage perched among the trees at a short distance from the path. Brilliant butterflies flitted here and there among the flowers.

At last we came to an end of this charming ride, and prepared for a work of a very different nature. We turned from the ravine which we had now followed for sixty miles, and prepared boldly to ascend the hill-side. As soon as we left the ravine all the semi-tropical vegetation was at an end; we were climbing a steep hill covered with boulders, between which stunted pines thrust their gnarled branches and dark foliage. We had gone at one leap from a tropical ravine to a highland mountain-side. The ascent was, I should say, at the least a thousand feet, and a worse thousand-feet climb I never had before and never wish to have again. It is a mere track which zigzags up among the rocks and trees, and which was made by the 10th Native Infantry and the Sappers, as the pioneer force rested below and had breakfast. The men effected marvels considering that it was the work of two hours only; but it is at best a mere track. Sometimes the mules mount a place as steep as a flight of stairs; then they have to step over a rock three feet high. In fact, it is one long struggle up to the top, and in no place wide enough for two mules to pass. One [pg 85]mule falling puts a stop to a whole train, and this was exemplified in our case, for we were following a long line of mules when they suddenly came to a stop. For half-an-hour we waited patiently, and then, climbing up the rocks and through the trees at the side of the stationary mules, we finally came to the cause of detention—one of the mules had fallen. The drivers had taken no efforts to remove his pack or his saddle, but were sitting by his side quietly smoking their pipes. After a little strong language we took off his saddle, got things right, and the train proceeded again. This is the great want of the transport corps—a strong body of inspectors, as they are called, volunteers from European regiments. There ought to be one of these to every ten or fifteen drivers, who, as in the present case, if not looked after by a European, will shirk work in every possible way. But this is a subject upon which I shall have much more to say at a future time. This road or path is really not practicable for the passage of mules, for, although singly they can go up well enough, if one party going up were to meet another going down, it is probable that, if no European came up to make one party or other retrace their steps, they would remain there until the last animal died of starvation. Three companies of the Beloochee regiment arrived yesterday at the bottom of the hill, and have set to work to widen and improve it; and as a party of sappers and miners have begun to work downwards from the top, the road will soon be made passable. For this hill-side is not like the pass of Sooro, which would require an incredible amount of labour to render it a decent road. There are no natural obstacles here beyond trees to be cut down and stones to be rolled away; so that by the time the main [pg 86]body of the army arrives I have no doubt that they will find a fair road up to the plateau.

Senafe, December 20th.

I closed my letter in great haste yesterday afternoon, for the authorities suddenly arrived at the conclusion that it was the last day for the English mail. I was obliged to break off abruptly in my description of the road, being at the point where we had just arrived upon the plateau. Looking backwards, we could see peak after peak extending behind us, which when we had been winding among their bases had looked so high above us, but which now were little above the level of the spot where we were standing. A few of the peaks around us might have been a thousand or fifteen hundred feet higher than the plateau, and we were standing nearly on the summit of that high range of hills we had seen from the sea. We are now seven thousand four hundred feet above Zulla, and by my description of the pass it will be seen that it is no child’s-play to attain this height. It is not that the ascent is so steep; on the contrary, taking the distance at seventy miles, the rise is only one in a hundred, an easy gradient for a railway; but more than half the rise takes place in three short steep ascents, namely, the Sooro pass, a rise of one thousand five hundred feet in four miles; the Rayray Guddy pass, a rise of one thousand feet in three miles; and the last climb on to the plateau, a rise of one thousand five hundred feet in two miles. Thus four thousand feet, or more than half the rise, takes place in nine miles, and over the remaining distance the rise is only one foot in every two hundred. The [pg 87]difficulties of the journey are the general roughness of the road, the long distances the animals have to go without water, and the ascent of the Sooro pass, for there is no doubt that the final rise to the plateau will soon be made a good road by the exertions of the Beloochees and Sappers. Turning our horses’ heads we proceeded onward. The change to an open plain and a fresh wind in place of the long valley and oppressive stillness was charming. One would have thought oneself on the top of a Welsh hill. The ground was a black peaty soil, with a short dried-up grass. Here and there were small patches of cultivated ground, and clumps of rock cropped up everywhere. Looking forward, we could see that the general character of the ground was that of a plain; but enormous masses of rock, of seven or eight hundred feet in height, rose perpendicularly in fantastic shapes sheer up from the plain. Here and there were ranges of mountains, some of considerable altitude. Far in the distance we could see hills rising between hills, but never attaining any great height. Everywhere over the plain were little groups of cattle and sheep grazing. We were evidently in a thickly-populated country.

After about two miles’ ride we turned the corner of a slight rise, and there before us lay the camp. It is prettily situated on the side of a little valley, and faces the north. The 10th Native Infantry are encamped on the right wing; the Mountain Train occupy the centre; and the 3d Cavalry camp lies on the left. Behind the rise a plain stretches away, and upon this the troops will be encamped as they arrive. The soil of the valley-side and of the plain beyond is a mere sand, covered with grass and bushes, but in the hollow of the valley, where the stream [pg 88]runs, or rather used to run, it is a deep black peat. Wells are now being sunk in this peat, and these rapidly fill with water. There are still deep pools where the stream formerly ran, and dams have been formed, which will keep back a considerable supply of water. The troops are not, therefore, likely to fall short for some time, and if they should, there is plenty at a stream two or three miles farther on. The health of the troops is pretty good, but both officers and men are subject to slight attacks of fever, much more so than they were when encamped on the plain by the sea. This is singular, for except that the nights are rather cold, this feels the very perfection of climate. The horses and mules are doing much better up here, and although some died at first, it is probable that they had brought the seeds of the disease with them from the pass below. As it is, the cavalry have suffered terribly. The 5th Cavalry, out of five hundred horses, have lost one hundred and seventy, and the officers’ horses of the infantry and Mountain Train have been nearly exterminated.

Things are very tranquil here. The King of Tigré, after first being friendly, and then blustering a little, has just at present, influenced probably by the reports of the increasing force of the expedition, determined upon the prudent policy of friendship, at any rate until he sees a better opportunity of plunder than he does at present. Yesterday afternoon an ambassador arrived from him, saying magnanimously, “Why should we not be friends? My foes are your foes; my interests your interests. Take therefore my forage, and my blessing.” Colonel Merewether is greatly delighted at this message, and sees, through those rose-coloured spectacles of his, an early end to the expedition. [pg 89]Everyone else is perfectly indifferent. The King of Tigré’s army of 7000 men could be scattered like chaff by a battalion of Europeans; and if he ever sees a chance of falling upon our rear, it is more than probable that his friendly professions will go for nothing. I do not think that the smallest reliance can be placed in the friendship of these semi-savage chiefs.

We gave his ambassador a lesson this morning, which will, I have no doubt, have its effect. It was a brigade field-day, and Colonel Merewether took the ambassador out to witness it. It is a great pity that the artillery and the infantry had not a few rounds of blank cartridge, which would have given his ambassadorship a much more lively idea of what the real thing would be like, and would have given him such a tale to bear to his king and master as would have opened his Majesty’s eyes to what the consequences of a war with us would probably be. But even as it was, it no doubt had a very salutary effect. The enemy were supposed to be holding a steep rise at the mouth of a long valley. The infantry threw forward skirmishers, and the mountain guns took up a position upon a neighbouring hill, and were supposed to open a heavy fire. Presently the infantry advanced in line, and made a rush up the steep rise. As they reached the top they lowered bayonets to the charge, and with a loud cheer rushed upon the defenders. An instant afterwards the word “Charge!” was given to cavalry, and away they went down the valley, sweeping the enemy’s supports and the fugitives from the hill before them for half a mile, and then scattering in pursuit. It was very well done, and, as I have said, no doubt had its effect, especially when the ambassador was made to understand that [pg 90]the force he saw before him was only one-tenth of our advancing army. The movements of the troops were fairly performed, and did great credit to their respective commanding-officers. Their remaining horses are in excellent condition, and are very strong serviceable animals. Their uniform is a very effective one, light-blue and silver, with white covers to their forage caps. The infantry, whose uniform is precisely similar to our own, also wear white cap-covers. Going out to the parade-ground, which is about two miles distant from here, we passed several native villages, and a great number of them can be seen scattered all over the plains. The country, indeed, is very thickly populated; very much more so than a rural district in England of the same extent. The people possess goats, sheep, and cattle in abundance, together with ponies, donkeys, and mules. They are ready to sell all these animals to us, but demand very high prices, which has been to a certain extent encouraged by the prices Colonel Merewether has ordered to be paid at the bazaar for them. Thus, he has fixed the price of a goat at a dollar and a half, that is six and ninepence, whereas I paid down in the pass only two shillings for a goat, and could have bought any number at that price. It is probable, too, that the current price for goats, or indeed for any animals, is considerably less here than in the valley, for there forage is extremely scarce, and must be sought at long distances; whereas here it is abundant, the plains being covered with it. Of course, this price having been once fixed, the natives will not take less, that is, in specie. They would take a shilling’s worth of rice for a goat; but of course we have no rice to give them. It may make but little difference to Colonel Merewether [pg 91]whether he pays seven shillings or two shillings for a goat; but the subalterns naturally grumble at having to pay three times the real value for their food. Not, indeed, that the officers here have to buy much, for their guns supplement their rations to a very considerable extent. Guinea-fowls, partridges, ducks, and geese abound, and a large number are daily shot by the sportsmen of the camp. The ration allowance of one pound of meat, including bone, a pound of biscuit, two ounces of preserved vegetables, and a quarter of a pound of rice, is quite insufficient for one’s wants in a bracing atmosphere like this. The meat issued contains an enormous proportion of bone, so that there is little if at all more than half a pound of clear meat in a ration. I am sure that I consume at least three times my daily allowance of meat.

The natives completely swarm about our camp. The men do not do much, but loiter about with their swords and spears, and shields made of elephant-hide. These spears are really formidable weapons. They are from six to ten feet long, and weighted at both ends, and the natives are able to throw them with great force and considerable accuracy for a distance of over thirty yards. These would be ugly weapons in a hand-to-hand fight in a bush, but as it is, against a disciplined force armed with firearms, they are simply absurd, and I have seen no offensive weapons—such as bows or arrows—which could be used with effect against us during the passage of a defile, in their possession, since my arrival in the country. The women appear to do all the work. They come into the camp in hundreds laden with firewood, and keep up a perpetual cry of “Lockaree, lockaree!”—which is the Hindoostanee for wood, they having [pg 92]picked up that word,—and “Parnè!” water. Even the children bring their bundles of wood. The women are not nearly so pretty as some of them I saw down the pass, nor are they so neatly clad. They are dressed in cotton and leather; but neither are these so tastefully arranged, or so fancifully ornamented with shells, as were those I described in a previous letter. They are very thin, many of the children painfully so, which is surprising when one sees the abundance of their flocks and herds. The villages, too, are well built. The houses are low and flat-roofed. They are in many cases built of stone, and some of them have inner courts, with a sort of veranda formed of boughs to sit under. They have, like the Arab villages I saw at Alexandria, and which they strongly resemble, no windows; but as the native’s life is entirely passed in the open air, I suppose that matters but little. The natives seem to feel the cold much, and go shivering about in the early morning and evening in a pitiful way. They bring in honey for sale in pots, weighing about ten pounds, and for which they charge two dollars. Their own drink is made of this honey, fermented with the juice of a plant which grows abundantly upon the plain. The honey, as they bring it into camp, is very impure, and needs refining before using. The commissariat officer rode out yesterday to one of the villages, and bought a quantity of chillies, which will prove a great addition to our fare when they begin to issue them, for we have had no pepper served out since we landed; and a course of mutton, unrelieved by condiment of any kind, is apt to pall upon the stomach.

All praise must be given to the commissariat for the way in which they have performed the service from Zulla to this [pg 93]place. Not one day have the troops been without their rations; and the animals, although they have not always received their full supply, have yet always had something to eat at the end of the day’s work. No commissariat officer accompanied the pioneer force in their march up; but the whole arrangements were made by Conductor Darcey, to whom the greatest credit is due. During the whole march he did not lose a single animal, or a single bag of grain. A commissariat officer has arrived within the last two days; but honour should be given where it is due, and certainly the greatest credit is due to those noncommissioned officers for the manner in which, alone and unaided, they have carried out the difficult duties intrusted to them. Two prisoners were brought in yesterday. They are part of the gang who have been infesting the pass, robbing every convoy without a guard of Europeans. They were captured by a friendly chief, who, with his men, came upon the whole gang. The rest fled, throwing away their weapons, of which quite a bundle was brought into camp. The prisoners, being old men, were unable to escape, and were brought in triumph by their captors into Rayray Guddy, whence they were forwarded to Colonel Merewether. Their preliminary examination by the interpreter took place in the open air. The prisoners and their accusers squatted in a circle, and a number of natives gathered round. These last were evidently greatly amused and surprised at the formality of the proceedings,—as the guilt of the accused was undoubted, articles of European manufacture, such as portions of harness, being found in their possession,—and the idea being evidently prevalent that we should hang them at once. They were removed to the guard-tent, and will, I suppose, be regularly tried, and well flogged, in a day or two.

[pg 94]

This expectation was not verified; the prisoners were let off, with an admonition to behave better in future; and this happened again and again. The absurd course pursued by our political officer towards native offenders produced, as might have been expected, very disastrous consequences afterwards. The natives learnt that our baggage could be plundered with impunity, and that even when taken red-handed in the act, the chances were that no punishment whatever would be inflicted. They naturally ascribed this conduct on our part to fear—for in Abyssinia the punishment for theft is very severe, the culprit frequently having his hand cut off—and were encouraged to plunder accordingly. A moderate share of energy, one grain of common sense among the authorities at Senafe at this time, so that the first two or three offenders caught plundering our convoys in open day should have been flogged to within an inch of their lives, and plundering would have been put a stop to at once and for ever; and a very great many lives, both of our own muleteers and of the natives themselves, would have been eventually saved.

It is a great satisfaction to know that in the course of a short time we shall be able to purchase for the use of the army any number of bullocks and sheep. We have not been able to do so heretofore, for the absurd reason that we have had no money. Will it be believed that a body of troops marching on into a country where it is supposed they would be able to purchase any quantity of animals for themselves and the army which is to follow them, should have come up with the military chest totally unprovided with money? It is almost too preposterous, but it is perfectly true. A chest of two thousand [pg 95]pounds arrived yesterday under a guard. But what are two thousand pounds when we want three or four thousand bullocks alone, and when Colonel Merewether has fixed the price of each at six dollars and a half—that is, as nearly as possible, thirty shillings?

I shall be able to send you but little news from here. Colonel Merewether proceeds to-morrow morning forty miles into the interior. He takes with him a troop of cavalry, a large stock of mules, &c., but he declines positively to allow a confrère and myself to accompany him. He is civil, but firm. “The addition of two persons would probably break down the whole party. Starvation might ensue, and he could not guarantee that we should be fed.” These are actually word for word the reasons he gives for declining to allow the only two special correspondents here from accompanying his force. He can victual himself, Colonel Phayre, three or four other staff-officers, and a troop of cavalry; but two correspondents were too much for the resources of the commissariat. We called upon him twice; we urged upon him that it was a matter of great interest to the public that we should go forward. We said that we would put him to no trouble, but would bring our own mules, with ten days’ provisions, if necessary. He declined positively to allow us to go. He would, when he returned, give us details, and that was all he would do. The public, in fact, might read his official report and be thankful; for none other, says he, shall they receive. Had we arrived here as two unaccredited strangers, his conduct was perfectly explicable; but provided as we were by the courtesy of the India Office with letters to Sir Robert Napier, and furnished by him, in consequence, with a circular letter, requesting all officers of the army to forward our [pg 96]wishes in every way, we certainly had not expected to have been refused the chance of availing ourselves of the very first opportunity which has fallen in our way of sending you something really new from Abyssinia.

Camp, Senafe, December 23d.

At the time I closed my last letter I had no idea that my next communication would be dated Senafe. Colonel Merewether’s unaccountable refusal to allow my fellow-correspondent and myself to accompany him upon his expedition had rendered our further stay here useless.

Accordingly, an hour or two after the expedition had started from camp, I packed up a light kit and started for the sea-shore. The road, as far as the top of the first descent, is now so free from stone that it might be used as a race-course, but we found that nothing had yet been done with the zigzag down the face of the hill. However, as we met no mules upon our way it was an easy descent enough; indeed the whole pass, from end to end, although it has its difficulties, still presents no real obstacle to a single traveller. It is only when viewed in the light of a highway for an army, as the only line of communication up which the stores of 20,000 men must come, that one considers it to be a really terrible business. No forage is procurable for the baggage-animals between the sea and Senafe, seventy miles. A large proportion, therefore, of the mules is occupied in carrying food for themselves and their companions. The stages, too, for heavily-burdened animals across an exceedingly-rough road are distressingly long. Twelve miles a-day, with a pause for an hour to feed and water in the middle of the day, could be done by [pg 97]heavily-loaded mules without deterioration of their quality. But here all the stages, except the last, considerably exceed that distance; and from Sooro to Rayray Guddy, over thirty miles, is practically without food or water. This is what makes the Koomaylo Pass so difficult as the highway of an army—want of forage the whole distance, and long intervals between the watering-places; to which may be added the disease which infects the pass and decimates the animals as they go up and down. The mule, although one of the most enduring of creatures, and capable of sustaining great privations, is yet a delicate animal. Feed him well, keep him supplied with water and hay, and he will do wonders; but without regular and abundant food he falls away rapidly. During the last campaign in Italy there were thousands of mules engaged transporting provisions up the Tyrol to Garibaldi. They had great fatigue and long marches, but they were well fed and had plenty of water; and consequently throughout the campaign I never saw a dead mule, and hardly one out of condition. Here it is just the reverse; the mules are greatly fallen off, and although they are now much better fed, they will be a very long time before they regain their lost strength. In respect to food a great improvement has been effected in the last few days. Captain Sewell has been here about a week. He is in charge of the commissariat, and has purchased considerable quantities of hay, which is now served out to the mules here, and to their even worse-off brethren down at Rayray Guddy; for here, at least, in their intervals of labour the mules were able to graze, while in the valley there is not a blade of grass to be had. Captain Mortimer, indeed, who is in charge of the transport division there, only kept his animals alive by compelling their drivers to go up [pg 98]to the summit of the hills, either before their day’s work is begun or after it was over, and to cut and bring down a certain weight of hay. It is very fortunate that vultures are so abundant in this country. Were it not for them the pass would be unbearable from the taint of dead animals. Between the top of the pass and Rayray Guddy, a distance of eight miles, we passed more than that number of dead mules and ponies, most of which had been only dead three days at most; and everyone of these had been partially eaten by the vultures, who keep wheeling and circling in the air overhead, and scarcely is life out of an animal before these scavengers swoop down upon it. I have seen as many as seven or eight of these great birds eating and fighting over the carcass of a single horse. The ride from the bottom of the steep incline to Rayray Guddy I have already described, and it is certainly the most beautiful ride of seven miles I ever traversed, the brilliancy and variety of the foliage, the number and beauty of the humming-birds and butterflies, all being in addition to the ordinary scenery of a mountain pass. I find that the great trees I described as tulip-trees are not really tulip-trees, although their foliage strangely resembles that tree. Authorities differ as to what they really are; some affirming that they are banyan-trees, while others say that no banyan-tree was ever seen without the long pendulous roots from its branches, of which there are here no trace.

Upon reaching Rayray Guddy we found that Sir Charles Staveley had arrived there two hours previously from Sooro. He had not heard of the departure of Colonels Merewether, Phayre, and Wilkins, and as the principal object of his journey had been to see them, he was of course much disappointed. However, he determined now he had come so [pg 99]far, to go on to Senafe, and we decided upon returning with him, as we had now no motive for going down, and, indeed, it was possible that he might either ride out himself to the point whither Colonel Merewether had gone, or might send an aide-de-camp to request him to return, in either of which cases we knew that he would grant us permission to go. General Staveley was the more disappointed at the absence of Colonel Merewether because he had taken the precaution of writing two days previously to announce his coming. The letter, of course, had not arrived, for the general had performed the distance in three days from Zulla to Senafe, and the post would take at least two days longer. Nothing, indeed, can possibly be worse than the postal arrangements, or rather want of arrangement. Relays of men on foot carry the letters, and even these do not travel at night. But the great question which everyone is asking is, “What becomes of the letters?” I have not received a single letter or newspaper of a later date than November 4th. Some few people have been more fortunate, and occasionally get a letter or paper; but they are exceptions. One feels as absolutely cut off from England as if a great gulf had opened between us. I did hear this morning from someone who had had the luck to receive an odd newspaper that the amount for the Abyssinian war had been voted, and we had a hearty laugh over the news that the expenses were laid at four millions. I only hope that the post down is a little better regulated than that up, for if not, instead of getting my letters regularly once a-week, they will probably arrive in a mass about the end of next June. The general came up here on the 22d. He will, I believe, start on his return journey to-morrow, whether Colonel Merewether and [pg 100]his party come into camp or not, as his presence is absolutely necessary on the sea-shore. It will be unfortunate if he should miss them after his long journey up here, especially as he had made certain of seeing them; for the committee of exploration, which consisted of Colonels Merewether, Phayre, and Wilkins, was dissolved by an order of General Napier, which was published ten days since, and of which these gentlemen of course received a copy. General Napier thanked them warmly for their efforts to carry out their duty, and for the success which had attended them, but stated that General Sir Charles Staveley had gone to Zulla to take the command until he himself arrived, and that therefore there was no longer any occasion for the existence of the committee. In the face of this order General Staveley could hardly have expected that these gentlemen would have proceeded on an expedition forty miles into the interior without any consultation or reference to himself.

An important messenger came into the camp on the afternoon of the 22d. He stated that he was the servant of Mr. Flad, and, indeed, was identified as being so by several people in camp. He stated that he had started with a letter from Mr. Flad, and with one from King Theodore, but that he had been robbed of them upon the way. He brought, however, one piece of important and very disagreeable news, namely, that Theodore had marched from Debra Tabor to Magdala; had raised the siege of that place by the King of Shoa, and had taken the whole of the captives back with him to Debra Tabor. This is the most unfortunate occurrence which could possibly have taken place. As long as the captives were separated from him by his enemies they were safe; and if, as will in all probability be the case, the [pg 101]army of Theodore should disband at our approach, and he himself rule safely in the fortresses of the mountains, where search for him would be out of the question, we should have marched to Magdala and effected the release of the prisoners. Now we have no such hope. We may toil on across mountain and ravine, but we know that our hands are shackled, and that the tyrant we war against can at any moment purchase peace upon his own terms. Theodore can laugh our efforts to scorn; he knows that he need not disquiet himself. He can let the expedition approach him. He can chuckle over the enormous waste of treasure and effort, even if not of human life; and he knows that at the last moment he can arrest us with the ultimatum—“Return at once, and I will release my prisoners; move one step forward, and I will sacrifice every one.” This is very disheartening, and takes away from the expedition that zest and buoyancy which the thought of a possible skirmish at the end of the toilsome journey would give it. Nothing could be more unfortunate than the loss of Theodore’s letter by Mr. Flad’s servant. It may be that in it Theodore offered to restore the captives at once upon the agreement that we would advance no farther. It may be that he held out the threat that the prisoners would be put to death did we not at once agree to his terms. Altogether it is most unfortunate. It is to be hoped that Theodore will see the manifest likelihood of his messenger being stopped upon the way, and will send his letter in duplicate by some other hand. There is a rumour current among the natives this morning that Theodore has released the captives, and that they are upon their way down. There is, of course, no finding out the origin of this report, but it is most unlikely [pg 102]that he would deliver them up until, at any rate, he had obtained a promise that we in return would abandon all idea of advancing upon him.

The disease among the horses still continues. Those who have been the longest up here appear comparatively safe, but it would seem to require some time to get the disease out of the blood. Every morning three or four mules are dragged out of the camp to the foot of the hills, a mile off, there to be eaten by the vultures. Yesterday afternoon my groom came to me with the unpleasant intelligence, “Sahib, your baggage-pony ill.” I went out and found him lying down. Upon the veterinary surgeon arriving he shook his head, and, pointing to the swollen tongue, said that it was the disease, and that in a couple of hours it would be dead. We tried brandy-and-water in the vain hope of reviving him, but it was quite useless, and in a little over the two hours the pony died, having been apparently unconscious for an hour and a half previously. Yesterday, too, the horse of Dr. Lamb, chief veterinary surgeon of the transport corps, died. Dr. Lamb came up with us a week since. After spending three days here inspecting the animals he returned, but as he did not wish his horse to run the risk of again going down into the pass, he left it here in perfect health, and rode down again upon a baggage-pony. Yesterday the poor animal died, after the usual three hours’ illness. Dr. Lamb strongly recommended that all animals which can be spared should be at once sent up here. Unfortunately none of the baggage-animals, except those which work the last stage from Rayray Guddy here, can be spared. They must remain below to carry up provisions and baggage whatever the mortality may be. General Staveley has ordered that in future 10 [pg 103]per cent of spare animals shall accompany every train of loaded mules, to take the baggage off those who give in on the way. He has also ordered that the artillery-horses shall be instantly sent up here with their native attendants. The soldiers cannot accompany them, as their warm clothing has not yet arrived. He has also ordered that the cavalry regiments shall be sent on the instant they land. The general has taken particular interest in the transport train since he arrived at Zulla, and it is due to the order he gave and to the assistance with which he supplied them from the 33d and Beloochee regiments, that the train down at Zulla has been enabled to make head against the tremendous difficulties they have sustained owing to the wholesale desertion among the drivers, and to the uselessness of a great portion of those who remain. He has divided the baggage-animals which are in the country into regular squadrons, stationing a number at each station proportioned to the length and hardship of the journey. General Staveley, indeed, is the very man for an expedition of this sort. Whatever he sees is necessary, he takes upon himself the responsibility of ordering to be done. I consider his arrival at Zulla to have been most providential. Everything was going wrong, disorder ruled supreme. All this is now at an end. General Staveley has taken the command, and unity of action is once more introduced. Whether Colonel Phayre, now that his committee of exploration is dissolved, may determine to go down to Zulla or to remain here, is now of little importance, as Major Baigrie, the deputy-quartermaster-general, is fully capable of carrying on the duties, supported as he is by the weight of General Staveley’s authority.

This morning the 10th Native Infantry were engaged in [pg 104]clearing a large space of ground of stones, in order to make it suitable for a parade-ground. It was wonderful to see how fast they got through the work, and how much more they accomplished than an equal number of Europeans would have done in the same time. And this because squatting is the normal attitude of an Oriental. In this attitude they can remain for hours; therefore the work of collecting the stones into heaps, which in turn were carried away in empty rice-bags by another party, was the easiest affair possible. It is very amusing looking on at these native fatigue-parties, the varieties of costume are so great. The 10th Native Infantry, like the Beloochees, is recruited from all parts of India, and contain Mussulmans, Punjaubees, Sikhs, Patans, Hill-men, and, in fact, specimens of most of the native races, the Hindostanee proper being greatly in the minority. To a certain extent these men cling to their own costume, consequently in a party of a hundred of them on fatigue-duty the variety is astonishing. Men in red turbans and white turbans, in red, white, or violet nightcaps—these articles having been served out to these men as part of their warm clothing—some in coloured jackets, white underclothing, and long drawers, others with nothing on but the cumberband, or loincloth, some entirely in white, with their legs covered to the knee. Many are the shades of colour too, from nearly jet black down to the rich bronze of the Sikhs. Almost all are fine, well-built men, and all appear to work with good temper and with a will. The parade is to take place upon the new ground to-morrow evening. It is not settled yet upon what day General Staveley will leave, but his present intention is, in case Colonel Merewether returns on the morning of the 25th, to start the same afternoon.

[pg 105]

Camp, Senafe, December 26th.

When I wrote on the 23d instant I had not made up my mind whether I should spend Christmas here or on the road downwards. But circumstances finally compelled me to wait here until to-day; and I am glad for several reasons that I did so. The first and most important was in reference to the story brought by Mr. Flad’s servant, namely, that Theodore had marched to Magdala, had raised the siege of that fortress by the rebels, and had taken all the captives back with him to Debra Tabor. As this news was brought by a man who was recognised by some in camp as being what he claimed—Mr. Flad’s servant—his statement was received without suspicion, and the event was justly considered to be most unfortunate. When, however, the exploring-party returned, Dr. Krapf, the chief interpreter, examined the man, cross-questioned him as to time and dates, and found that these were quite incompatible with the truth, as the man described them as having taken place in the latter part of October, whereas our last news from Mr. Flad himself was to November 7th, at which time none of these movements had taken place. Finding himself thus caught, the man confessed that his whole statement was a lie. I need not say that this contradiction of the false news gave the greatest satisfaction to everyone, but the general feeling was that six dozen, well laid on, would be of enormous benefit to the man who thus invented false news, apparently merely for the pleasure of gratuitous lying. Of course he will not be punished, for the policy pursued with respect to the natives is mild in the extreme. By all means conciliate natives, by all means pay for all you take, do no wrong to anyone; but at the same time make them respect you by the firmness with which you administer justice upon [pg 106]thieves and plunderers, and do not encourage the people to cheat you by ordering a price at least six or eight times above their former prices for every animal or article you buy. The men who were taken in the act almost of robbery down the pass, and whose preliminary examination I described a week since, have not been flogged, or, as far as I am aware, in any way punished, nor have three other ruffians who were captured the following day. The natives put this forbearance down to timidity on our part. They cannot comprehend that any other feeling could prevent our punishing these men, who have been robbing our convoys, now that we have them in our power. It may be a course of Christian forbearance, but officers whose kits have been plundered are very sore that fellows of this kind are not summarily punished upon the spot.

The exploring-party went forward to Attegrat, a place of some size, about thirty-five miles from here. They went by one route and returned by another. One line was rather more mountainous than the other, but both are, I hear, quite practicable, and water, forage, and wood were found in abundance. At Attegrat a large fair was going on, and very large quantities of cattle, sheep, goats, ponies, and mules, together with grain, chillies, honey, &c., were exposed for sale. The appearance of the escort of cavalry excited the greatest curiosity, and the party were almost mobbed as they walked through the fair. On parts of the route they passed through enormous flights of locusts, which the people were endeavouring to frighten away from their fields by beating drums and pieces of metal together, and by lighting great fires. The locusts abound everywhere here; not a bush which has not half-a-dozen of these insects, hardly a rock [pg 107]without one or two crawling over it. The natives say they have not had so many for years, and that the crops have been very greatly damaged by them. The only things which benefit by them are the monkeys and birds, both of which feed upon them. The natives themselves also eat them to a certain extent. The method of preparation is as follows: A large hole is made in the ground. This is lined smoothly with clay. A large fire is lighted in this, and when this has burnt down the ashes are scraped out, the hole is filled with locusts, and covered up with clay. When the insects are sufficiently baked they are taken out and pounded into a fine powder, which is eaten mixed with rice or flour. At Attegrat the expedition found blocks of salt used as the medium of exchange: we have not seen any in this part of the country. In the fair they also saw some really warm cloths of native manufacture. This is important, as, if the supply turns out to be abundant, it will save the expense of bringing warm clothing for the native troops from England. Indeed, warm clothes appear to me to be a most unnecessary portion of our enormous baggage. The weather by day, even at this the coldest time of year, and upon one of the most elevated parts of our journey, is never cold enough for warm clothing. At night men require an extra blanket for warmth, and this they might wrap round them over their greatcoat upon unusually cold nights. On Christmas-eve the general inspected the troops, who performed several manœuvres. He left on Christmas-day at three o’clock, four hours after the return of the expeditionary force, and having had a conversation of some length with Colonels Merewether and Phayre. One good result among the many brought about by the general’s visit here will be, that we shall now have some little attention [pg 108]paid to health. A medical officer had been appointed as sanitary officer, but his appointment, for any good it did, might as well have never been made. It was not that this officer failed in his duty, or that there was no need for his services; on the contrary, the state of the watering arrangements was disgraceful, the native troops washing, &c. in the pools above those from which the drinking-water was taken. The water certainly has to filter through the peat before it reaches the other pools, but that is little satisfaction. It is true that this was against orders, but the number of sentries posted was quite insufficient, or else they winked at the proceedings of their fellow-soldiers. I myself rode past half-a-dozen times, and never without seeing native soldiers washing on the edge of the pool. The latrine arrangements connected with the 10th Native Infantry hospital were also simply scandalous. But worst of all was the state of the pass, dotted with dead baggage-animals in every stage of decomposition, and the stench from which was almost overpowering. The sanitary officer had pointed out these evils, and had applied for power to take on a few natives to burn the carcasses in the pass. This suggestion, however, had been passed over as absurd, and he might as well have been in Bombay. Nothing whatever was done. General Staveley, however, restored this officer to his proper place, and gave him authority to take on the natives and burn the dead animals, which, had nothing been done, were offensive enough to have created the worst epidemic among the advancing troops. Other medical officers have been appointed to take bands of coolies and clear the different stages of this pass. The horse-disease still continues very bad. Of the six horses brought up by the general and the members of his staff, four were taken ill the [pg 109]day after his arrival here. They do not, however, appear to have taken it in a virulent form, and will, I hope, get over it. Yesterday being Christmas-day was of course kept with all honour; that is to say, with such honours as could be paid. It was hard to believe it was Christmas-day, especially among native troops; to them, of course, it was no festival. The day was fine and hot—the thermometer 75° in the shade, but very hot where there was no shelter. I fastened a large bunch of fir and of a plant somewhat resembling myrtle to my tent-pole, and two or three of the other tents were similarly decorated. One of the engineer officers had quite a triumphal arch of green erected before his tent. Large circular arbours were built up by the 10th Native Infantry and by the 3d Cavalry, to serve as shelter from the wind while they sat round the fire after dinner. I was invited by the 3d Native Cavalry to take my Christmas dinner with them, and a capital dinner it was under the circumstances. Two huge bunches of fir were fastened to the tent-poles, the table was formed of the lids of packing-cases, and we sat round upon boxes and chairs of every height and make. Here was a man on a seat so low that his chin hardly appeared above the table; next to him one perched up so high that his knees were on a level with his plate. Nor were the fittings of the table less various. It was the camp rule that everyone should bring his own plates, knives, forks, and glasses. Some of us therefore fed off tin, some off crockery, some off enamelled iron. Some drank from glasses, some from pewter-pots. The only uniformity was in the bottle of champagne placed before each diner. Most of us would, I think, have preferred beer; but there was not a bottle left in the camp, and the champagne before us had been hoarded for [pg 110]this sacred occasion. The dinner was various. Mutton and guinea-fowl; spur-fowl and venison; but, whatever we ate, everyone present religiously took a piece of the joint of roast beef. It was the only reminder of the occasion. I need not say how heartily each joined in the toast of “All friends at home.”

I start this afternoon on my way down the pass again to Zulla, and shall carry this letter down to post there, as the ridiculous arrangements to which I have before alluded still prevail. A native still creeps up and down the pass with a bag on his back, and takes his four or five days to do the seventy miles, whereas two relays of men on mules or ponies would bring the bag down in fifteen hours easily. As it is, no one knows whether they will be in time to catch a post or not. In fact, it is a pure haphazard proceeding.

Zulla, Annesley Bay, January 2d, 1868.

I have been now three days back in Zulla, which is literally crowded with troops. In respect to the pass, nothing could be more surprising than the change which has taken place in the road during the fortnight which has elapsed since I first passed up. This is due to the way in which the sappers and miners, under officers of the Royal Engineers, and the advanced companies of the Beloochees, under Major Hogg, have worked. The latter are at work in the valley below the Rayray Guddy pass, and here they make very nearly a mile of road a day, along which artillery might be taken without difficulty. It is wonderful to see the change which they have effected, and the hearty way in which they work. Not less surprising is the change which the sappers and miners have [pg 111]effected in the Sooro Gorge. When I last rode up it, it was, as I described it, all but impracticable for loaded animals. One had to clamber over a huge boulder here, to scramble through between two others there. It was a really difficult proceeding, and loaded camels were unable to get through the narrow places. Now all this is changed. A path winds here and there among the rocks, down which I was able to ride my horse without the smallest difficulty. The worst part of the journey was the passage of the thirty-three miles between Rayray Guddy and Sooro, without water, except a bucket of pea-soup-coloured stuff at Guinea-fowl Plain for the animals. It is proposed to sink more wells at this point, to put up some pumps, and to establish a small commissariat dépôt, in order that troops may break their march there. As we rode down this dry parched valley for thirty miles, occasionally meeting detachments of weary men, who asked us pitifully how far it was to water, we could not help thinking of one of Colonel Phayre’s reports, in which he stated, “From Sooro to Senafe, about thirty miles more, water never fails.” The fact being, not one single drop is to be found in the thirty miles above Sooro, save at one muddy well.

At Koomaylo I found an astonishing change. The thorn-trees which had lined the bottom of the valley had been all cut down; a large space had been cleared as a camping-ground for troops as they march through; fresh wells have been sunk, and there are some of the American pumps at work, discharging a stream of clear water, which, flowing through a succession of tubs, enables the animals to be watered in one quarter the time formerly occupied. These pumps, which are called “the Douglas pitcher-spout pump,” are certainly admirable [pg 112]machines. When I had first heard of their arrival, and of the principle of their construction, I had not thought it possible that they could be used in such ground as this. They consist of a number of thin iron tubes like gas-pipes, screwing into each other, the lowest one terminating in a sharp spike of slightly bulbous form, so that, being thicker than the rod itself, it only touches the soil through which it is driven at that point, thus greatly diminishing the friction and resistance. On to the pipe, at about four feet from its upper end, is screwed a block of iron, which can be shifted as the rod gradually descends. A heavy weight of iron, with a hole through it, is put on the rod above this block, and to this weight ropes are attached working through pulleys placed on the top of the rod four feet higher. Two men pull these ropes, and the weight rises, and then falls, acting as a rammer upon the anvil of iron below. In this manner the whole rod is driven down, fresh lengths being added as required, and then a pump is established without the labour of sinking a well. The whole thing is simple in the extreme, and admirably adapted for clay or gravel soils. It could, however, hardly be expected to be successful in the bed of a torrent, where the gravel is mixed with blocks of stone of every size, as it is evident that a hollow pipe could not be driven through solid rock. The tube, however, in nine cases out of ten, pushes any obstacle aside, and reaches the required depth. It is intended to arrange a series of troughs, so that the animals may be enabled to drink upon their arrival without the weary hour of waiting which they have now to go through. Indeed, it is a wonder that serious accidents have not occurred owing to the eagerness with which the maddened animals struggle and fight to get to the water. At Koomaylo we found two com[pg 113]panies of the 33d regiment. They have since been joined by another, and the three marched last night on their way to Sooro. Three other companies of the same regiment marched from here this morning, and will at once follow their advanced wing, while the head-quarters and remaining companies go on to-morrow. There is also a battery of the Royal Artillery at Koomaylo, that is, the guns, and a portion of the men are there, the horses and drivers having been sent up to Senafe to be clear of the disease. I met them at Sooro, and the animals were then all in splendid condition, and not a single horse or baggage-animal was as yet affected. Great as I had found the changes at other points along the line, the alterations were as nothing to those which had taken place at Zulla. The harbour contained more than double the number of vessels that were here before. It is probable that hardly a great commercial port in the world contains such a fine fleet of steamers and sailing-transports as are now lying off this place, of which no one had ever heard six months ago. The camp, too, was so altered that I had the greatest difficulty in finding the tent I was in search of, although it stood precisely where I left it three weeks since. But the place, which then contained under twenty tents, can now count ten times that number. The 33d are encamped to the right of the landing-place, at a quarter of a mile distant. General Staveley and his staff have moved their tents from the spot where they before stood, in the very centre of the dust and din of the place, to a little beyond the 33d lines, where General Napier’s tents are also pitched. The harbour is full of troops, who are clamouring for carriage to enable them to get on. The Scinde Horse are landing, as are the 3d Native Infantry. The 25th Native Infantry and her Majesty’s 4th Foot are there, as are [pg 114]artillery batteries and mountain trains, as are mules and horses innumerable, and a bewildering amount of stores. Very large quantities of these latter are now being forwarded to the front, and 3000 of the little cattle and donkeys of the natives have been engaged upon the service. The price paid is two and a quarter dollars per bag, and each bullock carries two bags, some of the smaller donkeys taking one each. The natives are responsible for any loss of stores, but up to the time I left Senafe not one single bag had gone astray. These animals are rather a nuisance to meet going down the pass. Our own mules go in strings, one tied behind the other, and the drivers, if one meets them, endeavour, as far as possible, to make room for an officer to pass. The natives, on the contrary, drive their animals in a herd before them, occupy the whole width of the track, and make no effort whatever to get their cattle out of the way. It is in vain shouting and being angry. The Shohos regard one with placid indifference, and you must push your horse into a thorn-thicket or up a rock to get out of their way. If you happen to overtake one of these native herds in rather a narrow place, it is still more provoking, for there is nothing to do for it but to follow patiently in their train for perhaps half-a-mile, half smothered in the dust they raise, until the valley opens, and you are able to leave the path, and get past them among the stones and scrub. These oxen are very small, but extremely hardy. There is nothing for them in the way of forage all the way up. All they have to eat are a few leaves from the bushes, and such handfuls of grass as their masters may get for them by climbing the sides of the hills, and yet they arrive at Senafe in good condition and without signs of distress, with their skin smooth, and their eyes bright. This accession of stores [pg 115]at Senafe is a great assistance. It is an addition to our stock there, and it is a great relief to the transport corps to be able to continue their regular work of forwarding regiments, and stores for present consumption of man and beast. The transport train is now doing its work very much better; but I shall have more remarks to make upon them in my next. Brigadier-general Collings started yesterday to take the command at Senafe, and I expect to find that very material changes have, in consequence, taken place there. Brigadier-general Schneider has arrived here, and will take the command at this landing-place.

The great event of to-day is the arrival of Sir Robert Napier, whose ship, her Majesty’s steam-ship Octavia, Captain Colin Campbell, was signalled as about to enter the harbour early this morning. The anchor was dropped at about half-past ten, and General Staveley and the heads of departments went off at once to see him. He is to disembark this evening. As it is war-time, there was no salute or demonstration upon the arrival of the ship.

Zulla, Jan. 6th.

It is only after a ride or two round camp that one sees how very great are the changes which have taken place in the last three weeks. I do not know that anywhere in the world could more objects of various interest, more life and movement and bustle, be found than in a couple of hours’ ride through this camp. Start we from the head of the bunder—in England called pier; but here everything has its Indian name. The bunder has, since I last wrote, been lengthened a few yards, and has been widened at the end [pg 116]to a width of fifteen or twenty yards. On one side, too, wooden piles have been driven down, so that the great landing barges can lie safely alongside and discharge. It will be a great thing when it is finished in the same way all round the pier-head. Not very pleasant are one’s first steps upon Abyssinian soil, for the pier is made of great rough pieces of rock and pumice-stone, painful to walk upon, and utterly destructive to boots. In spite of this the pier-head is crowded. The hour at which we start upon our ride is daybreak, and from daybreak until eight o’clock bathing is allowed from the pier, as also from five to seven in the evening. Here we have a number of figures, some dressing, some undressing, some picking their way painfully over the stones to their clothes, others in the act of plunging into the water, which is at high tide seven feet deep. Around, the sea is dotted with heads, many of which we recognise and address. Here is a quartermaster-general, there a colonel of infantry, next to whom is a drummer-boy, and beyond a dozen privates. There is no distinction of rank here. Everyone picks out the softest stone he can find to sit upon, and cares nothing whether his next neighbour be a general officer or a full private. We pick our way as well as we can across this bit of rough ground and through the groups of bathers, and then at ten yards from the head of the pier we come upon smoother ground. Here is a line of rails, and the surface has been smoothed by spreading sand over it, an improvement which has only been completed two or three days since. Before, a walk down the bunder was certain destruction to any but the most iron-shod pair of boots. By the side of the bunder, where the rail commences, a large barge is lying. She has just come alongside, and [pg 117]fifty or sixty mules and ponies, her cargo, are looking over her rail with excited eyes and restless inquiring ears at the bustle on the quay, and at this land, which, although they know it not, is destined to be the grave of many of them. On the pier, awaiting their arrival, is one of the indefatigable officers of the transport train. He has with him a couple of men. A long gangway is laid from the barge, which is much higher than the pier, down on to the stones; on this are thrown some gunny-bags, and then the animals, some coming readily enough, others resisting strenuously, snorting and struggling, are led down. As they reach the land their head-ropes are tied together in fours, and they are sent off with their drivers to wait at the end of the bunder until all are landed. It is not a long operation. Ten minutes or so, and then an inspector takes them off, first to the watering-troughs and then to the lines. Opposite the landing-barge, on a vacant spot on the pier, a distilling apparatus is at work. This machine, I believe, partly supplies the sailing-ships, and also the wants of the fatigue-parties at work on the pier. Next to the barge lie two native boats discharging stores, which a fatigue-party are loading into the trucks, under the direction of the officers of the quartermaster’s or commissariat departments. As soon as the trucks are loaded, a party of Soumalis seize them and push them along the track to the yard, shouting their universal chorus as they do so. Next to the native craft unloading are a number of boats belonging to the ships in harbour, and which are either supplied to one of the departments, or are waiting while their skippers are on shore. On the opposite side of the pier the water is more shallow, and boats never come in here, but it is by no means empty at [pg 118]present, for there are a couple of hundred men bathing all along—less adventurous spirits, who do not care for the plunge into deep water, or for walking over pumice-stones with naked feet.

When we get to the end of the bunder we mount our horses, which our gorrawallahs have been holding, and we follow the line of rails. As soon as we are fairly ashore, we find great piles of stores lying by the rails. These belong to the land transport stores. Hundreds of great cases, each containing four Otago mule-saddles. Piles of Bombay pads and of camel-saddles. Their other stores are sent up to their own lines, a quarter of a mile farther; but the heavy saddles have not been sent there, as the line has only been opened to that point during the last two days, and it is much easier to bring the mules down and to saddle them here than it is to take the heavy cases on farther. There is a saddling-party at work now. It consists of a fatigue-party of artillery, directed by an officer of the transport corps. A Chinese carpenter opens the cases. Two of the men lift the contents out, and cut the lashings which secure each separate article of the fittings together. Others stand round and fit the saddles together—no easy task, for they are extremely complicated. This, however, is not of so much consequence as it would otherwise be, for, once put together, they do not require much subsequent unstrapping. Others then put the saddles and bridles on to the mules, some of which object most strongly to the operation, pull back violently, turn round and round as fast as the man with the saddle approaches, and lash out with a steady power which, exerted in any other way, would be highly satisfactory. In vain the soldiers try to keep them steady. In [pg 119]vain pat, coax, strike, and swear. In vain they strap up one of the fore-legs. Some of the beasts are quite unmanageable, and are only subdued by strapping up a leg, and then keeping them going round and round upon the other three until quite exhausted. The cases of the saddlery are broken up, and spread out upon the ground to pile bags of rice or grain upon—no unnecessary precaution, for a high tide the other night wetted an immense quantity of hay, and the stores have been since shifted farther inland. The engineers had constructed a sort of sand-wall to prevent the recurrence of such an event; but they calculated without their host. They fortified against the enemy in front, but made no account of him in the rear. The consequence was that in the heavy rain of Saturday night the water came rushing down from behind, and being prevented flowing into the sea by this dam, again created a small flood, but this time of fresh water, in the commissariat yard. The commissariat yard when I was last here stood where the transport yard now stands, but it is now shifted more to the left. The reason of this was that the commissariat stores, the bundles of compressed hay and the bags of rice and grain, are not too heavy to be carried ashore by the natives, while the heavy cases of the transport corps necessarily were put in the cars. The commissariat stores are therefore principally landed in native boats, which come into three-foot water, and from which lines of wading Soumalis bear them to land. The heavier stores, such as barrels of rum and ghee, are of course landed on the bunder and brought up on the trucks. Everywhere about the end of the pier is bustle. Here are a party of Madras coolies moving stores. There are a hundred mules just starting with [pg 120]provisions for the front. Here come a detachment of one of the regiments to take charge of some of their baggage just being landed. Everywhere an energetic officer of the various departments directing the operations. We now ride on. Leaving the line of rails we turn to the right, bearing gradually away from the sea. The first group of tents we come upon are those of the officers of the land transport. They will not be there long, however, for they have orders to shift over to the other side, where the lines of their animals are five minutes’ walk away, and at the extreme right of the camp. Did these officers’ duties lie principally at their lines, there would be some reason for this; but as it is, they are either on the bunder landing horses, or else saddling down by the shore. The duties of looking after the animals in their lines have of course to be generally supervised by an officer from each division, but are under the charge of English inspectors, who are sergeants in cavalry or line regiments. The lines, being to leeward of the camp, are constantly enveloped in a cloud of blinding dust, so thick that one cannot see fifty yards. To live in such an atmosphere is next to impossible, especially when delicately scented by the odour of the three or four thousand mules, ponies, and oxen, to say nothing of the native attendants close at hand. The former spot where they were encamped was only five minutes’ walk distant, and to insist upon these officers living and working close by their lines is about as reasonable as an order would be for the officers of the Life Guards to sleep in their stables. I am convinced that General Schneider will have to revoke his order, for it will be simply impossible to keep books or accounts in a dust which would be two inches thick in five [pg 121]minutes upon everything; and although an officer’s comfort or health may be a very trifling matter, anything which might be an obstacle to his returning the necessary number of reports and statements will be certain to be considered.[1] Riding through the transport officers’ lines, we come upon a line of tents occupied by the medical staff. Then comes a gap, and then we enter the lines of the European regiments, at present occupied by portions of the 33d and 4th infantry and artillery. Its appearance bears little resemblance to that presented by a regiment under canvas at home. The tents are of an entirely different shape; they are single-poled tents, and are perhaps fifteen feet square. They have canvas walls of nearly six feet high, so that one can stand upright anywhere. Above the tent itself is a cover, which extends over it and projects three feet beyond the walls, making the tent double over the roof, and forming an awning around it. About eight inches is left between the two roofs for the circulation of air. These tents are in their way perfect, but they are extremely heavy, and will be left here, and the troops will take up with them tents known as native “routies”—I do not guarantee the spelling of this or any other native word—which I shall describe hereafter. Not less than the tents do the men differ from the European standard. The gray suits of karkee—a sort of stout jean—and the ugly helmets of the same material, look like anything rather than the garb of the British soldier. Then, too, the arrangement of the camp looks unfamiliar, for the tents are placed far asunder. This is necessitated by the great length of the ropes of the tent. Here, [pg 122]too—strange sight in an English camp—interspersed among the tents are queer bowers of shrubs, covered with gunny-bags, old sacks, and other odds and ends. Round these bowers squat swarthy figures scantily clothed. These are the camp-followers, the attendants on the British soldier; these their abodes. These men draw his water, pitch his tents, sweep out his camp—in fact, perform all the work which a soldier in England does for himself. In India the soldier is a valuable animal. He is valued at one hundred pounds, and is too costly to be risked by doing hard work in the sun. He is kept for fighting only, and it is very right that it should be so. It has been questioned whether it would not have been better to have brought soldiers direct from England, who are accustomed to rough it for themselves. There is much to be said upon the subject, to which I shall some day revert, but at present I am inclined to think that in this respect the authorities have judged rightly, for judging by the 102° which the thermometer marked here in the shade on New Year’s-day, we shall have a more than Indian heat—that is, those down upon this plain will—in the middle of summer, and although the heat in the interior will probably be nothing to what it will be here, there can be no doubt that the less men are exposed to it the better. But we must continue our ride.

Just behind the European lines, that is, between them and the sea, is a line of tents, some of which are of large size, and by the side of one of these the British ensign is flying. These are the tents of the head-quarters staff. We turn our backs on this and gallop across the European lines, that is, inland. There is an unoccupied space of perhaps four hundred yards, and then we come upon a camp of [pg 123]quite different aspect from the last. Here the tents are ranged in two lines, and are placed quite close together, that is, with not more than three or four yards between them. The neat and orderly appearance of these lines of tents shows to all the greater advantage after the straggling look of the European lines. These tents are routies. They are large double-poled tents, single, but lined with blue bunting. The tents, like the English bell-tents, reach nearly to the ground, with only a wall of about eighteen inches in height. The opening is at one end, and extends from the pole downwards. This is, for a climate like the present, a great drawback, for the opening is very large and cannot be closed. In a hot climate this would matter but little; but for a country with heavy dews and cold nights in winter, and with heavy downpours in the rainy season, it is a very serious disadvantage. Opposite the long line of the routies are the mess and officers’ tents. There are two regiments camped in these lines, or, more properly, portions of two regiments. The men on duty look more like England than the European troops had done, for they are all in their scarlet tunics and black trousers. It is only the headgear which is different. The 3d Native Infantry have blue puggaries round their forage-caps. The 25th Native Infantry have green. The 10th Native Infantry wear white puggaries, and the Sappers and Miners black, and this acts as an easily-distinguished mark between the various native regiments. They all wear the regulation tunic and trousers, but vary the puggary or cap-cover according to the taste of their commander. When I say they all wear the British uniform, I mean that the old sepoy regiments do so. Some of those who have only been admitted among the regular Indian army of late years, [pg 124]such as the Beloochees, wear quite different uniforms. I have omitted to state that in our ride between the 33d and Native Infantry camps, we passed through some artillery; but these, as well as the sappers and miners, and the ordnance commissary tents—which, with the telegraph, railway, and other departments, are pitched near the line of railway—I must reserve for another letter. We are only making a tour of the outside of the camp upon the present occasion. Riding on through the native infantry lines, and crossing a few hundred yards of open ground, we come to the bazaar, which is on the main road to Koomaylo. The bazaar is certainly not much to look at. Two or three dozen tents, composed of rough poles covered with matting, constitute it. As there are no windows to any of these establishments, it is unnecessary to state that there is no display of goods. There is an open doorway through which any intending purchaser enters, and asks for anything he desires. If it is kept there a box is opened and the article produced, if not he goes into the next shop. There is a guard of European soldiers at the entrance to the bazaar to keep order, and their services are not unfrequently called into requisition. During the last part of our ride we have fairly got into the dust, which hangs over Zulla in a sort of lurid cloud, and entirely shuts off all the view, even the nearest hills from the harbour. This dust is terrible. It fills the eyes, mouth, and nostrils, and equals the dust on the Champ de Mars in Paris, which I had hitherto considered unrivalled in the world. Sometimes the wind blows steadily, and then there is one great uniform swoop of dust; at other times it seems to lull for a while, and then from three or four spots a straight column ascends, such as burning piles [pg 125]of green wood upon a calm day might produce. These columns will remain stationary for three or four minutes, and then move rapidly along, and woe to the unfortunate tents over which they may pass, for they will make a clean sweep of every light object, and will leave three inches deep of sand on everything. In camp phraseology, these little whirlwinds are called devils. Passing from the bazaar, still moving as before in the arc of a circle, we come upon the railroad. The railroad has made far less progress in the last month than anything else here has done; at this rate it will not be near Koomaylo by next Christmas. I do not hesitate to say that ten English navvies would have done very much more in the same time; and as for the Army Works Corps, which we had in the Crimea, they would have half-finished it to Koomaylo. But this delay is due to no want of zeal on the part of those who have the direction of it, but simply a want of method, and of materials, which are, no doubt, somewhere on board ship, but cannot be got at. Just at this part we pass under some poles with a fine copper wire extending between them. This is the telegraph, which in a very short time will be open to Koomaylo, and thence will be pushed on in a week or so, for the wire is at all the stations along the line of march; and it would have been completed to Senafe by this time were it not that the poles have not come to hand, from some reason or other.

We now are approaching the lines of the transport animals. This is the most interesting sight in the whole camp. Here are long lines of ponies, just arrived from Suez. Next to them are hundreds of mules of all nations and breeds. Here are the cart-mules, and 200 light carts, to be drawn [pg 126]by one or two animals, are ranged near them. Beyond them are the baggage-mules, 600 in number. All of them have arrived during the last two or three days; many of them have not yet been saddled, for the unpacking and fitting together of the saddles is a long and tedious operation. Many of the mules are not even branded. Beyond them, again, come the draught-oxen, with their carts. They are the same beautiful white Brahmin cattle which I saw at Bombay—enormous animals, as strong as camels and quiet and docile as sheep. Near them are ranged their carts, which are of altogether different construction from those for the mules. On the ground under the feet of all these animals is scattered a thick layer of chopped straw and hay, and their condition and state afford as strong a contrast as can possibly be conceived to that of the famished, dying animals I described in the letter I wrote upon landing a month since. This extraordinary improvement must be assigned to the immense efforts which all the officers of the Transport Corps have made, and especially to those of Captain Twentyman, of the 18th Hussars, who during that period has been in command. But even the exertion of all these officers would have been in vain had it not been for the strong and cordial assistance which General Staveley has given to Captain Twentyman. Every suggestion made by the latter has been indorsed and ordered to be carried out by the general, who is fully alive to the fact that the Transport Corps is the all-important branch of the expedition. The animals are all picketed by their head-ropes to long lines of picket-rope, but no heel-ropes are used. Certainly the use of heel-ropes adds greatly to the uniformity of the appearance of picketed animals, as they all retain the same distance from each other and from [pg 127]the ropes, and there is also the advantage that they cannot kick each other or any passer-by. On the other hand, it may be said that mules seldom or never do set to and kick when picketed. I have seen no instance of their so doing; and I understand from the transport officer that there have been no cases of mules being injured by kicks received when picketed. The advantages of their not having foot-ropes are that they have much greater freedom of position. They can lie down, get up, and move across the rope, and, in fact, stretch their tired limbs far better than they can when they are confined by foot-ropes; and, lastly, the mules are not accustomed to the ropes, and frequently get sore fetlocks from their use. The balance of advantages is, then, in favour of allowing them to remain picketed only by their head-ropes, especially as the fastening by the heel-rope involves driving in pegs and loss of time in roping—matters of importance when a train arrives late at night with drivers and animals alike jaded and fatigued. The whole of the animals are now in fair working condition, with the exception only of about 200 camels, which are out at Hadoda, where they were sent to recruit, having arrived in too bad a condition to be set to work. There were more sent out, but some have returned to work, others have died—many of pure starvation, although there were stores of grain lying at Weir, within two or three miles, literally rotting. But the custom is not to give camels grain, but allow them to get their livelihood by plucking a few leaves from the shrubs. It is not to be wondered at, then, that the poor beasts gained no strength. This will now be remedied, for Dr. Lamb, one of the veterinary surgeons of the Transport Corps, has reported that they are dying of [pg 128]pure starvation; and I understand that General Staveley at once ordered that grain should be issued to them.

In my next letter I shall describe the organisation of the Transport Corps; but at present we must continue our ride, which is now nearly over, for we have almost completed our circle, and are again approaching the sea-shore. We pass on our way some strange bower-like structures, whose progress I have watched for the last few days with some curiosity. I first saw three or four long lines of sand, which were carefully levelled, and were four or five yards wide, and perhaps fifty yards long. By each side of these lines of sand coolies were engaged sticking rods, about the same length, but thinner, than hop-poles. I could not even guess the object of these lines. Next day I found that poles had been stuck in across the ends, and that at distances of four yards across partitions had been made. Riding close, I saw that in the side row a gap was left as a doorway to each of these partitions. The next day I found that thinner rods were being fastened to the tops of the others—along which horizontal pieces had been tied—and that these were being bent over and twined in the centre, so as to form a bower. The mystery was now explained. These long rows of poles were the framework for rows of huts; bushes are to be entwined between them, and the whole, when finished, will accommodate, or rather hold, five hundred of the commissariat coolies, for whom they are destined. We now trot on to the watering-place. The last time I was here it was one of the most painful sights I ever witnessed to see the animals watered. They were formed in lines near the miserable little troughs, and were with the greatest difficulty kept back until these were full. Half maddened with [pg 129]thirst as they were, it was a service of real danger to restrain them, and when they were allowed to rush forward it was too often to find that there was scarcely a mouthful of water each. It was no wonder that they screamed and struggled and fought. It was a battle for life, in which the victors moved off unsatisfied, but with sufficient water to enable them to live until the next scanty supply was issued, while the vanquished dragged themselves away to die. Thank God this is over now. There is plenty of water for all. I do not think an animal in this camp has an insufficiency of water. The trough is long and wide, and the animals advance on each side and drink as much as they desire. The times for watering them is from six to eight in the morning, and from four to six of an evening. A strong fatigue-party are present to pump the water from the tank into the trough, and to keep order. They are ordered to leave the trough full when they cease pumping, so that any animal which may arrive late may not be deprived of its drink.

We have now only to ride along the shore for another 300 yards to arrive at the commissariat stores on the left of the bunder, from which we started. Here everything is excellently arranged and managed. The great piles of stores are covered with tarpaulins and old sails to keep off the rain; and as it was impossible to procure stones to form a foundation for the sacks, and to keep them clear of the damp, broken-up packing-cases were laid down first on the sand, then empty sacks, and then bales of hay from Bombay, which is much more bulky and less valuable than the compressed hay from England. No damage of any great extent can therefore ensue from the heaviest flood. There are two very [pg 130]large wooden stores, in which articles readily damageable by rain are housed; and there are two very large framework buildings erected, which only require the corrugated iron-plates.

Nearly opposite the commissariat a long wooden jetty is in course of erection. It is already completed for a considerable distance; but the water is so shallow, that it will have to be carried very much further out before boats can come alongside to load.

We have now completed our circular ride round the camp; and I must leave the camps and dépôts lying in the interior of the circle until another occasion, for I have not yet touched upon the immediate news of the day.

General Napier landed yesterday morning at half-past seven. A guard of honour of the 4th regiment was drawn up at the end of the pier, and the various generals here, with their staffs, and the heads of the different departments, received him. I had heard that he was going to land earlier, and went down to the waterside just at daylight.

Everything was quiet then, and not a breath of wind ruffled the water. Presently there was a sign of life in the men-of-war, the Octavia, Serapis, and Argus. Men began to climb the rigging, and to fasten man-lines above the yards. Then they came down again, and all was quiet on board the men-of-war; but the merchant-vessels were now making a move, and the native boats were putting off towards the ships they were told off to discharge. In the mean time the guard of honour and the officers took their places at the head of the bunder. Now a signal is run up to the mast-head of the Octavia, and, as if by magic, a crowd of white figures leap up the shrouds of the men-of-war, and run out [pg 131]upon the yards. Another minute of silence, and then a boat with an awning pulls out from the after-side of the Octavia, and a few seconds afterwards the thunder of her guns tells us that the Chief of the invading army has left the ship. Three minutes later the little guns of the mountain train proclaim that he has landed; the band strikes up “God save the Queen,” the troops salute, and Sir Robert Napier has taken command of the forces here.

After all, this is more a ceremony than a reality, for the General has been ashore examining into all that was going on every day since he came into harbour. There is a great feeling of satisfaction at his arrival, as, in the first place, he is a most popular chief, and in the next, nothing definite could be decided upon as to the movements of troops or on the plan of the campaign until he arrived. The on dit now is that no more troops will be sent forward at present, but that the whole efforts of the transport corps and commissariat will be devoted to accumulating a six months’ stock of provisions at Senafe. The 33d have already gone on; but it is now probable that no other regiment will move for another fortnight.

We have at last authentic news from the interior. A letter has arrived from the prisoners, dated Dec. 15th (I can hardly understand how, at the Shoho rate of travelling, it can have come so fast), in which they report that the King of Shoa, who was besieging Magdala, and upon whose assistance Colonel Merewether had built much, has retired from before the place, and that it is now open to Theodore. This is certainly bad news. Not that I have ever put the smallest trust in the assistance of any of these kinglings. On the contrary, I think that the policy which has been hitherto pursued with [pg 132]respect to the natives has been a mistake. We should have never asked for alliance or friendship. We are perfectly strong enough to go on by ourselves, and were we not it is certain that we could place no reliance upon any professions of friendship. Why, then, make the natives think we are weak by asking for allies? Say firmly to each king, “We are going on through your country to fetch the prisoners beyond. We are perfectly strong enough to do this, and anything beside which may be necessary. We go through and return without making any stay. In your country are many kings and many rivals. We need no assistance, and we know that if we enter into alliance with one chief we gain the enmity of another by so doing. We wish not, therefore, to enter into any alliance whatever. We are friends passing through your country. We require stores, cattle, &c., and we mean to have them; but we pay for everything we require, and that at prices which the imagination of the herd-and flock-owner of Abyssinia never before conceived even in his wildest dreams.”

There are numerous rumours current in camp that the chiefs are forming an alliance against us, and that they intend to put their forces in motion to attack us. But of all this I cannot say that I believe one word. Nor do I consider it a matter of importance one way or another, for if they do come they will go away again at a vastly greater rate of speed than they advance, and will be very much more civil afterwards. After the landing of the Chief yesterday I went on board the Gomta, which has brought in nineteen elephants from Bombay, in charge of Captain Annesley, of the Land Transport Train. They all arrived in excellent condition, having been perfectly well during the whole voyage, except [pg 133]for two days, when there was a strong wind, which made them very unhappy. The debarkation was to begin directly the Commander-in-chief had landed. Accordingly, a party of sailors and marines came on board from the Octavia. The tackle had been already fixed, and the barge was alongside. It had been at first proposed that the animals should have been lowered over the ship’s side into the water, and allowed to swim ashore; but the difficulty in relieving them of the slings would have been so great that it was determined, at any rate, to make the experiment with the barge. The animals were down in the hold, which was amply high enough even for the largest of them. They were ranged along on either side, with strong beams between each. They could lie down or stand up as they pleased. The operation of landing them was superintended by Captain Annesley, and by one of the officers of the Octavia. Large blocks were attached to the mainyard, which was strengthened by extra stays. One of the animals who was in the stall immediately under the hatchway was selected for the first experiment. The first difficulty consisted in getting the sling which was of the strongest canvas, with strong ropes along each side, under him. It was laid down upon the ground, and the mahout endeavoured to back the animal over it. Again and again he got him into the right position, but the instant the sailors pulled to the cords to lift up the sling the elephant made a rush forward. At last Sergeant Evans, who is one of the first-class inspectors in the transport train, succeeded in getting the sling under him in his stall, and then getting on his back, backed him under the blocks, the sailors keeping the sling in its place until they could get the hooks fast. Even then all was not finished, for the alarmed [pg 134]elephant continued trumpeting, and endeavouring to rush back to his stall. Sergeant Evans managed to get the breast- and hind-ropes fast, and then all that remained was for the men on deck to work the capstan. The fife struck up, and the elephant, protesting strongly but uselessly, was gradually lifted off his feet. Once in the air the great beast’s strength was useless, and he swung an inert mass, except that as he went through the hatchway he got his hind-feet against it, and pushed with so much force, that it was feared for an instant that he would push himself head foremost out of the slings. In another minute, however, he rose above the hatchway, and was now beyond the possibility of doing himself or anyone else any harm. Up he rose, higher and higher, and then he was swung clear of the bulwarks, and lowered down into the barge. Here his mahout and attendant received him, stroked his trunk, and soothed him, and he allowed his slings to be taken off quietly, and stood quite tranquil until two more of his companions were raised from the hold and lowered to his side. Thus far nothing could be more satisfactory. Some of the others who landed later in the day gave more trouble, and had it not been for Sergeant Evans there would have been very great difficulty with them; but he is, without exception, the most resolute and fearless fellow I ever saw at work. Had it not been for him it is questionable whether the elephants would have been got on board at Bombay on the day fixed for their embarkation, and he was raised from the position of a third-class to that of a first-class inspector on the spot for his gallantry.

When these animals were on the barge it was determined to disembark them before lowering others down, in order to see whether they would walk on to the pier. A steam launch [pg 135]accordingly took the barge in tow, and steamed away to the landing-place. These little steam launches are the most handy and useful things here; no matter how large the barge or how long the string of laden boats, one of these little craft seizes upon it and rushes off with it without the slightest difficulty. On arriving at the wharf I saw at once that we should have a difficulty. The naval authorities who had charge of the landing had entirely disregarded the nature and instincts of the animals; and every child who has ever read anything at all about an elephant has heard that these clumsy-looking animals can get up and down the most difficult places, but that they have an invincible objection to trusting themselves upon any platform or bridge, and can only be induced to do so after many experiments as to its strength. The barge was nearly four feet above the level of the pier, and as the sides of the latter slanted somewhat, the side of the barge was distant about a foot from the jetty. But an elephant would have got down this as easily as a man would have done. Instead of allowing him to do this, some rails which had been landed for the line were put from the shore to the barge, the gangway used by the mules placed upon this, and the elephants were required to walk down. They naturally objected, especially as they were not allowed to pause and examine it, but were urged to walk straight on. This they refused pointblank to do, in spite of the efforts of the mahout, and the shoving and striking of the attendants behind them. They would not advance, but lay down to express their determination. At last one of them, on being forced close to the gangway, kneeled down, and with his head gave the whole structure a push which moved it several inches. He then stood up and walked away, having proved to his [pg 136]own satisfaction that we must be fools to expect an animal his size to walk along such a rickety structure as that. Still the heads of the debarkation were loth to give up their favourite idea of a platform. The gangway was taken away, and the marines and sailors brought rails and laid them tier on tier, gridiron-fashion, and placed the gangway on that; and thus having formed a sort of step or platform two feet high, they invited the elephants to step on to it. Again the elephants positively declined, and everything was again tried except patience, the one thing needed. Fortunately, just as the naval authorities were variously discussing the necessity of again slinging the animals and lowering them into the sea, to walk ashore, Captain Moore, interpreter to the Commander-in-chief, appeared upon the scene. At his suggestion the animals were allowed to approach quietly and to kneel down and inspect and try the structure upon which they were to trust themselves; and in another quarter of an hour they were all three safely landed.

An order of the day appeared yesterday thanking the pioneer force and Colonel Field at Senafe for their efforts. There are many remarks down here upon the fact that while the officers and men who marched up to Senafe, and have passed a comparatively quiet and pleasant time up there, have been thanked, there should be no word of praise for the men who have been working almost night and day down here. If any praise was to be given, it has certainly been earned by the men who have borne the heat and burden of the bad times at Zulla. This morning the mountain-guns, made at Woolwich, were out for practice. These guns have been fully described in the columns of the English press, I need not therefore enter into any details. The practice with shell was [pg 137]very fair, the little guns throwing the shell, which are nearly half their own length, with great precision, at 2000 yards. They appeared to me, however, to throw rather to the right. The troops were also out at exercise, and an order has been issued that all the regiments shall go for a march out every morning. This is as it should be: it will keep the men in health, and prepare them, to a certain extent, for the hard work they will probably have to go through when they once start.

Zulla, January 19th.

This has been a week altogether barren of events. No move of any kind has been made, or is at all likely to be made, for another fortnight at the very earliest. The transport train is exclusively employed in taking provisions to the front, and this is a very tedious process. The mules and ponies carry nominally a burden of two hundred pounds each, the camels four hundred pounds; but there are very few indeed of the former capable of bearing their proper burden, and I think I may say not one of the latter. Were an attempt to be made to load them to their full weight, the result would be that one-third of the animals at least would break down in the first two miles. A great number of animals are in hospital; but a vastly-greater proportion are still able to perform a certain amount of work, but nothing like their full quota. These are afflicted with coughs and lung-affections, which will, sooner or later, bring them into hospital, and thence to their graves, the victims of overwork, when in a weakened state, from irregular and scanty supplies of food and water. The transport train is at present so essentially the corps upon which the movements of the army depend, that it will not be out of place if I explain at some [pg 138]little length the constitution and duties of the corps and its officers. The transport train is commanded by Major Warden, and is divided into fourteen divisions, each of which, when complete, contains two thousand animals and twelve hundred men, including drivers, farriers and smiths, saddlers, &c. Each division is commanded by a captain, who has two subalterns. He has four inspectors or sergeant-majors, two second-class inspectors, sergeants; five third-class inspectors, corporals—all European soldiers. He also has two second inspectors and five third inspectors—natives; and one hundred native soldiers, who are supposed to act as assistants.

It will be seen that each division is as strong as three cavalry regiments; it is composed entirely of drivers collected hastily from all parts, Egyptians, Arabs, Italians, Greeks, Hindoos, &c.—all men without the smallest conception of military discipline; and to manage this vast body of men and animals there are a captain and two officers, and eleven white noncommissioned officers. Were each division stationary, or did it move in a body together, the task would be comparatively easy; but it is scattered over the pass, in convoys of from 200 down to little parties of twos and fours, with officers’ baggage. The rules which have been drawn up for the regulation of the corps are admirable on paper, but utterly impracticable on service. Each native soldier is supposed to have control over twelve drivers and twenty-five mules, and is himself amenable to a head muccadum, or fourth inspector, he to a third, the third to the second, &c. “Each man in charge of a squad is to see that every animal brought in from duty is groomed, has the feet picked and cleaned, the provender put before him, the back well sponged with hot water.” “The saddles will invariably, when taken [pg 139]off the animals, be placed upside down to dry, pads towards the sun, and afterwards neatly piled up with the equipments affixed to each, in rear of each squad, dressing from the right of the line.” All these, and many similar rules, are admirable in theory; utterly impracticable in the field. A convoy arrives late at night. Its first task is to unload, and then to place food before the animals, and to water them if water is attainable; then drivers and animals lie down alike exhausted, and grooming, picking feet, and arranging equipments, dressing from the right, are alike unheeded. The officers of this corps have an almost impossible amount of work to get through. They are supposed to see their animals watered, to parade those which have to start, to see them fed, to see them groomed, to examine their backs, to see that the numerous convoys start at the right time, to look after the polyglot variety of drivers, most of them speaking Arabic, and other unknown tongues. Then they have to look after the native soldiers, to send in reports innumerable, and to keep office-books; they have to perform quartermaster duties and paymaster duties; they have the pay-sheets, family-payment rolls, returns of stores, equipments, defaulter-sheets, &c. to make out with their own hands, unless they take one of the few European inspectors from his work to act as clerk. “They are further responsible for the good order and condition of the cattle, and the due preservation and completeness of their equipments, and must see that each individual soldier, noncommissioned officer and inspector, does his work.” In addition to all this, at present they have to be on the pier, seeing the animals landed, and to inspect the putting together and fittings of the saddles and equipments, and the issue of warm clothing to the drivers.

[pg 140]

This is a slight sketch of the duties which these three officers have to perform for 2000 animals and 1200 men, with half-a-dozen European noncommissioned officers to assist them. The inspectors, too, have been in many cases selected by the officers commanding regiments, without the slightest reference to their acquirements. Very many of them can hardly speak a word of Hindoostanee, and are of course perfectly useless. All this greatly augments the labour and difficulty of the officer. To say that these last are at work from morning to night is nothing. It is one incessant round of toil, from five in the morning till seven at night, and then reports and accounts. If the officers could but do their work their own way, each for his own division, they would do it—roughly perhaps, but effectually; but it is this constant demand for reports, and the changes which are constantly being made in the arrangements, which make the work far too much to be got through. The great mistake which was committed was the sending any Hindoo inspectors and soldiers unless all, or at any rate the greater part, of the drivers had been also Hindoo. Hindoo drivers would have obeyed Hindoo inspectors and soldiers; the Arabs and Egyptians, who form the great proportion of the drivers, laugh in their faces. A Hindoo, too, is not an inventive man—give him his orders, be quite sure that he understands them, and he will carry them out as long as all goes straight; but he is a very helpless man if things go wrong. These mule-drivers are the most utterly reckless of men. If a mule breaks down, they leave him and his load upon the road. If one breaks down in a narrow spot they will be a good hour before they come to the resolution to pull him out of the way and continue their journey. If a cart-wheel gives out, there it may [pg 141]lie. If an animal has a sore back, or has the disease, or any other malady, it will never occur to them to say a word about it until he falls helpless. Altogether, the drivers of the train are a very reckless lot, who essentially want looking after. The pay offered to the inspectors of the different classes is very good, and there would have been no difficulty in obtaining volunteers from English regiments throughout India, it being of course made a sine quâ non that they should have had some colloquial knowledge of Hindoostanee. There should have been at least fifty to each division, and then no convoy of over twenty mules would ever have gone out without a European to look after them. If one of the animals had been ill or lame the inspector would report it; if a mule dropped he would see that the burden was divided among the others; if a wheel had broken he would make some shift or other to patch it up. He should have carried side-arms, and would have seen that the animals kept together without straggling, and would have prevented any looting on the part of the natives. In fact, he would have saved his pay twenty times over. It is this utter recklessness on the part of the drivers which has contributed largely to the great mortality among the animals. They will work the poor beasts with the most terrific sore backs, until in their agony they can go no further; then they will turn them loose and steal another from the lines, so that the veterinary surgeons only find out that animals are ill when they are utterly beyond work. Were sore backs, lameness, and disease only reported at the right time, a few days’ rest and a little care would set most of the animals up; now, frequently the first intimation is received from someone who, riding along, has seen the poor beast lying down by the roadside dying.

[pg 142]

There has been great discontent excited among these hard-worked officers of the transport train—some of whom have been at work in Egypt or India since August last; others of whom have borne the brunt of the worst time here—at the introduction of a number of other officers over their heads. The corps was constituted as a corps some months since, and the officers have been placed according to their regimental rank. According to all rule and precedent, every officer gazetted to the corps after that would hold rank—that is, local rank—according to the date of his gazetting into the corps. Instead of this, they have been placed according to their date of commission as captain, consequently the whole of the captains who have been at work here from the landing of the expedition—who have borne the toil and anxiety from the first—find two or three officers placed over their heads, and, in fact, if this procedure continue, will at the end of the campaign be six or seven lower on the list than they were before. This is the more inexcusable, as fourteen divisions were to be formed, and fourteen captains were gazetted, thus making the corps complete; and each man hoped, and had a right to expect, to have a division. Indeed, at first even the authorities recognised this; and these captains, who wished to come out to Abyssinia, but could obtain no other appointment, were gazetted as subalterns in the transport train; and as this was subsequent to the gazette forming the corps, it was naturally supposed by the other officers that they came in as junior of that rank. When, however, the first vacancy occurred in the captains, instead of the senior lieutenant obtaining promotion as he expected, one of these captain-subalterns was promoted to the vacancy; [pg 143]and, as he was an old captain, he actually not only jumped over the heads of all the subalterns, but over those of every captain who was here when he landed, and thus become second in command of the transport train. Since then other appointments have been made, and the original captains at present find themselves going gradually down instead of rising in their corps. This, after such work as they have gone through, is not a little hard, and is, I believe, quite without precedent in the service.

The arrangements for the position of the divisions have been so frequently altered during the past fortnight that I am quite unable to say where they are now posted. It was originally arranged by Captain Twentyman—at the time he was in command—that each division should have one station, and pass the stores from station to station. This was afterwards entirely altered, and it was ordered that each division should work from Koomaylo up to Senafe, and a captain was sent up to send the animals down for the purpose. Forty-eight hours afterwards another captain was despatched to entirely countermand these orders, and to make perfectly fresh arrangements, and these again have been altered during the last day or two. I need not say that these constant and needless changes add very greatly to the difficulties with which the officers of the train have to struggle. At present the stores from here to Koomaylo are carried by camels, and thence taken up by mules, oxen, and ponies from station to station.

Strangely enough, the through system, as it was called—that is, the sending animals right on for days with the same loads—was persevered in to the very end of the campaign, [pg 144]although it could be mathematically proved that the relay system was in every respect greatly superior. Captain Ellis, of the transport train, sent in a table to the authorities, which proved conclusively that the same number of mules would carry one-sixth more goods in a given time by the “relay” system than by the “through.” But the other advantages were even greater; an officer stationed at any given place had the men and animals of his division always under his eye. He would get to know both man and beast; he would soon find out which men did their work and which failed in it. The drivers and mules would each have its allotted place, and an infinity of confusion would be avoided; the arrangements for drawing forage for the animals, and food for the men, for cooking, &c. would have all been simple and practicable. Indeed, in every single respect, the relay system possesses immense advantages. It could not, of course, have been adopted beyond Antalo, but the saving of labour and life, the increase of efficiency, regularity, and discipline, from its introduction between Zulla and Antalo, would have been enormous.

I am unable to say how many animals are at present at work—probably nine or ten thousand, and this number, devoted entirely to the conveyance of commissariat stores as they are at present, would carry really large amounts forward, were it not that they carry their own forage, and were they of proper strength; but unfortunately a very large number of them have lung-disease, brought on by insufficient and irregular water and food. The number in hospital is terrible. There are at present about 700 mules and 700 camels in hospital, and the deaths are over 200 a-week. This is a terrible [pg 145]mortality; but were all the others in good working order, it would matter comparatively little; the worst is, that very many are poorly, and will fill the hospital ranks far quicker than death or discharge empty them. There are nominally ten veterinary surgeons to the force under Veterinary Surgeon Lamb, an officer of great experience; only five of the ten have arrived, and these are terribly overworked, as they have no staff, and have to inspect, prescribe, and administer medicines themselves. No time should be lost in filling up the ranks of the veterinary surgeons, and in giving them assistance, for when the numbers are complete they will have at least 100 such animals each to attend to, and these not trifling cases, but terrible sore backs, the last stages of lung-disease, and the local plague. The authorities appear to have thought the lives of the native drivers, officers, and non-commissioned officers, of no consequence whatever, for although there will be 280 Europeans and 18,000 native drivers when the corps is complete, there is not a single surgeon appointed for them! And this although the great part of the force will be stationed at small stations along the road, at which there will be no troops whatever, and of course no medical officer. The men are very liable to broken limbs and injuries from the kicks of the animals, and to illness from hardship and exposure; and yet to this numerous body of men, nearly equalling in number the whole of the rest of the expedition, there has not been a single medical man appointed!

The animals which appear to support the hard work and irregular food with the least deterioration are the bullocks. Of these a very small number indeed have been ill, and the deaths amount to only one or two weekly. They look in really good condition, and perform their work admirably. Indeed, [pg 146]the greater part of the mules and ponies look in fair condition, and they have certainly no lack of food, except at the up-stations. Very great credit is due to the commissariat department, who have done very well, and against whom one never hears a complaint. Since the first landing they have had an abundance of stores for the men; and no instance has, as far as I have heard, occurred of men being unable to obtain their proper rations. The Commander-in-chief is making every effort to strengthen the transport train, and has gazetted a number of unattached subalterns for it. He has also, I believe, applied to the native regiments here for volunteers for that corps; among the subalterns, I hear, there have been few, if any, answers in the affirmative. I understand that the European regiments have also been applied to for volunteers among the noncommissioned officers and men, to act as inspectors in the train. Among these, as among the officers, I hear the appeal has not been responded to. The work of the train is tremendously hard; and men fancy, and perhaps with reason, that they have less chance of going forward to the front in the train than they would have in their own regiments. There would have been no difficulty originally in obtaining any number of men from the regiments not coming to Abyssinia, as men would have volunteered for the very reason that makes the men here refuse to do so—namely, that they wished to see the war; in addition to which, as I have said, the pay in the train is really very good.

But, after all, what is most required by the transport train is a commanding officer of far higher rank than a major. The transport train is, as I have shown, a collection of fourteen divisions, each as numerous as three cavalry regiments, the whole equalling in men alone the rest of the expedition. To [pg 147]command this immense corps a brigadier-general of energy and standing should have been selected—a man who would see the work done, and at the same time insist on being allowed to carry out his plans in his own way, without interference from others. As it is, everyone has advice to offer to the transport train, and, while throwing the blame of everything that goes wrong upon their shoulders, men do little to assist them; think nothing of sending for transport animals, and then keep them waiting for hours; start at times which render it impossible that the animals can be watered; send in their requisitions at all sorts of odd times; and, in fact, show no regard whatever for anything but their personal convenience. Major Warden does his best, and works indefatigably; but it requires an officer of much higher rank and of great firmness and decision. The present would be a great chance for an officer to make himself a name. To have successfully managed so enormous a corps as the transport train under such extreme difficulties as have already, and will in future visit it, would be a feather in the cap of the most distinguished officer.

It is a moot question, whether it would not have been far better to have done here as in India—namely, to put the transport train under the commissariat; and the overwhelming majority of opinion is, that this would have been a very preferable course. In the first place, the commissariat have no responsibility whatever. They have simply to hand over at Zulla so many thousand bags of rice, sugar, biscuit, &c., and to say to them, “Deliver them in certain proportions at such and such stations along the road.” This done, their responsibility ceases. If there is a deficiency anywhere, they have only to say, “We handed over the stores [pg 148]at Zulla in ample time, and if they have not arrived it is no fault of ours.” I cannot but think that it would be far better for the commissariat to have a transport train of their own. In India they have proved over and over again that they are capable of carrying out their transport arrangements admirably. During the mutiny there was hardly a case occurred where the commissariat did not manage to have the food up ready for the men at the end of the day’s march. For the conveyance of military stores and baggage, the transport train should be perfectly distinct from that of the commissariat. So many mules and drivers should be told off to each regiment, and that regiment should be responsible for them. One of the officers and a sergeant or two would be told off to look after them, and see that they were properly fed, watered, and looked after. The transport-train officer with the division would be in charge of spare mules, and exchange them when required for regimental mules which might have fallen sick by the way; in addition to which, a certain proportion of spare mules for casualties might be handed to each regiment. In case of a halt of a few days only, the mules would remain in charge of the troops; but if the halt were likely to be prolonged, the mules would be handed over to the transport officer, and by him used to assist the commissariat, or upon any duty for which they might be required.[2]

The elephants have been handed over to the commissariat train. They walk backwards and forwards between this place and Koomaylo, and take large quantities of stores forward. The natives are never tired of watching the huge beasts at their work, and wondering at their obedience to us. This [pg 149]astonishes them, indeed, more than anything they have seen of us, with the exception of our condensing water from the sea. One of them was speaking the other day to an officer, who is thoroughly acquainted with Arabic. “You say you are Christians,” the Shoho said; “this cannot be, for you wear no blue cords round your necks. You are sons of Sheitan. You are more powerful than the afrits of old. They could move mountains, and fly across the air, but they could never drink from the sea, they could never change salt-water into fresh. You must be sons of Sheitan.”

No troops have gone forward this week, with the exception of two companies of the 25th Native Infantry, who have gone out to Koomaylo to furnish guards and fatigue-parties there. No troops have landed, with the exception of considerable numbers of the Scinde Horse. I was anxious to see this regiment, which I have seen highly praised in books, but which Indian officers with whom I have conversed on the subject have generally spoken of in terms the reverse of complimentary. I confess that their appearance is not imposing. The men are dressed in long green frock-coats, green trousers, black belts, and sabretasches, red sash round waist, and red turban. A picturesque uniform in itself; but the long coat has a clumsy effect on horseback. Their horses are, without exception, the very ugliest set of animals I ever set eyes on. A greater contrast between these men and horses and the smart 3d Cavalry at Senafe could hardly be conceived; and yet the men individually are a fine set of fellows, indeed are almost too heavy for cavalry. The great point which has always been urged in favour of the Scinde Horse is, that they carry their own baggage, and are independent of commissariat or transport train. This is, of course, a most valuable quality; [pg 150]and in India, where forage and provisions are purchased readily enough, it is probable that the regiment may be able to move about to a great extent on its own resources. Here it is altogether different, and the regiment have indented upon the transport train for just as many baggage-animals as other cavalry corps would require. The only use of the herds of ponies which they have brought with them is, to carry very large kits for the men’s use—a matter of no advantage whatever to the public service, and, on the contrary, involving great expense, as these ponies were brought from India at the public expense, and have now to be fed and watered. I shall probably have to return to this subject during the campaign, as this system is one which has been strongly advocated and as strongly attacked among Indian officers. The railway continues to creep forward, and the first engine made a trial trip to-day upon it. Although there is little more to do than to lay the sleepers into the sand and to affix the rails, there is at present only a mile complete. One dry watercourse has been crossed, and here iron girders have been laid; but these nullahs should be no obstacle whatever to the progress of the work, as parties ought to be sent forward to get the little bridges, or any small cuttings there may be, finished in readiness, so that no pause may be occasioned in the laying the line. The country, with the exception of these little dry watercourses, which are from three to five feet deep, is perfectly flat; and the railway might, at any rate, be temporarily laid down with great ease and rapidity, especially with such a number of men as are employed upon it. As the work is being carried on at present without either method or plan or judgment, it is impossible even to predict when it will be finished to Koomaylo.

[pg 151]

It is a great pity that the matter was not put into the hands of a regular railway contractor, who would have brought his plant, gangers, and plate-layers from England, viâ Egypt, in three weeks from the date of signing the contract, and who would, with native labour, have had the line open to Koomaylo, if not to Sooro, ere this. I am not blaming the engineer officers who are in charge of the railway. They exert themselves to the utmost, and have no assistance in the way of practical gangers and platelayers, and have neither tools nor conveniences of any kind. Indeed, the actual laying down of a line can hardly be considered engineers’ work. An engineer makes the surveys and plans, and sees that the bridges, &c., are built of proper materials; but he is not a professed railway-maker, and is ill-calculated to direct a number of natives, who neither understand his language nor have a conception of what he is aiming at. It needed a body of thorough navvies, a couple of hundred strong, such as we had in the Crimea, to show the natives what to do, and to do the platelaying and skilled portion of the work themselves. When I say the railway has been, and will be, of no use to the advancing expedition, I of course except the line of rails down upon the pier and up to the stores, as this has been of the very greatest utility.[3]

The photographing party are up the pass, and have executed some excellent views of the gorge. The engineers have succeeded in sinking pumps at Guinea-fowl Plain, [pg 152]or, as it is now called, Undel Wells, and have got a plentiful supply of good water. This is most important and gratifying news. The journey from Sooro to Rayray Guddy, thirty miles, without water, was the trying part of the journey forward, and if the animals could speak not a few of them would lay their illnesses to that long and distressing journey. It is true that there was generally a little water to be had at the old well, but this was so deep and so difficult to get at, that, although a party of three or four animals could be watered there, it was quite impossible that a largo convoy could be watered. Now a large dépôt of provisions and forage will be established there, and the journey will henceforth be divided into five day’s marches, of nearly equal length. Fresh animals arrive here every day, and the amount of stores of every description which is poured on shore is really surprising. Nothing could work better or more evenly than do all the departments here. There is no confusion of any sort, and the issue of rations and stores, and the general arrangements, work as smoothly as at Aldershot. The military bands play morning and evening, and all is as quiet and according to rule as if we had been six months and intended to stay six months more upon this plain, twenty-four hours’ sojourn upon which was declared by our prophets of evil to be fatal to a European. The only thing in which we differ from a stationary camp is that there are no parades. Everyone is at work upon fatigue-duty. Every available man is ordered off to some work or other, and as we have with pioneers, coolies, hired natives, and soldiers, four or five thousand men here, we really ought to make considerable progress with our railway, which is now the only work of importance, with the exception of the wooden commissariat [pg 153]jetty, and the never-ending task of receiving and landing stores. Up to three days ago there was a piece of work in progress which was a great joke in camp. I mentioned in a former letter that the commissariat stores having been flooded, the engineers built a dam which was intended to keep out the sea, but which on the first heavy rain kept in the water and caused a fresh-water flood instead of a salt one. Colonel Wilkins then resolved upon a work on a large scale; on so large a scale, indeed, that there were reports through the camp that “he had determined on raising the whole African coast three feet,” while others more moderate denied the exactness of this, and said that he was merely “seized with a desire to show the Bombay people how reclamations from the sea ought to be carried out.” The last report was nearer to the truth than the first, for his intention was to raise the shore from one jetty to another, a distance of about 400 yards, the shore to be raised being thirty or forty yards in width, and needing three feet of additional height at the very least. The material to be used was sand. Accordingly, about a thousand men worked for a week with baskets at what their officers called mudlarking, and had not the sea fortunately interposed, they might have worked for another six months longer, with the certain result that the very first time a high tide, accompanied by wind, set in the work would altogether disappear; sand having—as most children who have built castles upon the Ramsgate sands are perfectly aware—an awkward knack of melting away when beaten upon by the sea. Fortunately, before more was done than making a sort of bank next to the sea, and when the labour of filling the whole shore behind this to the same level began to be apparent even to the most obstinate, the sea rose, came over the dam, [pg 154]covered the low ground behind three feet deep, entered the commissariat stores, and, as it could not escape, did considerably more damage than it would have done had the shore remained as it was before the labour of a thousand men for a week was expended upon it.

The rainy season, like most other things connected with Abyssinia, has turned out a myth. It was to have come in November, then it was postponed to December, then the 1st of January was named as the latest time, and yet, with the exception of one heavy shower, we have had no rain whatever. The dust is blowing again in perfect clouds. We taste it in all we eat and in all we drink. Grit is perpetually between our teeth. As for our hair, what with sea-bathing and what with dust it is approaching fast to the appearance of a hedgehog’s back. Were it not for the evening bathe I do not know how we should get on. A great improvement has been effected in this respect during the last ten days. The end of the pier is now kept for officers only, the rest being devoted to the men. This is a great boon, and makes the end of the pier quite a pleasant place of assembly of an evening. Everyone is there, and everyone knows everyone else, so that it forms the grand rendezvous of the day. Our meeting-room is the sea, our toilet strict undress. I only wish that the water we use internally were as pleasant as the salt-water is for bathing, but the fact is, it is almost undrinkable. Why it is so no one seems to know; but there is no question as to the fact. It is extremely salt, and has a strong earthy taste in addition, and occasionally a disagreeable smell. Why it should be salt I know not, but can only suppose that the condensers are worked too hard, and that salt-water goes over with the steam. The earthy flavour and [pg 155]unpleasant smell which it sometimes has I attribute to the fact that the water which comes on shore from the ships must be bad. I have smelt exactly the same odour in water on board ship. The bad taste is so strong that it cannot be disguised or overpowered by the strongest admixture of spirits. By far the best water here is made by the condenser at the head of the pier, and this is served out to the European regiments, who are camped rather nearer to it than the native regiments are. Filters remove to a certain extent the earthy taste, but they do not alter the saline. A more serious matter even than the badness of the water is the fact that the supply has several times within the last ten days been insufficient, and hundreds of animals have had to go to their work in the morning, or to their beds at night, without a drop of water. It is this which lays the foundation of the lung-diseases, fills our hospitals with sick animals, to say nothing of the suffering caused to them. When the Scinde Horse, with their numerous baggage-animals, have moved forward, it is to be hoped that the naval authorities will be able to supply a sufficiency of drinkable water for the rest of the camp. The party of engineers have just begun a work which, when completed, will enable a much larger amount of stores to be landed daily than can at present be accomplished. They are driving piles so as to lengthen the pier some twenty or thirty yards, and to form a pier-head, on all sides of which lighters and boats can lie alongside to unload instead of only at one side, as at present. The commissariat wharf is also making considerable progress, and when this and the new pier-head are completed, the amount of stores which can be daily landed will be very large. As it is, it is wonderful what immense quantities of stores are landed and sent up the pier in the trucks [pg 156]by the commissariat, quartermaster, transport train, and engineer departments. Many hands make light work, and there is abundance of labour here, and a boat comes alongside, and its contents are emptied and placed upon a railway-truck in a very few minutes. Were a double line laid down the pier—which was specially built for it—and two or three connections or crossings laid down, so that full trucks could go out, and empty ones come in without waiting for each other, the capacity of the pier would be vastly greater than it is. Why this is not done no one seems to know. With the abundance of labour at hand it might be made in a day without interfering with the working of the present line. A great improvement has taken place in the conveyance of the post between this and Senafe. Ponies are in readiness at the various stations, and the mails are taken up in two days. Things are in fact getting into order in all the branches of the service, and with the exception of the water-supply and the ridiculously-slow progress of the railway, there is little to be wished for. The Punjaub Pioneers, whose arrival I mentioned in my last letter, are an uncommonly fine body of men. Their loose cotton dress and dark claret-brown turbans, and their picks and shovels slung across their shoulders, in addition to their arms and accoutrements, give them the appearance of a corps ready for any work; and this they have quite borne out. They have brought a number of ponies with them, and are fit for any service. The corps which have thus far arrived from Bengal and Madras have certainly done very great credit to these Presidencies, and make it a matter of regret that Bombay should have endeavoured to keep as far as possible the monopoly of an immense expedition like the present in her own hands. The Lahore division of the mule-[pg 157]train arrived here in the most perfect order. The saddles, accoutrements, &c., arrived with the mules, together with the proper complement of drivers, complete with warm clothing, &c. This division were therefore ready to take their load and to march up the very day after their landing, without the slightest confusion or delay. Of course the animals from Egypt and the Mediterranean could not arrive in this state of order, but there was no reason whatever why the Bombay division should not have arrived in a state of complete efficiency, instead of the animals coming by one ship, the drivers in another, the officers and inspectors in a third, and the accoutrements and clothing scattered over a whole fleet. Madras, too, has done well, although her contingent is a very small one. The Madras Sappers and Miners have greatly distinguished themselves, and the Madras dhoolie corps, which was raised and organised by Captain Smith, of the commissariat, has turned out of the very greatest utility. They have worked admirably, and have been quite willing to do any work to which they were set, however foreign it might be to the purpose for which they were engaged. Numbers of them have been transferred to the transport train; and, indeed, so useful has the corps proved, that orders have been sent to Madras for another of equal strength.

We had quite a pretty sight here the other night. The Pacha on board the Turkish frigate, which with two small consorts is lying in the harbour, invited Sir Robert Napier and the other generals, with their respective staffs, and the commanding officers of regiments and departments, to dinner. The frigate was illuminated with hundreds of lanterns hung along her shrouds and yards. The dinner was spread on the quarter-deck, which had awnings both roof and sides, so that [pg 158]it formed a perfect tent. The dinner was very good, and the fittings and ornaments of the table admirable. The sight, to men who had been for the last month eating off pewter and drinking out of tin cups, of a pile of porcelain plates, which were evidently some of Minton’s or Copeland’s best work, would be almost tantalising, and the dinner was enjoyed proportionately to its being so exceptional a circumstance. There was no making of speeches or drinking of healths, but the men-of-war and other boats as they left the frigate with their guests gave a hearty cheer to the Pacha for his hospitality. There is still a great want of boats in the harbour, and it is most difficult to get out to a ship to see a friend or to buy stores. Many of the ships are not unloading, and the men have nothing to do. It would be an excellent plan to authorise some of these vessels to send boats to shore to ply for hire, at a regular tariff. The men would like it, as they would gain good pay, and it would be a great boon to us on shore.

There is no news from the front, with the exception of that brought in just as the last mail was leaving, namely, that Theodore was moving towards Magdala, and that the Waagshum with his army was watching him. As Waagshum had neither the force nor the courage to hold the passes between Debra Tabor and Magdala—which, according to all accounts, a hundred men might easily hold against a thousand similarly armed—I do not think that the news that he was watching Theodore was of any more importance than if it had been “a troop of baboons are watching Theodore.” I have not the least faith in these barbarian allies of ours. They will do nothing, and will demand great presents for it. Except that it amuses our “political agent,” I do not [pg 159]see that the slightest possible utility can come from these native chiefs. The only king of any real importance is the King of Tigre, upon whose territory we are already encamped at Senafe. I hear that the purport of the message brought in by the ambassador or envoy who arrived before Christmas was to request that an envoy might be sent to him to enter into negotiations, and to arrange for a meeting between himself and the Commander-in-chief. In consequence, Major Grant, of Nile celebrity, goes forward to-morrow, with Mr. Munzinger, our consul at Massowah, who acts as political adviser and interpreter. They will, I understand, go on from Senafe with a small guard of eight or ten cavalry. They will call upon the King of Tigre as official envoys, and will assure him of our friendship, and inform him that Sir Robert Napier is anxious to see him, and will meet him at Attegrat in a short time. I have now finished the news of the week, with the exception only of an adventure which befell Captain Pottinger, of the quartermaster’s department. He was ordered to reconnoitre the passes leading from Senafe down to the head of Annesley Bay. He started with eight men, and had proceeded about forty miles when he was met by a party of armed Shohos, 100 strong. They ordered him to return to Senafe under pain of an instant attack. Of course Captain Pottinger, with his eight men, would have had no difficulty in defeating the 100 Shohos, but had blood been shed serious complications might have ensued, and he very wisely determined that it would be better to retire, as his mission was not one of extreme importance. This little affair is of itself of no consequence, but is worth notice as being the first time since our arrival here that the natives have in any way interfered with an armed force, however [pg 160]small. In my next letter I hope to be able to speak of at least a probability of a forward movement.

Zulla, January 22d.

Only three days have elapsed since I last wrote to you, but those three days have completely changed the prospects of things here. Then a move forward appeared to be an event which, we hoped, might happen somewhere in the dim future, but which, with the reports that provisions were scarcely accumulating at Senafe, but were being consumed as fast as they were taken up, seemed a very distant matter indeed. Now all this is changed, and “forward” is the cry. The 25th Native Infantry are already on the move, the 4th, “King’s Own,” are to go in a day or two, and the 3d Native Infantry are to follow as soon as possible. Sir Robert Napier goes up to-morrow or next day. Whether he will remain up there, and go forward at once, or whether he will return here again for a short time, is a moot point. I incline to the former opinion. From what I hear, and from what I see in the English papers, pressure is being strongly applied to Sir Robert Napier to move forward. Now, with the greatest deference for the home authorities and for the leader-writers upon the London press, I submit that they are forming opinions upon matters on which no one who has not visited this place is competent to judge. No one, I repeat, can form any opinion of the difficulties with which the Commander-in-chief has to contend here. The first want is the want of water, the second the want of forage, the third the want of transport. Twenty-eight thousand animals were to have been here by the end of December; not more than half [pg 161]that number have arrived, and of the 12,000 which have been landed 2000 are dead, and another 2000 unfit for work. The remainder are doing quite as much as could be expected of them, and are working well and smoothly; but 8000 are not sufficient to convey the provisions and stores of an army up seventy miles, and to carry their own forage as well. That is, they might convey quite sufficient for their supply from day to day, but they cannot accumulate sufficient provisions for the onward journey. The difficulties are simply overwhelming, and I do not know of a position of greater responsibility than that of Sir Robert Napier at the present moment. If he keeps the troops down here upon the plain, the increasing heat may at any moment produce an epidemic; and, in addition to this, the English public will ferment with indignation. On the other hand, if he pushes on with a few thousand men, he does so at enormous risk. He may take any number of laden animals with them; but if we get, as in all probability we shall get, into a country where for days no forage is obtainable, what is to become of the animals? It is not the enemy we fear—the enemy is contemptible; it is the distance, and the questions of provisions and transport. If a column goes on, it cuts itself loose from its base. With the exception of the laden animals, which start with it, it can receive no supplies whatever from the rear; it must be self-supporting. When Sherman left Atalanta he travelled through one of the most fertile countries in the world. We, on the contrary, go through one series of ravines and passes, and although there are many intervening places where we may count upon buying cattle, it is by no means certain that we can procure forage sufficient to last the animals across the next sterile pass. Altogether, it is a most difficult business, [pg 162]and one where the wisest would hesitate upon giving any opinion as to the best course to be pursued. I am sure General Napier will push forward if he sees any chance of a favourable issue; and if he does not, he will remain where he is in spite of any impatient criticism on the part of those who cannot guess at one tithe of his difficulties. Since writing the above I have received reliable information that the wing of the 33d will move forward to Antalo (a hundred miles in advance) in a few days. This is palpable evidence that at any rate we are going to feel our way forward. Personally I need not say how pleased I am, for living with the thermometer from 104° to 112°, in a tent, and surrounded and covered with a fine dust, existence can scarcely be called a pleasure here.

Sir Robert Napier is making great efforts to reduce the weight to be carried forward, and in this he is, without doubt, highly to be commended. The great curse of this army is its enormous number of followers. European regiments have quite a little host of sweepers, Lascars, water-bearers, &c. &c. Even the native regiments have a number of followers. Had English troops direct from England been employed, the weight to be carried would have been very much less than it is at present, and the men, being accustomed to shift and work for themselves, would have been more handy. It is said that the soldier’s kit, now very heavy, is to be reduced; but at present the efforts are being directed almost exclusively against officers. An officer, whatever his rank, is to be allowed one mule only, and there is some rumour that even that allowance is to be reduced. I do not hesitate to say that that amount is insufficient. If an officer had his mule merely to carry his baggage it would be ample, but this [pg 163]is very far from being the case. On it he has to carry his groom’s luggage and warm clothes, and those of his body-servant. He has to carry his cooking-utensils, &c., and the rugs, &c., for his horse; consequently he will be lucky if forty or fifty pounds remains for his own kit. This is not a campaign for a week or a month; it may, in all human probability will, last for a year, perhaps longer, and he has to carry clothes, bedding, &c., for a hot and a cold climate. It is simply impossible to do this in the limits of fifty pounds. Regimental officers are ordered to send back their servants to Bombay, only one to be kept for every three officers. Of course such officers will be able to get most of the work they require performed for them by their own men; but, at the same time, it is a hardship both to officers and servants. In all cases an officer has made an advance of from two to three months’ pay to his servants; in all cases he has provided them with warm clothing; and it is very hard that he should lose all this, and be obliged to turn servants, whom he may have had for years, adrift at a moment’s notice.

Senafe, January 31st.

After the heat and dust of Zulla this place is delightful. The heat of the day is tempered by a cool wind, and the really cold nights brace us up thoroughly. Above all, we have no dust. We are clean. One has to stop for a month upon the Plain of Zulla thoroughly to appreciate the pleasure of feeling clean. Here, too, there is water—not only to drink, but to wash in. After being dust-grimed and unable to wash, the sensation of being free from dust and enabled to wash at pleasure is delightful. Having with great diffi[pg 164]culty succeeded in purchasing baggage-animals, I started early from Zulla, and arrived at Koomaylo in plenty of time to be able to examine the wonderful changes which have taken place there in the last three weeks. There were then some hundreds of animals there; now there are thousands. The lines of the mules and ponies extend in every direction; besides which are bullocks, camels, and elephants. Koomaylo is indeed the head-quarters of the transport-train animals. The camel divisions are here. They go down to the landing-place one day, are fed there, and come back loaded next day, getting their water only here. The elephants work in the same way, but they have to be watered at each end of their journey. The bullock division is here, and works upwards to Rayray Guddy, three days’ march, taking up stores and bringing down Senafe grass when there is any to spare. Four mule and pony divisions are here; these, like the bullocks, work to Rayray Guddy and back. The sick animals of these six divisions are also here, and number nearly twelve hundred, including camels. The watering of all these animals morning and evening is a most interesting sight. There are long troughs, into which water is pumped continuously from the little American pumps. The different animals have each their allotted troughs. As they arrive they are formed in lines, and as one line has drunk the next advances. There is no bustle or confusion, for there is an ample supply of water for all. The water is very clear and good, but is quite warm, and most of the animals object to it the first time of tasting. Although the mules are in better condition than they were some time since, very many of them are still very weak, especially those that have been stationed at Rayray Guddy, where they get no[pg 165]thing to eat but the coarse Senafe hay, and have had very frequently to go without even this. The greatest difficulty of the transport train at present is most unquestionably in its drivers. The greater part were, as I have before said, collected haphazard from the scum of Smyrna, Beyrout, Alexandria, Cairo, and Suez. They are entirely without any idea of discipline, are perfectly reckless as to the Government stores, and are brutally cruel to their animals. By cruel, I do not mean actively cruel, but passively cruel. They do not thrash their mules much, they are too indifferent to the pace at which they travel to put themselves to the trouble of hurrying them. But they are horribly cruel in a passive way. They will continue to work their animals with the most terrible sore backs. They will never take the trouble to loosen the chain which forms part of the Bombay headgear, and which, unless it is carefully watched, will cut into the flesh under the chin, and in hundreds of cases has done so. They will jerk at the rein of their draught-mules until the clumsy bit raises terrible swellings in the mouth; they will say no word about the ailments of their beasts until they can absolutely go no single step further, and then, instead of taking them to the hospital lines, they turn them adrift, and report upon their arrival at night that the mules have died upon the way. There is, however, far less of this going on now than formerly, for a mounted inspector accompanies each train, and many of the large convoys have officers in charge of them. But not only for their cruelty and carelessness are these Egyptian, Levant, and Turk drivers objectionable; they are constantly mutinous. I saw the other day at Zulla a party of fifty who had arrived a few days before deliberately refuse to work. They did not [pg 166]like the place, and they would go back. Everything was tried with them; they were kept upon less than half rations and water for days, but they sturdily refused to do anything. The whole party might of course have been flogged, but that would not have made them work; and the first day that they went out with mules they would have thrown their burdens off and deserted with their animals. I was present when Colonel Holland, director-general of transport, endeavoured to persuade them to work. They steadily refused, and even when he promised that they should be sent back to Suez by the first ship, they refused to do any work whatever until the time for embarkation. As they stood in a circle round him, some gesticulating, but most standing in surly obstinacy, I thought I had never seen such a collection of thorough ruffians in my life—the picked scoundrels of the most lawless population on earth. I stopped one day at Koomaylo, and then came rapidly up the pass. The road is now really a very fair road for the whole distance, with the exception of four miles between Koomaylo and lower Sooro. This piece of road has not, by some strange oversight, been yet touched; but I hear that the 25th Native Infantry, one wing of which regiment is at Koomaylo, are to be set to work at it at once. It is along the flat of the valley, and only requires smoothing, and removing boulders, so that a few days will see this, the last piece of the road, completed. For the rest of the distance the road is everywhere as good as a bye-road in an out-of-the-way district at home. In many places it is very much better. Up the passes at Sooro and Rayray Guddy it is really an excellent road. The vast boulders, which I described upon the occasion of my first passing through it, are either shat[pg 167]tered to pieces by blasting, or are surmounted by the road being raised by a gradual incline. Too much praise cannot be given to the Bombay Sappers and Miners, who have carried out these works. The same party, after finishing these passes, have now just completed a broad zigzag road from the bottom of the pass up to the Senafe plain. This was before the most trying part of the whole journey, now it is a road up which one might drive in a carriage and pair, and which reminds one of the last zigzags upon the summits of the Mount Cenis and St. Gothard passes. The whole of the works I have described are at once samples of skilful engineering and of unremitting exertion. No one who passed through six weeks ago would have believed that so much could possibly be effected in so short a time. Next only to the Bombay Sappers credit must be given to the Beloochee regiment, one wing of which under Major Beville at Sooro, and the other under Captain Hogg at Rayray Guddy, have made the road along those places where blasting was not required.

The Beloochees are a remarkably fine regiment, and work with a willingness and good-will which are beyond praise. Great regret is expressed on all sides that they have not been selected to accompany the 33d regiment upon its advance, especially as they are armed with Enfield rifles.

The Beloochees are deservedly one of the most popular regiments in the Indian service, and there is an esprit de corps—a feeling of personal attachment between men and officers, and a pride on the part of the latter to belong to so good a regiment—which the present extraordinary and unsatisfactory state of the Indian service renders altogether out of the question in the regular native regiments. There an [pg 168]officer forms no part of the regiment. He belongs to it for the time being, but if he goes home for leave, he will upon his return be posted in all probability to some other regiment. In this way all esprit de corps, all traces of mutual good feeling between men and officers, is entirely done away with. How such a system could ever have been devised, and how, once devised, it has ever been allowed to continue, is one of those extraordinary things which no civilian, and no military man under the rank of colonel, can understand.

At the station of Sooro and Rayray Guddy little change has been effected since I last described them, and about the same number of men are stationed there; but at Undel Wells, or Guinea-fowl Plain, as it was formerly called, the place was changed beyond all recognition. When last I was there it was a quiet valley, with a few Shohos watering their cattle at a scanty and dirty well. My own party was the only evidence of the British expedition. Now this was all changed. No city in the days of the gold-mining rush in Australia ever sprung into existence more suddenly. Here are long lines of transport-animals, here are commissariat-tents and stores, here a camp of the pioneers. The whole of the trees and brushwood have been cleared away. Here is the watering-place, with its troughs for animals and its tubs for men—the one supplied by one of Bastier’s chain-pumps, a gigantic specimen of which used to pour out a cataract of water for the delectation of the visitors to the Paris Exhibition—the other by one of the little American pumps. Everything works as quietly and easily as if the age of the station was to be counted by months instead of by days.

I found that the telegraph is making rapid progress. The wire now works as far as Sooro, and is also erected down[pg 169]wards from Senafe to Rayray Guddy. It is a very fine copper wire, and in the midst of the lofty perpendicular rocks of the Sooro Pass it looks, as it goes in long stretches from angle to angle, with the sun shining bright upon it, like the glistening thread of some great spider.

It would have been long since laid to Senafe, but the greatest difficulty has occurred in obtaining poles, all those sent from Bombay having been thrown overboard to lighten the vessel in which they were shipped upon an occasion of her running aground. It has been found impossible to procure the poles for the remaining distance; and I hear that a wire coated with india-rubber is to be laid a few inches under the soil.

Senafe itself is but little altered. The 10th Native Infantry are still in their old camp. The 3d Native Cavalry have gone out about eight miles from here to a spot called Goose Plain, and the sappers and miners are encamped in the old lines of the 3d. The 33d lines are in a plain close to, but a little beyond, the old camp, and concealed from view until one has passed it.

On my arrival in camp I found that a deep gloom hung over everyone, and I heard the sad news that Colonel Dunn, the commanding officer of the 33d, had the day before accidentally shot himself when out shooting. The native servant who alone was with him reports that he himself was at the moment stooping to pour out some water, that he heard the report of a gun, and turning round saw his master stagger back, and then sink into a sitting position with the blood streaming from his breast. The man instantly ran back to camp, a distance of five miles, for assistance, and surgeons at once galloped off with bandages, &c., followed by dhoolie [pg 170]wallahs, with a dhoolie to carry him back to camp. When the surgeons arrived, they found Colonel Dunn lying on his back, dead. His flask was open by his side, his cap pulled over his face. He had bled to death in a few minutes after the accident. It is supposed that the gun was at full cock, and that the slight jar of putting the butt to the ground must have let the hammer down. There are very few men who could have been less spared than Colonel Dunn; none more deeply regretted. As an officer he was one of the most rising men in the service, and had he lived would probably have gained its highest honours and position. He was with the 11th Hussars in the Balaclava charge, and when the men were asked to select the man who in the whole regiment was most worthy of the Victoria Cross, they unanimously named Lieutenant Dunn. Never was the Victoria Cross placed on the breast of a more gallant soldier. When the 100th regiment was raised in Canada, he enrolled a very large number of men, and was gazetted its major. After attaining the rank of lieutenant-colonel he exchanged into the 33d, of which, at the time of this sad accident, he was full colonel, and was next on the list for his brigadier-generalship. He was only thirty-five years of age, the youngest colonel in the British service, and would, in all human probability, have been a brigadier-general before he was thirty-six. Known as a dashing officer, distinguished for his personal bravery, a colonel at an age when other men are captains, there was no rank or position in the army which he might not have confidently been predicted to attain, and his loss is a loss to the whole British army. But not less than as a soldier, do all who knew poor Dunn regret him as a man. He was the most popular of officers. Unassuming, frank, kind-hearted in the [pg 171]extreme, a delightful companion, and a warm friend—none met him who were not irresistibly attracted by him. He was a man essentially to be loved. In his regiment his loss is irreparable, and as they stood beside his lonely grave at the foot of the rock of Senafe, it is no disgrace to their manhood to say that there were few dry eyes amongst either officers or men. He was buried, in accordance with a wish he had once expressed, in his uniform, and Wolfe’s lines on the burial of Sir John Moore will apply almost word for word to “the grave where our hero we buried.”

Sir Robert Napier arrived here with his personal staff the day before yesterday, having been five days en route, spending one day carefully examining each station, inquiring, as is his custom, into every detail, and seeing how each department worked. Never was a commander more careful in this inquiry into every detail than is Sir Robert Napier. Nothing escapes him. He sees everything, hears what everyone has to say, and then decides firmly upon what is to be done. The army have rightly an unbounded confidence in him. He is essentially the man for an expedition of this sort. His reputation for dash and gallantry is well known, but at the same time he has a prudence and sagacity which will fit him for the extremely difficult position in which he is placed. If it is possible to make a dash into Central Abyssinia, undoubtedly he will do it; if, on the other hand, it cannot be done without extraordinary risk and difficulty—if it is next to impossible—no amount of outcry at home will drive him to attempt it.

It is believed here that, moved by the home authorities, a rapid dash is on the point of being made, and bets are freely exchanged that the expedition will be over by the 1st of [pg 172]April. For myself, I confess that even in the face of the approaching advance of the first division I have no anticipations whatever that such will be the case. Sir Robert, I believe, does mean to try. Urged on to instant action from home, he will despatch two or three regiments, with cavalry and artillery, and with the lightest possible baggage. But if the country at all resembles that we have already traversed, if it is one tithe as difficult and deficient in food and forage as Abyssinian travellers have told us, I am convinced that the column will have to come to a halt, and wait for supplies, and will have to proceed in a regular military way. I hope that I may be mistaken; I sincerely hope that the advancing column may meet with no insuperable obstacles; but, remembering that it is by no means certain that when we get to Magdala we shall find Theodore and the captives there, I am far more inclined to name nine months than three as the probable time which will elapse before we have attained the objects of our expedition,—that is, always supposing that Theodore does not deliver up the captives as we advance. It is quite certain that the advancing column must depend entirely upon themselves. They will be able to receive no supplies from the rear, for other regiments will take the place of those that go on from Senafe, and the transport train cannot do much more than keep Senafe supplied with provisions at present, even supplemented as their efforts are by those of thousands of the little native cattle. Indeed, had it not been for the quantity of stores brought up by the natives on their own cattle, there would not have been sufficient stores at Senafe to have supplied the troops who now move on. As some 1500 animals will be withdrawn from the strength of the transport train to march with the advance brigade, it is [pg 173]evident that the stores sent up for some time will not be much more than sufficient to supply Senafe, and that no animals will be available to send on fresh supply to the front. The brigade that advances, then, must depend entirely upon itself. It must not hope for any assistance whatever. To say the least, it is an expedition upon the like of which few bodies of men ever started. We have 330 miles to go, across a country known to be exceptionally mountainous and difficult. We have already learned that, with the exception of cattle, the country will provide us with no food whatever. The kings or chiefs through whose territory we march will be but neutral, and even if actively friendly, which they certainly are not, could afford us no practical assistance. To crown all, it may be that towards the end of the march we may have to fight our way through difficult passes, defended by men who, if ill-armed, are at least warlike and brave. History hardly records an instance of such an accumulation of difficulties. Pizarro’s conquest of Mexico, perhaps, ranks foremost among enterprises of this sort, but Pizarro fought his way through the richest country in the world, and could never have had difficulties as to his supplies. There is no question about our conquering—the great question is as to our eating. If we were always certain of finding forage our difficulties would be light in comparison. Unfortunately our mules must eat as well as we, and we know that we shall have long passes where no forage whatever is procurable. If the mules were certain of their food it would be a mere arithmetical question—how many mules are required to convey food for 2500 men for forty days? As it stands now, we have no data to go upon, and whether our present advance succeeds or not is almost entirely dependent upon whether we [pg 174]can obtain forage for our animals. If we can do this, we shall get to Magdala; but if we find that we have to pass long distances without forage, it becomes an impossibility, and we must fall back upon the regular military method of forming dépôts and moving on stage by stage. In this latter case there is no predicting the probable limit of the expedition.

General Napier is taking the most stringent but necessary steps for reducing the baggage to a minimum. No officer, whatever his rank, is to be allowed more than one mule. Three officers are to sleep in each bell-tent, and one mule is allowed for two bell-tents. One mule is allowed to each three officers for cooking-utensils and mess-stores. Only one native servant is to be allowed for each three officers. No officers, except those entitled to horses in England, are to be mounted; they may, however, if they choose, take their own horse as a pack-animal instead of the mule to which they are entitled, in which case a pack-saddle will be issued to them. Similar reductions are being made among the regimental baggage and followers. The latter, whose name was legion, and who were at least as numerous as the fighting-men, are to be greatly curtailed. The Lascars, sweepers, water-bearers, &c. are either to be sent back, or to be turned into grass-cutters for the cavalry and baggage-animals. The European soldiers are to be limited to 35lb. weight of baggage, and part of this they will have to carry for themselves. All this is as it should be. In India it is policy as well as humanity to take every possible care of the British soldier. He is a very expensive machine, and although, as was found during the mutiny, he can work in the sun during an emergency without his health suffer[pg 175]ing, still at ordinary times it is far better to relieve him as far as possible from all duties whatever save drill and guard. Labour and food are so cheap in India that the expense of this host of camp-followers is comparatively slight. Here it is altogether different. It was known long before we started that the ground would be exceptionally difficult, that the difficulties of transport would be enormous, and that every mouth extra to be fed was of consequence; and yet in spite of this the European regiments arrived here with little short of 500 followers; and the native regiments have also hosts of hangers-on. As I have said, all this is now very properly to be done away with. The army will march as nearly as possible with European kit and following, and the transport train will be relieved of the incubus of thousands of useless mouths to be provided for. In speaking of the transport train, I should mention that Sir Robert Napier is in no way accountable for its absurd organisation and consequent break down. The Bombay authorities are alone responsible. When the expedition was first seriously talked of in August last, Sir Robert Napier drew up a scheme for a transport train, which I am assured by those who have seen it was excellent. This he sent in on the 23d of August. No notice was taken of it until the middle of September, when Sir Robert was told that a scheme would be prepared by the commissary-general. Another precious month elapsed, and then in the middle of October the present absurd scheme was hatched. It was sent to Sir Robert for his opinion, and he returned it with the memorandum that it was perfectly impracticable. The authorities persisted, however, in the teeth of his opinion, in having their plan carried out; and it was only upon Sir Robert’s repeated and earnest remon[pg 176]strances that they consented to increase the number of European inspectors and native overlookers to the present ridiculously-insufficient number. The result has abundantly proved the wisdom of the General, and the fatuity of the men who would interfere in every detail, and overrule the opinion of the man to whom everything was to be intrusted from the day of his leaving Bombay. Events have abundantly proved the error of intrusting the management of the expedition to civilians and men of bureaux.

And now, as to the advance brigade. Neither its composition nor its date of advance are yet known for certain. The Chief is not a man who says anything about his plans until the moment arrives when the necessary orders are to be given. It will probably comprise the whole or part of the 33d regiment, the 4th regiment—a portion of which is expected to arrive here to-day—the 10th Native Infantry, the Beloochees, the Punjaub Pioneers, the Bombay Sappers and Miners, the 3d Native Cavalry, and the Scinde Horse. Of these, two companies of the 33d regiment, and two of the 10th Native Infantry, are already at Attegrat, thirty-five miles in advance. Three more companies of each regiment started to-day. Brigadier-general Collings goes on with them, and will for the present command the advance. Part of the Pioneers are here, as are the Bombay Sappers. These go on in a day or two to make the road near and beyond Attegrat, the intermediate part having been already made by the 33d regiment. The Scinde Horse are some eight or nine miles away, and near them are the 3d Native Cavalry. I have omitted in my list of troops for the advance brigade to name the mountain trains, and three guns of the artillery, which will be carried by elephants. These animals are ex[pg 177]pected here in a day or two. I should be sorry to meet them on horseback in a narrow part of the pass, and I expect that they will cause terrible confusion among the transport-animals, for they have all a perfect horror of the elephant—that is, the first time that they see one. When they get to learn that he, like themselves, is a subjugated animal, they cease to feel any terror of him.

There is one pleasing change which has taken place since I last left Senafe, and which I have not yet spoken of. I mentioned that Sir Charles Staveley, when he was up here, ordered huts to be built for the muleteers by the 10th Native Infantry. These are now completed. They are long, leafy bowers, running along in regular lines between the rows of animals. They are very well and neatly built—so regular, indeed, that it is difficult at a short distance to believe that they are really built of boughs. They may not be as warm as houses, but they keep off the wind, and afford a great protection to the muleteers at night. The division here, that of Captain Griffiths, is the first which landed. It is now in very good order, and will accompany the advance brigade. The disease up here is, I am happy to say, on the decrease. The sick animals are out at Goose Plain with the artillery.

Yesterday, in the afternoon, there was a parade of the 33d, and 10th Native Infantry; small parties of the Royal Engineers, of 3d Native Cavalry, and of Scinde Horse were also present. Sir Robert Napier rode along the line, and the regiments then marched past. The little party of the 3d Cavalry came first, followed by the Scinde Horse, and offering as strong a contrast to each other as could be well imagined. The one was upon the European, the other upon the Asiatic model. The Scinde horsemen were much the [pg 178]heavier and more powerful men; and although they have not the military seat or the dashing air of the 3d, they had in their dark dresses, and quiet, determined look, the appearance of men who would be most formidable antagonists. Their horses, although ugly, are strong; and in a charge, it was the opinion of many of those who were looking on, that they would be much more than a match for their more showy rivals. The Scinde Horse are more discussed than any regiment out here; and, indeed, it is so famous a regiment, and is always stationed so much upon the frontiers, that its coming was looked forward to with considerable curiosity. Its appearance is certainly against it; that is, its horses are very ugly animals; but this is not the fault of the regiment, for its station is so far in Northern India that it cannot procure, except at very great cost, any but the native horses. I believe that this is almost the only objection which can be urged against the regiment; the men are remarkably fine; indeed, as I before stated, they are too heavy for cavalry. They are, as a whole, drawn from a much higher and wealthier class of natives than the men of any other regiment; they enlist in the Scinde Horse just as a young nobleman takes a commission in the Guards. There is a very great feeling of esprit de corps, and mutual good-feeling between officers and men; and all are proud of their regiment. The uniform, as I have said in a previous letter, is a long, dark-green coat, with red turban. It is the men’s own choice, and is quite an Eastern uniform; their long curved sabres are also quite Asiatic. The men provide their own carriage; and from this point the transport train will not be called upon to assist them in any way beyond carrying their provisions. I alluded before to the wretched ponies [pg 179]they brought with them; but the case has been explained to me, and there is no blame to be attached to the corps on this score. The men were provided with camels to carry their baggage, and were told that these would do for Abyssinia. While upon their march down to the sea-coast a telegram arrived, stating that camels would not do; and the men were obliged to sell their camels at a sacrifice, and to buy any ponies they could get. I speak of the men doing so, because the horses, &c., are not the property of the Government, but of the men, or rather of some among the men.

The Scinde Horse are, and always were, an irregular cavalry, upon what is called the “sillidar” system. Government contracts with the men to find their own horses, accoutrements, arms, food, and carriage. This is the irregular cavalry system, upon which all native cavalry regiments are now placed. The sum paid is thirty rupees a month. Here, however, only twenty rupees are to be paid, as Government finds food and forage. The advantages of this system for frontier-work are enormous. The men are scattered over a wide extent of country in tens and twelves, and it would be manifestly impossible to have a series of commissariat stations to supply them. Whether the system is a good one for regiments stationed for months or years in a large garrison town is a very moot question, and one upon which there is an immense difference of opinion. These regiments would have no occasion for carriage. If they had to move to another town, it would be cheaper for them to send their baggage in carts than to keep up a sufficient baggage-train. When, therefore, the order to march on service comes, there are no means of transport. The 3d Native Cavalry are exactly a case in point. Four years ago they were changed from a [pg 180]regular to an irregular cavalry regiment; but, like all regiments, the 3d had its traditions, and stuck to them. They adhere to their old uniform and equipments, and are, at a short distance, undistinguishable from a European hussar regiment. They pay extreme attention to their drill, and are to all intents and purposes a regular cavalry. They are mounted on excellent horses, and are certainly wonderfully-cheap soldiers at three pounds a month, including everything. But they have been long stationed at Poonah, and consequently had no occasion to purchase baggage-animals, and came on here without them. When it was found that the regiment had arrived here without baggage-animals, there was, of course, considerable angry feeling in the official mind; and had it not been that the animals were dying in the plain, and that no other cavalry regiment was at hand to go up with the advance brigade, it is probable that they would have been kept in the rear of the army. However, they were badly wanted, and so carriage was given to them. I have already spoken in the highest terms of their bearing and efficiency. There is one point, however, in the sillidar system which strikes me as being particularly objectionable. It is not always with the men themselves that this contract is made; it is with the native officers. Some of the men do supply their own horses, &c.; but the native officers each contract to supply so many men and horses complete, buying the horses and accoutrements, and paying the men ten rupees a month. This, I cannot help thinking, is an unmixed evil. The man has two masters—the man who pays him, and the Government he serves. This evil was carried to a great extent in the days before the mutiny; and I have heard a case of a regiment at that time of which almost the [pg 181]whole of the horses and men were then owned by one native officer. Had that man been hostile to the Government, he might have taken off the whole regiment. Efforts have since been made to put a stop to this excessive contracting, and no officer is now allowed to own more than six of the horses. It appears to me that it should be altogether done away with, and that each man should find his own horse.

But I have wandered very far away from the parade-ground at Senafe. After marching past the regiments formed in close order, the General then addressed a few words to each. To Major Pritchard of the Engineers he said how glad he was to have his own corps with him again, and that he hoped some day to employ them to blow down the gates of Magdala. To the 33d he said a few words complimenting them upon their efficiency, and regretting that they would not be led by the gallant officer whose loss he and they deplored. The General then addressed the 10th Native Infantry, complimenting them upon their conduct and efficiency. Sir Robert spoke in Hindoostanee, a language of which my knowledge is unfortunately confined to about eight words; none of these occurred in the speech, and I am therefore unable to give the text. The regiments which go on are delighted at the prospect of a move, and the 10th Native Infantry cheered lustily as they marched off with their band at their head. Fresh troops arrive as fast as others move on. While I have been writing this a portion of the 4th King’s Own have marched in, as also have the mule-battery with the light rifled guns from Woolwich. The most important, however, of to-day’s arrivals has been that of a hundred bullock-carts. A string of camels has also come in, as I can tell by the lugubrious bellowings and [pg 182]roar which at present fills the air. The pass is therefore proved to be practicable, and the camels and bullock-carts will be a great assistance to us. The natives must be astonished at seeing this string of carts coming up a place which all their tradition must represent as almost impassable even for their own cattle, which, like goats, can go almost anywhere. Their ideas about us must altogether be rather curious; and as we know by experience how a story expands and alters as it goes, the reports which must reach the extreme confines of Abyssinia must be something astounding. Even here they are not contented with the facts. There is a report among them that the cattle we are buying up are intended to be food for a train of elephants we have coming to help us fight Theodore, and that we have also a lion-train, which will shortly be here. Our news from Magdala is as before. Theodore is slowly, very slowly advancing. He has got heavy cannon, and insists upon taking them with him. Waagshum, the king who has been besieging Magdala, has fairly run away, and the tribes around Magdala have all sent in their allegiance to Theodore. Theodore has been writing to Rassam as if he were his dearest friend, and Rassam has been answering him as if he were Theodore’s grovelling slave. Theodore’s letter runs in this style: “How are you? Are you well? I am quite well. Fear not. I am coming to your assistance. Keep up your head. I shall soon be with you. I have two big cannon. They are terrible, but very heavy to move.” Rassam answers somewhat in this style: “Illustrious and most clement of potentates, I, your lowest of slaves, rejoice at the thought that your coming will throw a light upon our darkness. Our hearts swell with a great joy;” and more fulsome stuff of the same character. [pg 183]Dr. Blanc’s letters to us are at once spirited and manly. “We are delighted,” he says, “at the thought of your coming. How it will end no one can say. We are all prepared for the worst; but we have at least the satisfaction of knowing that our deaths will be avenged.” Up to the last moment of doing this we have no day fixed for Sir Robert Napier’s advance upon Attegrat. The 5th is named as the earliest date upon which a messenger can return from Grant’s party, and say when Kassa, the King of Tigre, will be at Attegrat to meet the General. It is probable that the King will start almost immediately Grant arrives, and in that case Sir Robert will have to move forward at once in order to arrive first at the place of meeting. I go on to-morrow, unless any circumstance should occur to change my plan.

The scientific and the general members of the expedition are arriving very fast. Dr. Markham, the geographer of the expedition, has long been here. Mr. Holmes, of the British Museum, arrived yesterday, as archæologist; he is going off to-morrow to a church a few miles distant, to examine some manuscripts said to exist there. The Dutch officers arrive up to-day, and I hear two French officers arrive to-morrow. In reference to these foreign officers, I am assured to-day by a staff-officer, to whom I was regretting that more was not done for them, that they are not really commissioners. It may be so; but as, at any rate, they are officers who are paid by foreign governments, and are allowed to accompany the expedition, I confess that I am unable to see any essential difference. The staff-officer assured me, as a proof of the beneficent intentions of the authorities, that these foreign officers would not be charged for their rations. John Bull is indeed liberal. He is much more sharp as to the “specials;” [pg 184]for a general order was actually issued the other day, saying that “gentlemen unconnected with the army were to pay for a month’s rations in advance.” With the exception of the scientific men, who are all sent out by Government, and must, I suppose, be considered official persons, there are only four gentlemen here “unconnected with the army,” namely, three other special correspondents and myself. I remarked to a commissariat-officer, with a smile, when called upon to pay my month in advance, that “I thought I might have been considered as good for the payment at the end of each month as officers were.” “Ah,” said the astute officer, “but suppose anything were to happen to you, whom should we look to for payment?” The reply was obvious: “But, on the other hand, suppose that unpleasant contingency should occur, of whom are my representatives to claim the amount for the days paid for but not eaten?” At whose suggestion this general order was issued I know not; but I do know that anything more paltry and more unworthy the general order of a large army was never issued. Who issued this order I know not, for I cannot but repeat that no one could be more kind and considerate than are Sir Robert Napier and every member of his staff to all of us.

I must now close my letter, for it is getting late, and my hand is so cold I can hardly hold a pen. I may just mention that colds are very prevalent here, and that at night there is an amount of coughing going on among the natives in the tents around, that is greater even than could be heard in an English church on a raw November morning during a dull sermon.

[pg 185]

Senafe, February 3rd.

When I closed my letter on the evening of the 31st ultimo, I had intended to start early the next morning. My plan was to have gone on to Attegrat, to have stopped a day or two there, and to have returned in plenty of time to have gone up again with Sir Robert Napier. After I had closed my letter, however, I heard that he would probably leave on the 5th; I should not, therefore, have had time to carry out my plan, and determined, in consequence, to wait here another day or two, and then to move on quietly in advance of the General, so as to be able to devote a short time to the examination of the country in the neighbourhood of each of the stations. I had another course open to me. The extreme advanced party are pushing on beyond Attegrat, on the road to Antalo. Should I go with them, or should I remain near head-quarters and report the regular progress of events? It was more amusing, of course, to be pushing on ahead; but it seemed to me that the interest of the public lay not in the road, but in the progress of the troops along that road. I have therefore made up my mind to jog quietly along with the main body of the army, the more especially as the meeting between Sir Robert Napier and the King of Tigre will be one of the most interesting events in the whole expedition.

Mr. Speedy has arrived in camp. He is to act as political adviser to General Napier, and his arrival is a general matter of satisfaction. Mr. Speedy was at one time an officer in the 81st Foot; he afterwards exchanged into the 10th Punjaubees, of which regiment he was some time adjutant. He afterwards left the service and wandered out to Abys[pg 186]sinia, where he entered the service of Theodore, and assisted him to organise and drill his army. Finding he was likely to share the fate of other British in this potentate’s employ, and to be cast into prison, Mr. Speedy threw up his appointment, and has since been living in Australia. General Napier, having heard of him, wrote to beg him to come; and Mr. Speedy received the letter just in time to come off by the mail, with a kit, according to popular report, consisting only of two blankets. He is not, I am happy to say, an Abyssinian worshipper. Dr. Krapf, Colonel Merewether’s adviser, is so. He seems to think that the black is a very much finer specimen of humanity than the white man; and that deeds which would be punished in the latter are highly excusable, if not laudable, when perpetrated by the former. Dr. Krapf is not singular in his ideas. Had his lines lain in England, I have no doubt that he would have been one of Governor Eyre’s foremost persecutors. I am very glad that a healthier tone is likely to be introduced in our dealings with the natives. Mr. Speedy rode out yesterday, at the General’s request, to some of the villages round, called upon the priests, and offered a present of money for the relief of the poor and distressed. The answer in each case was the same. The priests said that had it not been for our coming, a period of severe distress and suffering would probably have occurred. The crops had been devastated by the locusts, and the present drought would seriously affect the next harvest. Thanks, however, to the money which the English had distributed through the country in payment for cattle purchased by the commissariat, and for hay, wood, milk, &c., and for the hire of transport, the people were better off than usual; and therefore, with the exception of three or four dollars for [pg 187]the aged and infirm, they would decline with thanks General Napier’s gift.

The Engineer Corps here have been very busy for the last few days practising signalling. The method used is Captain Bolton’s system, which is in use in the Royal Navy. The method in which these signals are managed on land is, however, less known, and is specially interesting, as it is the first time they have been used in actual warfare. The present is, indeed, a sort of experiment; and if it prove successful and useful, it is probable that the system will be generally introduced into the army. The Engineers are giving lessons in the art of signalling to soldiers of the 33d regiment, and will teach men of each regiment out here, so that the system may be fairly tested. The signals by day are conveyed by flags; there are white, white-and-black, and black, according to the alphabet or method to be used. A single wave to the right means one; two waves, two; and so on up to five; the remaining four numbers are made either by waves to the left or by combination of wavings to either side. These numbers, like the flags on board ship, refer to a number in a book with which each signalman is furnished. Let us suppose, for example, that a general situated upon rising ground wishes to signal to any given division of his army. He makes the signal, let us say, “five.” The signal is passed along by the line of signalmen to the fifth division, who all, by waving their flags, testify readiness. The signal is then passed, “1015.” This means, “move to the support of the fourth division,” which is instantly done without loss of time. Or the flags may be addressed to all the corps of the army; and the order, waved over thirty miles of country, might be, “Concentrate on the centre division.” It is, indeed, asto[pg 188]nishing how much time would be gained by using this method instead of sending a score of aides-de-camp scouring all over the country. At night the signals are conveyed by means of flashing lights. These are extremely ingenious in their construction. The signaller, who is always accompanied by a companion with a signal-book, has a brass tube some eight feet long, at the extremity of which is a lantern; in this lantern a spirit-lamp burns; underneath this spirit-lamp is a receptacle in which is placed a powder composed of magnesium, resin, and lycopodium, very much like the mixture with which stage-carpenters produce lightning by blowing it through a candle. This lamp acts on precisely the same principle. A bellows is attached to the brass tube. This bellows the signaller works, either in short or in long pressures; and the air, as it passes up, goes through the powder and forces a small quantity of it through a pair of nozzles placed close to the spirit-flame. The result is a brilliant flash, which is long or short according to the pressure upon the bellows. This light can be seen at a very great distance, and two or three parties of signallers placed upon hill-tops could convey an order a distance of fifty miles in a very few minutes. The difficulty, of course, lies in the liability to error. A single puff more or less might entirely change the order. 1021 might mean “Concentrate upon your left flank;” 1022 “Concentrate upon your right.” It is all very well to say that each signal is repeated, and therefore that a mistake would be instantly corrected; but we all know what mistakes occur in telegraphic messages, even if we pay for their being repeated. The system appears as good and as little liable to error as anything of the kind could be; but when we consider that a miscounting of the flashes of light or of the [pg 189]waving of a flag might entirely alter the order given, it is evident that the risk is so great that a general would rather, if possible, despatch a mounted officer with written instructions. At the same time, the system for distant communication is undoubtedly adapted to expedite the movements of an army over a large tract of country. General Napier has taken a great interest in the experiments, and I have no doubt the system will be thoroughly tried during the present expedition. The apparatus for each signalling-party is singularly complete and handy; it is carried in two baskets or mule-panniers, and includes everything which could be required, comprising a light-tent, a canteen, flags, lanterns, a supply of alcohol and powder, a small case for writing in the rain, signal-books, &c. Each of these double panniers contains, in fact, everything required for the signalmen; and with twelve such apparatus, distributed among parties placed upon hill-tops, signals might be flashed at night from London to Edinburgh.

The elephants for the guns have not yet arrived, but are expected to-morrow, and in that case will go on with Sir Robert Napier; who, I believe, will positively leave in the afternoon. As several other bodies of troops move on the same day, it will make his entry into Attegrat quite an imposing affair. In fact, I should not be surprised if the sight of the elephants created quite a stampede among the natives. Speaking of elephants, a sad accident occurred a few days since at Sooro. These animals are to be met with in the mountains between that place and the sea, and three have been killed by officers of the Beloochees. Accordingly, Major Beville and Lieutenant Edwards went out to try their fortune, and were successful in finding a herd of them feed[pg 190]ing in a valley. The animals scented them before they could get within fair shot, and began to run rapidly away; whereupon Edwards rushed out, crossed a small intervening nullah, and followed upon their heels. Elephants, however, are not animals that like being followed, and accordingly one of them turned and charged his pursuer. Edwards fired at him, but failing to check him, took to his heels. The animal overtook him in his descent of the nullah, seized him in his trunk, dashed him to the ground, and endeavoured to trample on him, but fortunately the slope of the ground rendered this a matter of difficulty. At this critical moment Major Beville arrived, and fired into the animal, who, most fortunately, upon finding himself wounded, quitted his victim and fled. Extraordinary to state, poor Edwards was not killed; but he has received some severe internal injuries, and is now lying at Sooro in a very precarious state.

The bullock-carts, which arrived the day before yesterday, aroused, as I anticipated, the admiration and wonder of the natives to the highest point. I believe that they never saw a wheeled vehicle before; and the apparition of the long line of carts, drawn by the splendid Brahmin cattle, coming up laden with stores, from a defile which all their traditions from time immemorial have represented to them as being impracticable even for their own sure-footed little cattle, completed their assurance that the English are truly sons of Sheitan. Our energy and resources must indeed appear something quite supernatural to this primitive people.

One of my principal grounds for objection to the Abyssinians is that they are such an intensely lazy race. Now, if people like to be lazy, and to eat the scanty bread of idleness instead of the large loaf gained by hard work, it is [pg 191]their own business, and a mere matter of taste, in favour of which there is much to be said. But the Abyssinian, although intensely lazy, is by no means satisfied to eat the bread of idleness. The noble savage is keenly awake to the value of labour, and insists that all the members of his family, with the exception only of himself and such of his sons as may be big enough to have their own way, work like the veriest slaves. You will see a great lout of a man walking lazily along towards the camp, armed with his spear and shield, while before him stagger his old mother, his wife, his sister, and his four or five children, carrying enormous bundles of hay. I am not exaggerating when I say that you will frequently see little girls not more than seven years old carrying bundles of hay of forty-five pounds weight into camp; and poor little mites of three or four years old carry a proportionate burden. The weight is never carried on the head, always upon the back, fastened by a thong of leather, which goes over the arms just below the shoulder and across the chest. The child or woman, as the case may be, walks bent forward, almost double. The men never carry loads; it is beneath the dignity of a noble savage. The whole of the work is done by the females and by the little boys of the family. My blood has fairly boiled many times, and I have longed heartily to lay my riding-whip across the shoulders of these lazy scoundrels, who are too lazy to work, but not too proud to drive their little children to work, and to live upon the result. The boys do, as I have said, a certain amount. When they are quite little they do nearly as much as their sisters, but as they grow up they do less and less, and it is rare to see a boy over twelve years old carrying a burden. The women here carry their babies on their backs, [pg 192]and not across the hip as the Hindoostanee women always do. The children are held in a sort of small shawl of leather, which is wrapped tightly round the mother, and only the top of the little thing’s head is generally to be seen. In this way the mother has her arms free, and can carry about her bundle of wood or grass for sale; but in this case the burden is, of course, carried in her arms before her. I have often wondered that the children survive the double risk—of suffocation, from pressure against their mother’s backs, and of sunstroke, from the sun coming down full upon the unprotected tops of their little bald heads. They do not seem to mind it, and I do not think that I have heard more than one or two infants utter a wail when being carried in that position. I can only suppose that the natural warmth of their mothers’ naked backs is agreeable to them; but, with our present style of dress, it is not an experiment which I should recommend an English nurse to try with a fractious child, unless she wishes a coroner’s inquest to be held upon it, with possibly other more unpleasant proceedings to follow.

The stores in the commissariat-yard here continue to increase, thanks to the amount brought up by the native cattle. At present there is, I understand, about a month’s consumption for the troops here and in advance. The arrangements of the commissariat-yard are very good; as, indeed, most of the arrangements of that department have been throughout the expedition. At times this yard presents a most interesting spectacle. Here are large piles of rice- and flour-bags, and beside them the Parsees weighing out the rations to the numerous applicants. A little farther on is the butcher’s shop, where the meat-rations are cut up and distributed. Here is a large enclosure fenced round with bushes, and [pg 193]containing cattle purchased for the troops from the natives. Here are some hundreds of mules unloading stores which they have brought from below. Farther on are more being loaded with grass, to go down for the sustenance of the animals in the pass. Here, again, are hundreds of women and children laden with grass, which an officer of the commissariat is weighing and paying for; giving, however, the money to the men; who, the instant the women have brought in the grass, send them off, and exert themselves so far as to receive the money. Near these is the wood-yard, where a similar scene is being enacted. Back again by the store-yard are a host of native cattle, which are waiting to receive stores to take forward to Attegrat. The contract price for this is a dollar and a half per head; and I am glad to say that we can obtain as many cattle as we like for the purpose. Here we have men; the only employment, indeed, which the Abyssinian men will undertake is driving cattle, or rather following them, for they never attempt in any way to guide or influence their movements, but dawdle after them with their eternal spears and shields, knowing well that the sagacious little cattle will always follow the beaten track. Close by is a space marked off for a market. Here we have groups of men squatted about everywhere among their cattle, sheep, and goats: there are a good many donkeys too, and a few mules. For these latter they have raised the price very greatly during the last month: then a good mule could be bought for fifteen dollars, now they charge thirty-five and forty. They are very independent too, and refuse to abate a single dollar in the price they ask: if they do not obtain the exact sum they demand, they will, after a certain time, mount and ride off to their villages, to return again next [pg 194]day with the price probably enhanced two or three dollars over that demanded on the first occasion.

I must now close this, as I am on the point of starting for Attegrat. I shall endeavour to send a few lines in from Goun-Gonna, the next station; for as the next mail starts in four days, and I shall be getting farther away every march, a letter from Attegrat could not get in here in time for the post.

Goun-Gonna, February 4th.

I feel quite glad to be again getting forward. Senafe has so long been my advanced post, that it seemed as if we were never going to get beyond that point. However, now I am once more en route, I hope that I shall have no further stop—beyond a few days at Attegrat, to see the meeting of the King of Tigre and the General—until I arrive at Antalo. Antalo will be about ten days’ march from here, and, once there, half the distance to Magdala will have been accomplished. My ride yesterday afternoon was one of the most pleasant I have had here. The temperature was delightful—a bright sun and a strong cool wind; the road, too, for some distance, across an undulating plain, descending sharply into a magnificent valley, was a charming change after the monotony of the long valleys, up and down which I have been riding for the last six weeks, and the wide expanse of the sandy plain of Zulla. After leaving Senafe the plain falls for some distance, and after about five miles’ ride we came down to the lowest point, where, in ordinary times, a small stream of water crosses the road, but which at present is perfectly dry, except where it has accumulated in large pools. [pg 195]By the side of one of these, about two miles to our left, we saw the camp of cavalry and sick animals. I may mention, by the way, that although the disease among the mules is much upon the decrease, and has altogether lost the virulence which at first characterised it, there are still, by the last weekly statement, two thousand six hundred animals, including camels, unfit for work, from one cause or other.

In this watered valley are immense herds of cattle. The plain is covered with a thick coarse grass, which has now been everywhere cut, either by the troops themselves for their horses, or by the natives for sale to us. Crossing the plain, we have a steep rise up the side of the hill, and then, surmounting the rise, we find ourselves at the head of a valley running nearly due south. This we descend; and from the number of villages perched on the eminences on either side, it is evident that water is generally found in this locality. It was probably, at some not very distant time, much more thickly populated than it is at present, for many of the villages are ruinous and deserted. This valley is very pretty, and, after the treeless plain of Senafe, is doubly agreeable, for the sides of the hills are everywhere clothed with the gigantic candelabra cactus. These are now just bursting into blossom. The blossoms grow from the extremity of each of the innumerable arms of the candelabra; and as their colour varies from white, through delicate shades of pink, to dark-red, the effect is very beautiful; indeed, with their regular growth, and perfect mass of blossom, they look as if they had just been transplanted from the grounds of the Messrs. Veitch to this country for some gigantic flower-show. There is a church in this valley, which is much venerated as being the scene of the martyrdom of some eight or ten Christians in the [pg 196]time of the persecution. My knowledge of Abyssinian history is, I confess, of too meagre a nature for me to give you an approximate date of this affair. Their bones are, however, still to be seen; and from this I should say that the event could not be very distant, as in a climate subject to great heat and heavy rains as this is, it is probable that bones would very speedily decay. The church is at some distance from the road, and is, like most of the churches here, upon a hill. I did not, therefore, turn aside to examine it, as I shall have plenty of opportunities of examining churches hereafter, and, with the exception of the martyrs’ bones, it presents no feature of peculiar interest. Descending the valley, we find it to be only a feeder of a wide valley running east and west. The valley was, like Goose Plain, covered with coarse grass, and contained immense herds of cattle. The side opposite to that by which we had entered it was very steep; the mountains are nearly bare, and near their summits present an appearance which, had I not seen it also upon the rock at Senafe, I should have said had been caused by a very slight fall of snow. I learn, however, that it is a very small lichen, which is abundant upon the rocks. I presume that this lichen is at present in flower or seed; for I did not observe the peculiar appearance at my first visit to Senafe, and it is so remarkable that I could not have failed to notice it had it existed at that time. We know now that we are near our destination, for we see the grass-cutters going along with great bundles of hay. We cross the valley and enter a smaller valley, which forks at a slight angle with the large one. As we fairly entered it, we saw near its extremity the camp of Goun-Gonna. A prettier situation could hardly have been selected. The hills to the right-hand are almost [pg 197]perpendicular, and upon a ledge about half-way up a village is nestled. The stream which flows down it has been used for the purpose of irrigation, and the bright green of the young crops was a delightful relief to our eyes. On the left-hand the hills are less precipitous, but are still very steep. The valley is less than a quarter of a mile in width, and ends abruptly with a semicircular sweep a short distance above the spot where the camp is pitched. What adds greatly to the beauty of the valley is, that it contains several of those immense trees with distorted trunks and bright-green foliage, whose real name is a moot point, but which are alike claimed to belong to the banyan, india-rubber, or tulip-tree species. At any rate, whatever be their species, they are one of the most picturesque species of tree I ever saw. They cover an immense extent of ground, and their trunks sometimes lie along the ground, sometimes rise in strange contorted forms. Their bark is extremely rough, and whitish-gray, and if seen without the foliage, would be certainly rather taken for strange blocks and pillars of stone than for the trunks of trees. In the camp we found a company of the 33d and the head-quarters of that regiment, who are upon their way to join the wing at Attegrat, and who had just come in, as had the mountain battery of steel guns under Colonel Milward, both having left Senafe two or three hours before ourselves. There was also a convoy of the Transport Train on their way to the front, and also a troop of the Scinde Horse. This station must be fifteen hundred feet below Senafe, and the difference of temperature is surprising. Last night I did not at all feel cold, whereas at Senafe it was next to impossible to keep warm, however numerous the wrappings in which one enveloped oneself. This morning I have been up a very pretty [pg 198]little broad valley, about a quarter of a mile in length. This branches off from the larger valley exactly opposite the camp, and it is down this that the little stream of water comes. The valley is clothed in shrubs and small trees, and the water falls into it over a perpendicular rock fifty feet high at its upper extremity. It put me very much in mind of a Westmoreland glen, with a little “force” at the extremity. Here, too, to increase the resemblance, I found some old friends whom I have not seen since I left England, namely dog-roses, common brambles, and honeysuckle. Down by the water’s edge, upon the rocks, kept moist by the water-spray, grew maiden-hair and other ferns. The air was sweet with arbutus-flowers, and the plash of the water was most grateful to the ear after the dry plains of Zulla and Senafe. Here, too, we had the aloe in flower, with its long heads of reddish-orange blossom. Here we had a sort of scabius ten feet high, and a rush or water-grass twenty feet in height, with its plumy reed. Here over the shrubs crept the familiar clematis, with its great clusters of white downy reed. Here was a sort of tares, with their pink blossom, and growing straight and strong to a height of four or five feet. Upon the trees were perched wood-pigeons and doves, which called to one another with their soft coo. Altogether it was a lovely little spot, and it was with the greatest reluctance that I left it to come back to camp to write this letter previous to starting for Fokado, the next station.

You will see that, although the mail only goes once a week, I am, as long as I am moving forwards, obliged to write every three days, as for every day I move further the mail takes another day to come down. It is, in addition, no easy matter to find time to write when upon the march. One [pg 199]rises at daybreak, which is little before seven, and, using the very greatest diligence, it is nearly two hours before the tent can be struck, and the mules loaded and upon their way. I generally give them a start of an hour, and then ride on, overtake them, and see that all is going on well. If so, I ride forward, and use some friend’s tent until my own arrives, which, if the distance is fourteen miles, will not be until nearly four in the afternoon; for my mules, with stoppages to readjust baggage, &c., do not make above two miles an hour. Then there is pitching the tent, drawing rations, and seeing the horses watered and fed; and by the time dinner is ready and our work done, it is past six o’clock. One generally puts one’s rations with those of friends; and by the time the meal is over, and the succeeding pipe and glass of arrack-and-water discussed, one is far more fit for bed than for sitting down to chronicle the events of the day. My next letter will be from Attegrat, where I expect to stay for a few days.

Attegrat, February 7th.

I have been so long looking forward to arriving at Attegrat, that, being here, I feel that I have made a long stage into the interior of Abyssinia. I confess, however, that I am disappointed in Attegrat. It is foolish, I own. I ought by this time to have learnt the utter hollowness and emptiness of all statements connected with the country; and everything we have been told, everything we have been led to expect, has alike turned out utterly incorrect. Sometimes we have been told pleasant things, sometimes we have been threatened with dire calamities; but in both cases the vati[pg 200]cinations have turned out equally incorrect. Guinea-worms and tape-worms, fever and cholera, small-pox and dysentery, tetse-fly and sunstroke—all these have been distinguished by their absence: but as a counterbalance, so have Colonel Phayre’s green fields and gushing springs at Zulla, his perennial water between Sooro and Rayray Guddy, and his emporium of commerce at Senafe, which turned out a village of six mud-huts. Still, in spite of previous disappointments, I confess I clung to the idea that I should find a town of considerable size at Attegrat. The place was marked in Roman capitals upon the maps. It had been spoken of as a town flowing with milk and honey; it was to be one of our main halting-places; and altogether one certainly did expect to find rather more than twenty hovels, a barn called a church, and another ruinous barn which was once a palace. But before I describe Attegrat, let me detail my journey here from Goun-Gonna. I sent my baggage off at seven o’clock in the morning, at the same time that the baggage of the head-quarters of the 33d and Colonel Penn’s battery of mountain guns started. I then explored the pretty valley I described in my last, and afterwards went into a friend’s tent and finished my letter to you. At twelve o’clock I started for what I was told was an eleven miles’ ride; but it turned out the longest sixteen I have ever ridden. Every officer and man to whom I have spoken—and among others I may quote Colonel Milward and Colonel Penn of the Artillery, and Major Cooper, and all the officers of the 33d—agreed with me that it was over sixteen miles. Colonel Phayre’s and the quartermaster’s departments’ gross miscalculation of distances is becoming a very serious nuisance. It is absolutely cruel upon the men. If soldiers are told [pg 201]that they have a sixteen miles’ march across a rough country, and beneath a hot sun, they will do the distance. It may be hard work; but they know when they start what is before them, and they make up their minds to it. But when they are told it is eleven miles, at the end of that distance they begin to look out anxiously for their camping-place. They become cross and impatient, and are infinitely more fatigued than they would have been had they been told the real distance that was before them.

I now resume my account of my day’s march. For the first two miles the road mounted very steeply, until we were at least a thousand feet above Goun-Gonna, and had gained the great plateau out of which the valley is cut. It must have been a very difficult ascent before the road was made by the Sappers and Miners and Punjaub Pioneers. I do not know which parts of the road between Senafe and Attegrat are to be assigned to each regiment; but I believe that the road between Senafe and Goun-Gonna was executed principally by the 33d, assisted by the 10th Native Infantry, and that beyond this point it has been entirely the work of the Sappers and Miners and the Pioneers. The road from Goun-Gonna to Attegrat has not been continuously formed, as it is from Zulla to Goun-Gonna. It is only made in very difficult places, where it would have been next to impossible for a mule to have passed without its burden getting over its ears or tail. In other places we have the mere track worn by the people of the country; but where we ascend or descend gulleys or ravines, or where the road winds along on the face of a hill, when a false step would have involved a roll of a thousand feet down, there a fair road has been cut, which, although frequently steep, is always safe and [pg 202]passable. The road, take it as a whole, from Goun-Gonna to this place, is about as good as a bridle-road among the Welsh or Scotch hills. There are some extremely-steep places, where one mule falling down would stop a whole force, and where the loads shift terribly; but there are no places which cannot with care be surmounted, even by a baggage-train of mules. But this has been the easy portion of the journey. From this place to Antalo the difficulties will be vastly greater; beyond Antalo still greater again. It is for this reason that I look forward to a time when my knapsack will contain my whole luggage, and when sleeping in the open air will be the rule for everyone. Upon getting fairly up to the top of the hill-side from Goun-Gonna, a flat of apparently almost illimitable extent stretched away before us. Two or three of the curious conical hills which abound in this country rose at a considerable distance, and in the horizon were the peaks of the most fantastically-jagged range of mountains I ever saw. Nothing in the Alps will give any idea of the varied outline of this range of peaks. They are serrated and jagged in every conceivable form. Single peaks and double peaks, peaks like a cavalry saddle, and great square-topped blocks with perpendicular sides. The plain itself was dotted with low bushes, and covered everywhere with a luxuriant growth of grass, or rather hay, which reached up to the horses’ girths. The ground was strewn with loose stones, which, with the numerous small holes, made any progress beyond a walking-pace difficult and even dangerous. The stones, and indeed the whole formation of this upper plateau, are composed of a very white sandstone. In the pass up to Senafe the formation was entirely schist, broken and cracked-up in a wonderful manner, [pg 203]with numerous veins of quartz, and occasional walls of very hard volcanic stone traversing it. On the plain of Senafe, and throughout the whole country this side of it, we have a superincumbent bed of sandstone, which has evidently been exposed for a very long time to the action of water. The great rocks of Senafe are everywhere water-worn, and were islets, which rose above the level of a great sea, and resisted the action of the water, which has cleared away the sandstone around them to the general regular level of the plateau. Traversing the plain, we found that the seemingly almost boundless level was apparent rather than real, for the road constantly wound to avoid great valleys, which everywhere penetrated far into it. The sensation of coming suddenly upon a valley of 1000 or 1500 feet deep when apparently travelling upon a level plain was very singular. It quite upset all our preconceived notions of scenery. One found that the mountains to our left, which had appeared to rise a thousand feet or so above the plain, were really double that height from the bottom of the before-invisible valley which intervened between ourselves and them, and that the plain we were traversing was not a plain at all, but a succession of flat mountain-tops. Sometimes these valleys ran so far into the plateau that the road would have to diverge too much from the straight line to pass round their heads, and in these cases we descended some hundred feet and mounted up the other side. The view down some of these valleys was extremely fine, the mountains beyond frequently rising for miles in an unbroken perpendicular wall of two or three thousand feet. The finest view, however, was about two miles from our halting-place; and this, although I have seen much splendid scenery in my varied wanderings, was cer[pg 204]tainly the finest and most striking scene I ever beheld. Our path was winding along the face of a high mountain, along which our pioneers had cut a path some ten or twelve feet wide. We were perhaps a hundred feet above the general level of the plateau, but were passing round the head of a valley which lay some fifteen hundred feet below us. This valley was only a short branch of a broader valley which ran at right-angles to it, and beyond and in the middle of which a number of isolated hills rose up like islands; these were all flat-topped, and rose to the exact level of the general plateau. Some had sloping sides, others were perfectly perpendicular; and it required no stretch of the imagination to picture the time when a mighty river was sweeping down this great valley, and when these island-mountains breasted and divided its waters. To our right this valley was ten or twelve miles wide, and the numerous islands presented an extraordinary vista of precipice and slope. On the opposite side of the valley the plateau extended for a mile or two, and then rose into lofty rounded mountains; more to the left it stretched away for many miles, and the view was bounded by the extraordinary fantastic range of peaks of which I have already spoken. It was a most glorious view, and, broken by the lights and shadows thrown by a sinking sun, will always remain in my recollection as the most extraordinary and magnificent landscape I ever saw.

We arrived at Fokado at half-past four, getting in half an hour before our baggage, which had been eight hours and a half upon the road, and quite determined that in future, whatever labour it involved, we would not again let it out of our sight. The break-down of a baggage-animal, if one is at hand oneself to see that one’s servants instantly and pro[pg 205]perly reload it, is an affair of ten minutes at most; but if the servants are left to their own devices, it will occupy over half-an-hour. First of all there are ten minutes wasted in deploring the calamity, another ten in undoing the cords, and at least twenty more in repacking and getting under way. Fokado, like all our camping-stations, lies in a slight basin; this basin is, like the rest of the plateau-land, covered with long grass. A dozen men with scythes could cut enough in a day to supply a cavalry regiment; but they would have to be very careful to choose such portions of the plain as are not covered with stones. As it is, the grass-cutters are supplied with very small sickles, which do very well to hack off a bunch of grass, but which are of little use towards getting in any large quantity. Fortunately the natives cut and bring it in in considerable amount, and I am able to purchase an abundance from them; for no forage is issued by the commissariat for our baggage-animals, and it would be out of the question to expect our syces to go out and cut grass after a long and fatiguing day’s march. There is a well at Fokado from which plenty of cool and moderately-pure water is obtained. After having seen my tent erected and my rations drawn and on the fire, I walked on with two or three officers of the 33d to see the church. It stood, as most of the churches here do, upon slightly-rising ground, and was surrounded by a high wall, with the gateway entering beneath a sort of tower. Having paid my dollar—the modest tariff here demanded for admission—I entered the enclosure. It was in a state of the utmost disorder; loose boulders and stones were strewn everywhere, and I saw no signs whatever of graves. This was the case in the other three churches I have since visited, and is the more singular as the grave[pg 206]yards I saw and described coming up the pass, and which were those of the Mahometan tribes who inhabit that part of the country, were so carefully constructed and so religiously preserved. I have not seen a single grave since I entered the Christian part of Abyssinia. Near the church-door was a framework of three cross-poles, and from this were suspended, by straw ropes, two large stones of sonorous qualities. These were the church-bells. The church itself was a low edifice, built of rough stones, with large blocks forming the door-frame. Entering, I found myself in a low chamber, the roof being supported by four rough stone columns. The floor was littered down with rushes, and had exactly the appearance of a stable. On the wall was a rude half-length fresco of the Virgin, squinting terribly; and on the door leading to the next chamber was a skin or parchment with a somewhat similar painting. Having bowed deeply before each of these portraits at the request of the officiating priest, I was admitted into the next chamber, which was precisely similar to the first, but, having no windows, it only received such light as came in through the crevices of the doors. There was some demur as to my entering the next chamber, which indeed had been refused to all the officers who had been previously there; but I pointed to my white solar hat; and this and the fact of my not being in uniform convinced them, I believe, that I was a priest; for I should mention that the Abyssinian priests are distinguished by wearing white turbans, all the rest of the population going bare-headed. I was therefore admitted into the holy of holies. This was a more lofty chamber than the others, and was lighted by a window high up on the side wall. Across the room, at a distance of about a yard from [pg 207]the door, hung a screen about six feet high; this screen was made of roughly-embroidered canvas, and was apparently intended to prevent the eyes of the worshippers in the second chamber catching a glimpse of the penetralia when the door was opened. Looking round the end of this curtain, I saw an erection resembling a painter’s easel. A parchment or skin was stretched across the upper portion, and on this probably was a painting of some sort; but as it was wrapped up in a cloth, I was unable to examine it, as I was not allowed to go beyond the line of the screen. Returning, I noticed in one corner of the first chamber some long sticks, with a double bend at the top; that is, resembling in form a cross, with the top piece broken off. These are used in the service. Near them, in a niche in the wall, were some pieces of iron fastened together so as to make a jingling noise when shaken. These, no doubt, supply the place of the bell at the raising of the host. I have omitted to say that in the churchyard were two rough fonts; they were round blocks of stone, about two feet and a half high and eighteen inches in diameter; the hollow at the top for water was about eight inches deep. I have seen no fonts in the other churches I have entered.

The following morning I started for Attegrat, a march of about eleven miles. For some distance the road kept along the top of the plateau, which was here undulating, and the road in many places was very rough. At last we came to the brink of a valley, into the bottom of which we had to descend. How anything like a laden animal ever got down before the road was made it is next to impossible to imagine. We came along a beaten track to the top of the valley, and we could see the path again going straight along below us [pg 208]from the bottom; but there was no trace of any track or path down the tremendously-steep descent; and I suppose the little bullocks, which are as sure-footed as goats, and the donkeys, were allowed to pick their way down as they liked best. Fortunately, we were not reduced to this alternative, which would certainly have ended in three out of our four baggage-animals breaking their necks, even if the fourth—a sturdy little Massowah mule, with the zebra-marks upon his back and legs—had managed to get in safety to the bottom. A road has been cut along the face of the hill by the Sappers and Pioneers; and this road, although exceedingly steep in some places, is yet perfectly practicable. It is, however, only six feet wide, and in two or three places even less, and consequently a train of mules are a long time getting down; for if the load of one shifts and gets over his ears, all the rest must wait until it is readjusted-no easy matter upon a steep incline. If one fall from weakness or disease, there would be no resource but to roll him at once over the edge of the path into the valley below. Fortunately, none of these contingencies happened to us. The loads all got on to the animals’ necks, but our men and ourselves were able to keep them balanced there until we reached the foot of the hill, when all the loads had to be taken off and entirely repacked. Just at the foot of the incline was a village. During our journey across the plateau from Goun-Gonna to this point we had only passed Fokado and one other village. We saw many down in the deep valleys around whose heads we had skirted, but upon the flat level of the plateau we did not see a single habitation. There were numerous herds of cattle, but these probably come up to graze upon the thick grass during the day, and descend [pg 209]into the valleys for water at night. We also passed some curious piles of stones upon the plateau-land, which I omitted to mention in my description of that part of my journey. These piles were thirty or forty feet in diameter, and five or six feet high; they were of stones roughly thrown together, and had I met with them in England I should have supposed that they had been merely cleared off the fields; but here there were no signs of cultivation, and the stones were too thickly strewn everywhere to render it probable that any Abyssinian cultivator would have undertaken the labour of clearing piles of stones of this size off his land—a work which, without wheeled vehicles, would be very great. These heaps always occurred near the track, and were generally surrounded by bushes. I passed at least twenty of them. It is possible that these cairns may be burying-places; but the deserted position, the fact that they were far from villages, and the labour which they must have taken to make, all seem to negative this supposition. Besides which, there was hardly the regularity about their shape which one meets with in the burying-cairns of even the most savage nations. I confess that they are to me a perfect mystery. In the village at the foot of the descent was a church which was exactly similar to the one at Fokado. It had no fonts that I could observe, but boasted of a gong in addition to the sonorous stones for summoning the faithful to prayers. In the enclosure, lying among the stones, was a large volcanic bomb, the first of the sort I have seen in the country; it had apparently been brought there as something strange, and perhaps supernatural, and had therefore been put on holy ground; for the enclosure within the walls is holy in Abys[pg 210]sinian eyes, and we are always required to take off our hats on entering the outside gates.

From this village to Attegrat the road keeps in the bottom of a broad valley, the great part of which is ploughed up and ready for the seed, which is, I suppose, sown before the June rains. The soil is light and good, in many places a rich light loam, which would delight an English gardener’s heart. The ploughs are drawn by oxen, and are exactly similar to those I have seen in parts of Italy, except that the share of this is broader and does certainly more work. Indeed, it is by no means badly adapted for shallow ploughing on a light ground. A ride of about five miles down the valley brought us to a slight rise in the ground, and on surmounting this, Attegrat lay before us. My first impression was that of disappointment, for, with the exception of its containing two or three larger buildings, it differed in nothing from the other villages we have seen. The valley, at the point where Attegrat lies, is about two miles wide, and the twenty or thirty flat-roofed huts, which, with the church and a ruined palace, constitute the city, stand on rising ground nearly in its centre. On the left of this valley, near the slope, is the British camp. Behind it the ground rises gradually, affording camping-ground, if necessary, for a considerable force. Indeed, with the exception of some ploughed fields round the town, the whole valley is well suited for a camp. The force at present here are the five companies of the 33d regiment, whose camp, with that of Penn’s mountain battery of steel guns and the Royal Engineers, is the first we arrive at. Next to the 33d lines are the commissariat stores. A few hundred yards farther down in the valley is the camp of the six companies of the 10th Native Infantry. Their tents, like those of the European troops, are upon the slope. Beyond them this slope becomes [pg 211]much steeper, and accordingly the 3d Native Cavalry are camped in the bottom. Next to them come the Mule Train. The divisions here are the Lahore Mule Train and the A Division under Captain Griffiths. It was this division which first landed, and brought up the pioneer force. It has been ever since in the front, and is now in admirable condition. The Egyptian, Arab, Italian, and, in fact, all the drivers, except only the Hindoostanee drivers, have been during the last few days sent down to the coast to be returned to their own countries, and their places have been filled with the Hindoo dhoolie bearers, and others whose services will be no longer required, now that the regiments have all to march without followers. It need hardly be said that this will very greatly improve the efficiency of the division, for the Hindoo, if he has less strength than the Arab, Egyptian, or Persian, is yet amenable to discipline, and will, to the best of his power, carry out the orders he receives; whereas the other men were utterly reckless and disobedient, and could not be trusted out of reach of the eye of their officers. The camp of the Scinde Horse is still farther down the valley, beyond the transport lines. Sir Robert Napier arrived yesterday afternoon. His camp had been pitched for him on some slightly-rising ground in front of the 33d lines, and distant three or four hundred yards. To-day, however, the tents are being struck, and will be pitched in a line with the 33d tents, and forming a connection between them and the artillery. His tent, therefore, is in the exact centre of the European line, with the artillery on his right, the 33d on his left flank.

I now proceed to describe Attegrat. The most conspicuous building, as seen from our camp, is a detached sort of fortress, which looks like nothing so much as the castle of [pg 212]Bluebeard in a pantomime. It stands on a rising knoll, and consists of a square building of two stories high. Upon the top, and greatly overhanging each side, are four extraordinary-looking erections, like great dog-kennels or pigeon-cots, but which must be six or seven feet square. Almost the whole of these constructions project over the walls. What may be the use of these curious appendages to the tower, it is impossible to say. Next to this square tower stands a building as incongruous with it in its construction as it is possible to conceive. It is round, and has a high thatched roof, like a beehive. In addition to these main structures are several low sheds. The whole are enclosed in a high wall with a tower in it, underneath which is the gateway. The buildings are, no doubt, of stone, but they are all plastered over with mud, and look as if made of that material. As I have said, it is exactly one’s idea of Bluebeard’s castle, and one expects to see sister Anne waving her handkerchief out of one of the pigeon-cots at its summit. Certainly, if the gate were to open, and a stout figure in an immense pasteboard head, with a blue beard trailing upon the ground, and surrounded by a host of retainers also with big heads—which their chief would, of course, belabour occasionally with his staff—were to issue out, it would be in such admirable keeping with the place, that one would feel no astonishment. And yet this fortress has its history, and has stood its siege. It seems that the king or chief of this part of the country used seldom to live in his palace in the town itself, and his brother had his abode there. The brother took too much upon himself, and the jealousy and ire of the chief were aroused, and he ordered his brother to move out of the palace. This he did, but constructed at half-a-mile from the town this for[pg 213]midable castle. A disagreement arose, and the king attacked the castle, which he took after twenty hours’ siege. The castle is at present inhabited by the wife of a chief—I cannot say whether it is the same chief, for dates in Abyssinia are somewhat confused—who is a prisoner of Gobayze, King of Lasta. She has, I hear, taken a vow never to go out of doors while her husband is in captivity. Passing Bluebeard’s castle, it is a good half-mile to the town. At the right-hand on a rising rock is the church, which at a distance exactly resembles a Swiss châlet. It is, of course, surrounded by its wall, and within the enclosure grow some of the gigantic candelabra cactus. The church itself is more lofty than any I have yet seen. It is square, and is covered with a high thatched roof, the eaves of which project all round a considerable distance, and are supported by poles. Upon paying the usual fee, I was admitted in the enclosure, and saw at once that this church was of far greater pretensions than any I had yet seen. The entrance was by a doorway of squared beams, with two arches, each cut out of one piece, and each ornamented with five rolls of wood underneath. Entering this, we were in a sort of lobby or hall. The walls of this were covered with frescoes representing the feats of the founder of the church, who was either the father or grandfather of the present chief. Here that redoubted warrior is represented spearing an elephant; again he is kneeling and taking aim at a lion, whose claws are of truly-formidable dimensions. Here there are two or three battle-scenes, in which he is defeating his enemies with immense slaughter. To judge by his portraits, the founder of the church was a fair, round-faced man, with short hair and a slight moustache. I passed from this vestibule into the church itself. [pg 214]Its construction differs entirely from the others I have seen, inasmuch as instead of the sacred chamber being placed beyond two others, it was in the centre of the building, and was surrounded by a passage, the walls of which were covered with frescoes representing events in Old and New Testament writing, and in the lives of the saints. Here we have St. George nobly spearing the dragon, while the King of Egypt’s daughter and her maidens stand by with clasped hands and admiring eyes. Here we have St. Peter suffering martyrdom by being crucified head downwards; with a vast number of other martyrdoms. The biblical events all strictly follow the scriptural description; the only remarkable difference being that at the Last Supper thirteen apostles are represented as being present. In all these, as in the first frescoes, the faces of the actors are represented as white; while in the Temptation the tempter has his traditional sable hue. These frescoes are all in the early Byzantine style, and were they but really ancient, would be extremely curious and valuable; but as the church is not, at most, more than sixty or seventy years old, it is evident that they are the work of some Egyptian or Greek artist brought down for the purpose. I was not allowed to see what was in the central chamber. Leaving the church, I crossed the town, sixty or seventy yards, to where, at its other extremity, stands the ruined palace. It is surrounded by a wall, which encloses a considerable extent of ground. The principal portion of the palace far more resembles a church than do any of the actual churches of the country. It consists of a hall fifty feet long by twenty-five feet wide, with a small round room at the end opposite to the door. The entrance is underneath a porch; and along this, at about eight feet from the [pg 215]ground, there are built into it a line of bullocks’ horns, with their points projecting outwards. The hall was thirty feet high to the springing of the roof, and must have been really a fine hall, country and place being taken into consideration. The greater part of one side-wall has, however, fallen; and the roof is entirely gone. Some of the great beams which crossed it lie on the ground, and it would be a matter of considerable interest to inquire whence, in a treeless country like this, these massive beams were obtained. The most interesting portion of the ruin is the room beyond the great hall, and which was probably the king’s own room. It is entered by a double-arched door, of workmanship and design similar to that I have described at the church; the two buildings being coeval, and the woodwork unquestionably worked by some foreign artificer brought here for the purpose. The chamber itself is about fifteen feet across, with three deep recesses, each lighted by a small double-arched window of the same pattern as the door. The room was about twelve feet high, and was ceiled by a circular arched roof, which still remains. It is made of reeds or rushes sewn side by side, like the basketwork of the country, and dyed with a pattern in reel and blue. This was all worth describing in the palace; there were several other buildings attached to it, but none worthy of any special notice.

About a mile beyond Attegrat, upon the other side of the valley, there is another church, whose site might well have been selected by the monks of old for a monastery, so charming is the grove in which it is situated. This grove is of considerable extent, and consists of several sorts of really lofty trees: there is a thick undergrowth—with plenty of paths for walking, however—of all sorts of plants. There [pg 216]are some tall bananas with their broad, graceful leaves, the first I have seen since I left Bombay. There are roses and honeysuckles, wild figs and acacias; over all of which a thick cordage of various creepers twines in clusters. To add to the enjoyment, the whole air is heavy with the fragrance of the wild jasmine, which grows in great bushes, covered with clusters of its white star-like flowers. While sitting down with a party of three or four officers of the 33d enjoying the delightful shade and the charming fragrance, the priest with several natives came up to us, and taking seats, or rather squatting—I do not think an Abyssinian knows how to sit down—beside us, they entered into a species of conversation with us, inquiring particularly, as do all the natives, if we were Christians. Presently they made signs they would like to see some sketches I had been taking; but when they took them in their hands they were completely puzzled, turned them upside down and sideways, and even looked behind at the back of the paper: they could evidently make nothing of them. Presently the priest, with an air of great self-satisfaction, made signs that he could write, and demanded if I could do so. I had no writing at hand, but in my sketch-book I had a column of your paper which I had cut out for purposes of reference; this I gravely handed over, and it was received with a perfect shout, first of astonishment, then of delight. They had never seen such even and perfect manuscript in their lives. The priest evidently thought I must be a priest of high grade, and he at once offered to show us the church, which he did without demanding the usual dollar from any one of the party. It was so similar to those I have previously described that I need not say anything about it, except that in the holy of holies, in place of a frame like a painter’s easel, the shrine was composed of [pg 217]three poles, seven or eight feet long, inclining towards each other, and meeting at the top like a tripod: a piece of cloth was wrapped round the upper part of this frame. I cannot say whether it concealed anything, but it did not appear to me to do so. Below this a skin was stretched between the three legs, so as to make a sort of shelf, and upon this were placed a number of withered flowers. I should mention that, in the inner chamber of most of these churches, those who have entered with me have agreed that there was a faint but distinct odour of incense. It may be, however, that in all of them might have been some flowers, such as jasmine, the perfumes of which may have deceived us. It is rather singular that the grape has not been introduced into a country which would seem by its climate to be well suited for it. There is no wine to be obtained here; and the sacrament is administered by squeezing a raisin into a chalice of water. Raisins are, however, very scarce; and in some churches years have elapsed without the administration of the sacrament, owing entirely to the absence of even a single raisin.

In my description of Attegrat I have omitted to say, that although the town itself does not contain more than twenty or thirty houses, yet the population within a short distance is very large; for on the hill-side, behind the church I have just been describing, there are numerous villages, which are probably known in the local tongue as lower and upper Attegrat, new and old, eastern and western Attegrat. Attegrat, at any rate, is their centre; and judging by the number of natives one sees in and about the camp, and the number of houses in the various villages, there must be a population of six or eight thousand clustered in a circle of three or four miles from the town.

[pg 218]

I have now described the general features of the place, and shall close and send off this letter, although it is only four days since I posted my last, and the next mail is not advertised to start for another eight days. I shall write again for that post; but my experience has taught me that the mail here is one of those charming uncertainties upon which it is impossible to calculate. Besides this, I may at any moment find myself compelled to push on; and, in that case, there would be no saying when my next letter would reach you. I hope, however, to be enabled to give you a full description of the visit of the King of Tigre, who is expected to-morrow or next day.

Attegrat, February 13th.

Our grand Christmas farcio-pantomime, entitled “Harlequin and the Magic Durbar; or the Ambassador, the Archbishop, and the Barbarian Cortege,” has been played to an immensely amused and numerous audience. The title had been advertised as “The King, the Archbishop, &c.;” but, owing to the unavoidable absence of the principal actor, the Ambassador was at the last moment substituted for the King. The opening scene may be described as “The camp of the Knight Errant, Sir Robert Napier, with Bluebeard’s Castle in the middle distance, and the town of Attegrat and the mountains in the background.” Flourish of trumpets! A herald arrives, the part being enacted by Major Grant, who states that the King is unable to come in person to wait upon the valiant Knight, but that he had sent his dear brother, the Grand Vizier, together with his Archbishop, to assure the Knight of his friendship. Bustle and excitement in the [pg 219]camp. A pause. Sound of strange and barbaric music in the distance. This gradually approaches, and then, from the rear of Bluebeard’s Castle—of which a full description was given in my last—enter the head of procession, consisting of—three men blowing upon cow-horns. These were inserted into the ends of long sticks, and in appearance were very like the long horns used by heralds of old. Their sound is lugubrious in the extreme. Next follows a man of tall stature, beating violently upon a tom-tom. Next follow the musqueteers of the body-guard; dress—dirty clothes miscellaneously draped; bare heads frizzled and oiled; arms—any stage-properties which might come conveniently to hand; old Portuguese match-locks, and new fowling-pieces from Liège; double-barrelled guns, and guns with one long and frequently crooked barrel, the large proportion quite incapable of being fired. Next follows the Ambassador of the King on a mule, with gorgeous caparisons of stamped green and red leather, bearing the tiger rampant, the arms of the great potentate his master. The Ambassador is clothed like his body-guard, in whity-brown cloth of coarse cotton, with red ends. With this, as a sign of his dignity, he envelopes not only his body, but his mouth and chin, as do the chiefs behind him. He wears round his neck a fur collar with long tails. The Ambassador of the great King is bareheaded. His hair is arranged, as is the manner of the chiefs of his people, in a series of little plaits, which run in parallel lines from his forehead over the head to the nape of the neck. This style appears to be copied from the Assyrian bas-relievos in the British Museum. Next to the Ambassador of the great King rides the Archbishop, upon a mule similarly caparisoned. The Archbishop is clothed in absolutely white robes, with [pg 220]turban to match. These dignitaries have both stirrups to their saddles, in which the great-toes only are placed, to, I should say, the imminent danger of those members if the mule should stumble. Behind these great personages ride the inferior chiefs. These, either from a feeling of modesty, or from a lack of animals, ride two upon each mule. Behind follow the spearmen of the guard on foot. These are about thirty in number, and are armed with lance, sickle, and shield. When this procession has fairly wound round the corner of Bluebeard’s Castle, it halts to await the arrival of a herald from the good Knight. All this time the barbaric music continues to sound, and is answered by sister Anne and Fatimah in the castle, and by the women all over the country, by a prolonged cry on a single note, kept up with a quavering modulation for a considerable time. This is a welcome on the part of the people of the country to the ambassador of the great King. While the procession halts, the soldiers of the Knight Errant flock out to inspect them. Irregular chorus of soldiers: “My eye, Bill, if these are the sort of chaps we’ve come to fight, we sha’n’t have much trouble with them.” The remainder of the pantomime I will, for brevity’s sake, describe as if it had been a real event in the expedition; but the reader must bear in mind that the whole piece, its accessories and appointments, were infinitely funny and amusing. After conferring with the Commander-in-chief, Major Grant and Mr. Speedy went out to meet the procession, and conducted them through the camp to the tent of General Merewether. During their progress the wild music continued to sound, and nearly effected a stampede of the whole of the animals in camp. In the mean time three companies of the 33d regiment, two of the [pg 221]10th N.I., with the bands of both regiments, were drawn up in line in front of and facing Sir Robert Napier’s tent, an interval of about fifty yards being left. On the flanks of the line two squadrons of the 3d N. Cavalry and of the Scinde Horse were drawn up. When all was ready, the cortége advanced, horns blowing and tom-toms beating. At their head strode Mr. Speedy, who is nearly six feet six inches tall, and who carried in his hand a sword nearly as tall as himself. As the procession approached, the military bands struck up and the troops saluted. The din at this moment was astounding. The bands played different tunes, and the cow-horns and tom-toms played no tune at all. Mr. Speedy with some trouble marshalled his ragged irregulars in line, and, this accomplished, led the two ambassadors to the chief’s tent. The tent was one of the long narrow tents called native routies, and, being lined with scarlet, made a very good tent for the reception. Sir Robert Napier was seated with his helmet on at one end. The ambassadors were introduced by Mr. Speedy, who acted as interpreter, and after bowing very deeply, they shook hands with the chief. They then took seats upon the ground beside him; as many officers as could find room without crowding ranged themselves along the sides of the tent, and also took their places behind Sir Robert Napier, the back of the tent being open as well as the front. The conversation commenced by one of the ambassadors stating “that the King of Tigre, his brother, had sent him to assure the British Commander-in-chief of his friendship. The King would have come in person to welcome Sir Robert, but he had been just solemnly proclaimed king, and it was strict etiquette that he should not leave his capital for thirty days afterwards.”

[pg 222]

Sir Robert Napier replied that he was very glad to receive the assurance of the King’s friendship; that we ourselves had come with the most friendly intentions to all in Abyssinia, with the exception only of those who held our countrymen captives; that in our progress we should violently interfere with no one; and that, our enterprise over, we should return at once to our own country. The Ambassador said “that the King and everyone in the country wished well to our cause; for that Theodore was a tyrant who had ravaged the whole country, and had murdered thousands of people, including his own near relations. Therefore, he hoped, that we should punish him for his wickedness.” He then said “that the King was very anxious to see Sir Robert, and would be very glad if he would let him know how long he was likely to remain at Attegrat.” The General answered “that he could not say when he should leave; that his preparations were not yet completed; but that when he was able to fix a day for his departure he would, if the King wished, send a message to let the King know; but that he feared he could not give sufficient notice for the King to arrive in time.” The Ambassador then made a statement which showed that his last question was not bonâ fide, and that the King had really no intention of coming at all. He said “that the King had a large army—that as long as he was with them they behaved well, but that he could not leave them, for if he did so they would spread over the country and oppress the peasantry.” The Chief replied that, “under these circumstances he could quite understand the King’s reluctance to leave his army, but that he hoped on his return from Magdala he should have the pleasure of meeting his Majesty.” There was then a pause in the conversation, and the Ambassador begged to know when he might be al[pg 223]lowed to leave. Sir Robert answered that early in the morning he would show him our soldiers, and after that he could leave whenever he chose. A few trifling articles were then presented to the Ambassador and Archbishop as tokens of friendship, and after again bowing and shaking hands with Sir Robert Napier, they took their leave, and, surrounded by their guards, moved off amid the din of music which had greeted their arrival. The next morning at seven o’clock the whole of the troops turned out to a general parade. The Ambassadors were present. After riding along the whole line, the General and staff took up their position in front, and the 33d regiment were put through the bayonet exercise, which they performed exceedingly well, especially when it is considered that it is nearly four months since they last did it. They then went through the platoon drill; but the natives did not at all comprehend this. They heard the snapping of the locks as the Sniders were supposed to be fired in rapid volleys. When informed what was being done, they entirely disbelieved it, and plainly said so, stating that no guns could be fired so quickly as that. It is a very great pity that a small number of cartridges were not broken up and served out as blank cartridges; or better still, had a hundred ball cartridges been served out to ten men, to have been discharged as rapidly as possible against a rock on the hill-side. Weight is of course precious, but the lesson those hundred cartridges would have taught would have been cheaply purchased at any cost. It was emphatically a penny-wise-and-pound-foolish economy. Colonel Penn’s batteries of steel guns were then examined, and these fired a few rounds with blank cartridges.

Our savage visitors, however, were more impressed with [pg 224]the artillery than they had been with the infantry. The guns, they said, were small, and did not make much noise; the infantry were pretty to look at, but of no use in a hilly country, and their long lines would be very easy to shoot at. These criticisms are very amusing on the part of the ragged savages, of whom I heard an Irish soldier of the 33d say, “And bedad it’s ashamed I’d be to have to fire me rifle at such a miserable set of divils intirely. It ’ud be like killing a definceless brute baste.” The general feeling in the camp, indeed, upon the subject was that of disappointment. It was exactly the reverse of “the stern joy that warriors feel in foe-men worthy of their steel.” We did hope that if we were to fight it would be against something in some way or another formidable. We had heard a good deal about Theodore’s army, who were said to be armed with guns and were drilled, and we did have a faint hope that our foe would not be utterly contemptible. But the first appearance of Abyssinian soldiery has quite dispelled any such idea. Mr. Speedy and our interpreters assure us that they are a fair sample of Abyssinian troops. Why, Falstaff’s ragged regiment was a disciplined and regular body to this band of savages. As for their guns, I should say by their appearance that at least two-thirds would burst at the very first volley fired, and would be infinitely more dangerous to themselves than to anyone else.

If, however, our visitors thought very little of the infantry and artillery, they were greatly impressed by the cavalry. The Scinde Horse and 3d Native Cavalry made several charges, and these, they acknowledged, would upon level ground be irresistible. The horses themselves also struck them particularly. In Abyssinia there is nothing which could by the utmost stretch of courtesy be called a horse. They have nothing [pg 225]but little rawboned ponies, together with mules and donkeys. The cavalry animals, and those of the staff, therefore, strike them as being prodigies of strength and beauty. It is satisfactory to know that one arm of the service at least found favour in the sight of our military critics, who, however, qualified even that meed of approbation by adding that it was not likely that Theodore would fight us upon ground where the cavalry could charge at all. Our show, therefore, as a show, was completely thrown away, and they saw nothing of the one thing which would have impressed them—namely, an exhibition of the powers of the Snider rifle.

The next day the embassy took its departure with its barbaric music playing, and the strange quavering cries of the women answering it over the country. There is still a possibility that the King of Tigre may himself come to meet the Commander-in-chief either at Antalo or at some place on our march thither. I hardly think, however, that he will do so. These native kings are generally so faithless and treacherous among themselves that they do not like to trust their persons into anyone else’s hands. Still, as the Ambassador was allowed to take his departure unharmed, it is quite upon the cards that the King will muster up courage and come in.

The following is a summary of the news from the front, as communicated to us by General Napier’s orders:

“Letters were received on the 9th instant by General Merewether from Mr. Rassam and Dr. Blanc, dated Magdala, Jan. 17th, with enclosures from Mr. and Mrs. Flad, dated King’s Camp, Jan 9th. All the prisoners are reported well up to date. A detachment of troops, which had left Magdala on Jan. 8th, had joined the King in his camp, and had received [pg 226]charge of a party of about 400 prisoners to escort from the camp to Magdala. The imprisoned Europeans were among the number. Their leg-fetters had been removed and handcuffs substituted, so that they might march. It is said Mr. Rosenthal would accompany them. The King was using every endeavour to get the road made, working with his own hands, and making the free Europeans help. He had made some slight progress, and had arrived at the bottom of the valley of the Djedda River. Mr. Rassam calculates he would reach Magdala about the end of February with his camp, though by abandoning the latter he could any day arrive there. The people of Dalanta continue submissive; but those of Davout had rebelled again. His soldiers had suffered from the scarcity of provisions and transport. It was reported at Magdala that Menilek, the King of Shoa, had again set out for Magdala, better prepared to act against Theodorus than on his former visit. A detailed communication from one of the captives, sent to his friends in England, and there published, has by some means reached the King’s camp, and is in the hands of M. Bardel. Apprehensions are entertained that it may do injury there.”

These letters add but little to what we knew before. Our last advice told us that Theodore was only distant a single day’s march from Magdala,—which, by the way, is spelt Magdalla throughout the summary, but which is pronounced Māgdālā, the a being always long in Amharic,—and that he could at any moment ride in and fetch the captives confined in that fortress, or could send those with him to Magdala under a guard. He has chosen, it appears, the latter alternative. The captives have at least the melancholy satisfaction of being together. That the news of our coming has in no [pg 227]way influenced the tyrant’s treatment of them is shown by the fact, that although their leg-chains have been removed to enable them to march, yet handcuffs have been substituted in their stead.

From rumours among the natives, we hear that his cruelties are more atrocious than ever. Women are being put to death by being thrown down wells, at the bottom of which spears are fixed point upwards. Men are executed by having their feet first chopped off, then their hands, then their legs at the knees, and then being left as food for wild-beasts. I do not vouch for the truth of these stories; but they have been brought by deserters from Theodore’s camp, and are generally believed. I do sincerely trust that in no case shall we make a treaty with this demon which may save him from the punishment due to him.

The great question here is, first, whether Theodore will fight; and secondly, what we shall do if, when we arrive, he offers to deliver the prisoners to us as the price of our instant departure. As to the first point I can only repeat what I have before said, namely, that I am of opinion that he will fight, and I think fight at Magdala. The enormous trouble he is taking in conveying cannon with him to Magdala points conclusively to that result. If he only wished to carry his baggage and treasure into Magdala he might easily, with the force at his command, construct a mule-path in a few days at the latest; but he clings to his guns, and he can only require them so imperiously that he puts up with months of hardship for their sake that he may defend Magdala against us. These savages measure the offensive powers of a gun entirely by its size, and by the noise it makes. Thus Tigre’s ambassador regarded our mountain train as mere pop-guns; [pg 228]and no doubt Theodore believes that with the great guns his European workmen have cast, and with the natural strength of the fortress, he can easily resist the attacks of the English. I believe that we shall find the King at Magdala, get there when we will; and that as he will offer no terms that we can accept, and as he will not assent to the demand for unconditional surrender which we are certain to make, we shall finally have to take the place by storm. The next question, as to what our course will be if he offers to deliver up the captives upon the condition of our instant retreat, is one which it is very difficult to predicate upon. No doubt Sir Robert Napier has instructions from home for his guidance under such a contingency; but I cannot bring myself to believe that these terms would be acceded to.

And now as to gossip about this place. The Abyssinians are celebrated by travellers in their country as being an intelligent people. Intelligent is by no means the word, nor is sharp nor cute; they are simply the most extortionate thieves that the sun’s light ever shone on. Formerly the necessaries of life were extraordinarily cheap here. Mercher, the Tigre chief who acts as interpreter, tells me that, as an example, fowls could be purchased at forty for a dollar. I venture to say that, at the present moment, it is the dearest place in the habitable globe. I have seen three eggs offered for a dollar. This was, however, too much to be stood, and at present seven is the tariff; that is, as nearly as possible, eightpence apiece for very little eggs. An ordinary-sized fowl costs a dollar; and with great bargaining two very small and skinny ones can be obtained for that sum. Two pumpkins can be bought for a dollar: for a quart of milk a dollar is demanded, and I have seen it given. The commissariat give a dollar for [pg 229]about seventeen pounds of grain: if we buy it for our horses in the camp—which we are obliged to do, as there are no rations issued for our baggage-animals—we have to give a dollar for about twelve pounds. The price of a good mule before we came here was seven or eight dollars; this had risen to thirty-two or thirty-three, at which the 3d Cavalry bought a considerable number, and to thirty-seven, the average price at which Captain Griffiths, of the Transport Train, purchased a good many. General Merewether, however, by one of those masterly coups for which he is so distinguished, has suddenly raised the market price 25 per cent, by giving fifty dollars each for a lot of forty, among which were some very indifferent animals. After this, of course, fifty will be the current price, until General Merewether makes another purchase for the public service, after which there is no predicting the price at which they will probably arrive. It is all very well to say that they are cheaper here than they are in Egypt; that has, as far as I can see, nothing whatever to do with the question, any more than it would be to say they are cheaper than at the North Pole. The people were willing to sell them at thirty-seven dollars for picked animals; why, then, spoil the market by giving fifty? It is urged that we are in want of mules, and that, by offering even more than they ask, we shall induce them to send in larger quantities; but I cannot agree that it is so. We were before paying 700 per cent more than their ordinary price, and this would be sufficient temptation to owners of any mules within a hundred miles—and good mules are not common—to have brought them in. Every mule fit for the purpose would have come in, and by paying 900 per cent we can obtain no more. One source of irritation has been, I am happy to say, if not put down, at [pg 230]least rebuked. After the parade the other day the Commander-in-chief rode to the church, attended by most of the mounted officers. The usual demand of a dollar a-head was made, which Sir Robert very properly refused to pay, and through the interpreter said a few appropriate words to the priest as to money-changers in the temple. He refused, he said, upon that ground to allow the charge of a dollar a-head to be paid, but promised that upon his return from Magdala he would present an altar-cloth at the church.

I have not mentioned that oxen, for which even at the enormously-enhanced prices at Senafe we paid six and a-half dollars, are here charged sixteen and seventeen dollars; and this with the plains in many cases containing thousands upon thousands. Of course it is a great question as to how far we ought to put up with such extortion as this. It is certain that the French, under similar circumstances, would not do so; but then the success of the French against native populations has not upon the whole been brilliant; their case therefore is no argument in its favour. If we chose to take what we required, and to offer in payment the fair country price, or even its double, of course we could do so, and could thrash all Tigre if necessary; but, putting it in the mere pecuniary light, would it pay? Much as I hate extortion, dearly as I should like to punish the nation of thieves through whom we are passing, I yet do not think it would pay. It is hard to be cheated by a half-naked savage; but it is better to put up with it than to undergo the amount of labour, anxiety, and loss which savages could in our present circumstances entail upon us. They are at present driving a thriving trade by selling us part of the roofs of their houses. This sounds strange, but is absolutely the fact. Between this and [pg 231]Senafe—a distance of forty miles—not a single tree is to be met with which could be used for telegraph-poles: the engineers were completely at a nonplus. At last we struck upon the expedient of buying poles from the natives, and an offer was made to give them a dollar for every six poles. Since then Mr. Speedy, who has undertaken the negotiation, has a complete levée of natives with poles. These poles are perfectly straight, and must be fourteen feet long; they are slight, much slighter than ordinary English hop-poles, and they are very thin towards the upper extremity. The natives use them for the roofs of their houses; but where they get them from, or what tree furnishes them, is at present a mystery; certainly I have seen no tree since my arrival in this country which grows at all in the same way. Some of these poles look freshly cut, but others are old and have evidently been used in the roofs of houses. They would not be nearly strong enough for an ordinary telegraph-wire, but can easily enough carry the fine copper-wire used here.

Mr. Speedy has been requested by the Commander-in-chief to wear the native attire; and his appearance, although no doubt very imposing to the native mind, is yet extremely comic to a European eye. Imagine a gentleman six feet and a half high, with spectacles, wearing a red handkerchief over his head, and shading himself with a native straw umbrella. Round his neck he wears the fur collar with tails, to which I have already alluded as part of a chief’s insignia; over his shoulders is the native white-cloth wrapping, with red ends; below this is a long coloured-silk garment; and below all this the British trousers and boots. Mr. Speedy is a capital fellow, and a general favourite with everyone; but [pg 232]his appearance at present is almost irresistibly inducive of laughter.

The climate of this place is as near perfection as possible. It is not so hot as Senafe during the day, although even here in a single bell-tent the thermometer registered 110° to-day at eleven o’clock. But there is almost always a fresh breeze; and excepting from nine to twelve, when the wind generally drops, it is never too hot for walking. At night it is not so cold as at Senafe; for although the glass goes down to 36° or 37°, there is no wind at night and very little dew, so that one does not feel the cold as one did at Senafe. It is really a delightful climate; and although 110° in a tent sounds hot, the sensation of heat is nothing approaching that of a sultry July day in England. There is no game here, with the exception of hares, which are very plentiful. Major Fanshawe, of the 33d, went out the other afternoon with his gun, and returned in a couple of hours with a bag of nineteen hares, an almost unprecedented amount of sport for two hours’ shooting in an unpreserved country. The natives bring in leopard-skins for sale: where they shoot them I cannot say. They do not find any purchasers, for the amount of baggage allowed is so small, and will be smaller beyond Antalo, that no one will burden themselves with a pound of unnecessary weight.

The 33d went forward three days ago, and Sir Robert Napier himself starts for Antalo on the 17th instant. If the 4th regiment arrive in time they will accompany him. I close my letter rather hastily, as I have just heard there is a mail expected to go three days before the regular packet.

The Commander-in-chief has, since he started from the sea, shown every desire to forward our objects in every way. [pg 233]We were invited to be present at the reception of the Tigre ambassador, and Sir Robert very kindly sent in a précis of the information received from Magdala. I am very glad, for the sake of my readers as well as myself, that in future I shall have no fear of either being kept in the dark or of being debarred from accompanying any expedition which may be on foot. I am still more glad to be able to say that the position of the foreign commissioners has been also improved. They are now all forward here, and one of the Prussian officers has been placed upon the Chief’s personal staff. This is much more as it should be. Now that we are fairly moving forward, bets are being freely exchanged as to the date of our arrival at Magdala. The first of May is the favourite time. I hardly think we shall be there as soon as that, but must delay the discussion of the pros and cons until my next.

Attegrat, February 17th.

Since I sent my letter off three days ago, nothing has occurred of any great importance; at the same time there is scarce a day passes here without some event of more or less interest taking place. A wing and the head-quarters of the 4th regiment have marched in, and have taken the place of the 33d regiment. The Beloochees are here, and a portion of these have already pushed on to improve the road. On the 15th we had quite a sensation in camp. Two elephants arrived, and 2000 or 3000 of the natives flocked around in a very few minutes. At first they kept at a prudent distance, but, emboldened by the sight of the Europeans standing round and giving the animals pieces of biscuit, they gradually closed in, and talked in tones of admiration and wonder, showing [pg 234]all their white teeth, as is their custom. Presently, however, one of the elephants, not approving of all this hubbub, wheeled suddenly round, his trunk high in the air, and trumpeting loudly. An instant scattering of the natives took place, the crowd flying in all directions as if an infernal-machine had exploded in their midst. They gradually reassembled, but never again ventured to get within familiar distance of the elephants. Yesterday the G-14 battery of Artillery arrived, and created an admiration among the natives that our mountain guns had quite failed to arouse. The guns are twelve-pounders, and have been brought as far as this upon their wheels, a fact which speaks equally for the practicability of the road and for the energy and perseverance of its officers and men. In many places the guns had to leave the road, and to be hauled up difficulties with tackle and handspikes. At the descent into this valley, which I described in a former letter, the road cut along the face of the hill was not of sufficient width for the wheels, and the guns had to be lowered down the steep descent into the valley bottom with tackle. Three hours were occupied in getting the six guns down. They will probably go no further than Antalo upon their carriages, but three will be thence taken on upon elephants; the other three will, at any rate for the present, remain here. This camp is in process of being turned into an entrenched position. The lines have been laid out by Major Pritchard of the Engineers, and the 4th are at present at work upon them. That regiment moves on to-morrow, but the next which takes its place in camp will continue the work. The entrenchments do not include the whole of the present camp, as the number of men permanently stationed here will, of course, be much smaller than at present. The lines will [pg 235]surround the commissariat stores and a portion of the water-pools; they also run round the summit of a steep shelf of rocks in the rear of the camp, and which, when thus strengthened, might be defended by 200 men against 500 similarly armed and disciplined, and therefore against any number of Abyssinians whatever. Even now that we have a strong force here, the people are exceedingly bumptious, and I have little doubt that there will be some row of greater or less importance when they see only a small body of troops stationed here.

Scarcely a day passes that they do not raise their war-cry about something or other. Some of the squabbles arise about our cutting grass; others about wood; others about their insisting upon wandering through the camp; and blows have been exchanged with fists and sticks upon all these and several other points. The noble Abyssinian is quite ready to cut and sell us any quantity of hay, and to charge us an exceedingly-remunerative price for the same. But although we have promised, and, indeed, have paid, a round sum for the privilege, they object strongly to our own men cutting hay, although it is of no use whatever to themselves. Consequently, a guard is always obliged to be sent on with the main body of grass-cutters. Any small parties who may go out in search of forage nearer to the camp than the regular grass plains are warned off, and driven back by the natives. There have been numerous rows on this score, and in some cases the natives have actually set fire to the grass rather than allow us to cut it. If they dared they would not allow a blade of grass to be cut except by themselves. The same questions arise as to wood. They will bring in large quantities of firewood themselves for sale, but they very strongly object to our men col[pg 236]lecting it themselves, although there is not, of course, a shadow of pretence to say that our collecting dry wood can in any way damage them. There was a great hullabaloo yesterday on this subject. Two men had gone out for dry wood, and a priest and two or three natives came out and ordered them away. The priest told them that the grove where they were collecting the wood was sacred, and therefore they must not take it. The men of course did not understand a word he said, and expressed their determination to carry off their wood. He then called upon them as Christians to desist, and the men, being Hindoos, made some gestures of contempt or abhorrence at the name of Christians. An attack was then made upon them; but many of these Syces are remarkably strong, active fellows, and in a very short time the Abyssinians found that they had met with much more than their match. They set up their rallying-cry, and a number more natives hurried up, and the Hindoos would have got the worst of it had not another grass-cutter come up with a gun. The Hindoos then retired, followed by a crowd of enraged Abyssinians. When they reached the camp the Abyssinians attempted to follow them in, and blows had to be freely exchanged before the point of their exclusion was maintained. The priest alone was admitted, and instead of conducting himself quietly he ran about shouting and gesticulating until one of the camp policemen seized him, and, after a struggle, made him a prisoner. When Sir Robert Napier, who was out riding, came into camp, he investigated the whole matter; and, finding that the Syces had been in the wrong by insulting the religion of the people, he ordered them to have a dozen lashes each. But here the Abyssinians really showed themselves to be Christians, for the priest and his witnesses, [pg 237]all of whom bore marks of having suffered in the skirmish, knelt down, and said they would not rise unless the culprits were forgiven, which accordingly they were. This certainly was a remarkable trait. Here were men who conceived that themselves and their religion had been insulted, and who had certainly been well thrashed, really and truly, while their wounds were still fresh, asking forgiveness for their foes. I fancy very few European Christians would have done it. It is pleasant to find a redeeming-point in the character of this nation of extortioners. It is also to be said for them that they are a very merry people, and are constantly on a broad grin. Quarrels among themselves are extremely rare; at least, I have not heard a single dispute since I arrived in this country.

The Abyssinians, too, are men with a strong sporting tendency. They bet freely on the speed of a horse or the accuracy of their aim. They bet, too, with conditions under which very few Englishmen would make a wager. They choose a judge, and the judge, whoever wins, takes the stakes, the loser of course paying. This system of betting, where one may lose and cannot win, is, as far as I am aware, without a precedent, and would do more, if introduced into England, to put down gambling than all the laws that Parliament could pass would do in a hundred years. Another thing to be said for them is that those who know them most like them best, and a stronger argument in their favour than this could hardly be used. Still, undoubtedly, they are fond of fighting, partly perhaps for its own sake, and partly because it would be manifestly impossible for them to put the whole of the hard work of the place on the shoulders of the women and children upon the plea of being warriors, and therefore privi[pg 238]leged to do nothing, unless they really did do a little fighting occasionally.

This morning there was another row, which at one time really threatened to come to fighting. One of the natives came inside our lines when the men were at work upon the entrenchments. The policeman—a soldier armed with a stick—warned him back; but he refused to go. Having spoken several times, the sentry pushed him. Whereupon the native drew his sword and rushed upon the soldier, who met him, however, with a tremendous blow of his stick, which knocked him backwards into the ditch with a broken head. The man set up his war-cry, and the natives flocked up, shouting and brandishing their spears. They refused to retire when ordered by the officer to do so, and continued to threaten an attack until Colonel Cameron ordered fifty of his men to load and fix bayonets, and told the natives that unless they retired he should order his men to advance. This was sufficient; and the place was speedily cleared. These little fracas, although trifling in themselves, sufficiently show that the natives are an extremely independent race, and are quite ready for a fight upon the smallest provocation. At present we are so strong as to render any open attack upon their part a hopeless proceeding; but when this post is left with only four or five hundred men I should not be at all surprised if the natives came to blows with us upon some trifling matter or other. The three cannon which are to be left here will no doubt have a salutary effect. The natives are astonished at them, and say that they are much bigger than those of Theodore.

Three of the officers of the 4th regiment saw, the other day, at Fokado, an operation which was described by Bruce, [pg 239]but which has been denied by all subsequent travellers, and by the Abyssinians themselves. This was the operation of cutting a steak from the body of a living ox. They came upon the natives just as they were in the act of performing it. The unfortunate bullock was thrown down, and its four legs were tied together. The operator then cut an incision in the skin near the spine, just behind the hip-joint. He blew into this to separate the skin from the flesh, and then cut two other incisions at right angles to the first, and then lifted a flap of skin four or five inches square. From this he cut out a lump of flesh, cutting with the knife under the skin, so that the amount of flesh taken out was larger than the portion uncovered. The operator then filled up the hole with cow-dung, replaced the flap of skin, plastered it up with mud, untied the feet of the poor animal, which had kept up a low moaning while the operation was going on, gave it a kick to make it get up, and the whole thing was over. I should mention that the operator cut two or three gashes in the neighbourhood of the wound, apparently as a sign that the animal had been operated upon in that part. The officers observed that several of the other cattle of the same herd were marked in a precisely similar manner. They returned in half an hour, and found the animal walking about and feeding quietly. I have not mentioned that it bled very little at the time the operation was being performed. It certainly is very singular that, after so many years, Bruce’s story, which has been always considered as a traveller’s tale, should have been confirmed. All travellers have denied it. Mr. Speedy, who was a year among them, tells us that he never saw or heard of its being done, and that the Abyssinians, of whom he had inquired respecting the truth of Bruce’s [pg 240]statement, had always most indignantly denied it, and indeed had asserted that it would be entirely contrary to their religion, for that they strictly keep the Mosaic law, to eat no meat unless the throat of the animal had been cut and the blood allowed to escape. Anatomists have denied the possibility of an animal when such an operation had been performed being able to walk afterwards. Here, however, was the indisputable fact. The operation was performed, and the ox did walk afterwards. It is true that it might not have been done by Abyssinians proper. The party may have been some wandering tribe belonging to the low country who might have come up for trading purposes. It is very unfortunate that neither Mr. Speedy nor any of the interpreters were at hand to find out the exact tribe to which these savages belonged.

I am unable to give you any reliable account of Major Grant’s visit to the King of Tigre. He was, I know, hospitably received, and the horsemen of the King performed various feats, such as riding in and out between poles, and cutting at them; but I am unable to say more, as Sir Robert Napier, no doubt for some good reason of which I am ignorant, refused to allow us to see Major Grant’s report, or to have a précis of it given to us. It is still reported that the King himself is coming to meet the General, and a place two days on our march towards Antalo is mentioned as the appointed place. We even hear that the King has set out from Adowa for that spot; but I confess that until I see his sable Majesty I shall not have much faith in his coming. Still, these very slippery men always do exactly the thing which one would expect that they would not do; and on this theory only it is quite possible that Kassa may appear in propriâ personâ. If he does come it will no doubt be a very [pg 241]much more stately affair than the pantomime I described in my last letter, and I hope that our elephants and cannon will open his Majesty’s eyes to the fact that we are a people whom it would be vastly safer to leave alone.

I have been over to-day to the weekly fair at Attegrat. I was also there last Monday, but had no space to give to its description in my last letter. A more amusing sight I have seldom or never seen. Some two or three thousand people must have been present. The fair or market, as I suppose it should be called, is held upon a flat rocky slope on the other side of the village, and this is packed so close that one moves about among the squatting and standing groups with difficulty. At one end is the cattle-fair. The number each grazier brings into market is not large (seldom over two or three), and there they stand in little quiet groups surrounded by their master and several of his friends, and submitting to be felt, pinched, and examined as well as the best-behaved English cow would do. Here, too, are the donkeys, sturdy little beasts, not much bigger than a Newfoundland dog, but which will carry nearly as great a weight as a mule. I wonder our Transport Corps does not buy a lot of them for carrying commissariat stores. They will take two bags each, that is 150 pounds’ weight, and require no saddles, for the bags are merely laid upon their broad little backs and strapped there with a few strips of hide; they require no grain, and very little hay, and cost only five or six dollars. Any number of them might be purchased. These, like the oxen, stand very quietly, and appear perfectly indifferent as to any possible change in their ownership. They not unfrequently have young ones by their side, little round rough beasts with disproportionately-long ears and shaggy coats. The goats ap[pg 242]pear to take matters with less indifference. Their masters endeavour to keep them in little circles, with their heads towards the centre; but they are continually trying to escape from this arrangement, and to make a bolt for it. They keep up a constant bleating as a protest against the whole proceeding. Near to them is the grain-market. Here are men and women with their grain-bags, made of skins of goats sewn up, and with only an opening at the neck. They sit about everywhere, while the buyers walk about among them and inspect the samples with a gravity and intentness which would do no discredit to Mark-lane. Their purchases probably will not exceed two or three pounds’ weight, but they are as careful over the matter as a brewer would be who was going to make a bid for a ship’s cargo. The grain is almost entirely barley, and splendid barley too. There are beside, however, a variety of other grain, of which I do not know the names. The natives distil a spirit from their barley, which is said to be something between gin and hollands in flavour. I have not yet tasted any. Very thick is the throng round a Parsee belonging to the commissariat, who is buying up all he can get for Government at a dollar for nineteen pounds. Near him is another little crowd: here another commissariat employé is similarly engaged in buying up ghee—that is, clarified or boiled butter—for the native troops. It does not look very nice, and what does not make the sight the pleasanter is, that the women, when they have emptied the jars into the commissariat casks, invariably wipe them out with their hands, and then plaster the remainder upon their heads. An Abyssinian does not consider himself properly dressed unless his hair is shining with oil, not put on or rubbed on, but plastered on, and running down his neck as [pg 243]the sun melts it. The idea is not, according to our notions, pleasant, but it is a matter of taste. When an Abyssinian really wants to make a great effect he uses butter, not ghee, and puts it on until his head is as white as that of a London footman. Then he is conscious that he has indeed done it, and walks with a dignity befitting his appearance. There were several swells of the period so got up at the market, and as they stood under the shelter of their straw umbrellas—for the sun would melt it and destroy the whole effect—I could not but wonder at and admire the different forms which human vanity takes.

Further on was the cloth mart. Here were women and men selling the black blankets which almost all women here wear, in addition to the ornamented skins, which form the only garments of the Senafe women. These blankets, which are very large, are worn wrapped round the body, and secured on one shoulder by a large iron pin. The blankets are coarse and thin, and have but little warmth. Officers have, however, bought large numbers for their servants, who feel the cold at night much. When we are stationary for a few days the followers construct some sort of tents with gunny-bags and clothes, but upon the march they have, of course, to sleep in the open air. Near to the vendors of blankets for the women are the sellers of the white-cotton cloth for the men. These are always men; I have seen no women engaged in selling cloth. I have no doubt they carry it to the market, but the men take the sale into their own hands. This is, perhaps, the busiest part of the fair. But beyond this we come to the largest and by far the most amusing portion of all. This is the miscellaneous market. Vegetables and herbs occupy by far the largest share of this. Here are women and girls with herbs of every sort and [pg 244]kind, of very few indeed of which I had any previous knowledge. Here, too, are women with tobacco, very coarse, and broken up roughly, instead of being cut. The tobacco, of course, is carried in the skins, which appear to be the receptacles for everything in this country. Here are men with salt, in shape and appearance exceedingly like a mower’s whetstone. These serve as money, and are laid out upon the ground at so many for a dollar, but if the salesman sees a European approaching he will abstract a portion, and demand a dollar for less than half of the number which should be given for that amount. Here are men selling the blue string, which all Christians wear round their neck in token of their faith. Here are men selling the great iron pins, with a rough attempt at ornament upon their heads, which all women use to fasten their blankets upon their shoulders. Here are women with strings of beads, and pumpkins, and watercresses, and dried herbs, and chillies, and honey, and garlic, and potatoes, and young onions for sale. A miscellaneous catalogue, and sold quite as miscellaneously, for the goods are sold by barter more than for money, and each vendor will bring in half-a-dozen small baskets, which she places before her to contain the various articles which she may receive in exchange. Thus, for her beads she may get some grain, a few bulbs of garlic, and a bar or two of salt. Some of these, again, she will barter for a pumpkin, a chicken, and some dried herbs; and so the commerce is carried on. Imagine a large number of these dark-faced, scantily-dressed people, very grave over their purchases, but very merry, as is their wont, in their conversation with each other, the men generally walking about, the women squatting behind their wares, always in [pg 245]groups, and laughing, chattering, and looking after their children—strange little potbellied black figures, with half of their heads shaved, and their sole garment a very small piece of goatskin on their shoulder. Some of the girls are, as I have already said, really pretty, with beautiful brown eyes. They have no objection to be looked at and admired. They pretend, of course, to be very shy, and half hide their faces, and look the other way; but really are very amused and a good deal gratified when a European pauses to look at them. It is singular how similar is the constitution of the female mind in savage and in civilised countries. An English beauty certainly does not betray any consciousness of being looked at and admired, excepting, of course, if she be a milkmaid; but she is no doubt equally conscious, and perhaps just as pleased—except that the sensation is more a matter of course—as is the dark-eyed and dark-skinned Abyssinian girl sitting in her scanty leathern garment and shell-ornamented wrapper in the market at Attegrat.

I do not know when the rainy season begins; indeed, it is a moot point, authorities varying in their dates from April to July; but I know we had a thunderstorm here the other day which nearly washed us out of camp. It began at three o’clock in the afternoon, and found us quite unprepared, as we have had so many threatening-looking skies that we had ceased to believe in rain. However, this time there was no mistake about it. It came up in a dense black cloud from behind the mountain beyond Attegrat. The thunder roared, the lightning was for a while terrific, and for about an hour a tremendous storm of rain and hail poured down upon us. Being an old campaigner, one of my first cares upon pitching my tent had been to have a trench dug round it; but very [pg 246]many officers, relying upon the fine weather, had neglected taking this precaution. Knowing what the state of things would be, immediately the rain ceased I sallied out. The camp was completely under water. As I have mentioned in a former letter, it is pitched upon the gradual slope of a hill, and down this slope a perfect stream of water came nearly two inches deep. As the rain held up, a few figures might be observed peering out of their tents to examine the skies, and as soon as it was quite certain that the rain was over, the camp, which had five minutes before appeared perfectly deserted, was like an ant-hill suddenly disturbed. Great was the devastation the flood had wrought. Through many of the tents it had swept in a flood two inches deep, soaking everything placed upon the ground. Here we saw the servants bringing out a bed, which, having been placed upon the ground, was drenched with water; here was another party bringing out hay with which some particular man had carefully carpeted his tent; here was an officer emptying out his trunks to see if the things at the bottom had suffered. As I wandered about I met Major Minion, the principal commissariat-officer here. He was hastening to the Chief for authority to issue first-class flour instead of second to the troops, as a great deal of the first quality had got wetted, and must be issued at once to prevent its being spoiled. Of course the native followers and others who had no tents suffered most of all; and the camp in a short time presented the appearance of undergoing a general washing-day, so many were the garments hung out to dry. Of course, in accordance with the old proverb of shutting the door after the horse was stolen, there was at once a great demand for picks and shovels, and everyone who had not already done so set to [pg 247]work at digging a trench round their tents. The night after the storm was much less cold than the preceding one had been, and the whole country looks fresher and brighter for the washing. And now as to our most absorbing topic, the advance. It takes place positively to-morrow. Sir Robert Napier himself goes on, and is accompanied by the Artillery, 3d Native Cavalry, five companies of the 4th King’s Own, and the remaining three companies of the 10th Native Infantry. The Beloochees were also to have gone forward, but there is not sufficient transport, and they will follow in a day or two. The little party of Engineers also go forward with the photographic and signalling apparatus. The two elephants will also form part of the train. The march hence to Antalo is eight days’ journey, which are divided as follows: Mai Wahiz, 13 miles; Ad Abaga, 15; Dongolo, 12; Agula, 14; Dowlo, 19; Haig Kullat, 9; Afzool, 9; Antalo, 5: total, 96 miles. Colonel Phayre, who has again gone ahead, reports that the road presents no great difficulties; but it does not appear as if the first day’s march were by any means an easy business, for the baggage-guard of the 33d regiment, which left here at nine o’clock in the morning, did not arrive at its destination until six o’clock on the following morning. The Commander-in-chief rode out next day, and found the road really impracticable at two or three places. He was exceedingly angry that the corps which has gone ahead nominally to make this road should have left it in such a state. A party of the Beloochees were at once set on, and it is to be hoped that by to-morrow they will have made it passable. The party of Bombay Sappers and Miners, who have done such good work in the pass, have gone on to-day, with instructions to keep a day’s march ahead of the Chief. They will improve, [pg 248]as far as they can, any very difficult places; but as they will have to progress as fast as the troops, they will of course be able to do very little. The last two days’ march even Colonel Phayre reports to be exceedingly difficult, as, instead of the flat sheets of sandstone over which much of the preceding day’s journey passes, we here have to cross sheets of bare limestone, upon which horses can stand with difficulty. He states that it will be necessary to strew soil or sand upon the rocks to make them at all passable. It is evident, therefore, that we shall have some serious difficulties to encounter even between this and Antalo; still, we may expect to be at that town by the end of the month. From thence to Magdala it is 160 miles, or thereabouts; for it is impossible to reckon within twenty miles in a country where the mountains and gorges necessitate such constant windings. I mentioned in my last letter that bets were freely offered and taken that we arrive at Magdala by the 15th of April. The whole question is one of provision and transport; and the most casual examination of the question will show that it will be a very long time before the provision for the onward march can be collected at Antalo. I related in my letters a month since how hard a task it was to feed the troops at Senafe and along the pass, and to accumulate provisions in our advance to Attegrat. Senafe is only five days’ march from Zulla; Antalo is sixteen; and, allowing for the mules to stop one day at Senafe, and one at Attegrat, to rest, which would be absolutely necessary, it is eighteen days from Zulla. We shall have twice as many troops to feed at Antalo as we had at Senafe; and as it is three times as long a journey, it will require six times as many transport-animals to feed the troops at Antalo now to what were required to feed the former force [pg 249]at Senafe. In addition to this, we shall have a body of troops at Attegrat, and another at Senafe, to feed. The Transport Train is more efficient now than it was a month since, but it is not greatly more numerous, as the number of fresh arrivals is almost balanced by the number of mules going daily into hospital, broken down with over-work, bad feeding, and sore backs brought on by the pack-saddles. The fact of the road being now practicable for carts to Senafe, is also an assistance to the Transport Train; but I confess that I cannot see how they will manage to provision all the line, much less to accumulate stores. It is, we have just seen, eighteen days from Zulla to Antalo. Supposing that the mules go regularly up and down, stopping two days at each end to rest, it will take them forty days to make the circuit. Putting the number of available transport-animals at 16,000, which is over the mark, there would be only four hundred a-day to start from the sea-coast. When it is remembered that these four hundred animals would have to carry their own food for those places at which grain cannot be obtained, that they have to carry the rations for their drivers for the forty days, that they have to provision the different minor posts, together with Senafe and Attegrat, it will be seen that the quantity of provisions which will reach Antalo daily will be by no means excessive. And yet, before we can move forward from Antalo, on a journey which, going and returning, and with a pause of a week at Magdala, can hardly be calculated as under two months, we must have accumulated there a sufficient amount of provisions for the whole time we may be absent; and this not only for the troops and animals who go, but for the force which will remain there during our absence. We must also have a [pg 250]supply accumulated at the posts along the road, as we shall take so large a portion of the transport-animals in our further advance, that we must be sure that a stock has accumulated sufficient to last some time. I hear that the number of mules which will go forward with us from Antalo will be about 6000, with two months’ provisions for the column and a certain amount for themselves. Following out the calculation I have made, we prove mathematically that we never can accumulate this 6000 mule-loads at Antalo. Mathematical proofs, fortunately, occasionally are falsified by facts. It was mathematically proved that no steamer could ever cross the Atlantic. The feat was, however, somehow accomplished; and I have no doubt but that, in the teeth of mathematics, we shall somehow or other accumulate provisions at Antalo, and shall march on to Magdala; but it must be some time first. I think the 1st of May to be the very earliest date at which we can hope to leave Antalo. Of course much will depend upon the fruitfulness of the country in the immediate vicinity of that town. If we can only obtain sufficient grain to feed our animals, and to lay in a store of provender for them for the advance, it will greatly lessen our difficulties. As far as we have already come, such has not been the case. Even the extreme prices we have given have barely purchased sufficient grain for the daily supply, and animals upon the route have to be fed upon grain brought from Bombay. Still, we must hope for better things. The date of our advance depends almost entirely upon the state of the grain-market at Antalo. We start to-morrow morning at half-past six, and that means that we must be up and moving before five. I must therefore close this letter, but shall write again in time to save the post from Ad Abaga, where I believe we shall halt for a day.

[pg 251]

Ad Abaga, Feb. 20th.

I cannot say that starting a convoy of baggage-mules off at half-past six in the morning is a pleasant operation. The order was “that all animals not off by half-past six must wait until after the departure of the column at seven;” that is, allowing for delays, that they would not be able to start until eight. I acceded to the suggestion of my travelling-companion that we should get our mules off early. At five we were up, completed our packing, had a cup of chocolate and a speedy wash, and then struck our tent, which was wet through with the heavy dew. Folding this up and getting it into a sack meant to contain it only when dry, was a long operation, trying to the temper and very destructive to the finger-nails. However, it and all our final preparations, including the loading the animals, were completed in time, and we were fairly en route at twenty minutes past six. We have long since come to the conclusion that the only way to get our baggage along is to be our own baggage-guard, and one or other of us, generally both, accompany it the whole distance. In this way we got into camp in the afternoon, from an hour and a half to two hours earlier than if we had trusted it only to the servants and drivers, and had we ridden on at our own pace we should only have had to wait doing nothing, and without a shelter, for three or four hours. On the present occasion my friend started with the baggage and I remained behind to see the column start. It was a pretty sight, and must have astonished the natives not a little. First came the 3d Native Cavalry, about three hundred strong, in their soldierly blue-and-silver uni[pg 252]forms. This regiment has had no easy time of it since their arrival at Attegrat, for we are exceedingly short of cavalry, and since the Scinde Horse went on, the 3d have had to furnish all the guards and escorts. For some days they had only eighteen men left in camp. I hear that two hundred horses have arrived at Zulla as remounts in the place of those they have lost by the disease. The strength of the regiment will then be raised to its original number of nearly five hundred sabres. I mentioned in a letter, some time since, that this regiment had been looked upon with some disfavour by the authorities for having started from Bombay without the baggage-animals with which, according to the terms of their agreement, they should have furnished themselves. This fault they have done their best to remedy by purchasing every mule they could get. They have now nearly made up their number, and upon the present march only had to draw thirty-five transport-animals, which they hope in a few days to be able to dispense with. Next to the 3d Native Cavalry came the Artillery, who had, at the last moment, received orders to take four guns instead of three. The guns were all drawn by eight horses. The greater part of the horses of this battery are very light grays, and two of the guns are horsed entirely by grays. They are in admirable condition, and look exceedingly well. Next followed the little party of Engineers. Behind them came the 4th King’s Own, in their light-brown, or rather dust-coloured suits, with their band playing the “Red, White, and Blue.” Colonel Cameron sets an excellent example to his men and officers by having his horse led, and by always marching at their head. The line was closed by the 10th Native Infantry, their band playing “Nelly Bligh.” After the troops came the head of a long [pg 253]line of baggage-animals. Having seen the column pass, I rode on and rejoined my baggage.

The road, as usual, leads over the plateau, with occasional steep ascents and descents. Two of these ascents turned out quite impracticable for artillery, and the road as made reflects great discredit upon those who went on in command of the pioneer force to make the way. The roads are made with short, sharp zigzags, where it is impossible for the horses to draw. Had not the artillery been accompanied by a strong force of infantry it would have been impossible to have got the guns up. As it was, the guns were pulled up the straight places by the horses aided by the men, and then the horses were taken out, the guns unlimbered, and the gun was dragged up first, round the curve, by the infantry with ropes, and the limbers were taken up afterwards. The work of getting the guns up one of these ascents occupied over two hours. Sir R. Napier is naturally extremely angry, as, had he not been informed by the officer in advance that the road was perfectly practicable, he would of course have sent on a strong working-party some days previously. I reached Mai Wahiz at half-past twelve, the 3d Cavalry having got in half-an-hour before me. In the afternoon we had another severe thunderstorm, with heavy rain, which fortunately only lasted about half-an-hour. Our camp at Mai Wahiz, instead of being, as usual, on a plain, or rather a slight rise near the plain, was placed upon a hill. I hear that in future we are always to encamp on a hill, or at any rate, as far as possible, in a defensible position. This shows that our Chief places exceedingly little faith in any protestations the Tigre king may make, and that he thinks that, even if he does come in to the durbar at this place, yet that he is not to be trusted [pg 254]out of sight. Everything at Mai Wahiz is very scarce, and forage dearer than ever. I had to pay two dollars for about eighteen pounds of barley for my baggage-animals, that is, just sixpence a pound. Hay is equally dear. The commissariat served out no hay to the transport-animals, and all that they had after a hard day’s work, with the prospect of another equally hard on the morrow, was three pounds of grain each.

From the foot of the hill we rode for some distance along a wide valley, with water in several places, and a good deal of cultivated ground. Then, after three or four miles of undulating plain we arrived at our camping-ground at a little after three o’clock. The natives here must be either a more warlike people than those whose villages we have passed since entering the country, or they must have much more warlike neighbours. For the villages are almost always surrounded by strong walls, and one or two were perched on eminences, and defended by walls and towers. One very curious castle we passed strongly resembling the old baronial castles one meets with in southern Scotland and the north of England. This was situated upon the edge of a precipice, and the rocks went sheer down from three sides of its walls for fifty or sixty feet. It must be impregnable in a country like this, where cannon are all but unknown. Another fort, which certainly looked of European construction, and if not must unquestionably have been built from a picture of a European fort, was perched upon the top of the mountain near where we descended into the valley. The precipice at its foot was at least a thousand feet down, but curiously enough the fort was in a sort of hollow, higher rocks at the distance of only a hundred yards on either side commanding [pg 255]it. If a European designed it, he certainly did not choose its position. It was a round fort, of perhaps fifty feet high, but it was difficult to judge its height from our position on the plain so much below it. Its diameter was about equal to its height. It had regular lines of loopholes, and appeared to have been built by some robber-chief to enable him to swoop down upon the caravans of traders journeying up and down the road we had just come. This camp is at about the same elevation as that at Mai Wahiz, and the climate is even more charming than that of Attegrat, for the heat is less during the day, and the cold last night was not at all equal to that which we experienced there. The on dit is that the King cannot arrive to-day, but will come to-morrow, and that we shall move out early and pitch our camp upon a plain six miles from here, and there receive him properly.

Dongolo, Feb. 26th.

The King of Tigre has turned out to be a living entity and not a mythical being, as we had begun to consider him. He was to have paid us a visit at Attegrat, but he sent us an ambassador in his place, and no one thought that we should ever hear any more of the King. However, he sent to say that he would meet us upon a plain near Ad Abaga, and we journeyed there, rather incredulous but still hopeful. The King was to have been at the appointed spot upon the day after we had reached Ad Abaga; but messengers sent out brought news that, although it was currently reported that he had started from Adowa, he had certainly not arrived anywhere in the neighbourhood. As it was most important that we should see the King, and remain upon friendly terms [pg 256]with him, and as it was certain that if he had started to meet us, and found that we had gone on without stopping to see him, he would feel grievously affronted, the Commander-in-chief determined to wait. Fortunately, any delay we might experience could be of no importance to us, as it will be impossible to move forward from Antalo until a large stock of provisions are accumulated there, and whether we waited a week at Ad Abaga or at Antalo was perfectly immaterial. Wait accordingly we did for three days, before any reliable news reached us. At last we heard for certain, as we believed, that the King was at Hanzein, twelve miles off. This was on Saturday, and the messenger said that of course the King would not move on Sunday, but that he would come in on Monday morning to Mai Dehar, the appointed meeting-place.

On Sunday Major Grant, Captain Moore, and Mr. Speedy set out to meet the King, and accompany him to the meeting-place. They rode out to Hanzein, and found a considerable body of armed men there, and some of the princes. They were told that the King was five miles further on, and five good miles they rode, and, again inquiring for his Majesty’s whereabouts, found that the miles must have been Irish ones, for that the King was still five miles further on. They decided to return, and at Hanzein had another interview with the men in authority there. These worthies tried very hard to induce them to concede, on the part of Sir Robert Napier, that he would come as far as Hanzein to meet the King. Their object in this was, of course, to enhance the dignity of the King in the eyes of his own people, by making us come as far out of our way as possible to meet him; Major Grant, however, altogether refused to concede this point. He stated [pg 257]that we had already waited four days, and that unless the King moved forward at once, Sir Robert Napier would proceed upon his journey without seeing him. Major Grant then started with Major Pritchard of the Engineers, who had gone out to Hanzein with Lieutenant Morgan and his party of signallers, to return to camp. As it was dark when they started, they of course lost their way, and wandered about for some hours, leading their horses, which had two or three awkward falls. They arrived in camp at two o’clock in the morning. They did not pass any of the signallers’ posts on their way, and consequently Lieutenant Morgan and his men remained up all night, to flash the news across the hills of the hour of the King’s starting from Hanzein. Captain Moore and Mr. Speedy remained at Hanzein until the next day, and were hospitably, if not agreeably, entertained, with a repast, consisting of a large dish of half-baked bread, over which melted fat had been poured with a liberal hand. While they were occupied in endeavouring to find a morsel less saturated with fat than the rest, two or three of the chiefs showed them how the food should be eaten, by thrusting some exceedingly dirty hands into the mess, rolling up a large ball, and cramming it into their mouths. Captain Moore underwent a strong internal struggle, but conquered his desire to rush into the open air, and nobly shut his eyes and followed the example. Mr. Speedy—whose residence in Abyssinia has rendered him the reverse of dainty in matters of food—had already set-to with the grave complacency of a man who enjoys his repast.

On Monday a messenger came in who reported that the King had really arrived at Hanzein, and would come on to Mai Dehar early next morning. A native in our pay having [pg 258]verified this report, orders were issued for a move at daylight the next morning. The party was to consist of the four guns of Murray’s battery, a squadron of 3d Native Cavalry, four companies of the 4th Regiment, one company of the 10th Native Infantry, the party of Engineers with their signalling and photographing apparatus, and two elephants. Although Mai Dehar was only five miles off, the troops were ordered to take their tents and baggage, as it was uncertain at what hour the proceedings might be over; and as the next march on to this place was only ten miles, they would be able to march straight through the next day, and would therefore lose no time by sleeping at Mai Dehar.

By seven o’clock we were all out of Ad Abaga, and by half-past nine the tents were pitched at Mai Dehar, which was not more than a four-mile march distant. Mai Dehar is a basin of about half a mile in diameter, with gradually-sloping sides, and possesses no picturesque effect whatever. A small stream runs through it, and the whole basin is covered with a long thick growth of hay. Orders were at once issued that no fires should be lighted or pipes allowed until the grass was all cut in the immediate vicinity of the tents, and for some little distance round the horses. This, of course, was a work which occupied some time; and at about eleven, before the fires were fairly alight, Mr. Speedy, who had gone straight on to meet the King, rode into camp with news that he had left him half an hour before, and that in a very few minutes he would arrive. In ten minutes a dark mass of figures showed upon the crest of the opposite rise of the valley, and presently a tent of bright scarlet colour rose in their midst, and showed that the King was present among them. Mr. Speedy again rode off to say that the Commander-[pg 259]in-chief would move forward to meet him in an hour. By that time the men had breakfasted, and at half-past twelve, when the bugle sounded the assembly, all were ready for any work they might be called on to do. They were formed in line a few hundred yards behind the tent, which had been pitched near the little stream for the durbar. Major Grant, Captain Moore, and Mr. Speedy now rode forward again towards the King’s tent, accompanied by an escort of 3d Native Cavalry. Several officers who were not on duty, but who had come over on leave from the camp at Ad Abaga, also rode upon the flank of the cavalry, and among them I took my place.

The native army was ranged in line on both sides of the royal tent; they were not formed in any regular order, but stood thickly together, with the extremities of their line advanced in the form of the crescent of a young moon. There was no pressing or noise; all stood perfectly quiet as we advanced, and it was evident at once that we were in the presence of a greatly more formidable body of men than we had given Abyssinia credit for possessing. The only sound that broke the silence was the beating of a number of drums. These I afterwards had an opportunity of examining, and found them to be of the same shape, and as nearly as possible the same size, as our own kettledrums. Instead of being of metal, they were of thin wood, and were covered with skins with the hair on in the place of parchment. They were carried one on each side of a mule. There were six mules so laden, and the drums were beaten, some with small sticks, some with large and heavy ones. These last served as big drums, and kept time to the constant beating of the small ones. They played a sort of tune which, if rather monotonous, was by no means unmusical. The principal drummer had a red umbrella held [pg 260]over his head—a distinction enjoyed by no other person except his Majesty himself. When we had arrived within forty or fifty yards of the King’s tent we halted. Major Grant and his party alighted from their horses and entered the royal tent, and the cavalry were drawn up in line parallel to the road the King would pass down on his way to the stream. Major Grant’s mission was to inform the King that Sir Robert Napier was ready, and would advance to meet him as soon as he saw the King had left his tent. Some personages in authority now gave some orders, and a body of four or five hundred men took their places a short distance in front of the royal tent. Some of these men were on foot, some mounted; the great majority were armed with guns of some kind, and in addition carried shield and sword. The remainder had lances. There was a far greater variety of costume, and much more brilliancy of colour, among their body than we had any notion of seeing in Abyssinia. The majority, of course, had the whitey-brown cotton cloth of the country, with generally the red ends and fur tippets with long ends which are distinctive of a warrior of rank. Many, too, had a lion’s mane over their shoulders, which is a sign that they have slain many enemies in battle. Very many too had on long shirts of state, reaching to the knees, and made of richly-brocaded silks, generally green, blue, or red, with yellow flowers. Some, the greatest dandies of all, wore mantles of velvet, violet being the prevailing colour. These reached a little below the waist, and were then cut into long tails of peculiar pattern, which, moreover, was always similar. These, who gave orders, and who were probably generals, were not bareheaded, as were all the rest of the Abyssinians, but had a coloured silk-handkerchief over [pg 261]and around the head, Bedouin fashion, and falling down upon the neck, with a sort of fillet or coronet of metal, which looked like tin, but may have been silver, round their foreheads. Of this body, which was evidently composed of chiefs and warriors of distinction, about equal numbers were mounted and on foot. Very many of the mules carried double, which is here considered by no means an infra-dig. method of travelling. In front of this body of men the band of drums took up their station, and in the rear five or six men blowing an instrument somewhat resembling a clarionet in appearance, except that it has only one note. Some of them were, however, pitched a tone above the others, so that the general result, although not so musical as that of the drums, was yet not discordant.

The King now came out of his tent, and mounted a mule. A dozen or so princes and personal attendants rode or walked near him, and two attendants walked one on each side, leaning against the mule, and supporting him, as it were, in his saddle. One held a large Magenta-silk umbrella over the King’s head. Kassa is a man of seven or eight and twenty. He was plainly dressed in a swathing of native cloth, the only distinction between himself and an ordinary warrior being that, in place of a broad scarlet end, it had a sort of Cashmere pattern. The princes had similar borders to their robes. The King wore a fur tippet, and the cloth was wrapped round and round him, so that his arms were not visible, and he looked a mere bunch as he sat upon his mule. The cloth was brought up round his chin and mouth. He was bareheaded; his hair was plaited in lines from the forehead to the back of the head, in the peculiar manner I have before described, and which exactly resembles that upon some [pg 262]of the Assyrian wall-paintings in the British Museum. These plaits are each tied at the end, and form a little bunch of tails at the back of the neck. Kassa has a mild and rather irresolute face, and was evidently nervous at the unaccustomed ceremony he was about to go through. I believe that his face does not belie his character, and that he is quite guided by three or four of his principal advisers. Puppet kings are not confined to Abyssinia. Major Grant rode by the side of the King, and conversed with him through the medium of Mercher, the interpreter. The mule ridden by the King, and those of the principal personages, all had the gay green-and-red embossed leather trappings I described as adorning the mule ridden by the ambassador who came in to Attegrat. There were several priests in the train, distinguished as usual by their turbans and the whiteness of their robes. In my description of the King’s dress I have said nothing of his leggings or shoes, for the reason that he, as well as everyone of his nation, had bare legs and feet. Immediately the King had started, I closed-in with the unattached officers behind him, and the 3d Native Cavalry came on behind us. In the rear of them, and keeping a perfect line, came the main body of native troops—horsemen in front, footmen behind them. The whole effect was extremely picturesque, and, as seen from the opposite side of the valley, must have been most striking. As soon as we were in motion, we saw Sir Robert Napier approaching from the opposite camp. He rode in a howdah upon an elephant with scarlet trappings; behind followed the other elephant, and his staff rode around him. The troops remained in a line at some little distance in rear of the durbar tent, the 10th Native Infantry being drawn up as a guard of honour in front of the tent. When [pg 263]we were about three-quarters of the distance down the slope upon our side of the hill, the body-guard in front of the King halted, and fell back upon each side, leaving a road, through which the King and his personal following rode. The 3d Native Cavalry followed, but the natives formed line again in the rear and halted. Sir Robert Napier arrived first at the stream, but the elephant refused to cross, and the General then alighted and mounted his horse, and again advanced to meet the King, who had by this time crossed the stream. Sir Robert and the King shook hands, and then rode together to the durbar tent. There everyone dismounted, and as many as the tent would accommodate entered. I was fortunate enough to be one of these. The King and the Commander-in-chief took seats in two chairs. Five of the principal princes sat upon the ground. The King’s shield-and-spear-bearer stood behind him, and several other native attendants stood near. About a dozen European officers ranged themselves round the sides of the tent. At the moment of entering the tent, the guard of honour and the artillery fired a salute, which caused a great commotion among the horses, and I have no doubt rather startled and alarmed the King of Tigre’s army, which had all remained upon the other side of the stream. Throughout the day the greatest discipline prevailed upon this point, not a single man crossing the stream, with the exception only of the King’s personal attendants.

The conversation between Sir Robert Napier and the King was interpreted by Mercher and by his brother, who formed part of the King’s retinue. Both these brothers are Tigre chiefs, who were curiously enough sent to Bombay to be educated, and to learn the English language. The conversation [pg 264]was of the most formal kind. Sir Robert expressed his hope that the King was not fatigued with his journey. The King replied that he was never tired when he came to see his friends. Here the conversation languished a little, and then Sir Robert expressed the pleasure that we English, who sent missionaries to all parts of the world, experienced at finding a Christian nation here in the midst of Africa. To this the King replied, that he did not wish to see strangers in his country, but that if strangers came he preferred that they should be Christians. This was a decided damper; but Sir Robert, after a pause, rallied nobly, and said that we had a most friendly feeling for all the Abyssinians, with the exception only of the bad men who held our countrymen captive. The King replied that Theodore was our common enemy, and that he hoped we should punish him as he deserved. The General then inquired the names of the princes present, and found that one was an elder brother, and two were uncles of the King. These were all intelligent-looking men, with fine faces for Abyssinians. The King’s elder brother is a much more resolute and determined-looking man than the King. These men, as well as the King, we could now see, upon their sitting down and getting their arms a little free from the wrappings of cloth, had very large golden armlets, or rather wrist-ornaments, of exactly the same shape as a lady’s gauntlet. Sir Robert now said that he wished to present the King with some presents, to demonstrate our friendship. These were a double-barrelled rifle by Purday, some handsome Bohemian glass vases, and the horse upon which he himself rode when he met the King. By the way, I question much if the King will ever trust himself upon the horse, which is a high-spirited and rather restive animal, and which upon our leaving the [pg 265]tent completely overpowered the native to whom it had been delivered, and had finally to be taken up to the royal tent by its own syce. The meeting now was over, that is, it was over as a public meeting, and all retired from the tent except two or three confidential officers on either side. What had preceded was merely a formal opening, and the interview was now really interesting. I am, of course, unable to give the details, but the general substance was that the King now entirely threw aside his reserve, and said that he hoped for our support in the disputes which will arise upon Theodore’s defeat. Sir Robert Napier “assured the King of our friendship, but stated that his Queen had sent him here solely with the design of rescuing our countrymen, but that she had given him strict orders on no account to take any part in the unfortunate dissensions which were taking place in the country. We have, as we marched onward to this place, seen everywhere the signs of these unfortunate wars, in the fields lying uncultivated, and in the deserted villages, and he hoped to hear that with the destruction of the power of Theodore, this most unfortunate state of things would cease. At the same time he assured the King that he might rely that if we could give him no support we should also abstain from giving any assistance whatever to his rivals.” Kassa afterwards, in answer to a request of the Chief, promised that he would send messengers to the principal towns upon our route, ordering the inhabitants to do all in their power to furnish us with provisions and supplies. After the interview was over, the King and princes were supplied with wine and spirits, not, however, without some difficulty, for there are very few bottles of wine remaining in the camp of the advancing column. There was then a pause of an hour or two, after [pg 266]which our troops were paraded, and went through a few manœuvres before the King. These were not of much interest, as no powder was expended, and the ground, being full of deep holes, hidden by long grass, was most unfavourable for the movements of either artillery or cavalry. The action of the Armstrongs was also explained to the King. After this the troops returned to camp, and Sir Robert Napier and his staff crossed the stream with the King to pay a return visit to the royal tent. The natives, who had been clustered by the stream, all rose at his approach, and the drums struck up their strange music. We were now enabled, riding as we were among a dense throng of natives, to judge more accurately of their number and appearance than we had hitherto been able to do. The general opinion was, that there must have been about three thousand, three-quarters of whom were armed with guns. They were a fine, active-looking set of men, and in a rough country would make formidable antagonists even for trained soldiers. These men are known to be brave, and are fairly armed, but Theodore’s army has always defeated them. Theodore’s army must, therefore, have been by no means despicable antagonists; and although that army has now dwindled to four or five thousand men, it is probable that that four or five thousand are the most desperate characters and the most warlike warriors of his original force. Strong as Magdala naturally is, and garrisoned by a few thousand such men as these, it may possibly be a hard nut even for a British army to crack.

Arrived at the King’s tent, which is of considerable size, Sir Robert Napier entered with the King, princes, and as many of his staff as the tent would accommodate, and took seats upon the carpeted ground. Here refreshments, [pg 267]small flat bread, and native liquors of fermented honey and herbs, and native spirits, were served round. Sir Robert Napier was declared by the King to be a good warrior, and the King presented him with his own lion-mane tippet, his own sword, shield, and spear, the mule he had himself ridden at the interview, with its saddle and trappings, and a silver gauntlet. After about half an hour the Commander-in-chief took his leave.

As I rode up towards the tent I was smoking a cigar, and this attracted the greatest attention and astonishment from the natives who were crowding round. It was evident they had never seen a cigar before. I gave away several to the chiefs, who, however, were quite in the dark as to what to do with them when they had got them. I offered them my cigar to light those I had given them from; but they had no idea what to do with it, and were on the point of putting it into one of their mouths, when I rescued it, and struck a light with a vesuvian. This astonished them even more than the cigar. However, they lit their cigars, and smoked them with manifest content, occasionally lending them to their friends for a whiff. Numbers of applications then poured in upon me, which, however, I was obliged to refuse, for cigars are very precious articles here. I left when Sir Robert Napier did, as it was nearly six o’clock, and I wished to get back to Ad Abaga, where I had left my tent and baggage, before it became too dark to follow the track.

The opinion of the King and his principal warriors respecting our troops is similar to that expressed by the natives at the review at Attegrat, namely, that our troops would be invincible upon a plain, but that they would have no fear of us upon a mountain side. Our cannon are not so large as they [pg 268]had expected to see; but they said that they had heard great things of our rockets, which rush through the air with a tremendous noise, and destroy those who are not killed by their explosion by a noxious vapour which is fatal to man and beast. They are thoroughly convinced that we have great power of enchantment; and this will probably do more to retain their neutrality than any fear of our arms would do. They say that by enchantment we have tamed the elephants; by enchantment we have kept the rain from falling near the sea-coast, and interrupting our work in the pass; by enchantment we have made the locusts disappear the moment we came up on to the high country; and therefore that were we offended, we should by enchantment also prevent rain from falling over the whole country, and thus create a dreadful famine in the land.

As the natives are impressed by enchantment, and are not at all impressed by our soldiers, I should propose that in any future war of the same kind there should be an officer appointed under the title of magician to the forces, and that he should have subordinate officers as assistant magicians and deputy-assistant magicians. The duty of these officers should be to exhibit signs and wonders. Mr. Anderson might perhaps be induced to undertake the control of the machine tricks and general magic; Mr. Home would do the spiritual business, and could astonish the native mind with the sight of elephants floating in the air, or could terrify a negro potentate by tweaking his nose at a durbar by invisible fingers. One of the deputy-assistant magicians should be a pyrotechnist, whose duty would be to light up the camp with unearthly fire, and to place strange portents in the midnight sky. Certainly, had this department been organised before the expe[pg 269]dition began, and had a few of its officers been present, we might have dispensed with several regiments, and the cost of the expedition would have been greatly lessened, however munificent the remuneration of the chiefs of the department might have been. Should Government adopt this suggestion, and I have no doubt they will do so, I shall expect a valuable appointment in the corps.

On the day after the last mail left we were favoured with a précis of the letters from Magdala which had arrived three days previously. They contained nothing of any great importance. Gobayze and Menelek were both near King Theodore; so near, indeed, that the camp-fires of the former could be seen from Theodore’s camp. They were both evidently afraid to attack him; but Gobayze had sent him an insulting message, and Theodore had at once put the unfortunate herald to death. Theodore was making very slow progress; and it was thought that he would not arrive until the end of March at Magdala. He was ten hours’ ride from that fortress, which would mean about twenty-five miles. Even if he travels at half the reported rate of speed, he will be there before us. The opinion is general now that we shall have a fight at the end of our journey.

Doullo, February 29.

We arrived here yesterday afternoon, after three days’ marching. On the 26th the troops went from Mai Dehar to Dongollo, fifteen miles; on the 27th to Agula, nine miles; and on the 28th to Doullo, fifteen miles. The road has lain across a much more undulating country than that over which we have previously passed. On the first day’s march we had one [pg 270]very long and steep descent. This tried the mules; and many were the upsets of packs, many the tired animals who lay down, and refused to move until unsaddled, upon the narrow ledge. Fortunately, however, although long and steep, it was straight, and so the artillery got down with comparative ease and without any accident. The camp was in a valley, where the water was very good, and where there was one pool of deep water nearly 200 yards long, which afforded excellent bathing. There were a good many fish in it, and several were caught of over a pound in weight. This is curious, as it shows that the Abyssinians are by no means skilful fishermen; for Mr. Speedy tells me that during his residence in the country he never saw nor heard of a fish more than three inches long being caught.

The next day’s march was a short and rather easy one. The last was not only long, but it had some very long and difficult ascents and descents; indeed, it was one succession of hills for the whole distance. The country has throughout been thinly populated. We have come across several ruined villages, which have probably been destroyed in the constant wars which are raging in this country. The churches, however, have generally been respected; and whenever a really fine clump of trees is to be seen, there is always a church to be found in their shade. Where the villages have been destroyed, the churches are of course deserted, and are more or less falling into ruins. This camp is pitched in a wide valley, and we are procuring more supplies than usual from the natives. Yesterday we bought 1500lb. of grain, and to-day we are obtaining an even larger supply. Grass, however, is comparatively scarce, and the water is by no means good. Cattle, as usual, are in abundance. We are [pg 271]going on again to-morrow, and shall reach the camp beyond Antalo in two days. I hear very good accounts of the state of the supplies there, and am told that we have bought, in addition to grain, &c., considerable quantities of flour and bread.

This is by far the most satisfactory intelligence we have yet received since we landed in Abyssinia, and if these supplies continue to come in, it will very greatly shorten the duration of our campaign. The great question is to accumulate supplies sufficient for us to march to Magdala. As long as we have to consume the supplies the mules bring up, the process of accumulation must be a very long one. Flour and meat are the only two articles of diet which are of material weight. The preserved vegetables, tea, sugar, and salt, amount together to under six ounces per diem per man; and one mule would therefore carry the rations of 500 men of these articles. When we reach Antalo and join the advanced force our number will not exceed 1200 Europeans, and 50 mules will carry three weeks’ rations for them, exclusive of meat, which we can always purchase, flour, and rum. At present the ration of rum is one drachm a day, but it is possible that at any moment this may be stopped; and it is at all events probable that no rum will be carried beyond Antalo. If, therefore, we can purchase flour and meat along the march, and the Europeans of the advance force number 3000, we shall only require six mules a day to carry their rations, or 186 mules for a month’s supply. Of course this calculation will not hold good for our journey, as it is most improbable that we shall succeed in getting flour or bread along the road; but if we can only buy sufficient quantities for our consumption while we are stopping at Antalo, it will be an immense [pg 272]relief to the transport-train. The native bread is not at all bad. It is baked in cakes about an inch thick and eight inches in diameter. It is dark in colour, and sometimes sour; but I have tasted some as good bread as one could wish to eat. The price I have paid here is a dollar for five of these loaves, weighing about a pound and a half each. Wood is very scarce, a dollar being charged for four bundles of sticks weighing under ten pounds a bundle.

The pause of to-day is made partly to enable the artillery to repair a wheel of one of their store-wagons, which broke in coming down the last descent, partly to rest the animals, which now, after four days’ work, greatly needed a day’s rest. We require more cavalry with us. The 3d Native Cavalry have had tremendously hard work; what with marching and picket-duty, the men never get more than two nights in the week in bed, and sometimes not more than one. It is surprising how the animals, with so great an amount of work and with insufficient food, keep in such good condition as they are at present. All the animals will, however, be improved by a short stay at Antalo.

The weather has very much changed since we left Ad Abaga. We have a strong and really cold north-wind blowing all day, and between five and eight o’clock of an evening it is most cutting. At night it drops; and the temperature is then not so cold as it was either at Senafe or Attegrat. The natives generally are affected with coughs and colds; and the amount of coughing which goes on at night in the vicinity of our tent is both astonishing and disagreeable.

Sir Charles Staveley came up from Zulla, and joined us on the day of our leaving Ad Abaga. He has taken command of the advanced brigade. I hear that, owing to the quantities [pg 273]of stores taken up by the trains which accompanied General Collings’s column and our own, the supplies at Senafe and other places along the line were very low; so much so, that the troops who were ordered up have been kept back at Zulla until further stores could be accumulated. I trust that by this time a large stock has been collected at Senafe, as Captain Griffiths, who commanded the portion of the transport-train which went forward with General Collings’s column, has just passed downward with his mules to fetch up another supply.

Antalo, March 4th.

When I wrote, four days since, from Doullo, I mentioned that we had news of flour and other stores being purchased in considerable quantities at Antalo, and that if supplies continued to come in, the prospects of the expedition would be altogether changed. But I certainly did not anticipate that we should be able to advance from here under three weeks or a month. Two days before we arrived here, indeed, there were rumours of a much earlier move than had been anticipated; and an order was issued that in all probability we should be compelled to go forward without either rum, tea, or sugar. Of course everyone is prepared to make great sacrifices, and to submit to every hardship which may be absolutely necessary. Every reduction of kit, the dismissal of the native followers, and the diminution of carriage, has been received not only without a murmur, but with actual satisfaction by everyone. The reductions were felt to be necessary; for in no other way would it be possible to penetrate this inhospitable country. It was considered pro[pg 274]bable that beyond Lât we should have to go without tents, and with only a blanket and one change of clothes; and I have not heard an expression of repugnance or complaint at the prospect: but this order to proceed without rum, tea, or sugar, was received with the gravest dissatisfaction by men and officers of all ranks. It was not as a matter of comfort that it was objected to, but as a matter of health. Rum is an article difficult of carriage, and can be dispensed with; sugar also might be done without; but tea is upon a campaign like this an absolute necessity, if the men are to have no rum. It is not that the tea is nice, for it certainly is not; it is positively nasty. It bears no resemblance whatever to the herb we drink in England as tea; at the same time it is an absolute essential. The mornings and nights are very cold; the troops are on the move at half-past five in the morning, when everything is saturated with dew; they are hard at work all day; their picket-duty is very severe; and to give them with their breakfast in the morning and their supper at the end of their day’s work nothing but cold water to drink, was simply to send the whole army into hospital. Were the water good, the results might not have been so disastrous, but it is almost always drawn from stagnant pools, and is the reverse of wholesome. Officers generally drink the water only after filtering, but the men never think of taking the trouble. Boiling the water is no doubt even superior in its effect to filtering it; but the men would certainly not boil the water if they had nothing to put in it. They would drink nothing but impure water, which in a country where the changes in temperature are so great and so sudden as they are here, would most certainly bring on dysentery in a very short time. The [pg 275]privation of their rum would in itself be much felt among the men. They have all been some years in India, where rum forms part of a soldier’s regular ration. They are accustomed to its use, and no doubt would feel somewhat its sudden privation. Had they been troops fresh from England, it would have mattered comparatively little. Our adjutant-general, Colonel Thesiger, is a total abstainer; I believe that is the polite expression for a teetotaller. Of course his theory is, that men are much better without spirits; and the present will be a great opportunity for testing the effects of a Maine Law. I believe, however, that officers and men would give up their rum and their sugar without a murmur where tea is but allowed them; but I am sure that bad water alone will lay up half the troops. Nor will there be any saving in carriage by leaving tea behind. We shall have to take a greater weight of medicines than we should of the tea. The reason given for thus leaving behind what everyone feels to be, bad as it is, the most precious portion of our stores, was, that we can procure any amount of native carriage, but that the natives will only carry flour and grain, and refuse to undertake the carriage of rum, sugar, and tea, partly because of the greater responsibility, and partly because of the shape of the barrels and casks, which are inconvenient to pack upon the little oxen and donkeys. Everyone asks, Have we, then, no carriage of our own? Have we no available transport-mules besides those carrying the tents? One mule will carry from 150 to 200 pounds weight, which would give 500 men their day’s ration of tea. The advance brigade will not contain much over 3000 men, and consequently fifty mules will carry two months’ rations of tea for them; and it is an extraordinary [pg 276]thing if, out of the 15,000 baggage-animals in the transport-train, fifty cannot be spared to carry an article which everyone feels to be all-important both for the health and comfort of the troops. I am sure that Sir Robert Napier himself consented with the greatest reluctance to the proposition, and that he shares in the general satisfaction which is experienced at the report that the commissariat find that some of the natives are consenting to take on tea, if it is packed in skins or in stout bags, and that therefore a proportion of tea will at any rate be taken on.

I began this letter by saying that the news of the purchase of flour and grain would, if true, completely change the whole prospect of the expedition. I am happy to say that the news we heard is now more than verified, and that the commissariat are purchasing at the rate of 12,000 lbs. or 14,000 lbs. of flour a day. In addition to this, they are buying sufficient bread for the daily consumption of the troops. Very large convoys of native baggage-animals have also come in during the last few days, and we find ourselves with two months’ provision of all kinds, and four months’ provision of flour already in hand for the whole of the advanced division. This is a more forward state of things than I expected to have seen in another two months, and entirely alters the prospect of the campaign. Had we found the same dearth of food here which we experienced all along the line, we must have waited so long that it would have been an impossibility to have returned before the rain. Now there is a chance of our so doing.

Sanguine spirits even mention the 1st of April as the probable day for reaching Magdala. If we are there at the end of the first week in April, we shall, should Theodore [pg 277]await us and no hitch occur, start upon our return march by the 15th, pass through this place by the 7th of May, and be at Zulla in another month, that is, before the rains begin. I have, however, seen so many unforeseen obstacles, so many unavoidable delays occur since we first landed, that I cannot put any faith in this sudden express speed. When we arrived here two days since, the intention was that we should march on the 6th. I hear that our advance is now postponed, at any rate, until the 9th; and I should not be surprised if we were here for a week after that date. The fact is, no one knows anything whatever about the roads in front of us. All travellers, with one exception, who have journeyed here have turned to the right at Antalo, and have gone down the valley to Socota. The one exception is Dr. Krapf, and his report of the road is far too vague to be of any practical utility. It only requires a look to the southward of this camp to give us a notion of the country we are going to travel through. A chain of rugged mountains with peak rising beyond peak extends in an unbroken line. Over or through them we have somehow to get, and at present we know next to nothing about them.

A pioneer force of two companies of the 33d, some of the Beloochees, some Punjaub pioneers, sappers, and miners, and the Scinde horse have gone on ahead to make roads, and the reports we have at present received from them are the reverse of favourable.

Lât is our next halting-place; and until we hear that the road to that place is practicable for mules, it is no use advancing from here, where we are living upon the country and consuming no stores.

I now return to the narrative of our march here. From [pg 278]Doullo to Icullot was only an eight-miles’ march across a by-no-means difficult country. The next march on to this place was twelve miles, and the country was very undulating; but such an excellent road had been made by the advanced brigade that the mules had no difficulty whatever in crossing it. This road was better than anything we have traversed since we left Senafe. The Commander-in-chief, however, did not go by the same route, but turned off to visit Chalicote, a considerable town lying a little distance out of the line of march.

Chalicote is more prettily situated than any town we have hitherto seen. It lies in a well-wooded valley. The church is in precisely the same style as that at Attegrat, with frescoes drawn apparently by the same hand. I so fully described the church at Attegrat, that any details respecting this would be superfluous.

The Chief was accompanied by some of his staff, and by Mr. Holmes, of the British Museum, who had hoped to acquire some old manuscripts there, especially as he had heard of one said to be of great value, and bound in silver gilt. It turned out, however, to be quite modern; and up to the present time Mr. Holmes, although he has been indefatigable in his search, has not succeeded in finding any manuscript of great antiquity; he has, however, heard of some at a place a little distant from our line of march, which he hopes to acquire upon our return, and which, if they correspond to the description given of them, will be of very great value. It was hardly to be expected that, skirting as the line of march does upon the very edge of the table-land of Abyssinia—a portion of the country remote from the principal towns, and exposed to the constant devastation of bor[pg 279]der warfare—any remains of very great antiquity would be met with. Had our course led through Axoum, which was the capital of that strange Greek possession of which Adulis or Zulla was the seaport, we might have expected some interesting discoveries to have taken place. There is yet a possibility that we may see Axoum; for although, if there is any chance of getting out of the country before the rainy season, we shall of course make every effort to get back in time, there is a rumour that, if we are obliged to pass the wet season here, a portion of the force will go back by Axoum and Adowa.

This camp is called Antalo, but it is a mere name of courtesy, like that of a good many English railway-stations. It is nearly six miles from the town of Antalo, going by the most direct and most difficult road; eight miles fully by the more accessible path. The position of Antalo was certainly selected more with a view to its defensibility than for its convenience. It lies upon a small undulating plain six or seven hundred feet above the general level of the valley, and at the foot of a very lofty and precipitous hill which rises nearly sheer up fifteen hundred feet above it. This hill is accessible only at one or two places, and walls are built across them; so that it forms a safe retreat for the inhabitants of Antalo in the event of their being attacked by a superior force. This hill fortress is called Amba Antalo. A position such as this is no unnecessary protection in this part of the country, for Antalo lies at the very edge of the territory of the warlike Gallas. These tribes, whenever their harvest is a bad one, gather together and make a foray upon the villages of the plain, and sweep off crops and cattle. Everywhere on the plain are ruined villages, which attest [pg 280]the frequency and ferocity of these forays; and Antalo itself has evidently, and at no very distant time, contained four times as large a population as it does at present. I rode over there the day before yesterday to the weekly fair.

I described fully the market at Attegrat in a former letter; and as this was precisely the same scene upon a rather larger scale, I have little to add to what I then said. Very large quantities of flour were brought in, and the commissariat secured a considerable supply. Numbers of mules, donkeys, and cattle were also there. The small-goods market too was crowded, and herbs and grain of all sorts—onions, chillies, cloth, and most of the other articles I mentioned as having seen at Attegrat—were here, with the exception only of pumpkins, of which I did not see a single specimen. I, however, bought three pounds of coffee, which I look upon as a great prize, as it will be a change from the excessively bitter herb termed by courtesy tea. The commissariat have purchased a considerable quantity of coffee, and I am told we shall find it much more plentiful as we go forward. This will be a very great boon for the men.

I think that the people here are more merry and full of fun than those at Attegrat; they enter, or rather attempt to enter, into conversation much more freely, and really seem anxious to do anything for one. I had at least a dozen of them yesterday all talking together, and endeavouring to make out what I wanted to find out about some small packets of lead-ore which were used as a medium of exchange. It was a rich flaky ore, containing quite eighty per cent of lead, and marking paper freely. I was very desirous of finding out which part of the country it came from; but neither my pantomime nor the united endeavours of the [pg 281]lookers-on to understand me availed to elicit the required information.

During my progress through the country I have not seen any sign of mineral ground, with the exception of some very rich samples of ironstone. During the last three or four days’ march the formation has changed several times from sandstone to a hard blue limestone, and vice versâ. On the faces of these bare hills it would be easy even at a distance to detect the change of colour or the rising ridges which generally indicate the existence of a vein of mineral; but, as I have said, although I have carefully examined the country as I passed through it, I have seen no mineral indication whatever.

To return to the fair. The scene, as at Attegrat, was very amusing; and the attitude of the groups—the women sitting about everywhere with their baskets, the men leaning upon their spears, the cattle standing about in groups—the whole scene reminded me strongly of an Irish fair, barring only the absence of the friendly pig, with his agonised shriek of expostulation and disgust.

Antalo consists of four or five villages, each standing upon the summits of small rises. They were formerly connected together, and even now are surrounded by ruined huts. The last blow Antalo suffered was three years ago, when it was attacked by the Gallas, incited and led by a rebel against Kassa, named Waldo Yasus. Both Antalo and the villages on the plains suffered greatly at that time; and a terrible attack of cholera, which swept over the country shortly afterwards, completed their ruin. The houses have all high conical roofs, thatched with rushes. Each house has a courtyard surrounded by a high wall. The women here [pg 282]are less picturesque in dress and less pleasing in feature than those of Attegrat. Their morality is lax in the extreme. “A virtuous woman is a crown to her husband:” I fear there are very few crowned heads in Abyssinia. I had left my horse at the foot of the ascent from the plain up to Attegrat, and had walked the last two miles. It was a very hot day, and one of our first inquiries upon reaching the fair was for “tedge.” We were conducted to what answered to a public-house. Here we entered, and passing through a sort of outer passage, found ourselves in almost outer darkness. It was some time before we could see sufficiently to avail ourselves of the invitation to be seated, but presently descried two seats or couches, built up of stone and covered with skins. The room was semicircular in form, and very lofty, going up to the thatched roof, which was lined with bamboo; on either side were small chambers, which appeared devoted to miscellaneous purposes; for after we had been some minutes in the place, and were able to see a little, we made out that a donkey was standing placidly at the door of one of these chambers, and that a goat and a fireplace were the principal articles of furniture in the other. The walls of the room were smoothly plastered, and as an abode it no doubt possessed the advantage of coolness, even in the hottest weather. Tedge, as I have before said, is a liquor made from fermented honey and water, with herbs, and tastes like a mixture of small beer and lemonade made from mouldy lemons, and was brought in in a flask very like a Lucca oil-flask, but rather flatter, and with a larger neck. From the neck of this flask we drank by turns; and as it did not hold more than half a pint, and as we were four in number and the clay was hot, we demanded more. It seems that no more was strained; so a [pg 283]large jar was brought, the wife of the proprietor put a fold of her very dirty garment over its mouth, and strained the liquor through it into the flask, and we drank it. In calmer moments and in other climes, it is probable that we should not have done so—probable even that a feeling of sickness would have overpowered us. I am happy to say, however, that the army in Abyssinia has altogether overcome any feeling of squeamishness. I have seen some rum drank in which several cockroaches had committed suicide; and I have assisted to eat honey which was black with ants whose appetites had caused their untimely death. As for cooking, I confess that I avoid the cooking-fires. I have seen sights which have tried my philosophy to the utmost, and am now quite content to eat the very excellent dinners our servants prepare from rations, and not to think of the processes the meat has undergone. My tent-companion and myself pride ourselves much upon our cooks. They are two Goa Portuguese, and are, we flatter ourselves, beyond all comparison the best cooks in camp. Their soups are excellent, their cutlets the best I ever tasted, their preserved potatoes, baked in cakes, delicious. They sent up birds in as good a style as I can get them in a London club. Their pumpkin-pie—when we could get pumpkins—was the talk of camp; the fame of their baked sheep’s head, with brain cutlets, came to the ears of Sir Robert Napier himself. Imagine, then, our feelings, when the stern decree was emanated—all native servants whatever are to be sent away; each officer is to carry 75 lb. of luggage, including bed, cooking-utensils, and plates and dishes; and three officers are to be allotted to each bell-tent. Heads of departments only are to be allowed a bell-tent between two. At first we had believed that this order did not apply to us; [pg 284]that having our own baggage-animals, and providing our forage, &c. at our own cost, and the tent being our own property, we thought that it was a matter which concerned no one but ourselves as to what or who we took on with us. But we were deceived. Quartermaster-generals, eager to effect the greatest possible cutting down, had their eyes upon the special correspondents and the scientific gentlemen who accompany the camp; and we were officially informed that we must be amenable to the same rules as others. We pointed out that we found our own carriage, and therefore that the weight we carried mattered to no one; but were sternly informed that if we purchased grain for our animals, there was so much the less available for the public service. To a certain extent this was true; and so we said that we were ready to go on with the weight that other officers were allowed, but that the tent in the first place was our own, and that it would be quite impossible for three men to write in a tent together. We were ready, therefore, to carry less than the permitted 75 lbs. of baggage, in order to have half a tent each; so that our total kit, including tent, would not exceed the prescribed 140 lbs. Our friends in the quartermaster department were quite unable to grant us this request, and it was only upon a personal application to Sir Robert Napier that we gained our point, as, upon our stating the case, he at once consented to our retaining our own tent to ourselves. The next question was that of servants. “All servants to be sent back, a grass-cutter only being allowed for each horse.” At first we thought we should be obliged to send our servants back. Fortunately, however, a grass-cutter is allowed for each horse; and as we have each two horses, we have retained our cooks under the title of grass-cutters for our [pg 285]second horses. We are not singular in our management, and there are very few staff-officers who have not managed in some such manner to retain their servants. The fact is, that a rule of this sort bears very much more hardly upon a staff-officer, or a civilian living as we are, than it does upon a regimental officer. A soldier-servant is allotted to each officer upon application, and regimental officers who pick handy men from their own companies, and who live three in a tent, have their three soldier-servants between them as usual. It is far otherwise with a staff-officer: he may obtain a soldier-servant from a regiment; but that soldier does not know him, and will not work for him as he will for his own officer. In the next place, the soldier has certain regimental work to do, which will take him away from his master’s tent for a considerable portion of the day; and lastly, a staff-officer is liable to be sent away on duty from the camp where the regiment to which his servant belongs is stationed. In our own case a soldier-servant would be useless; we might wish at any moment to push on to the pioneer force, or to accompany the Commander-in-chief upon a short expedition, and we should then be left without any servant whatever. At any rate, the order is generally evaded. Were it not that two months must elapse before a copy of this letter can come out to us, I should not speak so freely upon this point, as we should be having a special committee of officers of the quarter-master-general’s department assembling to consider the question of “evasion of the general order relating to servants by officers and civilians attached to the army.”

[pg 286]

Antalo, March 7th.

I am happy to say that Major Minion, of the commissariat, arrived here early this morning with a large convoy, carrying among other stores a large quantity of rum; and it is now finally decided that a certain quantity of both rum and tea shall be served out daily to the troops on the advance. This happy state of things has been principally brought about by the energetic remonstrances of all the medical officers, and by their representation of the disastrous effect which the sudden privation of tea and rum would have upon the health of the troops, especially under the circumstances of the water being so bad. Sir Robert Napier himself was, I know, most averse to so extreme a measure; and nothing but the most urgent feeling of the necessity of pushing on in the lightest and most speedy manner could have induced him to consent to it; and I am sure that he is as pleased as anyone that he is able to continue the issue of what are really essentials to the soldiers.

It is still intended that we shall march on the 9th instant; indeed, orders were issued for a forward movement for both yesterday and to-day. The orders were, however, countermanded, for the road is not practicable for more than one day’s march. As to the state of the road beyond, we receive contradictory reports. Colonel Phayre, with his usual happy, sanguine way of seeing things, states, I hear, that it is not a very bad road; while the engineer officer, on the other hand, reports that it will require a great deal of work to make it practicable for baggage-animals, especially for the elephants with the guns. The reason why the order was given for the troops to march forward at once was, that [pg 287]Colonel Phayre sent in to say that Waldo Yasus, the destroyer of Antalo, had sent in to say that he should oppose our passage. It caused quite an excitement for a time. But I learn to-day that Brigadier-general Field, who commands the pioneer forces, has sent in a letter to say that the whole thing is a mistake, and that Waldo Yasus is perfectly friendly, and that some of the Scindees have already gone on.

M. Munzinger, whose name I have frequently had occasion to mention as French consul at Massowah, and as accompanying the force as political adviser and interpreter, has gone on ahead on a mission to Gobayze. M. Munzinger has been some years in the country; he has married an Abyssinian woman, and owns villages and land near here. He is therefore well known to the natives, speaks their language, and is in every respect very well fitted for an expedition of this sort. On the other hand, there is some dissatisfaction among members of the staff, who say that an officer ought to have been selected for a mission of such importance, and should of course have been accompanied by an interpreter. It is urged, too, that the French look with great jealousy at our proceedings, and that their interests are totally opposed to our own; and that therefore a gentleman, however eligible in other respects, who is a French official should not have been intrusted with so important a mission. From all I have heard of M. Munzinger, I think there need be no objection upon the latter score; but I confess that I agree with those who think that a British officer—Major Grant, for instance—ought to have gone as our ambassador, or at least should have accompanied M. Munzinger. M. Munzinger was, I believe, sent forward by Colonel Merewether without Sir Robert Napier’s knowledge. [pg 288]As M. Munzinger went forward, he had an interview with Waldo Yasus, who expressed some little fear that we, as the friends of Kassa, might intend to attack his amba, or fort, which stands on a lofty rock immediately beside the defile through which we pass. M. Munzinger, however, tranquillised him upon that score, and assured him that we should in no way interfere with any dissensions in the country. Waldo expressed himself as perfectly satisfied. M. Munzinger has now nearly reached Lake Ashangi, and his report of the road is decidedly favourable.

The gentleman to whom this expedition is most greatly indebted, and who has done infinitely more with the natives than the whole of our so-called politicals and interpreters put together, is Mr. Speedy. I have already mentioned that Mr. Speedy was sent for from New Zealand to accompany the expedition, Sir Stafford Northcote having strongly recommended him to Sir Robert Napier. The summons arrived somewhat unexpectedly to Mr. Speedy, for he had already written to Colonel Merewether volunteering his services, which had been declined by that officer. Mr. Speedy, however, came off in three days after he received General Napier’s communication. His services here have been simply invaluable. Almost every useful negotiation with the natives has been conducted by him. He speaks the language exceedingly well, and is unwearied in his work. He hears complaints, receives chiefs, and is in fact at present our great medium of communication with the natives. He may be said to have completely extinguished the little light of our former politicals. Unquestionably he would have been the man to have sent to Gobayze; but even had not Colonel Merewether sent off his emissary, M. Mun[pg 289]zinger, without consulting Sir Robert Napier, the Commander-in-chief would not have parted with Mr. Speedy, who is now his right-hand in all his communications with the natives. Among the other stores which have arrived to-day is some tobacco. The quantity is quite insufficient for the wants of the troops during their advance; but even a small supply per man will be a very great boon, for at present there is hardly any tobacco left among them. Even the officers’ supplies are beginning to run short, and they as well as the men will soon be reduced to smoke the country tobacco, which is a disgusting mixture of tobacco and cow-dung formed into flat cakes.

The generals of the advanced force are Brigadier-general Field (who has only just been promoted), who commands the pioneer force; Brigadier-general Schneider, who has the first brigade; and Brigadier-general Wilby the second. Brigadier-general Collings, who has hitherto commanded the advanced brigade, is to be left behind here. This has naturally given rise to very strong comment. General Collings is far senior in the service to any of the men who have been thus chosen for the post of honour, and he has seen probably as much active service as the other three officers together. He is in every respect an excellent soldier and a most popular man; and there is a general feeling that his being thus passed over is a most undeserved slight, to put it in the mildest form. There is another reason why he should have certainly formed part of the advance. The first division is composed almost entirely of Europeans; and yet two out of the three officers chosen are Indian officers who have never commanded an English soldier during the whole of their service. General Collings has not, as far as I have [pg 290]heard, in any way neglected his duty; and his case is a matter of regret and sympathy with every officer with whom I have spoken—I mean, of course, outside the charmed pale of the official circle.

The general health of the troops continues excellent. There have been a few cases of dysentery, but the hospitals are all but empty.

Antalo is low, that is, in comparison with some of the places we have marched through: it is little over 6000 feet above the sea, that is, 3000 feet lower than Ad Abaga. The nights are consequently much milder than those we have lately experienced. The sun is hot between eight and ten in the morning; but at the latter hour a breeze springs up, which continues to blow with violence all day, and renders the heat of the sun, which would otherwise be great, bearable and even pleasant. The spirit of the troops is no less good than their health. Men who were marching up with the first wings of the 4th and 33d would suffer anything from sore feet rather than say a word on the subject, lest they should be left behind. One case of this illustrates the feeling even more strongly. The day upon which we marched out from Attegrat, three of the men of the 4th in some way obtained some liquor, and were convicted of drunkenness upon the line of march. This is a serious military offence, punishable by fifty lashes; but Colonel Cameron told them that, as they were all good-conduct men, he would only punish them by sending them back to the wing behind. The men all came forward and requested as a favour to be flogged instead of being left behind. Nothing could speak in stronger terms for the spirit of the troops than this. I am glad to say that, in consideration of their previous good conduct, Colonel Cameron felt him[pg 291]self enabled to pardon them. This fact, in itself, is a better answer to those who argue for the abolition of corporal punishment in the army than a hundred pamphlets would be. The only cogent reason of any force which the objectors to corporal punishment can allege is, that it degrades a soldier in his own eyes, and that he is good for nothing afterwards. Now, this is not the case. I have at various times spoken to hundreds of soldiers on the subject, and their answer is almost invariably the same: “It is not the punishment in which is the disgrace; it is the crime. If a man is flogged for stealing, he gets it thrown in his teeth afterwards that he has been flogged for being a thief; but if he gets a drop too much, and perhaps is impudent to a sergeant or officer, he may be flogged, but he will never have it brought up against him as a disgrace afterwards.” The present instance proves this. These three soldiers, all good-conduct men, who had seen seven years of service, all considered that there would be much greater disgrace in being sent to the rear than in being flogged.

There is not very much shooting in this neighbourhood; a few guinea-fowls and grouse, and an occasional hare, have been bagged, but even these are scarce. As for the wild-beasts, of which we were to see so much, they simply are not. The rhinoceroses, who were to dispute the passage of the defiles; the alligators and hippopotami, who were to lurk around the watering-places, and to render the fetching a jug of water a service of as great danger as was the drawing a goblet from the enchanted fountain in our dear old fairy tales,—all these monsters are unknown here. We hear of lions, indeed, but somehow they are never found in the parts of the country we traverse. The hyena and jackal [pg 292]are the only animals met with which could, even by courtesy, be called wild-beasts. These, indeed, swarm; and their numerous holes are a serious hindrance and danger to riders; beyond this they are harmless, and one would as soon think of shooting a fox as a jackal. Sportsmen are seriously disappointed; almost everyone has brought out either rifle or gun, and many have carried both. Now, when our luggage is limited to seventy-five pounds, the weight of even one rifle, with its bullet-mould and a good stock of lead and powder, is a very material consideration; and, after the sacrifice of many little comforts to retain the rifle, it is very hard to find that it is quite useless. There is still a faint hope that we may find large game near the Ashangi Lake; but, considering that it is over 5000 feet above the sea, I can hardly think it is likely that we shall find any large game there, except perhaps elephants. The owners of fowling-pieces are better off. There have been few camping-grounds where a good shot might not get a guinea-fowl or two in an hour’s ramble; and a guinea-fowl well cooked is one of the best game birds I know. Powder and shot are very valuable; indeed, they cannot be bought at any price, unless one is fortunate enough to find some one who, in the readjustment of his baggage, finds that he cannot possibly carry on all his stock of ammunition.

The plains here are singularly devoid of flowers: I never travelled in any country, indeed, where there was such a complete absence of wild-flowers; excepting, of course, the little watered dells, which I have described in previous letters. There is one solitary sort of flower, however, which I have met with in the plains in the neighbourhood, and which differs from any I ever saw before: it is a pea. The flower [pg 293]is of the size and colour of the “everlasting-pea;” but, instead of growing as a climber, the flower grows upon its own stalk from the ground. These flowers grow in clusters; but there are no leaves or stems, with the exception of the flower-stalk itself, three or four inches in height. The flower has a scent exactly resembling that of a violet, but less powerful: the seed is contained in a long, narrow pod, like that of a wallflower.

Scorpions are rather abundant here; and so, I am sorry to say, are white ants. It is not that one has any peculiar objection to white ants. They are certainly repulsive-looking insects, with their flabby white bodies and their big yellow heads, but that is of little consequence; and if they would but content themselves with walking about the tents and climbing over everything, as do other ants, together with spiders of every size, and a few beetles, one would not wish to interfere with their pleasures. Unfortunately they will not amuse themselves in this harmless way: they shun the light, and work in darkness, and their work consists in eating holes in the bottom of one’s portmanteau, or in the waterproof-sheet under one’s bed, or one’s saddles, or books, or anything else which may come handy to them.

Now, as we are going to leave most of our portmanteaus and luggage here until we return, this propensity of theirs becomes a grave inconvenience. I fancy that we shall find our luggage, when we return, in a very dilapidated condition. There is only one satisfaction,—our clothes are rapidly getting into a state beyond which even white ants can effect little further damage.

The remaining wing of the 4th Regiment arrived two days ago, and the second wing of the 33d marched in this [pg 294]morning. We have therefore all the troops now collected in readiness for the forward move, with the exception only of a portion of the Beloochees, the 3d Dragoon Guards, and the elephants with the six-inch mortars; together with the elephants to carry Murray’s guns. All these will, it is said, be here in two or three days. There is another thing of some slight importance lacking: this is money.

The commissariat have purchased such enormous quantities of flour and other stores, that the money brought up is exhausted. Fortunately another treasure-convoy is expected in a day or two.

This morning, at a quarter to six, General Staveley had all the troops out for a field-day. A deserted village upon a rising ground was attacked and carried in excellent style; but the manœuvres would have no interest to a general reader beyond those of any garrison field-day.

Antalo, March 11th.

When Colonel Phayre went ahead on the day of our arrival at Antalo, and reported that the road was rather bad, but not impracticable, every one looked at the range of peaks ahead of us and had serious misgivings. An order was issued for our march upon the 7th, and a party of pioneers were sent on to clear away any slight obstacles which might occur. The report of their commanding officer as to the state of the road was most unfavourable, and a wing of the 33d were sent out to assist. In consequence of the reports which came in, the march was postponed to the 9th, and Captain Macgregor, of the quartermaster’s department, was sent out to report. On the evening of the 8th a joint report from [pg 295]this officer and Captain Goodfellow, of the Engineers, was received. It stated, “that they knew nearly every pass in India, but that in their experience they had met nothing whatever to compare to this defile, and that the Sooro pass was child’s-play in comparison. With the 800 men at work, it would, they calculated, take another ten days’ labour to make it practicable for mules.” All this time Colonel Phayre was still in front, but his reports gave us no idea of the true state of things. In the mean time we were receiving reports from Mr. Munzinger, who, as I stated in my last, had gone ahead to see Gobayze, and he said that the road, although difficult in places, was by no means bad. Of course, on the receipt of the reports of Captains Macgregor and Goodfellow, the march was again postponed. Everyone was indignant. Sir Robert Napier, I have reason to know, was more indignant than anyone, for his heart is set upon getting onward as fast as possible. On the 9th arrived an officer from the front, with the astounding intelligence that he had just ridden down the other road, which was known to exist; that it was six miles shorter; it passed over the mountain range at a point 1500 feet lower than the other, and presented throughout its whole distance no serious difficulties whatever. This it appeared, was the very route that Munzinger had travelled, and the discrepancies between his accounts and the real state of things were at once explained. At first the news was received with absolute incredulity. It seemed impossible that the quartermaster-general could have kept the troops at work for a week upon an impracticable road, when a good one lay ready at hand. The road, too, which Colonel Phayre had not explored is called the Royal road, which in itself was sufficient to show that it was the best and most fre[pg 296]quented of the two. But the fact was, our political officer had heard that a rebel chief had a fortress upon this road; the same chief whom I mentioned in my last as having been reported by Colonel Phayre as opposing our way. The man really is perfectly friendly, and was at first rather more afraid of us than our quartermaster-general was of him. However, the mere fact of his being there was assumed to be a good reason for our not taking the road. And so a precious week has been wasted, and all the labour thrown away. The new road is, of course, not yet passable for the elephants with the heavy guns, but Sir Robert will push on with the 4th Regiment and the steel guns, and the 33d and the pioneer force will set to work and get it in order for the rest of the force as soon as possible. It is not often that we find a pioneer force engaged in making a road after the head-quarters and part of the army have gone by. Our first march is only eight miles. The distance thence up the pass is nineteen. I believe that the troops will do it in two days, but that Sir Robert Napier, with an escort, will go straight through to Attala, in order to judge for himself of the real state of things.

Our items of news from the rear are but of slight general interest. Captain St. John reports, I am told, that the natives have ceased to damage the telegraph-wires; but as a per-contra, he says that the wires are frequently broken by the baboons, who climb up the poles, and hang on the wires by their tails. I am assured that this is an absolute fact. One of the mule-drivers near Attegrat shot a native the other day. The man, who was armed with a gun, attempted to rob the mule; but the driver resisted, wrenched the gun from his hand, and shot him. The robber is not dead, but [pg 297]lies in a precarious state. The lesson was greatly required; but instead of being rewarded for his conduct, the mule-driver got a dozen lashes! I hope that the next driver whose mule is attacked will allow it to be looted, and that the functionary who has just so ably instructed mule-drivers not to defend the public property will be ordered to pay the cost of the stores stolen. Tents have been erected here for the reception of such luggage as cannot be carried on under the present regulations. I sent my portmanteau in this morning, and had the pleasure when moving it of finding that the white ants had eaten a large hole in the bottom. I do not expect to find any remains of it, or of its contents, upon my return. Captain Moore, the Commander-in-chief’s interpreter, has gone on ahead to pacify the local chiefs, and to assure them that we have no intention of molesting them. No better man could have been selected for the office. Captain Moore speaks almost every known language, and has had as much experience of native potentates as any man living. Major Grant has gone on to Attala, to buy provisions, &c. An officer of his African experience and standing would have been far better employed as an ambassador to King Gobayze; while bargaining with natives would have been much more in accordance with Mr. Munzinger’s experience and powers. Some tobacco has come up, and has been distributed among the troops, to their great satisfaction. During the last few days the troops have been exercised in turning out rapidly on the alarm being sounded. The sentries have, too, been placed and instructed as if in front of an enemy, who might at any moment make a night attack.

The natives here unanimously express their hopes and wishes that we should take possession of the country and [pg 298]become their masters. Our style of paying for everything we require has taken them entirely by surprise. It is altogether contrary to their experience. There is no doubt that they are extremely poor, and terribly ground down, and many of their very numerous vices are, to a certain extent, excusable upon this score. They are so poor that they will sell anything for dollars—their corn, their flour, their donkeys, their cattle, their wives, or their daughters. They are a terribly priest-ridden people. I should say that no people in the world pay such extortionate dues. The priests claim two-fifths of the gross produce; of the remainder one-third is claimed by the King; then comes the local chief: so that finally the unfortunate cultivator gets less than one-fifth of the crop he has raised. It is no wonder that the people are poor, and that in times of drought, or when the locusts sweep over the land, or the rebels, more destructive still, carry off crops and herds and flocks, famine stalks through the land. There is no doubt that our mastership would be an unmixed blessing to them, but it would certainly be the very reverse of advantageous to ourselves. From our landing at Zulla to the present time we have passed through a country more barren than any I ever traversed. Except for grazing purposes it is absolutely valueless. Here and there, in the valleys, are little patches of cultivation by the side of the streams; but in the whole two hundred miles we have passed through, looking east and west as far as the eye can reach, I do not think that we have seen, in all, five hundred acres of cultivated land. Taking the two hundred miles north and south by, say, ten miles east and west—in all, two thousand square miles—I would not take the fee-simple as a gift. I am not, of course, suggesting that the ground we have [pg 299]traversed is to be taken as a fair sample of Abyssinia. Unquestionably it is not so. It would be as fair to land in the north of England, and to skirt the sea-coast, keeping on the Cumberland, Westmoreland, Lancashire, Welsh, and Cornwall hills, and then to pronounce England a sterile country. Still, by what we have seen, by the ranges of mountain-summits discernible everywhere in the far west, it is evident that a very large portion of Abyssinia is mere grazing-land; and it is probable that the valleys and low-lying plains, which are extremely fertile, would be unhealthy for European constitutions. Whatever ideas may have been entertained at one time as to our taking possession of a country so rich, so fertile, and so salubrious as this was represented to be, the experience of this expedition must have entirely dispelled this notion. The general aspect of the country is so bare, the fertile portions so distant from the coast, the roads so impracticable, that any idea of English colonisers settling here, as suggested by Mr. Dufton and others, is simply preposterous; and in addition to all this, a very large force would be required to keep a warlike and turbulent people in order. We see by the English papers that “A British Taxpayer” has been writing indignantly, demanding why two or three thousand men were not sufficient for this paltry business. If the British Taxpayer had been out here, he would not have asked such a question. British soldiers are by no means men to overrate difficulties, or to hold their enemies at higher than their real value. But the universal opinion here is, that we have not one man too many in the country. The tribes of Shohos on the sea-coast; the King of Tigre, who can summon 20,000 or 30,000 men to his banner; the fierce Gallas, through whom we have [pg 300]still to pass,—all these have been, and probably will be, friendly. But why? Simply because we are strong enough to keep them in order. No one doubts for a moment that if they thought that they were strong enough, they would fall upon us instantly for the sake of plunder. If the three thousand men who, according to this critic, would have been amply sufficient, could have been endowed with the agreeable faculty of going for three months without food, and if their horses had been similarly gifted, they would without doubt have been amply sufficient. Three thousand British soldiers, as long as they keep together in a compact body, could march from the Mediterranean to the Cape of Good Hope. But, unfortunately, men and animals who can go for three months without food are scarce in these degenerate days. Our experience here is that, with the exception of meat, no food whatever is procurable between Zulla and our present most advanced post, with the solitary exception of Antalo. Grain for the animals is almost as scarce. We have bought small quantities, indeed, at most of the stations, but we never get it for the first few days after our arrival. It is only after we have been at a place for a short time, and when the people find out how large a sum we pay for it, that they bring in even small quantities. Then the problem would present itself: these three thousand men must be fed. To be fed, they must carry supplies with them. These supplies must be conveyed upon baggage-animals. These baggage-animals must be fed. But there is no food to be obtained as they march on direct. Therefore, it is evident that dépôts must be formed, and these must be guarded; communication must be kept up, roads must be made to some extent, for there are many places perfectly impracticable for [pg 301]loaded animals. And so the three thousand men would be frittered all over the country, and would be harassed to death by overwork and watching, and it is certain they could never penetrate to Magdala. Has a “Taxpayer” ever read the history of the French campaign in Spain? Has he any idea of the number of hundred thousand men who marched into that country, and of the numbers who returned to France? A very small proportion of the deficit fell under British steel and lead. They were accounted for by the peasantry. They died, shot down upon baggage-guard, cut off when in search of provisions, surprised when in small parties, harassed to death by overwork. Such would have been the fate of three thousand men landing in Abyssinia. The people here are as brave as the Spaniards, the country is beyond all comparison more difficult, and the resources which, it offers to an invader are as nothing to those of Spain. Our force, as it is now constituted, is sufficient to overawe the country, and it is fortunate that it is so. For I say fearlessly, and there is not an officer here who would not support me in that opinion, that if the people were hostile, we could not even with our present force have ever hoped to reach Magdala. It would have been a sheer impossibility. A mere passive resistance, the driving away of flocks and herds, and the burning of the grass, would have brought us to a standstill at Senafe; while the bare idea of defending our communication, and guarding the enormous trains required for our march of three hundred miles through a barren, hostile, and most difficult country, is so supremely ridiculous as to be laughable. The experiment of the three thousand men, had it been tried, would have ended in a disaster such as, with the exception of Cabul, the British arms have never [pg 302]experienced, and it must afterwards have been retrieved with a force of three times the strength even of our present one, and at an expenditure which might have taught even the “British Taxpayer” that penny wisdom is an equivalent for pound foolishness.

A general order has just appeared regulating the whole distribution of the troops; and as this is a final arrangement, it will no doubt be interesting to all who have friends in the army here.

First Division.—Major-general Staveley, K.C.B., in command; Colonel Wood, deputy-adjutant-general; Major Baigrie, deputy-quartermaster-general. Pioneer Force: Brigadier-general Field. Troops: forty sabres 3d Native Cavalry; forty Scinde Horse; 3d and 4th company Bombay Sappers and Miners; two companies 33d Regiment; two companies Beloochees; one company Punjaub Pioneers.

First Brigade, Brigadier-general Schneider.—Troops: Head-quarters wing 3d Dragoon Guards, 3d Native Cavalry, Scinde Horse, G battery, 14, Royal Artillery, A battery 21st company Royal Artillery, 4th King’s Own, Head-quarters and eight companies 33d, 10th company Royal Engineers, Head-quarters and two companies Beloochees, Head-quarters wing 10th Native Infantry.

Second Brigade, Brigadier-general Wilby.—Wing of 12th Bengal Cavalry, B battery 21st Royal Artillery, two 8-inch mortars, with detachment 5th battery 25th Royal Artillery, Rocket Naval Brigade, K company Madras Sappers, seven companies Punjaub Pioneers, wing of Beloochees.

It will thus be seen that the 1st Division consists of four entire infantry regiments—the 4th, 33d, Beloochees, and Punjaub Pioneers—and a wing of the 10th Native Infantry, [pg 303]of the 3d Native Cavalry, the Scinde Horse, a wing of the Dragoon Guards, and a wing of the 12th Bengal Cavalry, three batteries of Royal Artillery and two 8-inch mortars, and three companies of Sappers and Miners and one company of Royal Engineers; an admirably-selected force, and which, as long as it kept together, would be invincible.

Another general order has also been promulgated, which I have very great pleasure in giving, because it does full justice to a most meritorious and hardworking body of officers. I have the more pleasure in giving publication to the order, as it thoroughly indorses the opinion I have all along stated that the transport officers were in no way to blame for the confusion which took place at Zulla:

“General Order.—Head-quarters, Camp Antalo, March 4th.—The Commander-in-chief has lately received from the Director Transport Train, Abyssinia field force, a full and particular report of the service rendered to the corps by the officers under his command. His Excellency has perused this report with much satisfaction, and it is most gratifying to him to find that, in spite of the numerous and extraordinary difficulties with which the officers of the transport-train have had to contend, and notwithstanding the hard and unceasing work they have had to perform, they have, almost without exception, displayed an amount of steady determination to do their best which is beyond all praise. The Commander-in-chief begs to assure Major Warden and the officers under his command that the work performed by them has not been overlooked, and shall not be forgotten. His Excellency trusts that one and all will remember that upon their individual exertions depends, in a great measure, the success of the expedition. The transport-train, for reasons far beyond [pg 304]the control of the officers belonging to it, has just commenced to assume that military organisation so requisite to its well-being, and for want of which at first it suffered so severely.... The Commander-in-chief is well aware how much the services of the officers of the transport-train have been depreciated, and how unfairly blame has been attached to them for shortcomings beyond their control. His Excellency, however, assures them that he has never for a moment lost confidence in them, nor has he ever doubted that their exertions would eventually bring order and regularity out of confusion and indiscipline.... All cannot of course work under the eye of the Commander-in-chief, and comparatively few can accompany the advanced force; but his Excellency will make no distinction when the campaign is over between those who were in front and those who were necessarily in the rear. All by good work can contribute materially to the success of the campaign, and it will be by that standard, and by that alone, that his Excellency will be guided when making hereafter his report upon the services performed by the officers under his command.—By order of his Excellency the Commander-in-chief. Fred. Thesiger, lieutenant-colonel, deputy-adjutant-general.”

Never was liberal praise more deserved, and it will be most gratifying to the men who have slaved and toiled almost night and day in the face of every possible discouragement.

Meshech, March 14th.

We have advanced two days’ marches into the Abyssinian hills, and at every step forward we see more clearly the diffi[pg 305]culties with which we have to struggle. The first day’s journey was to Musgee; an easy march of eight miles across an undulating plain. At Musgee we found the two companies of the 33d, two of the 10th Native Infantry, and the Sappers and Miners, who constitute the pioneer force. They had just come in, recalled from the hard and unprofitable labour in the defile, and now prepared to set to work anew upon the new route. They report the pass as a tremendous defile, and say that the detachment of Scinde Horse have lost no less than seven horses either from falls or from over-fatigue. We were amused at the natives who came round, and absolutely made fun of the soldiers for their unsuccessful attempts at making roads in impassable places, when there was a good road ready at hand. The head-quarters and the other three companies of the 33d, and the company of the Punjaub Pioneers, were near the other end of the defile, and they had orders to push straight on to Attala, and begin to improve the road from the other end. At Musgee we had clear running water, which was really enjoyable after the stagnant stuff we had been drinking at Antalo. On the morning of the 13th Sir Robert Napier started with his staff and an escort at seven o’clock. The rest of the force left at ten precisely. The march was eight miles—a short distance apparently; but when I state that a great number of the animals did not arrive until eight in the evening, it will be at once seen that it was very much harder work than it appears at first sight. The first three or four miles of this road, or rather track, led along the hill-side, and then as the valley narrowed in, and its sides became very precipitous, it kept along the bottom. There we crossed and recrossed a little stream at least a dozen times; and much of the delay [pg 306]and confusion was caused by mules insisting upon stopping to drink, and thereby of course bringing the whole line to a stop. This part of the march was by far the prettiest and most English we have seen out here. We were travelling in a grove of trees, with a thick underwood, except just where a path was cut wide enough for a single mule to pass. A really good-sized streamlet of clear water wound here and there, with quiet pools, and bright tumbling little cascades. Under our feet was a cool greensward, over our heads a shady screen of foliage. Imagine the charm of such a scene to us, who, except in an occasional secluded dell, have scarcely seen a tree, or felt shade, or heard the plash of falling water for months. How we should have liked to have halted, and to have enjoyed the turf and the shade for an hour or two! All our attention was required, however, for the work in hand, for in many places we had very rough bits, and the wood-nymphs and dryads must have been sorely startled at the shouting and tumult which arose in their quiet shades. On each side of us the mountains rose to a great height, crowned with perpendicular precipices, on one of which, seemingly accessible only to a bird, was the stronghold of some border chief. Presently the mountain sides receded a little, and we emerged into a small plain. In the centre of this ran the stream, and by its side were some very large trees, which I can best describe by saying they resemble oaks with willow-leaves. Here we encamped.

The troops had taken four hours to do the eight miles; but the commissariat animals, as I have stated, were more than double that time upon the road. Both at Musgee and here there is a great lack of grain for the animals. One pound of grain was all they got yesterday, and to-day at [pg 307]twelve there is to be a similar large issue. If this sort of thing continues, the animals must inevitably break down. The drivers, after their day’s work was over, did go up into the hills and cut some grass; but the coarse grass contains very little nourishment, and the horses refuse to eat it. The mules eat it, indeed, but it can do them very little good. I have all along in my calculations of the probable duration of the campaign argued that we must expect to come to places where forage was not procurable, and that if we came to a place where for four days’ marches we could get no grain and but little grass, that we must come to a standstill and form dépôts. Of course the difficulty will be proportionately greater when we have the whole advance force, with its thousands of cavalry-horses and baggage-animals with us. We were to have started this morning at seven o’clock; but a messenger arrived at two this morning with a letter from the Commander-in-chief to General Staveley, saying that the road was so bad that we must halt for a day to enable the pioneer force to smooth some of the most impracticable places. We have also news of the head-quarters and three companies of the 33d who had pushed on by the “Phayre” road to Attala. They had a distance of fourteen miles to go, four of which they had comparatively cleared. They started early, and they got in the following day at twelve o’clock, having been twenty-eight hours on the road. The pioneer force is hard at work upon the road ahead, and to-morrow morning we start for Attala. It is stated to be an eight-mile march; but I hear that the opinion of those who have gone on is, that it is a good thirteen. At Attala I anticipate that we shall wait some days-that is, if forage is obtainable. Everything must now depend upon this vital point. We must [pg 308]push-on to some place where abundant forage can be obtained, and we must then wait for the remainder of the force to come up. This must entail a halt of some days, whenever it is; for the 3d Dragoon Guards and the 12th Bengal Cavalry were both some marches’ distance from Antalo when we left, and they will, of course, have to make a halt of a day or two at that place upon their advance, to rest their animals. I hear that in the neighbourhood of Lât there is plenty of forage; in that case Lât will probably be our halting-place, if we find we cannot obtain sufficient grass and grain at Attala. Sportsmen have been looking forward to our arrival at Lake Ashangi, as game is likely to be abundant in that neighbourhood, especially wild-fowl. We have received a letter from Mr. Massinger, which shows that any attempt at wild-fowl shooting either at early dawn or at dusk is likely to be attended with some little danger. It is, he says, very difficult, and even dangerous, to approach the shores of the lake. They are very flat, and the whole surface of the ground has been broken up into chasms and crevasses, which are filled with soft mud, and are not easily distinguishable from the surrounding soil. A long stick plunged into the soft mud found no bottom, and a person falling into one of these would, unless immediate assistance was at hand, be inevitably lost. The natives say that these crevasses were all formed by an earthquake which took place about three years ago. Previous to that time the lake had an outlet through which the overflow water made its way into the Tacazze. This outlet is now stopped, and the water has risen and filled all these chasms made by the earthquake.

[pg 309]

Mahkan, March 16th.

My last letter was dated from the pretty camping-ground bearing the scriptural denomination of Meshech. Thence to Atzala was a march of thirteen miles. The road led up the valley, as upon the previous day, for about six miles, and then we had a long, but fortunately tolerably gradual, climb up the saddle of the ridge. On the right of the summit of the pass is the Amba of Waldo: it is considerably the highest peak in the neighbourhood,—isolated, four-sided, and apparently perpendicular. As far as we could see, there were no walls or artificial defences. The huts which contain the garrison are built on ledges upon the face of the rock. Ledge is hardly the proper expression; for a ledge is a projection, whereas the huts are built in deep scores which run round the face. The rock overhead completely overhangs them; so that they are to a certain extent sheltered from the wind, which would, at an elevation of 12,000 feet above the sea, be otherwise almost unbearable in such an exposed condition. Waldo himself was at the top of the pass when we went along. He is a man of about thirty-five, with a very intelligent and pleasing face. A number of his warriors attended him, and he was very much interested in our various uniforms and appointments. He chatted for some time with General Staveley, who fired-off his revolver for his edification. The articles, however, that pleased him most were telescopes and field-glasses, and he expressed a strong desire for one. He was evidently acquainted with their use, for he shut one eye and examined the country through my telescope with a nautical air which would have done no discredit to the most aspiring midshipman. The Commander-in-chief presented [pg 310]him with an excellent glass on the following day; and he will now from his eyrie be able to see any advancing foe in ample time to make his preparations for defence.

The descent from the top of the pass was much steeper and more severe than the ascent had been, and the train of mules was a very long time making its way to the bottom. Every animal that fell, every load which shifted, brought the whole line to a standstill. However, patience and care will effect wonders; and we got to the foot of the steep portion without a casualty among the animals.

At Attala, or Atzala, as I find it is more correctly spelt, we found the Commander-in-chief encamped with the head-quarter wing of the 33d and a small escort of Scinde Horse and the 3d Native Cavalry. The Commander-in-chief intends, I believe, in future to accompany the Pioneer Force, and to judge for himself as to the capabilities of the roads, and to direct the work to be done to make them passable by the main body. Colonel Phayre will, however, still continue a couple of days’ march ahead, with a small escort. Sir Robert Napier gets through an immense quantity of work in the course of a day; and the following order, which has been lately issued, shows that he is unable to trust the political business, such as it is, out of his own hands, but is compelled to be his own political officer, as well as his own explorer: “The Commander-in-chief directs that in future all reports forwarded for his information by officers in the intelligence department may be sent to the political secretary, through the general or other officer commanding the division or post in which they may be serving. In special cases, where a more immediate communication to his Excellency may seem expedient, reports may be sent direct; copies of them, how[pg 311]ever, being at once furnished to the officer’s immediate military superior. All instructions for the guidance of officers in the intelligence department will be sent to them by Captain Tweedie, political secretary, who must be considered as the sole officer authorised to convey to them his Excellency’s commands.”

Atzala is situated in an extensive basin, apparently surrounded upon all sides by lofty hills. The abundance which we found at Antalo still continues, and the commissariat are able to purchase grain for the animals. I found upon my arrival in camp that Sir Robert Napier intended to push on at once with the Pioneer Force, leaving Sir Charles Staveley to follow, with an interval of a day or two, to allow the road to be improved. Sir Robert has also sent back for the light guns of Twiss’s Mountain Train, and for the Naval Rocket Brigade, both of which formed part of the 2d Brigade, according to the published list. There are two explanations of this order; the one being that he finds the roads so bad that he thinks it will perhaps be impossible to bring the heavy guns of Murray’s battery on without great loss of time; the other theory is, that he is now convinced that we shall have to fight at Magdala, and wishes to arrive there with as strong a force of artillery as possible. The advices from Magdala tell us that Theodore had received exact intelligence of our whereabouts and rate of moving; and that whereas, believing us to be nearer, he had decided upon waiting at Dalanta; and he has now pushed on with the greatest energy, and arrived with his guns and convoy quite close to Magdala. This is, I think, the best news we could receive. Theodore has evidently made up his mind to await us at any rate in his fortress. He may fight, he may pretend friendship, and [pg 312]offer us the prisoners; but, at any rate, he will be there: whereas, if he had not been able to reach Magdala, he might have retired at our approach; and if he had ever taken to the hills, our expedition would have been almost interminable: once in Magdala, and surrounded, we are sure of him. Magdala may be, and I believe is, very strong, and may hold out for weeks; but we know that sooner or later we must have it. I believe that the guns we have will be useless, except for their moral effect upon the enemy. A shell thrown on to the summit of a rock fortress when the garrison were sheltered behind great boulders, or in caves or crevices, might alarm them, but would probably do very little harm. Our stock of missiles is very limited, and we shall probably have to take the place at last by assault. If Magdala at all approaches Waldo’s fortress in strength, an assault in the face of some thousands of determined men, commanded by a desperate chief like Theodore, will be no child’s-play even for British troops. A few stones rolled down would sweep the path of a whole line of stormers. A breastwork of great boulders rolled into position from above would baffle the bravest. People talk lightly of Magdala and its savage garrison; but if they prove true to their king, it will prove as hard a nut as British prowess ever had to crack. Officers speaking to me upon the subject have argued Magdala is probably not so strong as many of the hill-forts in India which we have in our time taken. This is no doubt true; as is the fact that the defenders of these hill-forts were as brave, and were in addition much better armed than are the garrison of Magdala. But, on the other hand, the defenders of Indian hill-forts knew what British troops were; they knew that our power was almost infinite; that we were the masters [pg 313]of all India; and that sooner or later we could accumulate force enough to capture even the most seemingly impregnable fortress. It was, they knew, a mere question of time with us. However physically brave, the knowledge that final over-throw is certain, will to a great extent paralyse the efforts of any body of men. The reverse of all this is the case with Theodore’s soldiers. They have never fought but to conquer; they have a fanatical persuasion of the might of their leader, and believe in his star; they have been always told that Magdala is impregnable. For their enemies they have neither fear nor reverence. The few white men they have seen have been men of peace—missionaries and such-like—living but by their sufferance, and now for years held in the degrading position of captives. Theodore has impressed them with the belief that we are a mere nation of traders, and that although we manufacture good guns, and can use them at a distance, yet that we are wanting in courage, and no match for his men in a hand-to-hand fight. Doubtless, too, he will impress upon them the fact that we cannot have brought a large stock of ammunition for our guns across this long and difficult route; and that therefore his men have only to keep quiet and let us expend our missiles, and that then our power of doing harm will be at an end. He has, too, promised that they shall divide among themselves all our treasure and spoil; and as by this time they have probably heard that we are absolutely strewing the country with dollars, their idea of our probable spoil must be something magnificent.

However, the problem of war or peace will soon be solved. At the rate at which we are now proceeding, another three weeks will see us in front of Magdala. Indeed, if we continue to press forward at the present rate, we should be at [pg 314]our journey’s end in a fortnight, or, rather, we should be there if the whole of the mules did not die. To-day’s march has been fifteen of the longest and heaviest miles ever traversed, with scarcely a mile of level ground the whole distance. The difficulty began at the very start, for we had at once to climb a high and steep hill, and to descend at once on the other side. So long a time did this occupy, so many were the stoppages and breakdowns, that although the first of the train started before seven, it was ten before the last of the convoy of six hundred had even commenced the ascent. The Commander-in-chief was not to start till one o’clock, and a small party of mules would leave at that time with his tent, &c. I therefore had, very fortunately as it turned out, resolved not to start my animals until the same time. After passing over the first hill, we came to another, which was the highest we had yet come to, being two hundred feet higher than the summit of the pass upon the preceding day. The ascent, although very long, was not very steep; indeed, all the hills we have crossed are much more precipitous on the southern than on the northern side. Here our difficulties commenced; for at the top of the hill were numbers of the animals who had started five hours before us. The descent was blocked up, and for ten minutes at a time everyone was brought to a stand-still. Great was the noise, tremendous the shouting in various languages. Once upon the descent of the hill, everyone kept in single file; but the confusion was greatest at the top, as everyone strove to get his own animal first upon the track. Here were Beloochees, Scinde Horse, Engineers, 33d men, and 3d Native Cavalry, all trying to insinuate the animals of which they were in charge into the straight line. Not unfrequently [pg 315]some unfair effort to interlope ended in well-merited punishment, by one of the mules getting jammed between others, and his load pulled back over his tail. At last we got our animals fairly on to the descent, which was very steep and winding, and then there was nothing for it but patience. With our own animals we had no trouble, for we had long ago found out that although a string of four animals goes well enough along a plain, the only way to get them down steep places, or over very rough ground, is to unfasten them, and to make a servant go to each mule’s head. In this way, if the loads are properly packed upon Otago saddles, they will go anywhere; the mules can pick their way without being hurried, and the loads will not shift; whereas the government mules, being fastened three or four in a string, under the charge of a single driver, are continually coming to grief. The leading mule steps over stones or down steep places with comparative ease, and when on level ground steps boldly forward; while the unfortunate animals behind him, who are still on the difficult ground, are unable to pick their way, their heads are pulled into the air, they hang back and vainly resist, and either lie down at once, or are pulled off their legs. The present state of the Bombay saddles assists to aggravate the evil. The leather loops which were attached to them, and through which the ropes which fastened the baggage passed, are now in a majority of cases torn off, and the consequence is, that the load at once slips forwards or backwards immediately the animal gets upon an incline, and the saddle remains on the back, while the load rolls off. The mountain-side was thickly covered with shrubs; and as we went down in a long confused line, with the baggage-guard scattered at intervals along it, most of the men being in[pg 316]cessantly employed in repacking the loads, with their arms piled near them while they did so, one could not but reflect that we shall have to travel in a very different fashion when we approach Magdala. Two or three hundred men, armed only with spears, concealed among the bushes, and rushing out at a given signal, could have annihilated the whole convoy before a bayonet could have been fixed or the slightest resistance offered. I believe that it is settled that we shall take no tents forward with us for the last three or four days’ marches; and this, with the fact that a comparatively small number of mules will be required for the commissariat stores, will diminish our train to one-fourth of the present size. If Theodore has made up his mind to fight, there is little doubt that he will begin while we are in the passes. He has always been famous for his night-attacks, and we have been especially warned to beware of sudden attacks. The King of Tigre was very impressive on this score. Waldo, the other day, also warned us most earnestly to be upon our guard night and day. We had a turn-out of the troops this morning at Atzala. It took place at about ten in the morning, and was for a few minutes quite an exciting affair. With the exception only of Sir Charles Staveley and a few of his personal staff, no one knew whether it was a real alarm or not. We were now in the Gallas country, where we had been told to expect raids, and it was quite possible that the convoy, the rear of which was still mounting the hill, had been suddenly attacked. When, therefore, the first bugle sounded the alarm, and after a pause sounded again and again, quite a thrill ran through the camp. All the regimental bugles repeated the calls, and the camp presented the appearance of an ant-hive suddenly disturbed. The men [pg 317]tumbled out from their tents in hot haste, buttoning-up their tunics and buckling-up their belts; the cooks and butchers left the half-cut-up carcasses, to run to their tents for their arms and accoutrements; officers shouted for their swords; the men who were out for wood or water came scampering up; the mule-drivers rapidly drove in the animals which were grazing on the plains; the dhoolie-bearers mustered round the palkees; the grasscutters buckled on swords of various descriptions; and I observed my servant busily engaged in loading a great double-barrelled pistol. The result showed that an enemy must manage to creep up very close before being observed, to catch us unawares. In two minutes and a half from the first bugle, the 4th were drawn up in close order in front of their lines, and being joined by the Beloochees, marched off, throwing out skirmishers before them. In another five minutes the Mountain Artillery were in motion, and the 3d Native Cavalry, who had, when the alarm sounded, been in their native undress, had dressed, saddled, and were dashing across the plain. A little in rear of the infantry the dhoolie-bearers were staggering along with their palkees, and an apothecary was in full chase with an armful of splints and bandages. It is evident that we shall not be caught asleep. Alarms of this sort do good occasionally, but should not be too often repeated, or the men get so accustomed to the cry of “Wolf!” that they will not believe it when the real animal makes his appearance.

But I am leaving myself and my mules an unconscionable time upon the hill; scarcely, however, so long as I was there in reality, for it was getting dusk when I reached the foot, just three hours after my arrival at the top. There was no camp in sight, and, although we knew it was still six miles [pg 318]distant, we were ignorant of the direction in which it lay. Fortunately, none of the loads had shifted, and we were thus enabled to push past great numbers of animals who were standing with their loads upon the ground beside them. It was a very weary and unpleasant six-miles’ march. There was no moon, and it soon became extremely dark; and as the way was a mere track, we were quite ignorant whether we were going in the right direction or not. Of course we followed mules in front of us, but there was no knowing whether they were going right—for a mule stopping for a minute, for a readjustment of the load, would lose sight of the one in advance, and would be just as likely as not to go in the wrong direction, and inevitably be followed by all in his rear. The way was across an undulating plain, with many deep nullahs covered with trees, and so dark that we could not see our horses’ ears. There was very little shouting now; everyone rode or walked along in a sort of sulky silence; the pace was of the slowest, the mules being scarcely able to crawl along. We could not pick our way, for we could not see the ground. Some got off and led their horses, others trusted to their horses’ eyes, and it was astonishing how well the animals picked their way; still there were some awkward falls. Even if one escaped these greater dangers, it was not pleasant to be caught by a bramble suddenly between the eyes, or to be nearly borne over the crupper of the horse by a stiff bough under the chin. At last, just when we had arrived at the conclusion that we must have missed our road, and that it would be better to draw off the way and pitch our tent until daybreak, we saw the camp-lights in the distance, and, after another mile’s travelling, arrived here, as I began this letter by saying, at half-past nine o’clock.

[pg 319]

Ashangi Lake, March 19th.

I finished my last letter on the night of my arrival at Mahkan, very tired, very hungry, and a good deal out of temper. We halted at Mahkan on the 17th, as the animals imperatively needed a day’s rest. There can be no question that these very long marches are a mistake in every way. Many of the animals which started at seven in the morning did not get in until ten or eleven o’clock next day; and fatigue of this sort, together with an almost starvation diet, is too much for any animals. The number which actually died upon the road was very small—only three or four, I am told; but then the animals have had a rest at Antalo, and have still some little strength left. I have no hesitation, however, in saying that three or four such marches as this would find the great majority of the transport-train animals hors de combat. It is terribly fatiguing too for the troops. Nor is anything gained by it. The old proverb, “the more haste the less speed,” is amply verified. We did fifteen miles, and then had to halt a day; whereas had we halted at a spring at the foot of the steep descent, six miles from Mahkan, the animals could have easily marched some miles beyond Mahkan on the following day. Fifteen miles over a flat country is one thing, fifteen miles over a succession of mountains, with a rifle, sixty rounds of ammunition, and etceteras, is quite another; and I sincerely trust that we shall not again attempt such a tremendous march as this.

The mule-train is at present all that can be desired. The number of animals attached to the advanced division is 8000, and comprises the Lahore mule-train, the Raul Pindee mule-[pg 320]train, and the A and D divisions of the transport-train. I have had occasion more than once to speak of the efficiency of the Lahore and Pindee trains, which arrived from Bengal in the most perfect order, and which, being marched straight to Senafe, did not share in the general disruption at Zulla. The A division, under Captain Griffiths, I have also spoken of, as being in excellent condition. This is the division which went up with the exploring party to Senafe, and staying there, partially escaped the crash. The D division is commanded by Captain Twentyman; an officer whose energy and devotedness at Zulla during the worst times helped to pull the transport-train through its greatest difficulties, as I had the pleasure of testifying at the time. These four divisions are under the control of Captain Hand, of the Lahore mule-train, who has been appointed their director. He is an able and energetic officer, and his management of the train gives the highest satisfaction. The transport-train authorities at Zulla have nothing whatever to do with the advanced portion, which is under the sole orders of Captain Hand.

On the morning after our arrival at Mahkan the wing of the 33d was sent on to make the road, the head-quarter camp remaining with only the escort of the 2d Horse and 3d Cavalry. In the afternoon, however, a party of Beloochees and Punjaub Pioneers came in. During the day a man came in with one of the curious lozenge-shaped guitars I have already described, and kept up a monotonous chanting for some time. The words Magdala and Tèdros were the only words generally recognised; and it was supposed that he was singing some song he had composed in our honour. An interpreter, however, who happened to come up, undeceived us by explaining that the singer, relying upon our ignorance of the language, [pg 321]was reciting our certain defeat, and the vengeance that Theodore would take upon us. I have no fear of the man turning out a true prophet; but it is certain that the people of the country generally look upon our chance of victory over Theodore as being a very poor one indeed. Yesterday morning we started at eight o’clock on our march to this place, and, owing to the 33d having gone on, our baggage-train was much smaller, and the difficulties and delays proportionately less. We found, upon mounting the first hill, that we had come on an entirely new and agreeable phase of Abyssinian scenery. Instead of the bare hills and plains over which, interspersed with wooded valleys, we had journeyed since we entered Abyssinia, we were transported at one bound into the very heart of Switzerland. Everywhere to the very mountain-tops was a pine-forest. In some places the trees grew closely together, with a thick underwood, which shut-in the path on both sides, and through which the road had been partially cleared by the 33d. At other times the trees were more thinly scattered about, or stood in clumps, affording every variety of park-like scenery. It was a delightful ride for about six miles through these, the road being smooth and easy. At the end of that time our difficulties began, the way lying over and along steep and very rocky hills covered with forest and brushwood. The General had expected to have found the road to a certain extent cleared by the 33d, but owing to an error, for which Major Cooper was in no way to blame, they had scarcely begun their work when we passed, instead of having been engaged upon it for twenty-four hours. Their orders had been to encamp at a stream five miles on from Mahkan, and then to set to work upon the road; and as they had started twenty-four hours before ourselves, it was [pg 322]anticipated that the road would be perfectly practicable for mules by the next day. The 33d were, however, furnished with no guide, and the spring was not visible from the line of march; consequently they marched past it, and did not find out their error until they were miles ahead. Major Cooper then determined upon the best course to be pursued, namely, to march straight on to this station, to encamp there, and to march his men back at daybreak to work upon the road. They had done a good deal when we arrived; but of course the mules stopped their work for a time. In some places the track was very bad; and at one of these, a rocky wall along a ledge, on the face of which we had to pass, I found Sir Robert Napier himself engaged in planning another road to avoid this obstacle, which was dangerous in a high degree for loaded animals, as the projecting load nearly pushed each one over the edge. No accident, so far as I heard, occurred, and the delays were nothing like so long or tedious as those we had incurred on many previous occasions, while the delightful shade, the songs of innumerable birds, and the fresh odour of the pine-trees rendered these halts most enjoyable. At last we reached the summit of the last ascent, and below us, at a distance of five miles, lay Lake Ashangi, a pretty sheet of water of about three miles in diameter. Its shores are in some places quite flat, but in others hills come down with gradual slopes to its very edge. Looking at England for an illustration, I should say that, except in being smaller, it more resembles Ulleswater than any of our other north-country lakes.

Beyond the lake several mountain-ranges rise one beyond another, and offer no prospect of easy journeys for some time to come. Our camp is pitched half a mile from the lake [pg 323]upon ground which slopes gradually down to the water’s edge, above the level of which we are probably elevated thirty feet. The lake and its shores swarm with ducks and geese. The latter are very tame, and walk about to graze in the most unconcerned manner. A great many have been shot, and are, although rather fishy, fair eating. The great difficulty attending the sport is the exceedingly boggy nature of the ground. The fissures spoken of by Mr. Munzinger, and which I mentioned in my last upon the authority of his letters, are simply nonsense. It is a large and in some places a dangerous bog; but it is simply and purely a bog, and nothing else. I was out yesterday with my gun, as were a dozen others, and although I went in above my boots, I came upon nothing really impassable, nor, with one exception, did I hear of any one else doing so. Captain Hogg, however, of the quartermaster’s department, got upon a very bad part of the bog, and was some time finding his way out; indeed, he fell into one deep place, where he would unquestionably have lost his life had he not had a man with him, who was able to put the end of his gun within reach of Captain Hogg’s hand, and so draw him out of the quagmire, into which he was sinking fast. All round the level shore of the lake, a belt of white mud of sixty or seventy yards wide extends. Upon this the game congregate, and are safe from the sportsmen, as the mud will not support a man’s weight, and the dead birds could not be recovered. The geese in plumage more resemble ducks than geese, being dark brown and green, with a large white patch upon the under part of the wing, and which only shows during their flight. A good many escape, who would fall victims to large shot; but the amount of ammunition in camp is scanty, and the shot gene[pg 324]rally of small sizes, which merely rattle against a goose’s feather at a distance of fifty yards.

To-day we have remained here quietly. Another durbar has taken place; the ambassador, or nuncio—the latter, I suppose, being the appropriate word—having come in from the chief Ulem of the Gallas tribes. This man has immense influence with the Gallas, who are Mahommedans; and it was therefore a matter of great importance to conciliate him as far as possible. I have already described two of these official receptions, and as this was precisely similar to those I have before written about, I need not enter into particulars. The only variety was, that the proceedings opened with a long letter from the Ulem to Sir Robert Napier. It was of a most friendly character, and expressed the priest’s concurrence in the “belief which we hold in common, namely,” he said, “the Old and New Testament, and the Koran.” I was not aware that the Koran was an essential part of our creed, but I have learnt something from the Ulem’s letter. Later on, too, he speaks of Mahomet as the only true mediator. These, however, were not, apparently, according to the Ulem’s view, points of vital difference, and he accordingly states that he prays unceasingly in our behalf, which is, at any rate, kind on his part. He warned us very solemnly to be extremely watchful and ever upon our guard, and the general tone of his letter was anything but hopeful. He mentioned that it was the custom of the country to send presents to travellers, and that he therefore sent the chief a present, but that the greatest present he could give us would be his prayers. One thing is certain, if his prayers are not of vastly greater value than his other present, they will not be of any great worth, for the material present was a pot of [pg 325]honey, value one dollar. The chief of course replied civilly, expressed our toleration of all religions and opinions, and that we had many Mussulmans in our ranks, and stated our friendly feelings towards the people of the country. He wound up by giving presents of robes, &c., for the priests. These robes were put upon the ambassador, who is a son of the Ulem, and one of the most inane-looking young men I have seen in Abyssinia. His face, as he was being invested in the robes, was one of the most comic things I ever saw, and the officers present had the greatest difficulty in restraining their gravity. He looked exactly like a baboon affecting humility. Later in the afternoon another chief came in, preceded by tom-tom and flutes, and accompanied by a considerable body of warriors. A remarkable thing which I noticed then, and which I had not before seen, was that they carried headless lances, in token of amity.

We had rather a curious scene this afternoon. A native was detected in the act of thieving, and was sentenced by Colonel Fraser, who acts as provost-marshal, to two dozen lashes. His friends and relatives, however, made so great a howling that the Commander-in-chief came out of his tent to see what was the matter. Finding that the natives took the matter greatly to heart, he gave the man over to be punished by themselves; and after a palaver of an hour, he was sentenced to pay one quarter of the value of the article stolen, or to receive six blows with a stick. Mr. Speedy was about to remonstrate with them upon the insufficiency of the punishment, when the chief who had acted as judge drew him aside, and stated that in the course of the examination they had found that the offender was a Christian, whereas they were themselves Mussulmans; and that if they were to punish [pg 326]him as he deserved, it would cause a war. Throughout Abyssinia,—that is, as far as we have travelled,—even where Christians are in the majority, the Mahommedans look down upon them; and there is no doubt that in a moral point of view the Mahommedans are greatly the superior. Christianity certainly does not work well among natives. Both in India and here a Christian is by no means a man of high standing either in respectability or morality. It is singular that the abodes of the natives here are precisely similar to those at Zulla. There they were built of wattles, with conical thatched roofs. Since that time we have passed mud huts with flat roofs, stone huts with flat roofs, stone huts with thatched roofs, and now we have again come upon the Zulla type of cottages, wattled walls with conical thatched roofs. The villages are always perched upon eminences, and the houses are crowded together and surrounded by a thick fence of boughs, with the ends outwards like a military abattis. The natives are not quite so dark as the people of Tigre, and are not so well armed, for I have not seen any fire-arms among them. Sir Charles Staveley has, I hear, arrived at Mahkan, with the 4th, the 3d Native Cavalry, and Penn’s battery. He, like ourselves, is engaged in road-making. The orders are, that the pioneer force are to make the road practicable for mules, and that General Staveley’s force is to make it practicable for elephants. As elephants can go almost everywhere that mules are able to do, he will not be long delayed, and will probably arrive at Lât, which is two days’ march forward, within a day or two of ourselves. It is probable that we shall halt two or three days there, to allow the force to concentrate. I hear that Twiss’s Mountain Train and the Naval Rocket Brigade are only a march behind General [pg 327]Staveley, and will arrive with him at Lât. I have seen to-night that the 45th has also been ordered to come on at once, to form part of the first division. This order will not only give satisfaction to the regiment itself, but also to us all; for the 45th is said to be one of the best and most efficient regiments in India.

Lât, March 21st.

We had all looked forward to a halt at this place for at least two or three days. This hope, however, has not been realised; for we arrived this afternoon, and start again to-morrow morning, at which time our real hardships may be said to commence in earnest. But it is better, before I enter upon this, to relate our doings of the last two days.

Leaving our camp near Ashangi, the road ran on level ground parallel to the lake for a mile or so, and then, the mountains approaching to the edge of the water, we had to climb over the spur. The height was not very great, but it was one of the roughest, and certainly the steepest climb we have yet had. Once on the crest, the hill sloped gradually down, and we presently came upon the water again near the head of the lake. This spot was the next day the scene of a fatal accident. Two or three officers came down to shoot, and one of the birds fell into the water. One of their servants, who was a good swimmer, at once went in to fetch it out. It is probable that he was seized with cramp, for he sank suddenly. Captain Pottinger at once jumped in, and swam out to the spot, but was unable to see anything of him. Our camping-ground was about two miles distant from [pg 328]the head of the lake, upon flat ground. The distance from Ashangi was little over six miles.

We halted here the next day in order to let General Staveley’s Brigade reach Ashangi. This they did upon the day after we had left it. There was considerable regret in camp to hear that General Staveley himself, who had been attacked at Atzala with acute rheumatism, was very much worse, and had been carried in a palkee. He had entirely lost the use of his limbs, and it was considered improbable that he would be able to come on farther with the army. This would be a very great loss for the expedition, and I sincerely hope that their apprehensions will not be verified.

The morning of our halt, a general order was promulgated which filled us with consternation. No baggage whatever is to be henceforward allowed either for men or officers. Soldiers are to carry their greatcoat, a blanket, and waterproof sheet, in addition to their rifle, ammunition, havresack, &c. This will bring the weight to be carried by each man up to fifty-five pounds; an overwhelming weight over such a tremendous country as that which we have to traverse, and beneath a tropical sun. I question very much whether the men will be able to stand it, and several of the medical staff to whom I have spoken are quite of that opinion. What the roads are likely to be, is manifest enough by a portion of the general order, which says that in future no mule is to carry over 100 pounds; and yet the authorities put more than half that weight upon a man’s shoulders. It is not even as if the men had their knapsacks, in which the greatcoat, &c. could be packed, and carried with comparative ease; they will have to be slung over the shoulders by the coat-arms, and will distress the soldier far more than they would have done if [pg 329]carried in knapsacks. It was an extraordinary oversight leaving the knapsacks behind at Antalo; for it was evident even then that they would be required. Unmounted officers are to have a greatcoat, blanket, and waterproof-sheet carried for them, and mounted officers may carry what they can put upon their horses. No baggage-animals whatever are to go forward with luggage. The men are to be packed twenty in a bell tent, and twelve officers are to have the same accommodation. More than a fourth part of the soldiers are out on picket and guard every night; therefore the number of men in each tent will be practically about the same as the officers. Fancy twelve officers in a tent! They will be packed like herrings in a tub; and men are calculating to-day how many square inches of ground each will possess. Everyone takes it good-humouredly, and there is no grumbling whatever; but for all that, it is rather a serious business. If it were for two or three days, it would be all well enough; but Magdala is a considerable distance from here. The Quartermaster-general’s department talk about a six days’ march. Captain Speedy says that sixteen is very much nearer the mark; and as he has a knowledge of the country, while the Quartermaster’s department have uniformly been wrong in their distances, it is safe to assume that it is a fifteen days’ march; that is to say, even without allowing a day for the capture of Magdala, or for arranging matters there, we cannot be back to Lât under a month. There is some talk of the baggage coming up after us; but this will certainly not come to anything. I know that we have barely animals enough with us to carry our food, and every available mule in the rear is coming on with Staveley’s Brigade. We may, then, calculate with tolerable certainty that we shall not get any of our bag[pg 330]gage until we return to Lât, which, at the very earliest, will be a month hence, and not improbably twice that time. We are told that the cold at night is very great on ahead, and that the rains are heavy and frequent. It is therefore a very serious matter for men to start without a single change of clothes of any kind. Putting aside the rain, the men will suffer so greatly from the heat, and from the labour of climbing mountains with so heavy a load upon their backs, that it would be a most material matter for them to have at any rate a dry flannel-shirt to put on when the cold evening wind begins to blow. Time will show how the men stand it; but it is certainly a hazardous experiment.

This morning we started for this place. Lât has always been spoken of as a place where we should halt and form a dépôt, and we had therefore expected to have found a large village; but as far as I have seen, there is not a native hut in the neighbourhood. Upon leaving our last camping-ground, we ascended a lofty and steep hill, and then had to wind for a long distance upon a rocky ledge, where a false step would have been certain death. After several minor rises and descents, we came down to the valley in which the stream, near which we are encamped, runs. Although there are no villages in sight, there must be a considerable native population in the neighbourhood, for a large number of natives have come in with supplies. The officers of the transport-train are buying every sword and spear brought in, for the use of the muleteers; as, although Theodore is reported at Magdala, he might at any moment make a sudden march down with a few thousand men, and might be upon us before we knew that he was within fifty miles’ distance. Should we be attacked in one of these gorges, or on a narrow ledge with a precipice [pg 331]below, scattered as we should necessarily be over an immense length of road, Theodore might, by a sudden attack upon our baggage, do such damage in a few minutes, that we might be obliged to retire to Antalo, to fetch up fresh supplies. There is no disguising the fact, that in making our rush from such a long distance we are running no inconsiderable risk.

Sir Robert Napier’s original plan was to have formed a dépôt with five months’ provisions at some place about half-way between Antalo and Magdala, and to have marched forward from that place with two months’ provisions. Instead of this we are starting from Lât with only fifteen days’ provisions, and there is no dépôt of any importance, nor will there be, nearer than Antalo itself. The whole of the available mules will accompany the advancing division, and we shall have to depend entirely for future supplies upon the native carriage. The stock of food we have with us will barely last us to Magdala; we know not whether we shall be able to purchase any flour on the way, or how we may fare for forage for our animals. Between Antalo and Magdala are many tribes and chiefs,—we have already passed Waldo Yasus and the Gallas,—and some of these, after we have passed, may take it into their heads to stop the native animals going up with stores; and the whole of the system upon which we have solely to depend would then break down, and our position would be as precarious a one as it is possible to imagine. It is indeed a tremendous risk to run; but then we are playing for a very high stake. We are running a race with the rains. If we were to stop here for a fortnight or three weeks, and to send the whole of the transport animals down to Antalo to fetch up more provisions, we should infallibly have to wait [pg 332]out here over the rainy season; and the difficulties of provisioning the force during that period, and the probable mortality which might ensue, would be so great that Sir Robert Napier no doubt considers himself justified in running a very considerable risk in order to reach the sea-coast before the rains. Of course the matter has been discussed and talked over in every light among the officers; and the general opinion is, that unless we obtain an unlooked-for supply, as we did at Antalo, somewhere between this and Magdala, our position will be a very critical one. With most other generals, men would, I think, be inclined to take rather a gloomy view of it; but everyone has such confidence in Sir Robert Napier that they are quite content to leave matters in his hands.

Dildee, March 24th.

I sent off a very hurriedly-written letter two days since from Lât. In these two days we have crossed thirty-one miles of as rough a country as the warmest admirer of the desolate and savage could wish to see. Around us, as far as the eye could reach, was stretched a perfect sea of mountains; and up and down these we have tumbled and stumbled—not a few horses getting tremendous falls—from morning until long after nightfall. It has been one long monotonous toil. Sometimes we climb upon smooth slippery rock; then we ascend steep paths covered with loose boulders of every size; then we are upon a narrow ledge on a mountain’s face; then we are crashing through thick bushes. One can no longer keep count of the number of ravines we cross, for we climb a dozen hills a day. It would puzzle even the engineers of the Topographical Department to lay down this rugged and [pg 333]broken country in a map. It would be as easy to make a map of the Straits of Dover, and to draw each wave to its proper scale. The toil of the troops during these two days has been tremendous. The first day’s march was thirteen miles; yesterday’s was eighteen,—many say it was twenty; but I think a long eighteen was about the mark. Eighteen miles would be a long march in England, but here it is a tremendous journey. Each man is carrying with him ammunition, &c.—fifty-five pounds—more than half a mule-load. In addition to this, most of the troops are now upon baggage-guard, and have to assist in constantly adjusting loads and looking after the mules. Lastly, a fourth of the troops are out every night upon picket. I had occasion, in a letter written from Mahkan, to speak upon the cruel over-marching of men and animals; but that was nothing to these two days’ marches. The country now is much rougher, the distances longer, and the men have in addition to carry their kits. The troops came in last night in a prostrate state; very many did not come in at all. I should say that not more than half the baggage arrived until this morning; and to add to the other disagreeables, we had a tremendous thunderstorm about eight o’clock, which wetted every soul, except the very few who had been fortunate enough to get up their tents, to the skin. The men have no change of clothes with them, and of course had to sleep in their wet clothes. Of those who were on the road when the rain began, some held on and came straggling in up to ten o’clock; the greater number, however, unrolled their blanket and waterproof-sheet, and lay down where they were for the night. I say fearlessly that such a march over such a country was never before made by similarly-weighted men. Of course we have to halt to-day, [pg 334]and then by to-night we shall have progressed a less distance towards Magdala than we should have done had we made three days’ marches of, say, eleven miles each. Nor is there any reason why we should not have done so. We are fortunately now in a well-watered country. Good-sized streams run between each of the higher ranges, and we crossed four or five of them yesterday.

General Staveley, who I am glad to hear is better, is only one day in our rear. An officer has gone back this morning to direct him to halt to-night at the stream three and a half miles behind. The weather has been warmer for the last two days, and this has of course increased the labour of the soldiers. Had it not been for the frequent occurrence of water, I do not think that one quarter of the troops would have got in last night. Yesterday’s camp was admirably chosen for defensive purposes, being surrounded on all sides by a deep nullah. To-day’s camp is convenient, and is also defended on one side by a nullah, but has the disadvantage that the nullah is two hundred feet deep, and is extremely precipitous, the water being only accessible even on foot at two places, and consequently the difficulty of watering the animals is very great. The water, however, and indeed all that we have met with for the last day or two, is delicious. This is indeed a treat. Hitherto the water has been singularly nasty—thick and full of insects when stagnant, earthy and bad-tasting when running. Here it is fresh, clear, and pure. Rum is quite at a discount. The ravine through which the stream runs is very picturesque. The slope is steep, but well-wooded down to the bottom of the nullah; but the stream itself has cut a way from twenty to thirty feet wide through the solid rock at the bottom. The sides [pg 335]are as perpendicular as walls, and are in some places thirty feet deep. It is only, as I have said, at two points that we can get down to the water. This narrow gorge is overhung with trees, and in every cranny and on every tiny ledge grow lovely patches of green ferns. It requires no stretch of fancy to imagine oneself by the side of a pretty mountain-stream in Wales or Ireland. The vegetation is too bright and varied for a Highland stream. Nearly every officer in camp, and a good number of the men, have been down this morning for a bathe, which is doubly refreshing after the fatigue of yesterday and the paucity of our present washing appliances. The camp yesterday morning presented quite an unusual appearance. The head-quarter camp had shrivelled in dimensions from twenty tents down to four; and outside of them, soon after daybreak, the whole staff might be seen engaged in the various processes of washing and dressing. Twelve men may manage to sleep in a tent, but it is quite impossible that they can simultaneously dress there. Not, indeed, that any of the tents contained their full complement. Some had slung their blankets like hammocks upon the trees; others were content to roll themselves in their rugs, and sleep upon a waterproof-sheet under a bush; and besides this there was a hospital-tent, and as there are no sick, some of the officers were drafted off into this. Indeed, all might have been very much more comfortable, had those of their number who, like ourselves, have brought tentes d’abri, been allowed to carry them on their horses. I was very fortunate in getting into shelter before the storm came on last night. I had ridden on before my spare horse, which, with my tent and etceteras upon his back, was nearly at the rear of the column. I arrived here about half-past four, [pg 336]having been nearly nine hours upon the road; and I was fairly exhausted when I got in from fatigue and want of food. Fortunately, however, the natives had brought in bread for sale, and after eating some of this, and going down to the nullah for a bathe, I was quite restored again. I was not, however, comfortable in my mind; for the clouds had been banking-up fast, and the thunder had been almost incessant in the hills for the last two hours. I could see by the baggage which was coming in, that my animal could not, if he kept his place in the line, be in for hours, if at all. When I got up to the camp, I was delighted to see my little tent pitched. My companion, who had been behind me, had, finding that the road was badly blocked, got them along by other paths, fortunately without more damage than one of the horses falling over a precipice twelve or thirteen feet high, into some bushes, which broke the animal’s fall. The horse was but little hurt; and with this slight mishap, which is nothing here, where horses and mules are constantly rolling over steep places, he had succeeded in getting into camp three or four hours before the animals could have possibly reached it, had they kept in their original place in the line; indeed it was most improbable that they could have got in last night at all. The lightning during the next half-hour was incessant, and before the dinner could be cooked, great drops began to patter down. We shouted to the servants to do the best they could for themselves with their blankets and waterproof-sheets, while we took refuge in our little tent, with an officer whose baggage, like that of the great majority, had not arrived. In a minute or two, it came down almost in a sheet. We lit our pipes, and consoled ourselves that if we had nothing to eat, we were no worse off than anyone else, [pg 337]whereas we were in shelter, while hardly another soul was so. While thus philosophising to our own contentment, the front of the tent was suddenly opened, and a hand was thrust in with a dish of cutlets, then plates and knives and forks. Our fellows had nobly stuck to their work, preferring to get drenched to the skin rather than that their masters should go without dinner. These Goa-men are certainly excellent servants. They are not physically strong: they are quiet, weakly-looking men, with little energy and no habitude to hardships. They make capital hotel-waiters, but could scarcely have been expected to have supported the fatigue of a campaign like this. They do so, however, and seem none the worse for it. Altogether they are worth any money upon an expedition of this sort, and are infinitely more serviceable than an English servant would be.

The storm ceased last night at about half-past ten. It is now thundering among the distant hills, and it is evident that we shall have, this afternoon, a repetition of last night’s storm. It will, however, find us better prepared to withstand it. The natives are bringing in an abundance of goods of all kinds. Honey, grain, onions, goats, sheep, fowls, bread, and eggs. The fowls and eggs are the first we have seen since Attegrat. Prices rule about the same. Two little fowls, a dollar; twelve eggs—about half of which average bad—at the same price. A bottle of honey, a dollar, &c. Dear as things are, it is unnecessary to say that they are all eagerly bought up. We are accustomed to high prices now; and I heard a soldier, who did not get in until this morning, say that he paid a dollar in the night for a drink of water.

Of course we have now a constant succession of news from the front. It is very contradictory, but the general report is [pg 338]that Theodore is marching towards Dalanta, to attack us on our way. Some of the spies assert that two o’clock on Friday night is the hour fixed for our destruction. If Theodore does mean, as is likely enough, to make a night attack, I do not think he would be weak enough to let it be known many hours beforehand as to where it will take place. However, it is no use offering any speculation now upon events which we may see determined in two or three days, and the result of which will be known by telegraph long before this letter can reach London.

Santarai, March 29th.

We are beginning to believe Magdala to be a fata morgana, an ignis fatuus, which gets more and more distant the nearer we approach it. At Dildee we were told that it was only four marches distant. We have made three marches, and have sixty more miles to go; and yet Magdala is not more than twenty-five miles in a straight line, and is visible from a point four miles distant from this camp. It is found, however, that the country is perfectly impracticable, and that we must take a detour of sixty miles to get there. I can hardly imagine what this country in a direct line to Magdala can be like, for we have passed over hundreds of miles which no one would have imagined it possible for an army with its baggage-animals to surmount. We have scaled mountains and descended precipices; we have wound along the face of deep ravines, where a false step was death; we are familiar with smooth slippery rock and with loose boulders; and after this expedition it can hardly be said that any country is impracticable for an army determined to advance. I hear, however, that between this and Magdala there are perpendicular [pg 339]precipices running like walls for miles, places which could scarcely be scaled by experienced cragsmen, much less by loaded mules. We must therefore make a detour. It is tiresome, for everyone is burning with impatience to be at Magdala, and to solve the long-debated problems—will Theodore fight? will he fight in the open, or defend Magdala? or will he hand over the captives with an apology? and shall we be content to receive one? I believe that I can answer the last question with certainty. We shall not. If Theodore sends in the captives we shall receive them, but shall certainly exact retribution from him. We shall either take him prisoner or compel him to fly. If we obtain the prisoners unhurt, we shall still take Magdala. If he escape to the mountains with a few adherents, we shall, in that case, be content to retire, and to leave the task of hunting him down to his numerous enemies; but if he murder the prisoners we shall ourselves remain here until he is captured. I think I may positively state that this, or something very like it, is the tenor of the instructions given to Sir Robert Napier by the Government; and I think that they will be heartily approved by all, except by those negrophilists who deny that a black man can do wrong. It would be impossible to allow Theodore to go unpunished; indeed, it would be offering a premium to all savage potentates in future time to make prisoners of any English travellers who may fall into their hands.

I now return to Dildee, from which place I last wrote, while we were halting in consequence of the tremendous march of the preceding day. Upon the evening of the day upon which we halted we heard that General Staveley had arrived with the force under his command at a stream five [pg 340]miles in our rear, and had there halted. He had with him the 4th, a wing of the 33d, six companies of the Punjaub Pioneers, Twiss’s Battery, and the Naval Rocket Train. It was decided that the wing of the 33d, who were with us, should halt for a day, and should come on as a complete regiment, and that the 4th, which is numerically much weaker than the 33d, should push on with the advance. The next day’s march was short, but severe, as we had to climb a mountain 3000 feet above our camping-ground. It was hard work, but was got over much more speedily than usual, as the train was much smaller, owing to our diminished numbers; and we had consequently fewer of the tedious blocks so trying to both man and beast. The road was in most places pretty good; but was dangerous for a long distance where it wound along the face of a deep ravine. The country here must be either much more densely populated, or the people much more industrious than in most of the districts over which we have passed; for there were patches of cultivation to the very top of the mountain, which, where we crossed it, was about 11,000 feet above the sea. The mountain side was bare of trees, or even bushes; but, curiously enough, very near the summit were large quantities of small palm-trees, with thick straight stems, three or four feet high, and clustered heads of spreading leaves. Several Indian officers agreed with me in considering them to be a species of palm, but we had no botanist amongst us, and it seemed most unlikely that even dwarf palm-trees should be growing in such a lofty and exposed position. I have only before seen palm-trees twice in Abyssinia, once at Goun Gonna, where two or three grew near the church, and in a valley between Attegrat and Antalo.

[pg 341]

Arrived at the top of the pass, we found ourselves at the head of a deep ravine, on the side of which, a quarter of a mile from the summit, it was decided that the camp should be pitched. A more uncomfortable place for a camp could hardly be imagined. The ground was ploughed, and was extremely sloping. The supply of water was deficient, and was four or five hundred feet below us, and the wind swept over the top of the pass with piercing force. However, there was no help for it. The 4th had started four miles behind us, and there was no ground even so good as that selected for another seven miles. Immediately on our arrival, and before the tents were pitched, a tremendous shower came on, and everyone got drenched before the baggage-animals arrived with the tents. The black earth turned, as if by magic, into slimy clay, and our position was the reverse of agreeable. Far worse, however, was the condition of the 4th, which, having halted at Dildee for two hours, did not arrive until between eight and nine in the evening, wetted of course to the skin. We now felt bitterly the inconvenience of not having even one change of clothes with us. It could, however, have hardly been foreseen that, after having had only two or three showers since we arrived in Abyssinia, we were to be exposed to heavy rains regularly every day, which has, with one exception, been the case for the last week. As it is, it is impossible to say how long we shall be in our present state of only having the clothes we stand in. It is a week since we left our little all behind us at Lât. We are still a week’s march from Magdala, and may calculate on being fully a month without our baggage. Officers have all managed somehow to bring on a second shirt and pair of stockings; but the soldiers have no change of any kind. For them, and indeed [pg 342]for the officers, to be wetted through day after day, and to have no dry clothes to put on, and this at an altitude of 11,000 feet above the sea, and when the cold at night is more pierceing than anything I ever experienced, is trying in the extreme, and a great many are already complaining of rheumatic pains. That night at the top of the hill was the most unpleasant that officers or men have passed since their arrival in the country: wet through, cold, and lying upon ground so steep that we kept perpetually sliding down off our waterproof sheet. As to lying in the orthodox fashion, side by side, with all the heels close to the pole, like the spokes of a wheel, the thing was simply impossible. In many of the tents the men’s feet would have been a yard higher than their heads. However, there were few grumblings at the discomfort; but I can answer that I for one was greatly pleased when I saw daylight break, to get up from my uncomfortable sliding couch. We were ordered to start at eight, but the men’s things were still so wet that the march was postponed for two hours, to allow the blankets and greatcoats to be dried in the wind and sun.

Our next march was again only seven miles to a place called Muja, not that there was a village of any kind there, or indeed at eighteen out of twenty places we have stopped at. To suppose that the natives have a name for every field is absurd. Two speculations have been started as to how the quartermaster-general’s department always obtain a name for our camping-ground—the one is that they say something to a native, and the first word he utters they put down at once for the station; the other is that they draw a certain number of vowels and consonants from a bag, drop them on the ground, and see what word they form. It is certain that [pg 343]scarcely a name corresponds with those set down in maps, and instead of calling these flats and plains by any name the first native may tell them, it would be much more sensible, and would render it much more easy for an English reader to follow our course, if our quartermasters were to take some good map, and fix upon the name which most nearly corresponds with the position of our camps.

The seven-miles road down to Muja was not difficult, but was one of the most dangerous we have passed over. The path for the whole distance wound along on the face of a deep ravine. It was often little more than a foot wide, and was formed sometimes upon rock, and sometimes on black earth, which had been dried hard by the wind and sun before we passed along it, but which if wet would have been perfectly impassable. Had a storm come on when we were upon it, we must have stopped to unload the animals. As it was, only one stumbled and went over the edge, and was of course killed.

We have had a good many casualties lately among the animals. The Scinde Horse, too, have lost several horses, but this is hardly surprising from the way in which they ride them. A Scinde horseman, and I believe most of the native cavalry, have an idea that it shows good horsemanship to ride a horse up and down very steep places. It would be a great saving of horseflesh if an order were issued that all native cavalry should dismount and lead their horses up, if not down also, long or steep hills. Our camping-ground at Muja was flat and turfy, but it had the disadvantage of being a great height above water. Sir Robert Napier himself upon his arrival rode a couple of miles farther in search of some site more convenient for watering the animals, but he was unsuccessful in [pg 344]doing so. The camping-ground had also the disadvantage of a very great scarcity of wood.

Our view from Muja was very striking. Six miles in front, and a thousand feet below us, lay the valley of the Tacazze. Beyond arose a straight line of mountains, more steep and formidable than anything we have hitherto seen. The slope at their feet was comparatively easy, but it increased rapidly, and a wall of perpendicular rock of upwards of a hundred feet high ran along the crests without the slightest apparent break. The range looked like a mighty natural barrier to our further progress into Abyssinia. However, we knew that the exploring-party was upon the plateau on the summit, having gone up by the native road. Our order for the morrow was, that we were to march early down to the Tacazze; that we were to encamp in the valley, and that the troops were to set to work to make the road up the ghaut practicable for our ascent upon the following day. At eight o’clock in the evening, however, Captain Fawcett, of the quartermaster’s department, rode into camp with a letter from Colonel Phayre, evidently written in great consternation of mind, and saying that Mr. Munzinger, who is with Gobayze’s army, was missing, and had no doubt fallen into Theodore’s hands—that Theodore himself, with his army, had crossed the Bachelo river, and was advancing to attack us; and urging that more troops should be sent on.

Of course there was great excitement in the camp at this news. We were only thirty-five miles in a straight line from Magdala, only twenty-three from the Bachelo, and as Theodore, with his lightly-weighted natives would march nearly straight, it was probable that we should be attacked on the next night. In another hour an order was issued, which [pg 345]showed that Sir Robert Napier, as well as ourselves, looked upon this information as most important. The column was only to halt for two or three hours at the Tacazze, while a strong working-party made the road to some extent passable. We were then to march up it, and to encamp upon the plateau for the night.

It was evident that the Commander-in-chief felt the importance of gaining the summit of the precipitous range opposite before Theodore got to its top to prevent our so doing. All the evening our talk was of Sniders and night-attacks, and every pro and con was warmly discussed. At seven the troops started, and in two hours and a half reached the Tacazze. The Tacazze is here an insignificant stream, very inferior to many of those we have previously crossed. Indeed, it is more a succession of pools than a stream, and yet as one crossed it, one could not forget that this was one of the fountain-heads of the mighty Nile—that it was this little streamlet, which, swollen by a thousand tributaries, rushes every July into the main river, raising its level many feet, and fertilising all Egypt with the rich Abyssinian soil it carries down.

We went on half-a-mile farther across the valley to a point where the commissariat had collected a dépôt of grain. Here the mules were unloaded, fed and watered, and the troops had breakfast, while strong fatigue-parties of the Beloochees, Punjaubees, and 4th went up the hill to work upon the road, under the direction of Captains Goodfellow and Lemessurier of the Engineers. In three hours afterwards the signallers on the top of the hill waved us word that the road was passable, and we started for a climb of a clear two thousand five hundred feet. It was hard work, but the road was sur[pg 346]prisingly free from difficulties or dangers until we reached within two or three hundred feet of the top. Then there were some exceedingly nasty bits, but upon the whole it was nothing like what we had anticipated, and not to be compared to many places we have before passed.

As we reached the top, Colonel Cameron called upon the 4th for three cheers, telling them that thrashing Theodore would be nothing to the task of climbing that hill. The men responded heartily but feebly; breath, not inclination, being wanting. They then marched cheerily on across a plateau level for another mile, in high spirits at the brush they were looking forward to with Theodore. We soon found, as I had imagined that we should do, that this anticipation was destined for the present to be disappointed.

Munzinger was not missing, and never had been. He had gone out for a ride, and his servant said, on being questioned, that he did not know where he was. Theodore had not crossed, and apparently had not the least idea of crossing the Bachelo, but was still making every effort to get his guns into Magdala.

We had no sooner reached the plateau than we became conscious of a very great change in the temperature. The wind blew bitterly cold, and not a single tree or even bush of the smallest size was visible for the purposes of firewood. There were numerous native cattle grazing on the hill-sides, and the men at once set to work to pick up dried cow-dung, which the natives habitually use for fuel; others busied themselves in cutting peat; and the fires were soon lighted under the cooking-pots. At six o’clock we had our usual heavy rain, lasting for two hours; but fortunately before it set in the tents were safely pitched. Only, therefore, the men on [pg 347]duty got wet. The night was most piercingly cold. To say that ice formed upon water gives no idea whatever of the cold. A strong March east wind blew with a force which penetrated to the very bones. I can safely say that never in my life did I feel the cold so much as I have the two last nights. The troops, especially the natives, of course feel it still more severely. Rheumatic pains are beginning to be generally felt, and a week of this work will fill the hospital-tents. The cold will tell more severely when the stock of rum is exhausted. Each regiment brought up some with their fifteen days’ supplies, and this is not yet exhausted; but the commissariat supply is finished, and we have had none now for four days. The sugar has been also exhausted, and the tea was running very short. I am happy to say, however, that a fresh supply has arrived to-day; for cold water only in such a climate as this would be the reverse of cheering.

It was arranged that we should halt here for two days, to allow General Staveley to come up with the force under him. Yesterday, early, news was brought in to the Chief that the uncle of Wagshum Gobayze was coming in to pay a visit, and Major Grant and Captain Moore went out to meet him. The Adjutant-general carelessly omitted to notify the pickets of the coming of the envoy; and accordingly, when the outlying sentry of the 4th regiment saw a body of 700 or 800 horsemen advancing, he naturally supposed that it was the enemy. He very properly called out the picket, who loaded their Sniders, and went out in skirmishing order to meet the enemy. In another quarter of a minute they would have opened fire, when an officer of the 4th came running up and stopped them. Had he been a minute later the consequences would have been most disastrous. Every shot would have told upon the [pg 348]dense body of horsemen, and the twenty men, in the minute or two which must have elapsed before the cavalry could have reached them, would have done terrible execution; and even had the cavalry charged, would, by falling into a small square, not improbably have defended themselves against the whole force. But the lives so sacrificed would have been only the beginning of misfortunes. Nothing would ever have convinced Gobayze that the affair was the result of a mistake, and we should have had him for our foe as well as Theodore. And with Wagshum’s army hovering around us, cutting off our baggage-train and attacking small parties, our position would be indeed a precarious one.

Wagshum Gobayze’s uncle arrived with his body of cavalry at the other side of the little stream which borders our camp, and here halted for a few minutes. The troops were in the mean time paraded in front of their respective lines. Gobayze’s troops, of whom there were 700 or 800 present, drew up in a long line and dismounted, every man sitting down in front of his horse. They were by far the most formidable body we have seen since our arrival in this country. They were really cavalry, and rode small but very strong and serviceable horses. They were armed with shield and spear. I do not of course mean that these troops could stand for a moment against a charge of regular cavalry. It is probable that a hundred of the Scinde Horse or of the 3d Cavalry would scatter them like chaff; but for rough work, for dashing down a mountain side and attacking a convoy, they would be most formidable enemies. Their horses are all unshod, are marvellously surefooted, and will go at a gallop over places where an English horse could scarcely walk. We were greatly surprised at the sight of this body of cavalry, [pg 349]for heretofore we had not seen an animal which could even by courtesy be called a horse since we landed in Abyssinia.

Leaving the main body of the force behind, the envoy advanced, escorted by the 3d Cavalry, who had gone out to meet him, and attended only by a dozen or so of his personal followers. As he passed through the lines the regiments saluted and the bands played. The envoy was an intelligent-looking man, dressed in a crimson-silk dressing-gown, brocaded with yellow; over this he wore the universal Abyssinian white-cloth wrapping, and had a white turban upon his head. By his side rode the officers who had gone out to meet him and Mr. Munzinger. The envoy could not be received in a public durbar, as the previous ambassadors have been, for Sir Robert Napier has now only a small tent of some eight to ten feet square. I am unable to say, therefore, what took place at the interview, except that the envoy expressed very considerable dread of Theodore, who, he said, had 10,000 men, and would unquestionably fight us at Magdala.

At the conclusion of the interview the envoy was presented with a horse and a double-barrelled gun. While the interview was going on we amused ourselves by inspecting the envoy’s shield, which was carried by an attendant, and was a very magnificent affair indeed. The shield itself was of course of rhinoceros hide, and upon it was a piece of lion’s skin, with numerous raised bosses of gilt-filigree work, which appeared to me to be of Indian workmanship. It was one of the ten royal shields, all precisely similar, which exist in Abyssinia. The attendants were mostly fine, well-built fellows, as were the general body of cavalry, and of superior physique to any men we had hitherto seen. I should men[pg 350]tion that all the horses have a strap going from the forehead down to the nose, upon which are two or more round plates of metal with a sharp spike in them, exactly resembling, but smaller, those worn upon the foreheads of the horses of the knights of old. The 4th, the Scinde Horse, and a body of 3d Native Cavalry, were drawn up in front of the tent, and saluted as the envoy left. There is no doubt that Theodore will be no despicable foe, and the further we go the more evident this becomes. Gobayze’s army is said to be 20,000 strong; and if, as I understand, those we saw to-day were a fair sample of them, they would be certainly formidable antagonists. And yet Gobayze has been watching Theodore for months, and did not dare to attack him, even when encumbered by his artillery and baggage. Gobayze indeed confesses that his army would have no chance with that of Theodore. The army of the latter, then, when garrisoning a position of such immense natural strength as that of Magdala, will be formidable even to an army of 4000 British troops. There can be no doubt that we shall capture the place; but the British public must not be surprised if we do not do it directly we arrive.

Sir Charles Staveley arrived to-day with his force, which slept last night at a halting-place at the foot of the ghaut. I am glad to say that the general has so far recovered from his attack of rheumatism as to be able to sit on his horse for a portion of the journey. He brought with him the whole of the 33d, six companies of the Punjaub Pioneers, Twiss’s steel battery, the 3d Native Cavalry, and the Naval Rocket Brigade. The 45th regiment, the 3d Dragoon Guards, and the second wing of the Beloochees are all coming up by forced marches, and, as well as the elephants with G 14 Battery, [pg 351]will arrive here in three days. This afternoon the Naval Brigade went out to exhibit rocket practice. There was not room in the valley for the practice, and they therefore went up on to a hill, and fired at another hill about 2000 yards distant. There are twelve mules, each with a tube, and there is a supply of ninety rockets to each tube: there are four men to each tube, beside the man who leads the mule. At the word “unload!” the tubes, which are about three feet in length, are quickly taken off the mules and arranged in line. Each tube is provided with a sort of stand, with a marked elevator, by which it can be adjusted to any required angle. The order at first was to fire at ten degrees of elevation; and upon the word “fire!” being given, one after another of the rockets (which have no stick) rushed from the tube, and buzzed through the air to the top of the opposite hill. Three rockets were fired to this elevation, and then three from an elevation of five degrees. A very strong wind was blowing, and it was difficult therefore to form any opinion of the accuracy of aim attainable. The bolts as they shot through the air certainly did not appear to swerve in the slightest from their original line; and there is no doubt that this novel instrument of war will strike terror into the hearts of the garrison of Magdala.

Scindee, April 5th.

When I wrote from Santarai we were twenty-five miles in a direct line from Magdala. After marching thirty-five miles we are at exactly the same distance. In fact, we have marched along the base of a triangle, of which Magdala forms the apex. We have been obliged to do this to arrive [pg 352]at the one practicable point for crossing the tremendous ravine of the Djedda. For the whole of this distance we have marched along a nearly level plateau ten thousand feet above the sea. The sun by day has been exceedingly hot, the wind at night piercingly cold, and we have had heavy thunderstorms of an afternoon. The extremes of temperature are very great, and it is indeed surprising that the troops preserve their health as they do. I have seen the thermometer register 145° at eleven o’clock, and go down to 19° at night. The plateau land has been bare and monotonous in the extreme, not a single shrub, however small, breaks the view, and the only variety whatever has been, that whereas in most places the soil is a black friable loam, at others it is so covered with stones of all sizes that the soil itself is scarcely visible, and travelling is difficult and painful in the extreme. Our first march was twelve miles in length to Gazoo, which is the name of a stream running for nearly the whole distance parallel to our line of march. At Gazoo, the very serious news reached us that the arrangements for the native transport had broken down, and that no supplies were on their way up. This was what I had, when we started from Lât for our rush forward, foreseen was exceedingly likely to happen, and our position at once became a very precarious one. We had only six days’ provision remaining. Magdala was five days’ march distant. It was now certain that no fresh supplies could possibly arrive until long after those we have with us are exhausted. It is hardly probable that we shall find any provisions upon our way, for to-morrow we shall come upon Theodore’s track, and it is said that he has burnt and plundered the whole country in the neighbourhood of his line of route. It is very doubtful whether we shall [pg 353]obtain enough food for our animals; even now, when in a cultivated country which has not been ravaged, forage is very scarce, and the animals are upon the very shortest allowance which will keep life together. The prospect, therefore, was gloomy indeed, and there was a rumour that the Chief had made up his mind to halt, and to send the whole of the animals back to bring up provisions. This idea, however, if it was ever entertained, was abandoned; those energetic officers, Major Grant and Captain Moore, were sent back to endeavour to arrange the hitch in the native carriage; the ration of biscuit was reduced from a pound to half-a-pound per diem, and the army moved on. Fortunately news came up that the natives were bringing in a thousand pounds of flour a-day to the commissariat station which had been established at the Tacazze, and with these and our half-rations we might hold on for some time.

The next day’s march was sixteen miles, to Ad Gazoo, through a country precisely similar in character to that passed on the preceding day, except that it was more cultivated. The villages, indeed, were everywhere scattered, and although small were snug and comfortable-looking, the little clusters of eight or ten huts, with their high conical thatched roofs, looking very like snug English homesteads with their rickyards. Here, as indeed through the whole of the latter part of our journey, the people came out to gaze on the passing army of white strangers. Picturesque groups they formed as they squatted by the wayside. In the centre would probably be the priest, and next to him the patriarch and the chief of the village. Round them would sit the other men, and behind these the women and girls would stand, the latter chattering and laughing among themselves, or to the [pg 354]younger men, who stood beside them. Here, too, would be the mothers, some with their little fat babies in their arms, some with two or three children hanging round them, and peeping bashfully out at the strange white men. Some of the women would generally have brought goats, or a pot of honey, or a jar of milk or ghee, or a bag of grain to sell, but they soon forgot to offer them in their surprise at the strange attires and beautiful horses of the strangers.

From Ad Gazoo we yesterday moved our camp to this place, a distance of only two miles, Sir Charles Staveley bringing up his division to the camp we had left, so that the whole force is now well together in case of an attack. An affair took place yesterday evening, the consequences of which might have been very serious. Ashasta, Gobayze’s uncle, who visited us at Santarai, again came into camp with a couple of hundred followers. Care had been taken this time to prevent the possibility of his being fired into by the pickets, and when his visit was over he was escorted by an officer beyond the lines. After he had left us, he went to a village not far distant, where he billeted half of his men. With the remainder he started for another village; but upon his way he passed close to an outlying picket of General Staveley’s brigade, consisting of a corporal and four men of the 3d Native Infantry. These men of course knew nothing of his having come from our camp, and shouted to the party to keep their distance. The natives, who, as I have before said, have a strong impression that we cannot fight, replied by derisive cries and by brandishing their lances. The corporal, naturally supposing that it was a party of Theodore’s cavalry, ordered one of his men to fire, which was answered by a couple of shots on the part of the natives. The corporal then [pg 355]gave the word to the others to fire, and then to charge, and the little party, sword in hand, went gallantly at the numerous party of their supposed enemy. Ashasta, seeing that it was a mistake, ordered his men to retreat, which they did, pursued by the picket, who came up with some of the hindmost of the party. They pursued for some distance, and then halted. Two of the natives were killed in the affair, one with a bullet, one by a sword-thrust, and two others were wounded. At the sound of the firing Staveley’s brigade was called out under arms, and considerable excitement prevailed for some time. Late in the evening, when the matter was understood, M. Munzinger went out to explain to Ashasta how it had happened; and as the men killed were not chiefs, and human life does not go for much in Abyssinia, our apologies were accepted, and Ashasta came into camp again to-day. Thus what might have been a very serious business is happily arranged. The men upon picket are in no way to blame; in fact, they behaved with great gallantry, and must have opened the eyes of the natives to the fact that we can fight when we like. Technically, they were somewhat to blame in charging, as the rule is that a picket should never advance, but should fire and hold its ground when possible, or retire upon its supports if threatened by an overwhelming force.

The Naval Rocket Brigade now form a portion of this camp. They are an admirable body of men, and do great credit to Captain Fellowes, their commanding officer. They support the fatigues and hardships with the good-temper peculiar to naval men. They march, contrary to what might have been expected, even better than the soldiers, and never fall out, even on the most fatiguing journeys. They are a great amusement to the troops, and their admonitions to [pg 356]their mules, which they persist in treating as ships, are irresistibly comic. I saw a sailor the other day who was leading a mule, while a comrade walked behind it. A stoppage occurred, but he went right on into the midst of a number of soldiers.

“Hallo, Jack!” they said good-humouredly, “where are you coming?”

“Coming?” Jack said, “I ain’t coming anywhere. I am only towing the craft; it’s the chap behind does the steering.”

It is always so with them. The head-rope is always either the “tow-rope” or “the painter.” They starboard or port their helm, “tack through a crowd,” or “wear the ship round” in a most amusing way. They have of course shore-titles for the occasion, but do not always answer to them.

The other day I heard an officer call out, “Sergeant-major!”

No answer.

“Sergeant-major!” This time louder.

Still no reply.

A third and still louder hail produced no response.

“Boatswain, where the devil are you?”

“Ay, ay, sir!” was the instant answer from the man, who was standing close by, but who had quite forgotten his new rank of sergeant-major.

Of an evening, if we have a halt, Jack sometimes dances. The band of the Punjaubees—between whom and the sailors there is a great friendship, although of course they do not understand a word of each other’s language—comes over to the sailors’ camp, and plays dance-music; and half-a-dozen couples of sailors stand up and execute quadrilles, waltzes, and polkas.

[pg 357]

The scene is a very amusing one. The Punjaubees do not stand, but sit in a circle, and play away with the greatest gravity; very well they play too, for they are beyond all comparison the best band out here. The sailors dance without the least idea that there is anything comic in the business; while round stand a crowd of amused soldiers and of astonished natives of the country, to whom the whole performance is a profound mystery.

The Punjaub Pioneers still maintain the high opinion they have earned by their hard work. They are indeed a splendid regiment, and reflect the greatest credit upon Major Chamberlain, their popular commanding-officer. Major Chamberlain’s case is a particularly hard one. He was promoted to the rank of major during the mutinies, and was subsequently, for his great services, recommended no less than three times for his colonelcy. The Indian Government, however, refused, on account of his recent promotion. Eleven years have since elapsed, and that objection must long ere this be done away with; and yet Major Chamberlain is only Major Chamberlain still. It is to be hoped that at the end of this campaign a tardy recognition will be made of his services.

It was Major Chamberlain and his Punjaubees who found water at a short distance from Zulla. He asserted, and very rightly, that as there was water at Koomaylo, it must find its way down to the sea somehow, and so he set his men to work to dig. Down he went steadily, amidst the laughter and chaff of his friends in the Engineers. Still he persevered, and at nearly sixty feet from the surface he struck water. An abundant supply is now obtainable from this well, and by this service alone he has amply earned his promotion.

[pg 358]

The difficulties of writing since we left Lât have been greater than ever, and the manual operation of inditing an epistle is a most serious business. Of course there is nothing resembling a chair or a table,—not even a box. The only way to write is lying upon the ground, and putting one’s paper upon one’s pillow. Now my pillow is not a comfortable one for sleeping upon, much less for writing. It is composed of a revolver, a box of cartridges, a telescope, a bag of dollars, a packet of candles, a powder-flask, a bag of bullets, a comb, a pair of stockings, and a flannel-shirt,—in fact, all my worldly belongings. A most useful kit, no doubt, but uncomfortable as a pillow, inconvenient as a writing-table. However, one gets accustomed to anything; and if this campaign lasts another month or two, we shall not improbably have learnt to dispense with much more important articles than tables and chairs; for we have only the clothes we stand in, and these are already giving unmistakable signs of approaching dissolution.

Dalanta, April 5th.

We are now getting to names which are somewhat familiar to us. The river Djedda, which the troops crossed yesterday, and the plain of Dalanta, where we are encamped to-day, were both mentioned frequently in the letters from the captives. The river Djedda was the place where Theodore was detained so long making a practicable road for his guns, and where he was represented as encouraging his men at their task by working with his own hands. Dalanta was the province or tract which was spoken of as in rebellion against him for a considerable time previously, but which submitted as soon as he had crossed the Djedda.

[pg 359]

After I had sent off my letter of the 3d, intelligence arrived that Theodore had broken up his camp before Magdala, and was moving to attack us. I need hardly say that the news was untrue. The Chief, however, was bound to act upon it, and consequently we were ordered to march at seven; and instead of halting, as previously intended, upon the edge of the ravine of the Djedda, we were to cross and encamp on the other side, so as to avoid the possibility of having to take such a strong position. Colonel Milward, who had marched the evening before with the Punjaubees, and two companies of the 4th, was ordered to cross early, and General Staveley was to bring up his force to the edge of the ravine. We started punctually at the time ordered, and marched across a precisely similar country to that we had traversed for the few previous days. Some miles before we reached the edge of the Djedda the whole aspect was changed. The yellow stubble and hay, which had before stretched away upon both sides, was all burnt, and the ground was covered only with a black ash. The flocks and herds which had dotted the country were gone, and scarcely a human being was to be seen over the black expanse. The snug homesteads and villages had disappeared, and in their places were bare walls and heaps of stones. I rode up to one of these. On the floor lay the half-charred thatch of the roof; among it were portions of broken pots and baking effects. Here was a long round stone, which was used as a rolling-pin to make the flat bread; there was a large vessel of baked earth and cow-dung which had once held flour or milk. A rat scuttled away as I looked in. There was not a living soul in what had once been a large village. This was indeed the desolation of war. Presently we saw rising, apparently a few feet [pg 360]above the plain, at a distance of five or six miles, a long perpendicular wall of rock. This, we knew, was the upper edge of the opposite side of the Djedda. The ground then sank a little in front of us, and, riding along the slight depression, we suddenly turned a corner, and below us lay the wonderful gorge of the Djedda. Its width from edge to edge was four or five miles, its depth to the stream 3800 feet. It was a wonderful ravine. As far as eye could see either way, the upper part upon sides appeared like two perpendicular walls of perhaps a third of its total depth. Then, on either side, was a plain or shoulder of from a mile to a mile and a half in width, with a gradual slope towards the stream. The lower portion was again extremely steep, but still with a gradual descent, and not mere walls of rock like the upper edges. It was easy to imagine the whole process of the formation of this gorge. Originally it must have been an arm of the sea; a gulf of five miles across, and with perpendicular cliffs upon either side, and its depth the level of the broad shoulders. Then the land rose, and a great river ran through the centre of what was now a noble valley, gradually eating its way down until its bed attained its present enormous depth. It was this ravine which had been the cause of the immense detour we have had to make. Forty miles back, at Santarai, we were said to be as close to Magdala as we were when we stood prepared to descend into the Djedda. But the perpendicular walls barred our progress, and we have marched along nearly parallel to its course until we have reached the one spot where a break in its iron walls allow of our descent. By this route Theodore marched, and when we saw the road he had made for us, we felt for the first time since our arrival really grateful to the Abyssinian tyrant.

[pg 361]

It is really a wonderful road, almost as good as could have been made by our own engineers; the only difference being that they would have thrown a layer of earth over the loose stones to bind them together, and to afford a firm and level surface. The road is really constructed with great engineering skill. Blasting-tools have been freely used wherever the rock required it. Every wind and turn, every shoulder and slope, has been taken advantage of in order to make zigzags, and render the descent more gradual. It is true that in places it is fearfully steep—an incline of one and a quarter to one—which, to convey the idea more popularly, is about the slope of the bank of a railway-cutting. The leaving the road in its present state, with loose stones, may have been done with an object, for upon a solid road of this angle it would have been next to impossible to have kept heavy cannon on wheels from running down, whereas upon a very loose and heavy road the matter was comparatively easy. The length of the descent is four miles and a half, that of the ascent three miles and a half. Two miles and a half of the former, and a mile and a half of the latter, are across and partially along the shoulders, where the slope was very slight. In consequence, it may be said that actually three thousand feet of depth were on either side attained in two miles, which would give an average incline of one in three. The road is from twenty to thirty feet in width; generally it is made through basalt, which, in cooling, had crystallised, so that its surface resembles a mosaic pavement, and this readily breaks up. Parts, however, are cut through a hard stone, and portions through a conglomerate, which must have tried to the utmost the tools and patience of Theodore’s army. How he achieved [pg 362]the task with the means at his disposal I am at a loss to understand; and the road has certainly raised Theodore very many degrees in the estimation of our men. Upon every level space in the camping-ground of his army, there are their fireplaces, and innumerable little bowers of five feet high and little more in diameter, in which his troops curled themselves up when their day’s work was over. It was a long and very weary descent. Going down a steep place is comparatively easy when one carries no load; but when one has over fifty pounds upon the back it is extremely trying. At last we reached the bottom, a stony waste of a quarter of a mile wide, with a few large trees growing upon what in the rainy season are, no doubt, islands. The bed of the stream is perfectly dry, except that here and there, at intervals of a quarter of a mile or so, were pools of water, very soft and unpleasant to the taste, and full of tadpoles. The troops when they arrived here were a good deal done up, having already marched thirteen miles, and it was hoped that the Chief would order a halt for the night. He, however, considered it essential that the plateau should be gained that evening, and Milward’s corps, whose rearguard left the river as we descended to it, supported. The troops were ordered to halt and rest until four o’clock, and to have their dinners, and the mules were to be unloaded, fed, and watered.

It was three o’clock before the baggage began to arrive in the valley, and it was evident that it would not be all down until dark, and that much of it could not reach the plateau above that night. Three of us, therefore, resolved upon sleeping where we were, and upon going on at daybreak. We accordingly pitched our tents under a tree, saw [pg 363]our horses picketed and fed, and dinner in course of preparation, and then went out for a walk to explore the valley. The temperature was very many degrees warmer than upon the plateau above, and the flora was more than proportionately luxuriant. Here I find, among hundreds of other plants of whose names and properties I am unfortunately ignorant, the wild verbena and heliotrope, also the cucumber. Unfortunately the cucumbers had only just begun to form, and were scarcely as large as gherkins, or we might have had an unexpected addition to our fare. I also found quantities of the rare palm-fern growing in crevices of the rocks. It was altogether a splendid field for a botanist, and I think it a great pity that a learned botanist did not accompany the expedition instead of a geographer, who, although a most distinguished savant, can but tell the world nearly the same particulars of the narrow strip of country through which we are travelling as must occur to any ordinary observer. Had this gentleman merely taken advantage of the protection given by our presence in the country to travel generally through it, he might have no doubt added largely to our store of information; but keeping to the line of route followed by the army, he can, with the exception of ascertaining the precise heights over which we travel, tell us really next to nothing. I believe, however, that this staying with the army is in no degree the fault of the gentleman in question, but of the military authorities, who here appear to have the idea that a civilian is a sort of grown-up baby, who must be kept strictly under their own eyes, or else that he will infallibly get into mischief, and either come to harm himself, or else be the cause of that dreadful and mysterious thing—complications. Had King Kassa, at the time he visited us, [pg 364]been applied to by the Commander-in-chief, he would, no doubt, have afforded every facility to the geographer and archæologist to have wandered as they pleased among his dominions, and the latter especially might have visited the interesting cities of Adowa and Axum, and made discoveries of an important and interesting nature, instead of wasting his time on the summit of the bleak Abyssinian mountains.

We enjoyed our little picnic amazingly. It was such a relief to get for once out of the routine of camp, with its sentries, and its countersigns, and bugle-calls, and mules, and to lie outside our tent and enjoy the warm evening air, which we had not been able to do since we left Zulla, where there was only sand to lie on. At eight o’clock, however, the rain came on and drove us in, with the pleasant knowledge that we had chosen well in stopping, for the last of the baggage was not down the hill until past six; and although they at once started upon their weary climb, it was impossible that they could reach the camp before morning. Our camp was presently increased in size by a dozen commissariat coolies, who were driving several hundred sheep and some oxen, and who did not get to the river until nearly eight o’clock. Jackals and hyænas were very numerous, so we piled together a good fire to keep them off our horses, and then lay down to sleep with our rifles and revolvers within reach, for it was of course just possible, although not—as some of the members of the staff to whom we had mentioned our intention to stay considered likely—probable, that some of Theodore’s cavalry might come along down the valley upon the look-out for stragglers. We came up at daybreak next morning, and after a cup of sugarless tea, started for camp. It was a very severe climb, and at the shoulder we came up [pg 365]to many of the mules which had been unable to get up the night before. The road which Theodore has cut enables us to see very clearly the formation of the valley, and I have not the least question that coal would be found there. I do not mention this as a commercial, but as a scientific, fact; for, commercially, coal here would be of no more value than stones. But of the fact itself I have no question. The character of the formation, the stone, the bands of fireclay, and of black friable shale, are very distinct, and there is in my mind no doubt whatever of the existence of coal. On the way we passed several dead mules and horses, and there can be no question that the journey was a most cruel one. This extreme fatigue may not cripple a man at the time, he may be ready for duty the next morning; but it must tell, and tell severely upon his constitution, and there are not a few men here who will feel the effects of Mahkan, Dildee, and Dalanta, to the end of their lives. The camp is situated upon a dead-level about a mile from the top of the ascent. I find upon inquiry that the troops in general got in at nine o’clock—of course wet through—but that very many of them, and a great deal of baggage, did not come in until this morning. There were rumours of an attack, Rassam having sent in a letter warning the Chief to be particularly on his guard against night attacks. The men, therefore, went to sleep in their boots, with their rifles by their sides. No attack took place. The same precaution is used to-night. We find, as I expected, that very little is brought in by the natives. The horses and mules to-day only get two pounds of grain each. We are still upon half-rations of flour, which, by this means, and with what is bought at Tacazze and upon the way will, I hope, enable us to hold on until supplies arrive. Nothing [pg 366]positive has yet been heard of the native carriage. Sir Robert Napier has been out all day making a long reconnoissance. From one point which he attained the tents of Theodore’s army upon the plain in front of Magdala were clearly visible. The party did not return until dark, and I have heard no particulars. Theodore is known, however, to be still there, and his efforts are directed to fortifying the hill which defends Magdala. He has several guns in position on the summit, and I apprehend that we shall have to capture it before we assault Magdala. It is not known yet whether we advance to-morrow or not, but it is believed that we shall start late, and make a short march, and that Sir Charles Staveley, who is encamped to-night at the bottom of the Djedda ravine, will come up to our present camp. It is a tremendously wet night.

Dalanta, April 7th.

We have had many surprises since we arrived in the country, but none greater, and certainly none more satisfactory, than that which we have here experienced. The letters from the captives had informed us that Theodore had burnt everything upon the plain of Dalanta; and we had in consequence imagined that we should be able to obtain nothing whatever either for ourselves or animals, and that the prospect of the latter especially was gloomy in the extreme, for we had not any corn whatever remaining for them. Captain Speedy, however, rode out to see the chief of Dalanta, with whom he had an acquaintance when residing in the country. He returned in the afternoon with the tidings that the chief had promised at least 100,000 lbs. of grain in two [pg 367]days. It is evident that he is a man of his word, for we have had a market to-day which has surpassed anything we have seen in the country except at Antalo. There is a crowd of people with grain, bread, fowls, &c. &c., and the four or five commissariat Parsees cannot pay out the dollars for the bucket-loads of grain half as fast as the natives bring them in. It is indeed quite a scramble among these latter.

This unexpected influx of grain, &c., may be said to be the turning-point which secures the success of our expedition. Had we found no grain here we must have lost all the transport-animals, as these have already been on very short commons for some days. The supplies for the men too were running extremely short, and if Magdala holds out for a week our position would have been most unpleasant; now we are safe. We have abundant grain for the animals for another week, and we are told that supplies will continue to come in in any quantities. Very large quantities of bread too have been purchased, and both officers and men have laid in a stock of fowls, eggs, &c. All anxiety is at an end. We have fairly overcome now all the difficulties of the country, and of supplies. Theodore and his men are, in comparison, contemptible foes.

Staveley’s brigade came up yesterday, and are encamped at a spot about two miles beyond us. Now that supplies are coming in in abundance, and a day is no longer of vital consequence, we shall, I believe, wait for another day or two to allow the wing of the 45th, the second wing of the Beloochees, and the 3d Dragoon Guards, to come up.

Yesterday almost every officer in camp went to the edge of the ravine to have a look at Magdala. It is a ride of a little over two miles, and the ravine goes down in an almost [pg 368]unbroken precipice of 500 or 600 feet from the upper edge. The view is one of the finest, if not the very finest, we have had in Abyssinia. It is grand in the extreme. At our feet was the perpendicular precipice, then a short shoulder, and then another sharp fall down to the Bachelo, which is 3900 feet below us. This side of the ravine is very similar, but steeper, to that of the Djedda. Upon the other side, however, the character is altogether different. In place of a corresponding ascent, as at the Djedda, the ground rises in a succession of billows one behind another, higher and higher, to the foot of some very lofty mountains, which form the background forty miles away. Such an extraordinary sea of hills I never saw. It was most magnificent, and stretched away east and west as far as the eye could reach. Above all this Magdala rose like a great ship out of the surrounding billows. There was no mistaking it, with its precipitous sides, its frowning aspect, and the cluster of tents clearly discernible upon its summit. As the crow flies it was about eight miles distant.

I will endeavour to give as clear a description of it as possible, in order that our future operations may be readily understood. From the bed of the Bachelo the ground rises in a mass of rounded hills, with somewhat flat tops; down through these, deep ravines convey the streams from the distant hills into the Bachelo. One of these ravines comes down nearly direct from Magdala, and it is up this that the road goes, until it gets within about two miles of Magdala, when it leaves the ravine and goes up on to the flat hill-tops from the midst of which Magdala rises. Magdala, from here, appears like a three-topped mountain with almost perpendicular sides. Two of the summits, which together resemble [pg 369]a saddle with high flat peaks, face this way. The hill to the right is Fahla; that on the left, which is some hundred feet higher, is Salamgi. The road winds up the face of Fahla to the saddle between the two, and it is evident that Fahla will be the first position to be attacked. There are apparently very few huts upon Fahla. The road, we hear, after reaching the top of the saddle, turns to the left, and crosses over Salamgi. Salamgi is tremendously strong; it is a series of natural scarps, of great height; and upon the terrace formed by these scarps a great portion of Theodore’s force is encamped. Salamgi, if well defended, even by savages, will be a most formidable position to assault. The third top of this singular fortress is Magdala itself. This, like Fahla, has a flat top, which is completely covered with large huts. We see only the top of Magdala, over the saddle between Salamgi and Fahla. It is apparently lower than Salamgi, but higher than Fahla. It is, we hear, connected with Salamgi by a flat shoulder. It appears to be about a mile distant from the summit of this mountain, and when, therefore, we have taken Salamgi, our light guns will not be of much utility in bombarding Magdala at so great a distance.

I have now given an idea of the scene in which the great drama, which will commence to-morrow or next day, will be played. My next letter will, at any rate, give you the opening scene, and possibly even the entire drama.

Before Magdala, April 11th.

Although it was evident when I last wrote to you that the last act of our long drama was approaching, I certainly did not imagine that my next letter would convey the tidings [pg 370]that all was over—that the captives were free, their prison captured, their oppressor punished, and general triumph amidst a blaze of blue fire. But so it is; for although Magdala has not yet fallen, it will undoubtedly do so before the post closes, and a more gratifying termination to our expedition than has eventuated could not have been desired by the most sanguine. I had better continue my letter in a narrative form from the date when I last wrote—for if I describe the final events first it would deprive the rest of the matter of all interest.

I wrote last on the evening of the 7th from Dalanta. The following day brought in largely-increased supplies, and the market was completely thronged with the country people. In the three days we were there we purchased over 100,000 lbs. of grain, besides quantities of bread, &c. &c., and nowhere, even at Antalo, did supplies flow in with such rapidity as at this place, where we expected to find a desert.

On the afternoon of the 8th the wing of the 45th marched into camp, having done the distance from Scindee. The authorities had thoughtfully sent down mules to the Djedda river to carry up their coats and blankets, and the men consequently arrived comparatively fresh. The sailors of the Naval Brigade turned out as they came into camp, and saluted them with three hearty cheers. The 45th are a remarkably fine body of men.

Thus reinforced Sir Robert Napier determined to move forward and to encamp before Magdala, even if he decided upon delaying the assault until the other wing of the Beloochees and the 3d Dragoon Guards joined us. The order was accordingly issued for a march the next day to the edge [pg 371]of the Bachelo ravine, to which the second brigade, which were now two miles ahead of us, were also to proceed. We started at ten o’clock, and were soon upon our camping-ground, which was only five miles distant. Here the second brigade joined us, and together we formed a larger camp than any we have had since our landing at Zulla. From the front of the camp we had an excellent view of Magdala, which stood up, with Salamgi and Fahla, a thousand feet above the surrounding hills. We could now see that the ridge connecting Salamgi with Fahla was longer than it had appeared from our previous point of view, the distance from one end to the other of the saddle being apparently over half a mile.

The first brigade was ordered to advance at daybreak. The Commander-in-chief and his head-quarters were to move with the second brigade at ten o’clock, so as to allow the baggage of the first brigade to get first to the bottom of the ravine. The first brigade were to march to within two or three miles of Magdala. The second were to encamp upon the river, and to march on early the next morning. There was then not the slightest intention on the part of Sir Robert Napier that any attack should take place, and indeed, as I have before said, it was considered very probable that we should await the arrival of the troops hurrying up from behind before any assault was made upon Magdala. However, I determined to go on early, as it was quite possible that something would take place, and I had afterwards good reason to congratulate myself upon having so done, as several others who had not started until ten o’clock lost the exciting scene at the end of the day.

Sir Charles Staveley was in command of the advance, [pg 372]and Colonel Phayre, as quartermaster-general of the army, went on in front with six companies of the Bombay and Madras Sappers to prepare the road, should it be necessary.

At half-past five the next morning (Good Friday) we were in motion, and at once entered upon the steep descent to the Bachelo. It is a ravine of about the same depth as the Djedda, namely, 3800 feet, and the road, as made by Theodore, is a wonderfully good one. It is shorter, but at the same time scarcely so precipitous as parts of that down to the Djedda, and can hardly have presented quite so many difficulties, that is, there were fewer places where the basalt had to be cut through with blasting-tools. Still, it was a fatiguing descent to the Bachelo, and the sun, when it rose, came down with tremendous power. The men had had but a scanty supply of water the night before, and hardly any before starting; they therefore looked forward eagerly for the welcome stream at the bottom. It turned out, however, a disappointment, for although there was an abundance of water, the river being eighty yards wide, and nearly waist-deep, the water was of a consistency and colour which would have rendered it perfectly undrinkable except to men suffering from great thirst. I do not think I ever saw such muddy water in a stream. It was the colour of coffee with milk in it, and perfectly opaque with mud. It looked like nothing so much as the water in a dirty puddle in a London street, just as it has been churned up by the wheels of a passing omnibus. However, there was no help for it, and, dirty as it was, everyone had a drink, and the soldiers filled their canteens, for it was probable that no more water would be obtainable during the day.

From the Bachelo a broad ravine with a flat bottom ran [pg 373]nearly straight to Salamgi, and along this Theodore’s road was made. It was believed, however, that guns had been laid to command this road, and it was not improbable that Theodore might make a sudden attack. It was therefore determined that the mountain guns, rocket trains, and baggage should proceed by this road, preceded by the six hundred Sappers and Miners; and that the infantry should at once climb the hills to its right, and should march along them, so as to clear them of any possible enemy. To cross the river the men had to wade, the first time that they have had to do so since they landed. Some wisely took off their trousers, others thinking vainly that the water would not reach above their knees, merely rolled their trousers up, and, of course, got thoroughly wet. Most of them took off shoes and stockings, but many stopped in the middle and put their boots on again, for the stones were so extremely sharp that wet shoes were preferable to cut feet. At last the troops were across, and after a short halt moved forward, the Sappers having gone on an hour previously with Colonel Phayre. After proceeding up the valley we prepared to climb the hill. On crossing it the 4th formed the advance, the men loading before they started, as it was impossible that we could tell when we might be attacked. Sir Charles Staveley, with General Schneider, the able and popular officer commanding the first brigade, with their staffs followed; and after them came the 4th—the little party of Engineers under Major Pritchard, the Beloochees, the Punjaubees, and two companies of the 10th Native Infantry; also a squadron of the 3d Native Cavalry, the only cavalry we had with us. We have had some stiff climbing since we entered Abyssinia, but this altogether surpassed any of our previous experience. In fact, when we got [pg 374]near the summit of the first range, we came to a spot which was almost impassable even for infantry, and quite so for the horses of the staff. Two or three officers endeavoured to drag their horses up, but the animals, although pretty well accustomed by this time to stiff places, were quite unable to get up, and one or two tumbled backwards and were nearly killed. The infantry therefore clambered up to the top; but we had to wait where we were for half-an-hour, until the Punjaub Pioneers cleared a sort of track up which we were able to scramble. When on the first level we had a halt for half-an-hour, for the troops were all very much exhausted by their climb, under one of the hottest suns I ever felt. They were now, too, beginning to suffer much from thirst, and the muddy water in the skins was drunk most eagerly. It tasted muddy, but was not otherwise bad; but we had to shut our eyes to drink it. While we were waiting here a messenger arrived from Colonel Phayre, saying that he held the head of the valley with the Sappers and Miners, and that the road was quite practicable. Sir Charles Staveley at once sent off an aide-de-camp to Sir Robert Napier, saying that the baggage and guns, which were waiting at the river for the receipt of this intelligence, might move forward in safety. We then marched four miles farther up a succession of rises to the place where it was hoped from the native accounts that we should find water; but there was only one small pool of very dirty water, with which, however, three or four skins were filled. The disappointment of the men, who were now suffering severely, was very great, but there was no help for it. Here, however, we met with a surprise, which to the commanding-officers quite dispelled any thought of thirst or discomfort; for here, to the astonishment and dismay of Sir [pg 375]Charles Staveley, he found Colonel Phayre and the 800 Sappers and Miners, who were supposed to be holding the head of the valley below us. This was now, we knew, crowded with our artillery, ammunition-baggage and supplies. This valley, as I before stated, ran straight to Magdala, and of course was visible for its whole length to the garrison of that fortress.

The whole of the baggage was therefore open to an attack from Magdala, and we upon the hill-top were powerless to give them the slightest assistance. Had Theodore made an attack at this period, it is not too much to say that the whole of our guns, ammunition, and stores must have fallen into his hands, for their whole guard was only eighty or a hundred men of the 4th scattered over a long line. What Colonel Phayre meant, or how he accounted for this extraordinary conduct, I know not; but a more stupendous blunder never was made, and had we had the most contemptible European force to deal with instead of savages, we must have sustained a crushing disaster.

General Staveley at once sent off an officer to acquaint Sir Robert Napier with the state of affairs, and then ordered the troops to advance at once.

Another couple of miles brought us to our camping-ground, which lay a little behind the crest of a hill, and was not visible from Magdala. Here the tired troops threw themselves down, while the General advanced with his staff to the edge of the rising ground. As the scene before it was destined, although we were at the time ignorant of it, to become our battle-field, I will endeavour to give as accurate a description of it as possible, in order that the fight may be better understood.

[pg 376]

We stood on the edge of a sort of plateau. At our feet was a small ravine or valley, dividing us from another plateau, which extended to the foot of Fahla and Salamgi. This plateau was a hundred feet or so below the spot upon which we stood, and would have been completely commanded by our guns. This plateau was bounded both to the right and left by ravines, the one to the left being the head of the valley in which was our baggage. The little valley which divided us from the plateau widened out to the left, the spot where it fell into the main valley being half a mile distant; and here we could see the spot where our baggage would arrive when it had climbed up from the valley beneath.

Sir Charles Staveley at once despatched the Punjaub Pioneers to this point; that done, there was nothing for it but to wait the event; and this waiting was painful in the extreme.

It was now half-past three. Everyone was devoured with a burning thirst, which the scanty draught of mud seemed to excite rather than allay. Any money would have been cheerfully given for a drink of pure water. A storm was seen coming up, but it unfortunately did not pass over us; we got, however, the tail of the shower, and by spreading out my waterproof-sheet, I caught nearly half a pint, which I shall long remember as one of the most refreshing draughts I ever tasted.

In the mean time Sir Robert Napier had arrived with his staff, and it was evident, by the anxious care with which he reconnoitred the hill before us, and the head of the valley, that he considered our position to be a critical one. We could see with our glasses half-a-dozen guns in line on the flat top of Fahla, and as many more upon Salamgi, and [pg 377]presently we saw two artillerymen go from gun to gun, and load them in succession. Still all was quiet; but it was a time of most anxious suspense, for we knew that from the fortress they could see our long line of animals winding up the valley, and that the head of the train must be fast approaching. Presently the Naval Rocket Brigade, which was in front of the baggage, emerged upon the flat below us and joined the Punjaubees; and almost at the same moment a dozen voices proclaimed, “A large force is coming down the road on the brow of the fortress.”

Every glass was turned there, and a large body of horse and foot-men were seen hurrying down pell-mell, and without any order or regularity. At first there was a divided opinion as to whether this was a peaceful embassy or an attack; but all doubt was put an end to in another minute by the booming of a gun from Fahla, and by a thirty-two pound shot striking the ground at a few yards from the body of Punjaubees. It was war, then, and a general burst of cheering broke from the officers who were clustered round the General. Theodore actually meant to fight, and not only that, but to fight in the open.

Still our position was a most serious one. The second brigade was miles behind, the baggage undefended except by the Punjaubees, and it was easy enough for the enemy to make a circuit down the ravine and to avoid them. Sir Robert Napier instantly despatched an aide-de-camp to Major Chamberlain, commanding the Pioneers, to order him to take up a position on elevated ground to his left, where he could the better protect the baggage, and to order the Naval Brigade to hurry up the valley to the commanding spur upon which we were standing. Aide-de-camp after aide-[pg 378]de-camp was sent back to bring up the infantry. It was a most exciting five minutes. The enemy were coming down with very great rapidity. They had already descended the road from the fortress, and were scattered over the plain; the principal body moving towards the valley in which was our baggage, the rest advancing in scattered groups, while the guns upon Fahla kept up a steady fire upon the Punjaubees. A prettier sight is seldom presented in warfare than that of the advance of the enemy. Some were in groups, some in twos and threes. Here and there galloped chiefs in their scarlet-cloth robes. Many of the foot-men, too, were in scarlet or silk. They kept at a run, and the whole advanced across the plain with incredible and alarming rapidity, for it was for some time doubtful whether they would not reach the brow of the little valley,—along which the Rocket Train was still coming in a long single file,—before the infantry could arrive to check them; and in that case there can be no doubt that the sailors would have suffered severely. The road, or rather path from the valley, up to the spur upon which we stood, was steep and very difficult, and considerable delay occurred in getting the animals up. After a few minutes, which seemed ages, the infantry came up at the double; all their fatigue and thirst vanished as if by magic at the thought of a fight. The 4th, who were only about 300 strong—the remainder being with the baggage—were ordered to go on in skirmishing order; they were followed by the little party of Engineers, then came the Beloochees, and after them the two companies of the 10th N.I. and the Sappers and Miners. Just as the head of the infantry went down into the valley, the leading mules reached the top of the crest by our side, and in [pg 379]less than a minute the first rocket whizzed out on the plain.

It was our first answer to the fire which the guns of the fortress had kept up, and was greeted with a general cheer. As rocket after rocket rushed out in rapid succession, the natives paused for a minute, astonished at these novel missiles, and then, their chiefs urging them forward, they again advanced. They were now not more than five hundred yards from ourselves, a hundred from the edge of the little ravine up the side of which the skirmishers of the 4th were rapidly climbing. With my glass I could distinguish every feature, and as we looked at them coming forward at a run, with their bright-coloured floating robes, their animated gestures, their shields and spears, one could not help feeling pity for them, ruffians and cut-throats as most of them undoubtedly were, to think what a terrible reception they were about to meet with. In another minute the line of skirmishers had breasted the slope, and opened a tremendous fire with their Sniders upon the enemy. The latter, taken completely by surprise, paused, discharged their firearms, and then retreated, slowly and doggedly, but increasing in speed as they felt how hopeless was the struggle against antagonists who could pour in ten shots to their one. Indeed, at this point they were outnumbered even by the 4th alone, for they were in no regular order, but in groups and knots scattered over the whole plain. The 4th advanced rapidly, driving their antagonists before them, and followed by the native regiments. So fast was the advance that numbers of the enemy could not regain the road to the fortress, but were driven away to the right, off the plateau, on to the side of a ravine, from which the rockets again drove them, still further [pg 380]to the right, and away from Magdala. The 4th and other regiments formed up at a few hundred yards from the foot of the ascent to the fortress, and for half-an-hour maintained an animated fire against the riflemen who lined the path, and kept up a brisk return from small rifle-pits and the shelter of stones and rocks. All this time the guns upon Fahla and some of those upon Salamgi, kept up a constant fire upon an advancing line; but the aim was very bad, and most of the shot went over our heads. Much more alarming were our own rockets, some of which came in very unpleasant proximity to us. Presently, to our great relief, the sailors joined us, and soon drove the enemy’s riflemen up the hill, after which they threw a few salvos of rockets with admirable aim up at the guns a thousand feet above us, doing, as it afterwards turned out, considerable damage, and nearly killing Theodore himself, who was superintending the working of the gun by his German prisoners. In the mean time a much more serious contest was taking place upon our left. The main body of the enemy had taken this direction to attack the baggage, and advanced directly towards the Punjaub Pioneers, who were defending the head of the road. Fortunately Colonel Penn’s mountain train of steel guns, which were following the naval train, now arrived at the top of the road, instantly unloaded, and took their places by the side of the Punjaubees. When the enemy were within three hundred yards the steel guns opened with shell, the Punjaubees poured in their fire and speedily stopped the advance of the head of the column. The greater part of the natives then went down the ravine to the left, along which they proceeded to the attack of the baggage, in the main valley of which this ravine was a branch. The baggage-guard, composed of a detach[pg 381]ment of the 4th, scattered along the long line, had already been warned by the guns of the fortress that an attack was impending, and Captain Aberdie, of the transport train, gallopping down, brought them word of the advancing body of the enemy. The various officers upon duty instantly collected their men. Captain Roberts was in command, and was well seconded by Lieutenants Irving, Sweeny, and Durrant of the 4th, and by the officers of the transport train.

As the enemy poured down the ravine they were received by a withering fire from the deadly Snider. A portion of the Punjaubees came down the ravine and took them in flank, and some of the guns of Penn’s battery, getting upon a projecting spur, scattered death everywhere amongst them. From the extreme rapidity of the fire of the Snider, the firing at this time in different parts of the field was as heavy and continuous as that of a general action between two large armies. The Punjaubees behaved with great gallantry and charged with the bayonet, doing great execution. The natives, who had fought with great pluck, now attempted to escape up the opposite side of the ravine, but great numbers were shot down as they did so, their white dresses offering a plain mark to our riflemen; at last, however, the remnant gained the opposite bank, and fled across the country to our left, their retreat to Magdala being cut off. The action, from the first to the last gun, lasted an hour and a half. It was, as far as our part of the fray was concerned, a mere skirmish. We had not a single man killed, and only about thirty wounded, most of them slightly. Captain Roberts, however, was hit in the elbow-joint with a ball, and will, it is feared, lose his arm. On the other hand, to the enemy this is a decisive and crushing defeat. Upwards of five thousand [pg 382]of Theodore’s bravest soldiers sallied out; scarcely as many hundreds returned. Three hundred and eighty bodies were counted the next morning, and many were believed to have been carried off in the night. Very many fell on the slope of the hill, and away in the ravines to our right and left, where our burying-parties could not find them. Certainly five hundred were killed, probably twice as many were wounded, and of these numbers have only crawled away to die. It was a terrible slaughter, and could hardly be called a fight, between disciplined bodies of men splendidly armed, and scattered parties of savages scarcely armed at all. Much as the troops wish for an opportunity of distinguishing themselves, I have heard a general hope expressed that we shall not have to storm the place, for there is but little credit to be gained over these savages, and the butchery would be very great. The natives are, however, undoubtedly brave, and behaved really very gallantly. Not a single shield, gun, or spear has been picked up except by the side of the dead. The living, even the wounded, retreated; they did not fly. There was no sauve qui peut, no throwing away of arms, as there would have been under similar desperate circumstances by European troops. As the troops returned to the rear we passed many sad spectacles. In one hollow a dozen bodies lay in various positions. Some had died instantaneously, shot through the head; others had fallen mortally wounded, and several of these had drawn their robes over their faces, and died like Stoics. Some were only severely wounded, and these had endeavoured to crawl into bushes, and there lay uttering low moans. Their gaudy silk bodices, the white robes with scarlet ends which had flaunted so gaily but two hours since, now lay dabbled with blood, and dank with the [pg 383]heavy rains which had been pitilessly coming down for the last hour.

I have omitted to mention that a tremendous thunderstorm had come on while the engagement was at its height, and the deep roar of the thunder had for a time completely drowned the heavy rattle of musketry, the crack of the steel guns, and the boom of the heavy cannon upon Fahla. Once, when the storm was at its height, the sun had shone brightly out through a rift of the thunder-clouds, and a magnificent rainbow shone over the field upon which the combatants were still fiercely contending. Only twice was the voice of man heard loudly during the fight. The first was a great cheer from the natives upon the hill, and which we could only conjecture was occasioned by the return unharmed of some favourite chief. The other was the cheer which the whole British force gave as the enemy finally retired up into their strongholds. Thus terminated, soon after six o’clock, one of the most decided and bloody skirmishes which, perhaps, ever occurred. It will be, moreover, memorable as being the first encounter in which British troops ever used breech-loading rifles. Tremendous as was the fire, and great as was the slaughter, I am of opinion, and in this many of the military men agree with me, that the number of the enemy killed would have been at least as great had the troops been armed with the Enfield. The fire was a great deal too rapid. Men loaded and fired as if they were making a trial of rapidity of fire, and I saw several instances in which only two or three natives fell among a group, the whole of which would have been mown down had the men taken any aim whatever. At the end of an hour there was scarcely a cartridge left of the ninety rounds which each man carried into action, and the [pg 384]greater portion of them were fired away in the first quarter of an hour. The baggage-guard used up all their stock, and were supplied with fresh ammunition from the reserve which they guarded. Against close bodies of men the breech-loader will do wonders. In the gorges, where the natives were clustered thickly together, it literally mowed them down. Upon the open not one shot in a hundred told. In a great battle the ammunition, at this rate of expenditure, would be finished in an hour. From what I saw of the fighting, I am convinced that troops should, if possible, load at the muzzle when acting as skirmishers, and at the breech only when in close conflict against large bodies of cavalry or infantry. It is all very well to order men to fire slowly, a soldier’s natural eagerness when he sees his enemy opposite to him will impel him to load and fire as quickly as possible. He cannot help it, nor can he carry more than sixty rounds of ammunition, which will not last him twenty minutes. It certainly appears to me that a soldier’s rifle should combine breech- and muzzle-loading, and that he should only use the former method when specially ordered by his commanding officer.

The troops retired amidst a heavy rain, and were marched back to the camp they had left to fetch their greatcoats and blankets, which had been left behind when they advanced to the fight. Then they returned to the ground held by the Punjaubees, and took their station for the night, as they here guarded the top of the road, at which the baggage was now arriving, it having been kept back during the fight. It was perfectly dark before we reached our camping-ground, and as this was in many places covered with thorns and bushes, which in the darkness were quite invisible, very considerable [pg 385]confusion prevailed. Now that the excitement was over, everyone was again tormented with thirst, but it was felt less than it would otherwise have been, owing to the thorough soaking which every man had got. Of course there was no getting at the baggage, which remained on a flat behind us, and everyone wrapped himself in his wet blanket and lay down to snatch a little sleep if he could, and to forget hunger and thirst for a while. As we had marched before daybreak, and went into action long before any of the baggage-animals came up, no one had taken food for the whole of the long and fatiguing day. Very strong bodies of troops were thrown out as pickets, and the whole were got up and under arms at two in the morning, lest Theodore should renew his attack before daybreak. There was now news that there was water to be had in a ravine to our left, and the bheesties were sent down with the water-skins, and numbers of the soldiers also went down with their canteens. The water was worse than any I ever drank before, and ever think to drink again. Numbers of animals, mules or cattle, had been slaughtered there; it appeared, in fact, to have been a camp of Theodore’s army. The stench was abominable, and the water was nearly as much tainted as the atmosphere. The liquid mud we had drank the day before was, in comparison, a healthy and agreeable fluid. However, there was no help for it, and few, if any, refused the noxious fluid. This climate must certainly be an extraordinarily healthy one; for, in spite of hardship and privation, of wet, exposure, bad water, and want of stimulants, the health of the troops has been unexceptionally good. Only once, at Gazoo, have we had threatenings of dysentery, and this passed away as soon as we moved forward. I question if we had a single man in hospital upon [pg 386]the day of the fight, which is certainly most providential, considering the extreme paucity of medical comforts, and the very few dhoolies available for the sick and wounded. Before daybreak we again started—as the place upon which we were encamped was within range of the enemy’s guns—and marched back to this, the camping-ground of the preceding afternoon.

The 2d brigade arrived soon after daylight, and took up their camp a little in the rear of the position in which we had passed the night. Our baggage came on with us, and we had now the satisfaction of being in our tents again, and of getting what we greatly needed—food. After breakfast I rode over to the camp of the 2d brigade, and then, leaving my horse, went down into the ravine, where fatigue-parties were engaged in the work of burial. The scene was very shocking. In one or two narrow gorges in which they had been pent up, fifty or sixty dead bodies lay almost piled together. Very ghastly were their wounds. Here was a man nearly blown to pieces with a shell; near him another the upper part of whose head had been taken off by a rocket; then again, one who lay as if in a peaceful sleep, shot through the heart; next to him one less fortunate, who, by the nature of his wound, must have lingered in agony for hours through the long night before death brought a welcome relief. Two of them only still lived, and these were carried into camp; but their wounds were of so desperate a nature that it was probable they could not live many hours. Strangely enough, there were no wounds of a trifling nature. All who had not been mortally wounded had either managed to crawl away, or had been removed by their friends. With a very few exceptions it was a charnel-place of dead, whose [pg 387]gaudy silk and coloured robes were in ghastly contrast with their stiffened and contorted attitudes. Among the few survivors was the Commander-in-chief of Theodore’s army, who was carried to the camp. He, like the others we were able to succour, expressed his gratitude for our kindness, and said the affair had been a complete surprise to them. They saw what was apparently a train of baggage without any protection whatever coming up the valley; and they had not noticed our small body of infantry on the brow. They sallied out therefore, anticipating little or no resistance. It certainly speaks well for the courage of the natives, that, taken by surprise, as they must have been, by our infantry, with the rockets and shells, they should yet have fought as bravely and well as they did. There can be no doubt that, had not the fight been brought on so suddenly as it was, and had the 2d brigade been at hand, we should have gone straight up upon the heels of the fugitives, and captured the place then and there. As it was, although it might have been done, the troops were too tired and exhausted to have put them at such an arduous task; for Theodore would, no doubt, have fought with desperation, and we should have lost many men before we could have surmounted the hill. I say this, because it is the opinion of many that we might have taken the place at once, had we chosen to go on.

Altogether it was a wonderful success, especially considering that we fought under the disadvantage of a surprise, and without the slightest previous plan or preparation. It is only fortunate that we had to deal with Theodore and Abyssinians, and not with regular troops.

Theodore was general enough to perceive and to take advantage of Colonel Phayre’s egregious blunder; but his [pg 388]troops were not good enough to carry out his intentions. As to Colonel Phayre, it is not probable that we shall hear any more of him while the expedition lasts; for Sir Robert Napier’s long-suffering patience for once broke down, and he opened his mind to Colonel Phayre in a way which that officer will not forget for the rest of his life.

Before I left camp for my ride to the ravine, an event of great interest occurred, but which I deferred mentioning in its place, as I wished to complete my description of the battle and field without a break. At half-past seven, just as I was at breakfast, I heard a great cheering and hurrahing, and found that Lieutenant Prideaux and Mr. Flad had come in with proposals from Theodore. This was a great relief to us all, as there was considerable fear that Theodore, in a fit of rage at his defeat the day before, might have put all the captives to death. This, however, was not the case. The prisoners had indeed passed an unenviable afternoon while the battle was going on; but Prideaux and Blanc consoled each other, as they heard the heavy firing of our rifles, that at least, if they were to die that night, they were to some extent avenged beforehand. These two gentlemen have throughout written in a spirit of pluck and resignation which does them every honour.

Theodore had come in after the engagement in a rather philosophical mood, and said, “My people have been out to fight yours. I thought that I was a great man, and knew how to fight. I find I know nothing. My best soldiers have been killed; the rest are scattered. I will give in. Go you into camp and make terms for me.”

And so the two captives came into camp. Both looked well and hearty, and acknowledged that, as far as eating and [pg 389]drinking go, they have been far better off than we are ourselves. Indeed, with the exception of captivity and light chains, the captives do not appear to have been ill-treated for many months. They have their separate houses, their servants, and anything they could buy with the supplies of money sent to them.

A horrible business took place in Magdala on the very day before our arrival. Theodore had all the European captives out, and before their eyes put to death three hundred and forty prisoners, many of whom he had kept in chains for years. Among them were men, women, and little children. They were brought out chained, and thrown down on the ground, their heads fastened down to their feet. Among this defenceless and pitiable group the brutal tyrant went with his sword and slashed right and left until he had killed a score or so. Then, getting tired, he called out six of his musketeers, who continued to fire among the wretched crowd until all were despatched. Their bodies were then thrown over a precipice.

There is a general feeling of surprise expressed in camp that the Englishmen who were witnesses of this horrible spectacle, and who were themselves unfettered, did not make a rush upon the monster and cut him down then and there. They could hardly have increased their own danger, for they tell us that they expected that they themselves would be put to death after the murder of the native prisoners. Besides, in the presence of so dreadful a butchery as this must have been, a man does not calculate—he feels; and the impulse to rush with a scream upon the drunken tyrant and to kill him would, one would think, have been overpowering.

[pg 390]

The captives describe the usual mode of execution, by cutting-off the hands and feet, as being a refinement of cruelty. A slight gash is made round the member, and it is then wrenched-off by main force, the arteries being so much twisted that very little loss of blood takes place. The wretched beings are then left to die; and some of them linger for many days, and then expire of thirst more than of their wounds, it being death to administer either food or water to them.

We can feel no pity for this inhuman monster; and should he resist, there is every hope that he will be killed in the fight. Sir Robert Napier declined to grant any conditions whatever, demanding an instant surrender of the whole of the prisoners and of the fortress, promising only that Theodore and his family should be honourably treated. With this answer the two captives returned, but came back again at three o’clock with a message from Theodore, begging that better terms might be offered him. Sir Robert Napier was most reluctantly obliged to refuse, and the captives again returned amidst the sorrowful anticipations of the camp. At half-past six, to the great joy of all, Mr. Flad came in with the news that the captives would all be in in an hour; and at seven the whole of them came in safe and sound, with the exception of Mrs. Flad and her children. She, being unable to walk, had been left behind by the carelessness or haste of Rassam, to whom the business had been intrusted by Theodore. This person, Rassam, is very unpopular among the rest of the prisoners; the only person who seems to have liked him being Theodore himself, to whom his demeanour, so different from that of Prideaux and Blanc, had to a certain extent ingratiated him. I trust that to-[pg 391]morrow will see Mrs. Flad and her children safe in the camp, and then one of the objects of our expedition will have been completely and satisfactorily attained. Theodore has until mid-day to surrender Magdala; and if he does not do so, we shall storm it to-morrow night or next day. Some more scaling-ladders are in process of preparation, the materials being the long bamboo dhoolie-poles for the sides, and the handles of pickaxes for the rungs. The ladders are about five feet wide and twenty long.

I close this letter now; but anticipate that my next, describing the fall of Magdala, will be in time for the same post by which this reaches England.

April 12th.

Contrary to expectation, the day has passed-off without event. One reason for this was, that Mrs. Flad and her children were still in Theodore’s hands, as also were some of the European workmen. At two o’clock, however, they came in; and we have now the whole of the captives safe in our hands. We have quite a native camp within our own, indeed, so large is the number of their attendants and following. The principal English prisoners have done very well with the money constantly supplied to them; but many of the German workmen have a miserably pinched and starved appearance. There are several half-castes among the party that have come in; their fathers being English or other Europeans who have resided in Abyssinia, their mothers natives. The natives who have come in have an idea that wearing a piece of red cloth round the head is a sign of friendliness to us, and they [pg 392]therefore are generally so adorned. The released captives start to-morrow for England. Theodore this morning sent down a thousand cattle and five hundred sheep as a propitiatory offering; but Sir Robert Napier refused to receive them, and has sent-in a renewed demand for the surrender of the fortress. It has been all day thought that the assault would take place to-night, or rather at daybreak to-morrow. No orders have, however, yet been issued, and it is now believed that the attack will take place to-morrow, in which case it is doubtful whether any description of the affair will reach you, as I had hoped, by this mail.

Ten o’clock P.M.

I have just received certain information that the attack is postponed. Sir Robert Napier, one of the kindest-hearted of men, has sent-off a letter this evening to Theodore, urging him to surrender, with a promise that his life shall be spared, and the lives of all his men. He has pointed out to him that his men cannot possibly resist our superior weapons; that cannon greatly superior to those we used in the fight of Good Friday have now arrived, and also the rest of our forces; so that our success is certain. He has therefore implored him to surrender, and to save any further effusion of blood, if not for his own sake, at any rate for that of the women and children, of whom alone it is said that there are 7000 in the fortress. I most earnestly trust that Theodore will consent to the appeal. Of course, the effusion of blood is to him, who only three days ago murdered 350 men, a matter of small moment. Still his own courage is failing. He yesterday, when he heard of the terms demanded, pretended to attempt to commit suicide, and fired a revolver close to his head; but [pg 393]the ball only grazed his neck. This, however, shows that his courage is failing: a brave man will never commit suicide; still less will he, if driven by desperation to the act, inflict only a slight wound upon himself. It is evident that he is now afraid; and I trust that to save his own miserable life he will surrender, and so save the butchery that must ensue if we storm Magdala.

To-day being Easter Sunday, we had, as usual, a church-parade, and our chaplain read the thanksgiving for our success, in which I am sure all will heartily join.

Before Magdala, April 14th.

When I closed my letter of the 12th, I mentioned that Sir Robert Napier had written to Theodore, urging him most strongly to surrender, as he had no possibility of a successful resistance; and the destruction of life, if we were to open fire upon Magdala, would be terrible.

On the next morning several of the principal chiefs came into camp, and said that they could not fight against our troops, and would therefore surrender. They held, with their people, Fahla and Salamgi, and would hand-over these fortresses to us, on condition that themselves and their families were allowed to depart with their property unharmed. With them came Samuel, a man who has been frequently mentioned in connection with the prisoners, both in their own letters and in Dr. Beke’s work. This man exercised a strongly prejudicial influence at the early period of their captivity, but has since shown them kindness. Having been one of Theodore’s principal advisers, one could hardly have [pg 394]expected to see him deserting his master in his adversity. Samuel is a strongly-built man, with remarkably intelligent features, and rather grizzly iron-gray hair, which he wears in its natural state, and not plaited and grease-bedaubed in the Abyssinian fashion. Sir Robert Napier accepted the surrender, and gave permission for the departure of their families and effects. Captain Speedy was ordered to return with them, with fifty of the 3d Native Cavalry, under Colonel Locke. Orders had been previously given for the whole of the troops to parade on the flat in front of the fortress. In half an hour after the departure of the cavalry, the troops were formed up, and made an imposing show, the first we have had since we landed. Hitherto the brigades have been separated, and so large a portion of them have been scattered along the line of baggage, that we have never had an opportunity of seeing our real force. We could now see that it was a very formidable body. The 33d were drawn up 750 strong; the 4th, 450; the 45th, 400. We had now the whole of the Beloochees, their left wing having arrived during the night, and the whole of the Punjaubees. We had two companies of the 10th Native Infantry, and six companies of Sappers and Miners—altogether a very complete body of infantry. We had Murray’s Armstrong battery, two seven-inch mortars, Penn’s Mountain Train of steel guns, Twiss’s Mountain Train, and the Naval Rocket Brigade—a very respectable corps of artillery. In cavalry alone we were wanting, having only the fifty troopers of the 3d Native Cavalry, who had come as the Commander-in-chief’s escort, and who had now just reached the top of the crest of Fahla. The rest of the cavalry—namely, the 3d Dragoons, 3d and 12th Native Cavalry and Scinde Horse—had been sent round [pg 395]into the valley to cut off Theodore’s retreat. General Staveley was, of course, in command of the division. We moved forward, headed by the 33d, to whom, as having—of the European regiments—borne the brunt of the advance work throughout, was now assigned the honour of first entering and of placing the British flag upon Magdala. They were followed by the 45th, Murray’s and Twiss’s battery, and the rest of the second brigade, which had not had an opportunity of taking part in the action on Good Friday. Then came the 4th and the rest of the 1st brigade, with the exception of the troops who were left behind to take care of the camp. Major Baigrie, as quartermaster-general of the 1st division, rode in advance.

As the long line wound up the steep ascent in Fahla the effect was very pretty, and elicited several remarks that this was our Easter-Monday review. On the way up we met a large number of men, women, and children upon their way down. Once upon the shoulder which connects Fahla and Salamgi, we found ourselves in the midst of a surprising scene. A perfect exodus was in progress. Many thousands of men, women, and children were crowded everywhere, mixed up with oxen, sheep, and donkeys. The women, children, and donkeys were laden with the scanty possessions of the inhabitants. Skins of grain and flour, gourds and jars of water and ghee, blankets for coverings and tents—these were their sole belongings. It was a Babel of noises. The women screamed their long, quavering cry of admiration and welcome; men shouted to each other from rock to rock; mothers who had lost their children screamed for them, and the children wailed back in return; sheep and goats bleated, and donkeys and mules brayed. It was an astonishing scene. [pg 396]All seemed extremely glad to see us, and to be relieved from the state of fear and starvation in which they had existed; men, women, and children bent until their foreheads touched the ground in token of submission. The men who bore no arms carried burdens, as did the women; but the warriors only carried their arms. The number of gaudy dresses among the latter was surprising, and their effect was very gay and picturesque. Shirts of red, blue, or purple brocade, with yellow flowers, and loose trousers of the same material, but of a different hue, were the prevailing fashion with the chiefs. These were distinguished from the soldiers by having silver ornaments upon their shields. At present all retained their arms; but the 10th Native Infantry had been left at the foot of the hill with orders to disarm them as they came down the road. All along our march over Salamgi this extraordinary scene continued; and we saw more people than we have seen during the whole time we have been in Abyssinia. The general opinion is, that there could not have been less than thirty thousand people congregated here; and I believe that this computation is rather under than over the mark.

There was a universal feeling of thankfulness that we had not been obliged to bombard the place, as the slaughter among this defenceless crowd of people would have been terrible. Wherever was a level piece of ground, there their habitations were clustered. They were mere temporary abodes—a framework of sticks, covered with coarse grass, placed regularly and thickly, so as to turn the rain. They were about the size and shape of ordinary haycocks, and show that the people must sleep, as they sit, curled almost into a ball.

From the shoulder we climbed up the very winding road [pg 397]on the face of the natural scarps to Salamgi. The natural strength of these positions is astounding. Fahla is tremendously strong; but yet it is as nothing to Salamgi, which commands it. Colonel Milward, who commands the artillery, remarked to me that in the hands of European troops it would be not only impregnable, but perfectly unattackable. Gibraltar from the land side is considered impregnable; but Gibraltar is absolutely nothing to this group of fortresses. After capturing Fahla and Salamgi—if such a thing were possible—an attacking force would still have Magdala to deal with; and Magdala rises from the end of the flat shoulder which connects it with Salamgi in an unbroken wall, except at the one point where a precipitous road leads up to the gate. It is 2500 yards from the top of Salamgi to Magdala, and even the heaviest artillery could do nothing against the wall of rock. We may well congratulate ourselves that Theodore sent his army to attack our baggage; for had they remained and defended the place, provided as they were with forty cannon, our loss would have been very heavy; and even with our superior weapons it is a question whether we could have succeeded, the road in many cases winding along the face of a precipice, which a few men from above merely rolling down stones could have cleared. When we had reached the brow of Salamgi—a still higher scarp of which rose two hundred feet above us—Major Baigrie halted for orders, and I rode on with two or three others to the little body of the 3d Native Cavalry, who were half a mile further on, at the edge of the flat between Salamgi and Magdala.

I should say that early in the morning we had received news that Theodore had left in the night with a small body of his adherents, and intended to gain the camp of the Queen [pg 398]of the Gallas, and to throw himself upon her hospitality, the Gallas being wandering tribes, who, like the Arabs, would protect their bitterest enemy if he reached their tents and claimed hospitality. When we were nearly at the top of the hill, we had received a message from the cavalry, saying that there was a rumour that Theodore had returned, and had committed suicide.

When we reached the cavalry, however, we found a state of some excitement prevailing: some eight or ten horsemen, among whom Captain Speedy had recognised Theodore himself, having just galloped up brandishing spears and discharging their muskets in defiance. Colonel Locke could not, of course, charge without orders; and, indeed, it would have been most imprudent to do so, as the whole of the shoulder, a quarter of a mile wide, and six or seven hundred yards to the fort of Magdala, were covered with the little huts, behind and in which any number of men might be concealed. Colonel Locke then threw-out a few of his men as skirmishers. The horsemen continued to gallop about, sometimes approaching to within three hundred yards, sometimes dashing across the plateau as if they meditated a descent into the valley far below by one of the winding paths which led down. To prevent this, Colonel Locke called to five or six soldiers of the 33d, and two or three artillerymen, who had somehow got separated from their corps and had come down towards us, to take up a position to command the path, and to open fire if the horsemen attempted to go down it.

At the same time we saw upon the top of Salamgi, behind us, a company of the 33d, who had gone up there to plant the colours. Colonel Locke had the advance blown, and [pg 399]signalled to them to come down to command the opposite side of the shoulder, in case the horsemen might attempt to descend into the valley by any path which might exist upon that side. The horsemen again moved in and discharged their rifles at us; and the cavalry keeping their places, our little party of 33d answered with their Sniders. As they did so, they moved forward, and in another hundred yards we came upon no less than twenty cannon, which Theodore had, no doubt, intended to have moved across into Magdala, but had had no time to accomplish. These were, of course, taken possession of; and, as an officer remarked with a laugh to me, it is probably the first time that twenty guns were ever captured in the face of an enemy by six men of the line, two artillerymen, three or four officers, and the press. In the tumbrils of the guns were their ammunition; and Lieutenant Nolan, of the Artillery, assisted by two artillerymen, Captain Speedy, and the civilians, at once proceeded to load them, and opened fire with ball upon the foot-men, a hundred or so of whom we could now see clustered at the foot of the road up to Magdala; the 33d men keeping up a fire upon the horsemen and a few foot-men running over the plains, and who occasionally answered; and the company of the 33d, who had now come down nearly to the foot of the slope behind us, also opening fire. It was one of the funniest scenes I ever saw. There was Magdala at 500 yards’ distance, with its garrison keeping up a scattered fire at us, none of the bullets, however, reaching so far; there were a few shots from behind the little haycock huts; there was Theodore himself galloping about with half a dozen of his chiefs—picturesque figures in their bright-coloured robes; and there was our little party waging a war upon them, with not another soldier in sight, [pg 400]or, indeed, within half a mile of us. This lasted for ten minutes or so; and then an officer rode up to order the infantry to retire into the slope, but to keep the guns under their fire. The cavalry had previously been ordered to retire. In another quarter of an hour Penn’s battery came down to us and opened fire, and the steel shells soon drove the enemy up the road into the fortress. For a quarter of an hour they continued their fire; and, when they had once got the range, every shell burst close to the gateway, through which the road passed. Then there came an order to cease firing; and Murray’s guns, which had taken up their position upon the top of Salamgi, Twiss’s battery more to the right, and the Naval Rocket Brigade, took up the fire. For nearly two hours, with occasional intervals, these guns and Twiss’s battery kept up their fire. While this was going on, we discovered in a small tent, a hundred yards or so in our front, the Frenchman Bardel, who is sick with a fever, and was at once carried to the rear. We had, too, plenty of time to examine the guns. Some were of English, some of Indian manufacture: all were of brass, and varied in size from a fourteen-pounder downwards. There were two or three small mortars among them. This was evidently the arsenal, for here were tools and instruments of all descriptions—files, hammers, anvils, &c. There were bags of charcoal and a forge; and here were many hundreds of balls, varying in size from grape-shot to immense stone balls for the giant mortar, which shattered to pieces the other day at the first attempt to fire it.

At this time we made a discovery which quite destroyed the feeling of pity which the gallantry of Theodore in exposing himself to our fire had excited. The Beloochees had [pg 401]joined us, and were posted near the edge of a precipice to our right. Their attention being attracted by an overpowering stench, they looked over the edge of the rock; and there, fifty feet below, was one of the most horrifying sights which was ever beheld: there, in a great pile, lay the bodies of the three hundred and fifty prisoners whom Theodore had murdered last Thursday, and whom he had then thrown over the edge of the precipice. There they lay—men, women, and little children—in a putrefying mass. It was a most ghastly sight, and recalled to our minds the horrible cruelty of the tyrant, and quite destroyed the effect which his bravery had produced.

At last, at half-past three, the troops came down and took their places; and at a quarter to four the whole of the guns and rockets opened a tremendous fire to cover the advance; and the 33d, preceded by a small band of Engineers and Sappers under Major Pritchard, and followed by the 45th, advanced to the assault, the 4th and the rest of the first brigade retaining their places as a reserve. When within three hundred yards of the rock, the 33d formed line and opened fire at the gateway and high hedge which bordered the summit of the precipice—the most tremendous fire I ever heard. Even the thunder—which was, as during the fight of Good Friday, roaring overhead—was lost in the roar of the seven hundred Snider rifles, and which was re-echoed by the rocks in their front. Under cover of this tremendous fire the Engineers and the leading company advanced up the path. When they were half-way up, the troops ceased firing, and the storming-party scrambled up at a run. All this time answering flashes had come back from a high wall which extended for some feet at the side [pg 402]of the gateway, and from behind the houses and rocks near it. When the Engineers, headed by Major Pritchard, reached the gateway, several shots were fired through loopholes in the wall, and two or three men staggered back wounded, Major Pritchard himself receiving two very slight flesh-wounds in the arm. The men immediately put their rifles through the holes, and kept up a constant fire, so as to clear-away their enemies from behind it.

Then there was a pause, which for a time no one understood; but at last a soldier forced his way down the crowded path with the astounding intelligence that the Engineers, who had headed the storming-party for the purpose of blowing the gate in, had actually forgotten to take any powder with them! Neither had they crowbars, axes, or scaling-ladders. General Staveley at once despatched an officer to bring up powder from the artillery-wagons.

The 45th opened fire to prevent the enemy’s skirmishers doing damage; and a few pioneers of the 45th were sent up with axes to force open the gate. In the mean time, however, the men of the 33d, upon the road leading up to the gate, discovered a spot half-way up, by which they were able to scramble up to the left, and, getting through the hedge, they quickly cleared away the defenders of the gate. A large portion of the regiment entered at this spot, the gate not being fairly opened for a quarter of an hour after the storming-party arrived at it; for when it was broken down, it was found that the gate-house was filled with very large stones; and therefore, had powder been at hand, and the gate been blown in, a considerable time must have elapsed before the party could have entered. Behind the gateway were a cluster of huts, many of whose inhabitants still remained in them in [pg 403]spite of the heavy fire which had for two hours been kept up. Behind them was a natural scarp of twenty-five or thirty feet high, with a flight of steps wide enough only for a single man to ascend at a time. At the top of this was another gate, which had been blown open by the rifles of the 33d. I entered with the rear of the regiment; but all was by that time over. By the first gateway were six or seven bodies, and two or three men by the second. Beyond this was the level plateau, thickly scattered with the native huts of their ordinary construction—not the haycock-fabrics which had covered the other hills and plateau. At a hundred yards from the gate lay the body of Theodore himself, pierced with three balls, one of which, it is said, he fired with his own hand. He was of middle height and very thin, and the expression of his face in death was mild rather than the reverse. He had thrown-off the rich robe in which he had ridden over the plain, and was in an ordinary chief’s red-and-white cloth.

The fighting was now over. A hundred men or so had escaped down a path upon the other side of the fortress, and the rest of the defenders had fled into their houses, and emerged as peaceable inhabitants without their weapons. Nothing could be more admirable than the behaviour of the 33d. I did not see a single instance of a man either of this or of the regiment which followed attempting to take a single ornament or other article from the person of any of the natives. These latter thronged out of their houses, bearing their household goods, and salaaming to the ground, as they made their way towards the gate of the fort. I went into several of the abandoned huts; they contained nothing but rubbish. A few goats and cattle stood in the enclosures, and bags of [pg 404]grain were in plenty. The poor people had been well content to escape with their lives, and with what they could carry away on their own shoulders and those of their pack-animals.

I presently met an affecting procession. These were the native prisoners. Laden with heavy feet-chains were at least a hundred poor wretches who had lingered for years in the tyrant’s clutches. Many of them were unable to walk, and were carried along by their friends. We pitied them vastly more than we have done the prisoners sent in to us, who, with commodious tents, numbers of servants, and plentiful supplies of money and food, have had a far better time of it than these poor wretches of natives. They endeavoured in every way to express their joy and thankfulness. They bent to the ground, they cried, they clapped their hands; and the women—at least such as were not chained—danced, and set-up their shrill cry of welcome. Very kind were the soldiers to them, and not a few gave-up their search for odd articles of plunder to set-to with hammer and chisel to remove their chains. There were some hundreds of huts upon the flat plateau, but not one of them bore any signs of the bombardment; and fortunately the great distance at which the guns were fired had saved the inhabitants from the injury which they must otherwise have suffered from the needless bombardment. A few people had been wounded when the 33d had first entered, but their number was very small; and it seems incredible that out of so large a population only some ten or fifteen, and these the defenders of the gate, were killed.

The huts were all of the same size and description—stone walls with conical roofs, and no light except that which en[pg 405]tered by the door. The King himself lived in a tent. His wife, or I should rather say wives, lived in a house precisely similar in shape, but larger than the other tents. One or two of these poor women were among the wounded, having rushed wildly about the place before the firing ceased, and being struck by stray bullets. It is extremely satisfactory to know that no lives, with the exception of those of the actual fighting-men, were sacrificed.

We have no killed, but have ten or fifteen wounded, most of them very slightly. One of the Punjaubees who was wounded in the fight three days before has since died. The loot obtained by the soldiers was generally of the most trifling description. Pieces of the hangings of the King’s tent, bits of tawdry brocade, and such-like, are the general total. A very few got some gold crosses, and other more valuable articles. A general order has been issued, ordering all valuable spoil to be returned; but I do not imagine that the amount returned will be large. All the spoil taken, with the arms, &c., will be sold by auction in a day or two, and the result at once divided. It is known that considerable sums in dollars and gold have been buried, and a search is being instituted for them, but without, I imagine, much chance of success. In my wanderings I came upon a large hut, which turned out to be the royal cellar. Here the natives were serving-out “tedge”—which I have already described as a drink resembling small-beer and lemonade mixed, with a very strong musty flavour—to soldiers. There were at least a hundred large jars filled with the liquid, which the soldiers call beer, and which, thirsty as the men were, was very refreshing. It was now nearly six o’clock, and the soldiers had had nothing to eat or drink since early morning. [pg 406]I should say that every soldier in the force supped that night upon fowl. Their value here, except when offered to us for sale, is merely nominal, and none of the people took the trouble to take them away; consequently they were running about in hundreds, and gave rise to many animated chases.

Magdala itself is about half a mile long by a quarter of a mile wide, its narrow end joining the shoulder to Salamgi, and as this end is rather narrow, it touches the shoulder only for about fifty or sixty yards. At this point I should say that the plateau of the fortress is 200 feet above the shoulder. Upon its other side it would be 1200 feet sheer down. The 33d planted their colours upon the highest spot, and General Napier when he entered addressed a few words to the men, saying, “that they had made the attack in gallant style.” Of course, as it turned out, the danger was slight; but this does not detract from the way in which the regiment went up to the assault; as, for anything they could tell, there might have been hundreds of men concealed in the huts immediately behind the gate.

The two most valuable articles of booty which were known to have been obtained were purchased by Mr. Holmes, of the British Museum, for the nation, of the soldiers by whom they were taken. The one was, one of the royal shields of Abyssinia, one of which I described as having been borne by Gobayze’s uncle when he visited our camp. The other is a gold chalice, probably four or five centuries old. It has the inscription in Amharic, of which the following is the translation: “The chalice of King Adam-Squad, called Gazor, the son of Queen Brhan, Moquera. Presented to Kwoskwan Sanctuary (Gondar). May my body and soul be purified! [pg 407]Weight 25 wohkits of pure gold, and value 500 dollars. Made by Waldo Giergis.” The name of the maker would seem to testify that he was either the son of an Italian, or an Italian who had adopted an Abyssinian first name. As these acquisitions are made for the nation, Sir Robert has decided that they are not to be given up. He has also directed that Mr. Holmes may select such other articles as may be suited to the Museum before the auction takes place.

The second brigade passed the night in Magdala, and still remain there; the first brigade returned to camp, which they did not reach until a very late hour. The aspect of the hill of Salamgi, and of the plains below it, was very striking, as I rode through it at night. The great emigrant population had encamped there, and their innumerable fires had a very pretty effect. During the night a very scandalous act of theft and sacrilege took place. The coffin of the late Abuna, a high priest, was broken open; his body was torn almost to pieces, and a cross, set with precious stones of the value of some thousands of pounds, was stolen. It is quite certain that this act was not perpetrated by our soldiers, as they of course knew nothing either of the Abuna or his cross. Suspicion generally points to some of the late prisoners, who knew, what was, it appears, a matter of notoriety, that the Abuna had purchased this extremely valuable ornament to be buried with it.

The expedition is now at an end. Its objects are most successfully attained, and the interest and excitement are over. We have now only our long and weary march back again. The day upon which we turn our faces homeward is not yet settled; the 20th is at present named. We shall [pg 408]probably halt at Dalanta for a day or two, and there it is said that Gobayze will visit the Chief, and that we shall have a grand parade.

The opinion which the natives will entertain of us upon our homeward march will be singularly different from those with which they regarded us upon our advance. Then they looked upon us as mere traders, prepared to buy, but incompetent to fight for our countrymen in chains; now they will regard us as the conquerors of the hitherto invincible Theodore, and as braves, therefore, of the most distinguished order.

Before Magdala, April 16th.

My letter describing the fall of Magdala was only written two days ago, and I have but few scraps of intelligence to add. These, however, I shall now send, in hopes that they may arrive by the same mail which conveyed my last. We have had only two excitements here; the one the perquisition—indeed, by the way it was conducted, I may call it inquisition—for loot; the other, the constant plunder by those arrant thieves, the Gallas. The first orders with respect to plunder were reasonable and sensible enough. They were, that all articles of intrinsic value, or which might be nationally interesting, were to be given up. This no one objected to. It was only fair that all booty collected of any value should be fairly divided for the benefit of the force in general. The next order, however, was simply ridiculous, and caused naturally a good deal of grumbling. It was ordered that every article taken, of whatever value or description, should be returned. Now, the men had possessed [pg 409]themselves of all sorts of small mementoes of the capture of Magdala. Spears and glass beads, books and scraps of dresses, empty gourds and powder-horns, all sorts of little objects in fact, the united intrinsic value of which would not be twenty dollars, but which were valuable mementoes to the three or four thousand men who had picked them up—all these were now to be given up; and so strict was the search, that I saw even the men’s havresacks examined to see that they had hidden nothing. The pile of objects collected was of the most miscellaneous description, and looked like the contents of a pawnbroker’s shop in the neighbourhood of Whitechapel. These things were valuable to the men, as having been collected by them in Magdala; but they will fetch nothing whatever when sold. It is a very great pity that the original order was not adhered to, as the men would have all acquiesced cheerfully enough in the summons that articles of intrinsic value should be delivered up. As it is, the whole value of the plunder will not exceed ten thousand dollars in value, and, indeed, I question if it will approach that sum. The principal articles of value, with the exception of some crosses, are of English manufacture, double-barrelled guns, &c.; in fact, the presents which the English Government sent out by Rassam. A medical court have examined Theodore’s body, and have come to the conclusion that he died by his own hand. Mr. Holmes, of the British Museum, has taken an exceedingly good likeness of the dead monarch; indeed, I do not know that I ever saw a more striking resemblance. The Engineers have also taken a photograph of him.

The Gallas have been extremely troublesome for the last three days. The unfortunate fugitives from Magdala are [pg 410]encamped at the foot of the hill, and are gradually moving-off to their respective homes. Round their camp, and round the unfortunates upon their march, the Gallas swarm in great numbers, robbing, driving-off their cattle and donkeys, carrying-off their women and children into captivity, and wounding, and sometimes killing, all who oppose them. Sometimes, too, they attempt to rob our mules and stores. We do all we can to protect the defenceless people, and detachments are constantly going out to drive the robbers off. The infantry, the rocket-train, and the guns have several times had to fire, and several of the plunderers have been killed. Eighteen are at present prisoners in our camp, some of whom were concerned in the murder of one of the Abyssinians. The night before last they made an attack upon some of the mules with the baggage of the 33d, near Magdala, but were beaten off with the loss of several men. Now that we have got Magdala, our difficulty is to dispose of it, and it is this only which is keeping us waiting here. Magdala is, as I have already said, an almost impregnable place, even in the hands of these savages. North and west of them the people are Christians. Whether their Christianity, or the Christianity of any savage people, does them any good whatever, or makes them the least more moral or better than their neighbours, it is needless now to inquire. At any rate they are a settled people, living by the culture of their land. To the east of these agricultural people are the Gallas, nomadic Mussulmans, whose hand is against every man’s, who live by robbery and violence, and who are slavers and man-stealers of the worst kind. Against them Magdala stands as a bulwark. It is on the road between their country and Abyssinia proper, and the garrison can always fall upon their rear in case [pg 411]of an attempted foray. It was therefore desirable that it should be intrusted to some power strong enough to hold in check this nation of robbers. Theodore’s son, who, with his wives, has fallen into our hands, is too young to be thought of, and there remains only Gobayze, and his rival Menilek. Menilek in the early days of the expedition was heard a good deal of. General Merewether was always writing about him and his army of forty thousand men, and his great friendship; but, like most of the gallant general’s promised lands, Menilek’s assistance turned out a myth, and we have never heard of him since we came within a hundred miles of Magdala. Gobayze, on the other hand, has at any rate turned out to be a real personage. He has never, it is true, done the slightest thing to assist us in any way; still his uncle paid us a visit, and nearly got shot, so that we may presume that this uncle really has a nephew called Gobayze. Gobayze has been written to, to come and take possession of Magdala, but he has not arrived; but this morning his uncle has again appeared upon the scene, and, I understand, declines, in the name of his relative, to have anything to say to Magdala. Magdala, in fact, except as a stronghold to retreat to as a last resource, is absolutely valueless. It is too far removed from the main portion of Abyssinia to be of any strategical importance, and it would require a couple of thousand men to garrison it, and who would have to be supplied with provisions from a considerable distance. Gobayze wants all his available force for the struggle he will be engaged in with Menilek as soon as we leave the country, and he does not at all care about detaching two thousand men to an extreme corner of his dominions, where they could in no way affect the issue of the war. He may change his mind; but if [pg 412]he should not do so, we shall in a couple of days start upon our backward course, and abandon Magdala to the first comer. The Abyssinians complain bitterly of our mode of fighting. With them an engagement is a species of duel. Both sides charge simultaneously, discharge their pieces, and retreat to load, repeating the manœuvre until one side or the other has had enough of it. They object, therefore, excessively to our continuous advance and fire, without any pause to reload. It is to this unseemly practice that they attribute their defeat.

The whole army are looking forward with the greatest eagerness for the order to retire. Existence here is not a pleasant one. The weather in the day is dry, hot, but not unpleasant; in the afternoon we have always heavy rains, and cold at night. Our variety of provisions is not great. We have plenty of meat, and little flour; no rum, no tea, no sugar, no vegetables. By the way, the commissariat actually managed to supply the extraordinarily liberal allowance of one dram of rum per man to the force on the day after the capture of Magdala. But our great want is water. We are literally without water. A mile and a half off is a limited quantity, but it is very limited indeed, and stinks abominably; so bad is it, that it is difficult to distinguish what one is drinking, even if one is fortunate enough to procure tea or coffee; and even of this there is not sufficient for drinking purposes alone, and a man enters another tent and asks as eagerly for a cup of water as if it were the choicest of drinks. Washing is altogether out of the question; and the animals have to be taken down to the muddy Bachelo, fifteen hundred feet below us, and six miles distant, for their daily draught. Decidedly the sooner we are out of this the better. At present the 18th is the happy day decided upon; and I earnestly [pg 413]hope that nothing will occur to postpone our departure. Some of the troops will certainly start to-day or to-morrow.

Antalo, May 1st.

There are few things of less interest than the closing chapter of a campaign. The excitement and anxiety, the success and triumph, are over; the curtain has fallen upon the play, and we have only to put on our wraps and go home. Even by the present date the telegraph has told England of the success with which the expedition has been crowned. When he has once read the details, the English reader will, after the first little burst of natural pride and satisfaction, sit himself down with a slight sigh to count the cost, and then endeavour, as far as possible, to forget the unpleasant subject. I feel that the heading of my letter, “The Abyssinian Expedition,” will no longer be an attractive one. Epilogues are gone out of fashion, and are only retained as a relic of the past at the annual play of the Westminster boys. I should imagine that at the end of a modern play very few people would sit-out an epilogue; and in the same way, I anticipate that very few readers will care for hearing any more about the barren and mountainous country in which it has been our lot to sojourn for the last six months. I should imagine that they must be nearly as weary of the subject as we are ourselves. Never certainly in my experience have special correspondents had so hard or so ungrateful a task as that which has devolved upon us here. The country through which the army has marched has been barren and mountainous in the extreme. The actual events have been few and far between. [pg 414]There has been no opportunity for generalship or strategical movement. It has been one long, slow, monotonous march, accompanied with more or less hardship to all concerned. It has presented no points of comparison with the shifting scenes and exciting phases of a European campaign. It is only by its results, and by the remembrance of the hostile criticisms and lugubrious prophecies with which it was assailed in its early days, that we ourselves can judge of the difficulty of the task accomplished, and of the way in which the world will view it. It has to us been simply a monotony of hard work and hard living. Until the last week of our march we had no excitement whatever to enliven it; and, as far as the incidents of the campaign have been concerned, there has been but little to recompense the British taxpayer for his outlay. In other respects there is no doubt that, worthless as were the set of people as a whole in whose favour this costly expedition has been undertaken, the money has been well spent. In no other way, with so comparatively small an outlay, could Great Britain have recovered the prestige which years of peace had undoubtedly much impaired both in Europe and the East. England has shown that she can go to war really for an idea; that she can embark in a war so difficult, hazardous, and costly, that no other European Power would have undertaken it under similar circumstances, and this, without the smallest idea of material advantage to herself. England had, pace our French critics, no possible benefit to derive from the conquest or occupation of Abyssinia. With Aden and Perim in our power, the Red Sea is virtually an English lake, and the possession of Abyssinia, hundreds of miles from the port of Annesley Bay, which in itself is quite out of the track of vessels between Suez and [pg 415]Aden, would be a source of weakness rather than of additional strength. The war was undertaken purely from a generous national impulse, aggravated by the feeling that the captivity of our unfortunate countrymen was due to no fault of their own, but attributable to the gross blundering of the men to whom the foreign affairs of the nation were unfortunately intrusted. Our success has been astonishing even to ourselves, and has been providentially accomplished in the face of blunders and mistakes which would have ruined any other expedition.

In my last letter I stated that Gobayze had declined to accept the charge of Magdala. It was consequently determined to burn it; and on the 18th ultimo fire was applied, and in a very short time the whole of the thatched tents were in a blaze. The wind was blowing freshly at the time, and in a few minutes the whole of the plateau of Magdala was covered with a fierce blaze, which told to the surrounding country for miles that the last act of atonement was being inflicted. Had the scene taken place at night, it would have been grand in the extreme; but even in broad day the effect of the sheet of flame, unclouded as it was by smoke—for the dry roofs burned like tinder—was very fine. Imagine a gigantic farmyard of three-quarters of a mile long by nearly half a mile wide, and containing above 300 hayricks, in a blaze; and the effect of burning Magdala may be readily conceived. Simultaneously with the conflagration the gates were blown up and the pieces of ordnance burst; and then the troops who had been told-off for the task retired from the scene of their signal success to join their comrades, and march the next day for the sea-shore. I started for Dalanta the day before the departure of the troops, and was very glad [pg 416]that I did so, as I thereby avoided the tremendous confusion of the baggage, part of which was nearly thirty hours upon the road, and witnessed one of the most extraordinary scenes I ever beheld. At the Bachelo river I came upon the van of the principal column of the fugitives from Magdala, who had encamped upon the previous night by the stream. Here the number of empty gourds, cooking-vessels, and rubbish of all kinds, showed that, scanty as their baggage was, it was already too great for their means of transport. A mile farther I came upon their rear. As far as the eye could reach up the winding path to the summit of the gorge, they swarmed in a thick gray multitude. Thirty thousand human beings, men, women, and children, besides innumerable animals of all kinds. Never, probably, since the great Exodus from Egypt, was so strange a sight witnessed. All were laden; for once, the men had to share the labours of their wives and families; and indeed I may say that the males of this portion of Abyssinia are less lazy, and more willing to bear their share of the family-labours, than were the men of Tigre, who, as I before mentioned, never condescend to assist their wives in any way. The men carried bags of grain—which, by the way, the men always carry on one shoulder, and not upon their backs as the women do; the women were similarly burdened, and in addition had gourds of water and ghee, with a child or two clinging round their necks. The children, too, carried their share of the household goods, all but the very little ones; and these, little, naked, pot-bellied things, trotted along holding by their mothers’ skirts. A few, who in the crowd and confusion had lost their friends, sat down and cried pitifully; but as a general thing they kept steadily up the steep ascent, which was trying enough [pg 417]to men, to say nothing of these poor little mites. Although an involuntary exodus, it did not appear to me to cause any pain or regret to anyone. Neither upon this occasion nor upon the day when they quitted Magdala did I see a tear shed, or witness any demonstrations of grief. Now, the Abyssinians are an extremely demonstrative people, and weep and wail copiously and obstreperously over the smallest fancied grievance; consequently, I cannot but think that the great proportion of the people were glad to leave Magdala, and to return to their respective countries. All pressed steadily forward; there was no halting, no delay, scarce a pause to take breath; for on their rear and flank, and sometimes in their very midst, were the robber Gallas plundering all whom they came across. I spoke of the Gallas in my last. Since that time they have become even more bold and troublesome, and not a few have fallen in skirmishes with our troops. Soon after we had joined the body of fugitives, I heard screams and cries in front, and riding-in at a gallop with my friend, we came upon a number of natives in a state of great excitement, the women crying and wringing their hands. They pointed to a ravine, and made us understand that the Gallas were there. Riding up to it, we came upon a party of eight or ten men with spears and shields driving off a couple of dozen oxen they had just stolen. Before they could recover from their surprise we were in their midst, and our revolvers soon sent them flying up the hill with two or three of their number wounded. We drove back the cattle, and were received with acclamations by the unfortunate but miserably cowardly natives, who could only with stones have kept their assailants at a distance, had they had the pluck of so many sheep. A few hundred yards further on we came upon [pg 418]another party of Gallas actively engaged in looting; and at the sight of us with our rifles and revolvers in hand, most of them fled; but we captured two of the robbers, who saw that throwing themselves upon their faces was the only chance of escape from being shot. We tied their hands behind them, and handed them over to our syces, who drove them before them until the end of the day, when we delivered them over to Colonel Graves of the 3d Cavalry, who was in command at Dalanta, and had the satisfaction of seeing them get two dozen lashes each, well laid on. After this skirmish, seeing numbers of Gallas hanging about, we constituted ourselves a sort of rearguard to the native column, and my double-barrelled rifle soon drove them to a distance, the long range at which it sent balls into groups waiting for an opportunity of attack evidently astonishing them greatly, and causing them to scatter in the greatest haste. I think it a question whether the Gallas or the Abyssinians are the greatest cowards. Two or three officers coming up later upon the same day had skirmishes with them, and three or four of the Gallas were killed. The natives encamped upon the plains of Dalanta, their black blanket-tents extending over a great extent of ground. The next day they crossed the Djedda, and after mounting to the table-land beyond, were safe from the attacks of the Gallas, and were able to pursue their way to Gondar, and the other places to which they belonged, in quiet.

On the 20th the whole of the troops were at Dalanta, and a grand parade took place. The troops marched past, and were then formed into hollow square, and the following order of the day was read to them:

[pg 419]

“SOLDIERS OF THE ARMY OF ABYSSINIA,

“The Queen and the people of England intrusted to you a very arduous and difficult expedition—to release our countrymen from a long and painful captivity, and to vindicate the honour of our country, which had been outraged by Theodore, King of Abyssinia.

“I congratulate you, with all my heart, for the noble way in which you have fulfilled the commands of our Sovereign. You have crossed many steep and precipitous ranges of mountains, more than ten thousand feet in altitude, where your supplies could not keep pace with you. When you arrived within reach of your enemy, though with scanty food, and some of you for many hours without food or water, in four days you have passed the formidable chasm of Bachelo and defeated the army of Theodore, which poured down upon you from their lofty fortress in full confidence of victory. A host of many thousands have laid down their arms at your feet.

“You have captured and destroyed upwards of thirty pieces of artillery, many of great weight and efficiency, with ample stores of ammunition. You have stormed the almost-inaccessible fortress of Magdala, defended by Theodore with the desperate remnant of his chiefs and followers. After you forced the entrance, Theodore, who never showed mercy, distrusted the offers of mercy which had been held out to him, and died by his own hands. You have released not only the British captives, but those of other friendly nations. You have unloosed the chains of more than ninety of the principal chiefs of the Abyssinians.

“Magdala, on which so many victims have been slaugh[pg 420]tered, has been committed to the flames, and remains only a scorched rock.

“Our complete and rapid success is due—first, to the mercy of God, whose hand I feel assured has been over us in a just cause. Secondly, to the high spirit with which you have been inspired. Indian soldiers have forgotten their prejudices of race and creed to keep pace with their European comrades.

“Never has an army entered on a war with more honourable feelings than yours; this has carried you through many fatigues and difficulties. You have been only eager for the moment when you could close with your enemy. The remembrance of your privations will pass away quickly, but your gallant exploit will live in history. The Queen and the people of England will appreciate your services. On my part, as your commander, I thank you for your devotion to your duty, and the good discipline you have maintained; not a single complaint has been made against a soldier of fields injured or villages wilfully molested, in property or person.

“We must not forget what we owe to our comrades who have been labouring for us in the sultry climate of Zulla and the Pass of Koomaylo, or in the monotony of the posts which maintained our communications; each and all would have given all they possessed to be with us, and they deserve our gratitude.

“I shall watch over your safety to the moment of your embarkation, and to the end of my life remember with pride that I have commanded you.

(Signed) R. NAPIER, Lieut.-general,

Commander-in-chief.

(Signed) M. DILLON, Lieut.-colonel,

Military Secretary.”

[pg 421]

The proclamation, if a little grandiose in style, is true to the letter. The men have endured privation and toil such as seldom falls to a soldier’s lot, with a good feeling and cheerfulness which has been literally beyond praise. The only occasions throughout this expedition upon which I have heard grumbling has been when the troops have been told by the quartermaster’s department that they were to march a certain distance, and when the march turned out to be half as far again. But this grumbling was not against the distance or the toil, great as both were; it was against the incapacity which had inflicted an unnecessary toil upon them. At any necessary privation, at picket-duty in wet clothes after a hard day’s march, at hunger and thirst, fatigue-duty, wet and cold, I never heard them grumble; and I feel assured that, as the general order says, the people of England will appreciate their toils and services. In one point at least they may be to some extent rewarded. Their pay here is exactly the same as they would have drawn in India; they have no field or other extra allowance whatever. Had the war taken place in India, the army would, most unquestionably, be granted a year’s “batta,” as a reward for their suffering and toil. In the present case the English Government holds the purse-strings, but I trust that this well-earned extra pay will be granted. It would form a comparatively small item in the expenses of the expedition, and the boon would be an act of graceful recognition on the part of the nation to the men who have borne its flag so successfully under the most arduous and trying circumstances.

After the reading of the general order, Sir Robert Napier handed over the rescued prisoners to the representatives of the Governments to which they belonged; and the [pg 422]general feeling of every one was, that we wished these officers joy of them, for a more unpromising-looking set could hardly be found anywhere else outside the walls of a prison. Sir Robert Napier, in handing these prisoners over, thanked the foreign officers for having accompanied the expedition, and for having shared in its toils and hardships. The ceremony over, the last act of the Magdala drama may be considered to have terminated, and the army on the next day marched for the coast, the second brigade leading, and the first following a day in their rear. The interest of the campaign being now over, I determined to come on at full speed, instead of travelling at the necessary slow pace of the army with all its encumbrances of material and baggage. It is, too, vastly more pleasant to travel alone, the journeys are performed in two-thirds of the time, and without the dust, noise, and endless delays which take place in the baggage-train. At the end of the journey the change is still more advantageous: one selects the site for one’s tent near the little commissariat stations, but far enough off to be quiet; and here, free from the neighing and fighting of horses and mules, the challenge of the sentries, the chattering of the native troops, who frequently talk until past midnight, and the incessant noise of coughing and groaning, and other unpleasant noises in which a Hindoo delights when he is not quite well, we pass the night in tranquillity. The hyenas and jackals are, it is true, a little troublesome, and howl and cry incessantly about the canvas of our tent; but the noise of a hyena is as music compared to the coughing and groaning of a sick Hindoo; and so we do not grumble. We have a party of four, making, with our ten servants, syces, and mule-drivers, a pretty strong party; no undesirable thing, as the country is extremely dis[pg 423]turbed all the way down. Convoys are constantly attacked, and the muleteers murdered; indeed, scarce a day passes without an outrage of this kind. It is, perhaps, worst between Lât and Atzala; but beyond Antalo, and down even in the Sooro Pass, murders are almost daily events. The killing is not all on one side, for numbers of the natives have been shot by the guards of the convoys which they have attacked. The evil increases every day, and the Commander-in-chief has just issued a proclamation to the natives, which is to be translated into Amharic and circulated through the country, warning the people that the scouts have orders to fire upon any armed party they may meet, who do not, upon being called upon to do so, at once retire and leave the path clear. The fact is, that, except at this point, we have not enough troops in the country to furnish guards of sufficient strength to protect the convoys. A great many very wise people have talked about our force being too large. At the present moment it is actually insufficient for our needs, insufficient to protect our convoys even against the comparatively few robbers and brigands who now infest the line. A convoy of a thousand animals extends over a very long tract of country; three or four miles at the least. What can a dozen or so guards do to protect it? An instance occurred to-day within three miles of this place. A convoy of a thousand camels were coming along; the guards were scattered over its length; and a man in the middle of the convoy was murdered by three or four Abyssinians, whom the soldiers, who had gone on, had noticed sitting quietly on some rocks at a few yards from the line of march. The soldiers behind heard a cry, and rode up, only in time to find the muleteer lying dead, and his murderers escaped. When the robbers are in [pg 424]force, and attempt to plunder openly, they are invariably beaten.

The other day Lieutenant Holt was in command of a train with treasure for Ashangi, having a guard of ten Sepoys. He was attacked by a band of fifty or sixty men, who came up twice to the assault, but were driven off, leaving three of their number dead upon the ground. These cases are not exceptional; they are of daily occurrence, and are rapidly upon the increase. It is greatly to be regretted; but it was to be foreseen from the course of conduct pursued in the first instance towards men caught robbing in the Sooro Pass. I predicted at the time of my first visit to Senafe, early in December last, what must be the inevitable result of the course pursued to the men caught pillaging. They were kept in the guard-house for a day or two, fed better than they had ever before been in their lives, and then dismissed to steal again, and to encourage their companions in stealing, believing that we were too weak and too pusillanimous to dare to punish them. And so it has been ever since. In the eyes of our political officers a native could do no harm. Any punishment which has been inflicted upon them has been given by regimental officers, or officers of the transport-train, who have caught them robbing. And even this moderate quota of justice was rendered at the peril of the judges. Lieutenant Story, 26th regiment, a most energetic officer of the transport-train—to give one example out of a score—found that at one of the stations the natives who were anxious to come in to sell grass and grain were driven away by two chiefs, who openly beat and ill-treated those who persisted in endeavouring to sell to us. The result was, that the natives kept away, and only a few ventured in at night to sell their [pg 425]stores. Lieutenant Story found that his mules were starving, and very properly caught the two chiefs, and gave them half-a-dozen each. The chiefs reported the case; the mild “politicals” as usual had their way; and Lieutenant Story was summarily removed from the transport-train.

I mentioned in a former letter the case of the mule-driver who wrested the musket from a man who was attempting to rob the mules, and shot him with his own weapon, and who was rewarded for his gallantry by having a dozen lashes. I could fill a column with similar instances. Had we had the good fortune to have had a man of decision and energy as our political officer instead of Colonel Merewether, all this would have been avoided. The first man caught with arms in his hands attacking and plundering our convoys should have been tried and shot; it is what he would have received at the hands of the native chiefs; and it would have put a stop to the brigandage. Instead of which, the policy—if such pottering can be termed policy—has been to encourage them, by every means in our power, to plunder our convoys and murder our drivers and men. A stern policy with savages is, in the end, infinitely the more merciful one. A couple of lives at first would have saved fifty, which have already on both sides been sacrificed, and a hundred more, which will be probably lost before we are out of the country. Sir R. Napier, now that he has taken the reins into his own hands, is fully alive to the error that has been committed, and to the absolute necessity of showing no more leniency to the robber-bands which begin to swarm around us. It is most unfortunate that the early stages of our intercourse with the natives had not been intrusted to a man of firmness and sound sense. With the repeated caution of the officers at [pg 426]the various stations in our ears, and with the accounts we received at almost every halting-place of some attack and murder in the neighbourhood within a day or two of our arrival, it may be imagined that we took every precaution. Our servants were all armed with spears, our mules were kept in close file, and two of us rode in front, two in the rear of our party, with our rifles cocked, and our revolvers ready to hand. As we anticipated, we were not attacked; for, as a general rule, the cowardly robbers, however numerous, will not attack when they see a prospect of a stout resistance. Our precautions were not, however, in vain; for we knew that at least in one case we should have been attacked had we not been so palpably upon our guard. On the brow of the hill above Atzala we passed without seeing a single native; but looking back after we had gone three or four hundred yards, we saw a party of fifty or sixty men armed with spears and shields, get up from among some bushes and rocks by the roadside and make off. There is no doubt that, had we not been prepared, we should have been attacked, and probably murdered. For the remainder of our journey there is little danger. The looting, indeed, continues all down the line; but the country is open and bare, and the natives would never dream of attacking in the open.

I have very great regret in announcing the death from dysentery of Lieutenant Morgan, of the Royal Engineers. He died at the front, and the news of the sad event probably reached England by the last mail; but I did not hear of it at Antalo until after I had despatched my last letter. He was at the head of the signalling-department, and was one of the most energetic and unwearied of officers. I never, indeed, met a man more devoted to his work; and [pg 427]had he lived, he would have become most distinguished in his profession. Sir Robert Napier, who thoroughly appreciated his efforts, has issued the following general order: “The Commander-in-chief has received with great regret the report of the death of Lieutenant Morgan, R.E., in charge of the signallers of the 10th Company, R.E. Sir Robert Napier had constant opportunities of observing the unflagging zeal and energy of this young officer, and the cheerful alacrity with which he embraced every opportunity to render his special work useful to the forces. Lieutenant Morgan set a bright example to those under his command; and by his premature loss, owing to prolonged exposure and fatigue, her Majesty’s service and the corps of Royal Engineers are deprived of a most promising officer.”

Not often does it fall to the lot of a subaltern to win such high and well-merited praise from his commander-in-chief; but poor Morgan was one in a thousand. His death unquestionably was the result of his hard work and exposure. He was one of those to whom his duty, however severe, was a pleasure. Although he could have ridden, had he chosen to do so, he marched at the head of his little body of men, lightening their labours by some cheerful remark; and when arrived at camp, and when other men’s work was over, he would perhaps be sent off to arrange for signalling orders to the brigade in the rear, a duty which would occupy the entire night. He would be off with a cheerful alacrity which I never saw ruffled. He was quiet and unaffected in manner, and was one of those men who are most liked by those who best know them. It is with sincere regret that I write this brief notice of his untimely death.

Respecting the country, I have little to tell that is not [pg 428]already known to English readers. After the tremendous gorges of the Djedda and Bachelo, which are now ascertained to be 3900 feet in depth, the hills upon this side of the Tacazze, which had appeared so formidable when we before crossed them, are mere trifles. The roads, too, were much better than when we went up, the second brigade and Sappers and Miners having done a good deal of work upon them to render them practicable for elephants. The rain which has fallen lately has done a good deal to brighten-up the country; not upon the bare hill-sides—there all is brown and burnt-up as before—but in the bottom of the valleys and upon the hill-sides, where streamlets have poured down during the rains, the bright green of the young grass affords a pleasant relief to the eye. The crops, too, look bright and well; and it is a curious circumstance, that here there appears to be no fixed time for harvest. It is no unusual thing to see three adjoining patches of cultivated land—the one having barley in full ear, the second having the crop only a few inches above the ground, and the third undergoing the operation of the plough.

The army is now about seven days in my rear, as I travel very much faster than they do. Every available mule is being sent up to meet them, to carry down stores and baggage; and there is rum and all other comforts for them at the principal stations upon their way. The native carriage is at work bringing down the spare supplies; and if there are but sufficient of them employed, the stores will soon cease to trouble us; for the natives are such arrant thieves, that between this and Atzala, only two days’ march, bags of rice and flour which started weighing 75 lb. arrive weighing only 40 lb., 30 lb., and sometimes only 25 lb. The word [pg 429]Habesh, which is their own general name for the people of Abyssinia, means a mixture; and I can hardly imagine a worse mixture than it is, for they appear to have inherited all the vices and none of the virtues of the numerous races of whom they are composed.

Beyond this I need write no more; but I cannot close my journal of the Abyssinian expedition without expressing my gratitude for the very great and uniform kindness with which I have been treated by the Commander-in-chief, and by the greater portion of his staff. I would particularly mention Colonel Dillon, the Military Secretary; one of the most able and certainly the most popular officer upon the staff, and whose kindness and attention to us has been unbounded. He has been always ready to afford us any information in his power, and to assist us in all those little difficulties with which a civilian travelling with an army is unavoidably beset.

The Abyssinian expedition may now be said to be over, and has been a more perfect and extraordinary success than the most sanguine could have predicted. It would, in the face of the terrible forebodings which were launched when it was first set about, have seemed an almost impossibility that we could have journeyed here, defeated and almost annihilated Theodore’s army, obtained the whole of the prisoners, stormed Magdala—incomparably the strongest fortress in the world—and killed Theodore, and returned before the rains, with the loss of only one man dead from his wounds, and two or three from sickness; a loss infinitely less than would have taken place in the ordinary course of nature among so large a body of men. And yet this apparent impossibility has been, by the special providence of God, [pg 430]achieved; for that He has specially blessed our efforts, it would be the height of scepticism to doubt. We have passed through fatigues and hardships which one would have thought must have told upon the strongest constitution. We have had wet day after day, with bitterly cold winds, and no change even of underclothing for a month; we have had no tobacco or stimulants to enable the system to resist this wet and cold; and yet the hospitals are empty, and the health of the troops perfect. We have defeated a large and hitherto invincible army, and taken the strongest fortress in the world, with the loss of one man. We have accomplished a march through a country of fabulous difficulties, destitute of roads and almost destitute of food, and with our difficulties of transport vastly aggravated by the untrustworthy reports of those sent on before, and by the consequent breakdown of our baggage-train, from disease, thirst, and overwork; and yet we shall leave the country before the rains.

Humanly, too much credit can scarcely be given to Sir Robert Napier. He has had to overcome innumerable difficulties, which I have from time to time alluded to; but he has met them all admirably. As is often the case with successful commanders, he is immensely popular. The extreme kindness and thoughtfulness of his manner to all make him greatly beloved, and I believe that the men would have done anything for him.

Upon the whole, England may well be proud of the campaign,—proud of her General, and of the gallant and hardy army, whose endurance and labour carried it out successfully. It has not numerically been a great campaign; but by our success under innumerable difficulties, England has gained a prestige which, putting aside the proper objects [pg 431]of the campaign, is cheaply attained at the cost, and which is the more gratifying inasmuch as that England, although she has always risen under difficulties, and has come triumphantly out of great wars, has yet notoriously failed in her “little wars.”

THE END.

LONDON:

ROBSON AND SON, GREAT NORTHERN PRINTING WORKS,

PANCRAS ROAD, N.W.

Footnotes

1.

It was not for some months after this date that the transport officers were allowed to move their camp to a more habitable spot.

2.

This regimental arrangement was carried out during the latter part of the march to Magdala, and was found to answer extremely well.

3.

My anticipations with regard to the railway were more than realised; for the last two miles of the railway to Koomaylo were not made at the termination of the expedition, and the portion which was completed was, without exception, the roughest, most shaky, and most dangerous piece of railway ever laid down. It is to be hoped that upon any future occasion a contractor will be employed instead of an engineer officer, who cannot have either the requisite knowledge or experience.

Transcriber’s Note

The table of contents has been added to the electronic version.

The following changes have been made to the text:

page 16, “o” changed to “of”

page 17, period changed to comma after “released”

page 23, “reconnoisance” changed to “reconnoissance”

page 118, “ever” changed to “over”

page 120, “provisons” changed to “provisions”

page 273, “Grifiths” changed to “Griffiths”

page 322, “innumnerable” changed to “innumerable”

page 353, period changed to comma after “Gazoo”

page 372, “were” changed to “where”

page 377-378, “aide-camp” changed to “aide-de-camp”

Variations in hyphenation (e.g. “breakdown”, “break-down”; “waterproof”, “water-proof”) have not been changed.

Table of Contents

The Dash for Khartoum

PREFACE.

CHAPTER I. MIXED!

CHAPTER II. AT CHELTENHAM.

CHAPTER III. GONE.

CHAPTER IV. BACK AT SCHOOL.

CHAPTER V. ENLISTED.

CHAPTER VI. EGYPT.

CHAPTER VII. EL-TEB.

CHAPTER VIII. TAMANIEB.

CHAPTER IX. THE CAMEL CORPS

CHAPTER X. AN UNEXPECTED MEETING.

CHAPTER XI. ABU KLEA

CHAPTER XII. METEMMEH.

CHAPTER XIII. ABU KRU.

CHAPTER XIV. A SLAVE.

CHAPTER XV. BAD NEWS.

CHAPTER XVI. IN DISGUISE.

CHAPTER XVII. A RUNAWAY SLAVE.

CHAPTER XVIII. THE ZAREBA.

CHAPTER XIX. A LONG SEARCH.

CHAPTER XX. FOUND!

CHAPTER XXI. HOME!

The Dash for Khartoum

PREFACE.

My Dear Lads,

The story of the Nile Expedition is so recent that no word of introduction is necessary to the historical portion of the tale. The moral, such as it is, of the story of the two lads brought up as brothers is—Never act in haste, for repentance is sure to follow. In this case great anxiety and unhappiness were caused through a lad acting as he believed for the best, but without consulting those who had every right to a voice in the matter. That all came right in the end in no way affects this excellent rule, for all might have gone wrong. We are often misled by a generous impulse, more often perhaps than by an evil one, but the consequences may be just as serious in the one case as the other. When in trouble you should always go freely to your best friends and natural advisers, and lay the case fully before them. It may be that, if the trouble has arisen from your own fault, you will have to bear their temporary displeasure, but this is a small thing in comparison with the permanent injury that may arise from acting on your own impulse. In most cases, cowardice lies at the bottom of concealment, and cowardice is of all vices the most contemptible; while the fear of the displeasure of a parent has ruined many a boy's life. Therefore, when you are in serious trouble always go to your best friend, your father, and lay the case[Pg vi] frankly and honestly before him; for you may be sure that present displeasure and even punishment are but small things in comparison with the trouble that may arise from trying to get out of the difficulty in other ways.

Yours sincerely,

G. A. HENTY

CHAPTER I. MIXED!

In a room in the married non-commissioned officers' quarters in the cantonments at Agra, a young woman was sitting looking thoughtfully at two infants, who lay sleeping together on the outside of a bed with a shawl thrown lightly over them. Jane Humphreys had been married about a year. She was the daughter of the regimental sergeant-major, and had been a spoilt child. She was good looking, and had, so the wives and daughters of the other non-commissioned officers said, laid herself out to catch one of the young officers of the regiment, and was bitterly disappointed at the failure of her efforts.

The report may have been untrue, for Jane Farran was by no means popular with the other women, taking far too much upon herself, as they considered, upon the strength of her father's rank, and giving herself airs as if she were better than those around her. There were girls in the regiment just as good looking as she was without any of her airs and tempers. Why should she set herself up above the rest?

When, however, Sergeant-major Farran died suddenly of sunstroke after a heavy field-day, whatever plans and hopes his daughter may have entertained came to an end. Her name and that of her mother were put down among the women to be sent, with the next batch of invalids, home to England, and she suddenly accepted the offer of marriage of young Sergeant Humphreys, whose advances she had previously treated with scorn. They were married six weeks later, on the day before her mother was to go down by train with a party of invalids to Calcutta. The universal opinion of the women in the regiment was that the sergeant had got a bad bargain.

"No man of spirit," one of them said, "would have taken up with a girl who only accepted him because she could not do any better. She has got her temper written in her face, and a nice time of it he is likely to have."

It may have been true that Jane Humphreys had during her father's lifetime had her ambitions, but she was a clever woman and adapted herself to her circumstances. If, as the sergeant-major's daughter, she had given herself airs, and had thrown herself in the way of the young officers, and had been light and flighty in her manner, all this was changed as soon as she was married, and even the most censorious were obliged to admit that she made Sergeant Humphreys a better wife than they had expected. His home was admirably kept, the gay dresses that had been somewhat beyond her station were cut up and altered, and she dressed neatly and quietly.

She was handy with her fingers, her things always fitted her well, and she gained the approbation of the officers' wives, who had previously looked upon her with some disfavour as a forward young person. She made every effort to get on good terms with the wives of the other non-commissioned officers, and succeeded at last in overcoming the prejudice which, as Jane Farran, she had excited. There was no doubt that she was a clever woman, and it was equally beyond doubt that she completely managed her husband. She was much his superior in education, and possessing far greater abilities could twist him round her little finger, although she did it so cleverly that he never suspected that he was the victim of such an operation.

A month previous to the opening of the story she had been confined of a boy, and two days later Mrs. Clinton, the wife of the captain of her husband's company, also became a mother. Before the week was over Mrs. Clinton was taken dangerously ill, and as it was impossible for her to nurse her child, the surgeon of the regiment recommended that it should be given into the charge of the sergeant's wife, as she, being a strong and healthy young woman, could very well nurse it as well as her own. It was a month after this that Sergeant Humphreys, returning to his quarters, found his wife sitting by the side of the bed on which the two infants were asleep.

"They are as alike as two peas," he said as he looked at them. "I am sure I wonder, Jane, that you know which is which!"

Mrs. Humphreys' answer did not seem to the point. "Captain Clinton is a rich man, is he not, John?"

"Yes; they say he came into a grand estate two years ago when his father died, and that like enough he will leave the regiment when it goes home next year."

"Then one of those babies will be a rich man, and the other—" and she stopped.

"The other will, I hope, be a non-commissioned officer in the 30th Foot one of these days," the sergeant said. Jane looked up at her husband. There was no touch of envy or discontent in his voice. She was about to speak but checked herself.

"Which is yours, John?" she asked a moment later, returning to his first remark.

"I am sure I could not tell," he said with a laugh. "Babies are mostly pretty much alike, and as these two are just the same age, and just the same size, and have both got gray eyes and light coloured hair—if you can call it hair,—and no noses to speak of, I don't see a pin's point of difference."

A month later a small party were assembled in Captain Clinton's bungalow. Mrs. Humphreys was standing with a baby in each arm. Mrs. Clinton was lying upon a sofa crying bitterly. Captain Clinton was walking up and down the room, hot and angry. The surgeon of the regiment was standing grave and sympathetic by Mrs. Clinton. Sergeant Humphreys was in the attitude of attention by the door, with an anxious troubled expression on his face.

"What in the world is to be done, doctor?" Captain Clinton asked. "I never heard of such a thing, it is a most serious business."

"I can quite see that," the doctor replied. "When Mrs. Humphreys came to me and asked me to break the news to you, I told her at once that it was a terrible business. I own that I do not see that she is altogether to blame, but it is a most unfortunate occurrence. As I have just told you, she had, when she put the children to bed, put your child in one of her baby's night-gowns, as it happened there were none of your child's clean. In the morning she took them out and laid them on a rug on the ground before beginning to wash and dress them. She went out to the canteen to get something for her husband's breakfast, and when she returned she could not remember the order in which she had taken them out of bed and laid them down, and could not distinguish her own child from yours."

"You must remember, Mrs. Humphreys," Captain Clinton broke in; "think it over, woman. You must remember how you laid them down."

"Indeed, I do not, sir; I have been thinking all the morning. I had nursed them two or three times during the night, and of course had changed their position then. I never thought about their having the same night-gowns on. If I had, of course I should have been more careful, for I have said to my husband over and over again that it was only by their clothes that I should know them apart, for if they had been twins they could not be more alike.

"This is downright maddening!" Captain Clinton exclaimed, pacing up and down the room. "And is there no mark nor anything by which they can be recognized? Why, bless me, woman, surely you as a mother ought to know your own child!"

Mrs. Humphreys shook her head. "I have nursed them both, sir, and which is mine and which is yours I could not say to save my life."

"Well, put the children down on that sofa," Captain Clinton said, "and take yourself off for the present; you have done mischief enough for a lifetime. I will let you know what we decide upon later on."

"Well, doctor, what on earth is to be done?" he asked after the door had closed upon the sergeant and his wife. "What do you think had best be done, Lucy?"

But Mrs. Clinton, who was but just recovering from her illness, was too prostrated by this terrible blow to be able to offer any suggestion.

"It is a terrible business indeed, Clinton," the doctor said, "and I feel for you most deeply. Of course the possibility of such a thing never entered my mind when I recommended you to let Mrs. Humphreys act as its foster-mother. It seemed at the time quite a providential circumstance that she too should be just confined, and in a position to take to your baby. The only possible suggestion I can offer is that you should for a time bring up both boys as your own. At present they are certainly wonderfully alike, but it is probable that as they grow up you will see in one or other of them a likeness to yourself or your wife, and that the other will take after its own parents. Of course these likenesses do not always exist, but in nine cases out of ten some resemblance can be traced between a boy and one or other of his parents."

"That certainly seems feasible," Captain Clinton said in a tone of relief. "What do you say, dear? It is only bringing up the two children for a time till we are able to be certain which is our own. The other will have had the advantage of a good education and so on, and of course it will be our business to give him a good start in life."

"It will be awful having the two children, and not knowing which is our own."

"It will be very unpleasant," Captain Clinton said soothingly; "but, you see, in time you will come to care for them both just as if they had been twins."

"That will be almost as bad," Mrs. Clinton cried feebly. "And suppose one gets to love the wrong one best?"

"We won't suppose that, dear; but if we love them both equally, we will, when we find out which is ours, treat the other as an adopted child and complete his education, and start him in life as if he were so. Fortunately the expense will be nothing to us."

"But this woman has a right to one of them."

"She does not deserve to have one," Captain Clinton said angrily; "but of course we must make some arrangement with her. She is bound to do her best to repair the terrible mischief her carelessness has caused. Well, doctor, we will think it over for an hour or two, but certainly your suggestion seems by far the best for us to adopt."

"The hussy!" the doctor said as he walked away to his quarters. "I am more than half inclined to believe that she has done it on purpose. I never liked the jade before she married, though I own that she has turned out better than I expected. But I always thought her a designing and artful young woman, and gave her credit for plenty of brains, and what could suit her purpose better than this change of children? She would see that in the first place she would get her own boy well brought up, and perhaps provided for, with all sorts of chances of making money out of the affair. It may have been an accident, of course, but if so, it was a wonderfully fortunate one for her."

Such was the opinion among the women of the regiment when the news became known, and Jane Humphreys was speedily made aware of the fact by the change in their manner towards her. They had, however, but small opportunity for demonstrating their opinion, for Mrs. Humphreys remained shut up as much as possible in her room, and the one or two women who were inclined to take a favourable view of the matter and so called upon her, reported that she was completely prostrated by the occurrence. Among the officers and their families the greatest commiseration was felt for Captain Clinton and his wife, and the matter was discussed at tiffin that day with great animation.

"Don't you think, doctor, that a woman must know her own child?" a young ensign asked.

"Not at all, Arbuthnot; that is to say, not if you mean that she would know it by any sort of maternal instinct. There is no such thing. She has no more means of telling her own infant out of a dozen others of similar complexion, age, and appearance, than she would have of picking out her own pocket-handkerchief out of a dozen others of similar pattern if they were all unmarked."

"But a sheep can pick out his own lamb among a hundred, doctor, and I am sure they are alike as so many peas. Surely that must be maternal instinct?"

"Not in the smallest degree, Arbuthnot. The sheep and other animals possess in a very high degree a sense which is comparatively rudimentary in human beings. I mean, of course, the sense of smell. A sheep knows her lamb, and a cow knows her calf, neither by the sense of hearing or by that of sight. She recognizes it solely and wholly by her sense of smell, just as a dog can track its master's footsteps out of a thousand by the same sense. The two babies are as alike as twins; and I am not surprised that, if they really got mixed, this woman should not be able to detect one from the other."

"It is an awful thing for Clinton," the major said. "Here he has got a splendid estate, and he will never be certain whether his own son or a stranger is going to inherit it after him. It is enough to make a man go out of his mind."

"I don't see that that would be likely to mend matters," the doctor said dryly; "in fact it would lessen the one chance that exists of ever setting the matter straight. As I have told him, though these children are very much alike at present—and indeed most babies are—it is probable that as they grow up there will no longer be any resemblance whatever, and that his own child will develop a likeness either to him or Mrs. Clinton, while the other child will resemble the sergeant or his wife."

"We must hope it will be so," the major said, "though there are lots of fellows who don't resemble in the least either of their parents. But what is Clinton going to do about it?"

"He has not settled yet. His wife was in no condition to discuss the matter, poor lady! My suggestion was that he should bring up both the children as if they were his own, until one or other of them develops this likeness that I was speaking of."

"I suppose that is the best thing they can do, doctor; but it will be an awful business if, as they grow up, no likeness to anybody can be detected in either of them."

"Well, major, although at present it does seem an awful thing, it won't seem so bad at the end, say, of twenty years. They will naturally by that time be as fond of one as the other. The boys, in fact, will be like twins; and I suppose the property can be divided in some such way as it would be were they really in that relation to each other."

"But, you see, doctor," one of the captains said, "Mrs. Humphreys has to be considered to a certain extent too. It is hard on Mrs. Clinton; but if she gets both boys she is certain at any rate that one of them is her son, and Mrs. Humphreys will, by that arrangement, have to lose her child altogether. That seems to me pretty rough on her."

"Well, she brought it on herself," the doctor replied. "The whole thing has arisen from her carelessness."

"Do you think it was carelessness, doctor?" the major asked.

"That is a matter on which I will give no opinion, major. It is one upon which one man can form a judgment as well as another. The thing may very well have happened in the way she describes; and again it may be a very cunningly devised plot on her part. It is evident she had everything to gain by such an accident. She would get her child taken off her hands, educated, and provided for. She would calculate no doubt that she would be their nurse, and would expect, in return for giving up her claim to one or other of them, some very distinct monetary advantages. I do not at all say that the affair was not an accident. Upon the contrary, I admit that it was an accident which might very well happen under the circumstances. What I do say is, nothing could have turned out better for her."

Just as tiffin was finished, Captain Clinton's soldier-servant came into the mess-room with the request that Dr. Parker should go across to his master's bungalow. "Well, doctor," Captain Clinton said as he entered, "in the first place I want you to go up and see my wife, and give her a sedative or something, for she is terribly upset over this affair; and in the next place I want to tell you that we have agreed to take your advice in the matter, and to bring up the two children as our own until we can make out which of the two is our child; then I want your advice as to whether they can be weaned without any damage to their health. My wife is determined upon that point. They shall not be brought up by Mrs. Humphreys There is no other woman, is there, in the regiment with a young baby?"

The doctor shook his head. "There are one or two with babies, but not with babies young enough for her to take to these. It would certainly be far better that they should have the natural nourishment, but I do not say that they would necessarily suffer from being weaned. Still, you see, Clinton, there is a question whether this woman will consent to part with both the children."

"I quite see that, doctor, and of course I shall be ready to make any money arrangements that will content her."

"I would see the husband, if I were you," the doctor said. "He is a steady, well-conducted young fellow, and however this matter has come about, I quite acquit him of having any share in it. I think you will find it more easy to deal with him than his wife. Unfortunately, you see, there is always a difficulty with adopted children. A father cannot sell away his rights; he may agree to do so, but if he changes his mind afterwards he can back out of his agreement. However he may bind himself never to interfere with it, the fact remains that he has a legal right to the custody of his child. And though Sergeant Humphreys might keep any agreement he might make, the mother might give you no end of trouble afterwards."

"I see all that, doctor, but of the two evils I think the one we propose is the least. My wife says she could not bear to see this woman about the children, and I have a good deal of the same feeling myself. At any rate in her present state of health I wish to spare her all trouble and anxiety as much as I can, and therefore it is better to buy this woman off for the present, even though we may have to run the risk of trouble with her afterwards. Anyhow, something must be done at once. The children have both been squalling for the last hour, though I believe that they have had some milk or something given to them. So I had better send across for Humphreys, the sooner the matter is got over the better."

The young sergeant presently appeared.

"Sit down, sergeant. I want to have a talk with you over this terribly painful business. In one respect I quite understand that it is as painful for you and Mrs. Humphreys as it is for us, but in other respects you are much better off than I am. Not only do I not know which is my child, but I do not know which is heir to my estate; which is, as you will understand, a most serious matter."

"I can quite understand that, sir," the sergeant said quietly.

"The only plan that I can see," Captain Clinton went on, "is that for the present I shall adopt both children, and shall bring them up as my own. Probably in time one of them will grow up with some resemblance to myself or Mrs. Clinton, and the other will show a likeness to you or your wife. In that case I should propose to finish the education of your boy, and then to provide for him by putting him into the army, or such other profession as he may choose; for it would be very unfair after bringing him up and educating him as my own to turn him adrift. Thus, you see, in any case my adoption of him would be greatly to his benefit. I can, of course, thoroughly understand that it will be very hard for you and Mrs. Humphreys to give up your child. Very hard. And I am quite ready to make any pecuniary arrangement with you and her that you may think right. I may say that I do not think that it would be desirable that Mrs. Humphreys should continue as their nurse. I want to consider the boys as my own, and her presence would be constantly bringing up unpleasant remembrances. In the second place I think that it would be better for her that she should not act as their nurse. She would know that one of them is her own, and the separation when it came would be very much more painful than it would be at present. Of course I do not expect an answer from you just at this moment. You will naturally wish to talk it over with her, but I shall be glad if you will let us have an answer as soon as you can, as it is necessary that we should obtain another nurse without loss of time."

"What you say seems to me very fair, Captain Clinton," the sergeant said. "I would give anything, sir, that this shouldn't have happened. I would rather have shot myself first. I can answer for myself, sir, that I accept your offer. Of course, I am sorry to lose the child; but a baby is not much to a man till it gets to know him and begins to talk, and it will be a satisfaction to know that he is in good hands, with a far better look-out than I could have given him. I will see my wife, sir, and let you know in half an hour."

"Do you think that she will consent, Humphreys?"

"I am sure she will," the sergeant said briefly, and then added, "There is nothing else she could do," and saluting he went out of the room.

"He suspects his wife of having done it on purpose," Dr. Parker said, speaking for the first time since the sergeant had entered the room. "I don't say he knows it, but he suspects it. Did you notice how decidedly he said that she would consent? And I fancy up to now she has had her own way in everything."

"Well, what do they say?" Mrs. Humphreys asked as her husband entered the door. He told her shortly the offer that had been made. She laughed scornfully. "A likely thing that! So they are to have both children, and I am not to be allowed even to see them; and they are to pick and choose as to which they like to say is theirs, and we are to be shouldered out of it altogether! It is just as bad for me not to know which is my boy as it is for that woman; but they are to take the whole settlement of things in their hands, my feelings to go for nothing. Of course you told them that you would not let them do such a thing?"

"I did not tell them anything of the sort. I told them that I accepted their proposal, and that I could answer for your accepting it too."

"Then you were never more wrong in your life, John Humphreys!" she said angrily; "I won't consent to anything of the sort. Luck has thrown a good thing in our hands, and I mean to make the most of it. We ought to get enough out of this to make us comfortable for life if we work it well. I did not think that you were such a soft!"

"Soft or not soft, it is going to be done as they propose," her husband said doggedly. "It is burden enough as it is—we have lost our child. Not that I care so very much about that; there will be time enough for more, and children do not add to the comfort of close little quarters like these. But whether we like it or not, we have lost the child. In the next place we shall never hear the end of it in the regiment, and I shall see if I cannot manage to get transferred to another. There will be no standing the talk there will be."

"Let them talk!" his wife said scornfully. "What do we care about their talk!"

"I care a great deal," he said. "And I tell you why, because I know what they will say is true."

"What do you mean?" she asked quickly.

"I mean, Jane, that I know you mixed up those children on purpose."

"How dare you say so!" she exclaimed making a step forward as if she would strike him.

"I will tell you why I say so. Because I went to the drawer this morning before going to parade, and I saw some of Mrs. Clinton's baby's night-gowns in it. Yes, I see they are all in the wash-tub now; but they were there this morning, and when I heard you say you had put the child into one of our baby's night-gowns because it had no clean ones of its own, I knew that you were lying, and that you had done this on purpose."

The woman was silent a moment and then burst out, "You are a greater fool than ever I thought you! I did tell a lie when I gave that reason for putting the child into our baby's gown. When I took the two clean ones out of the drawer I did not notice until I put them on that they were both ours, and then I thought it was not worth while changing again just as the child had got quiet and comfortable. Then when I found what had happened in the morning, I had to make some excuse or other, and that occurred to me as the best. When I came back I did put them all into the wash-tub, clean and dirty, in case any one should come here to see about them. What harm was there in that, I should like to know?"

"You have acknowledged you have told one lie over it; after that you may say what you like, but you need not expect me to believe you."

"Well, why don't you go at once and tell them that you believe that I changed the children on purpose?"

"Because in the first place I cannot prove it, and because in the second case you are my wife, Jane. I took you for better or worse, and whatever you have done it is not for me to round on you. Anyhow, I will do all I can to set this matter straight, and the only way that I see it can be set straight is by doing as Captain Clinton says—by letting him have the two children until they grow up, and then see which of the two is like them and which is like us. What do you want done? I suppose you don't want to have the care of them both. I suppose you don't want to get paid for letting them keep them both, and to have every man and woman in the regiment asking the question, Who sold their child? What is it you do want?"

"I want to go as their nurse."

"Well, then, you cannot do it. It is evident that Mrs. Clinton hates the sight of you, and no wonder; and she won't have you at any price. You had best be contented with what you have got."

"What have I got?" she asked sullenly.

"Well, you have got the trouble of the child off your hands, you have got the knowledge that it will be well taken care of and provided for and made a gentleman of. That ought to be a satisfaction to you anyhow."

"What is that when we might make a nice little fortune out of it?"

"I can see no way of making a fortune," he said, "unless you do know which is which, and offer to tell them if they will pay you for it. In which case, instead of making a fortune you would be likely to find yourself inside a prison for years—and serve you right."

The woman was silent for some time, then she said, "Very well, then, I will agree to their terms; but mind you, I will make money out of it yet." And so Sergeant Humphreys went across to Captain Clinton's bungalow and told him that his wife agreed to give up both children.

"It is by far the best thing for the little chap whichever he may be, and you will be able to do a deal more for him than I ever could. My wife did not quite see the matter at first, but she has come round to my way of thinking. No, sir, we do not want to be paid," as Captain Clinton was about to speak; "as long as I am fit for service we want nothing. Some day, perhaps, when I get past service I may ask you to give me a job as a lodge-keeper or some such post, where I can earn my living."

And so the matter was settled. One of the other officers' wives had already lent her ayah to take care of the children until one could be found for them.

The ready manner in which Sergeant Humphreys had done the only thing in his power to obviate the effects of his wife's carelessness restored him at once to the good opinion of his fellow sergeants and the men, as it was generally allowed that he had done the right thing, and that no one could do more. Opinion, however, was less favourable as to his wife. It was soon evident to all who lived in the non-commissioned officers' quarters that things were not going on well between Sergeant Humphreys and his wife. There were frequent and violent quarrels. The sergeant was often down at the canteen drinking more than was good for him.

One day Captain Clinton sent for him. "Sergeant, I am sorry to say that I hear from the sergeant-major that you were drunk last night, and that you have several times been the worse for liquor. It is not a formal complaint, but I thought it better to talk to you. You have always been a very steady man, and I should be sorry in the extreme if any thing should happen which would cause you to be brought before the colonel. I have no doubt this affair has troubled you greatly, and that it is entirely owing to that that you have become unsettled. Try to pull yourself round, man. You know that nobody attributes the slightest shadow of blame to you in the matter."

"Thank you, sir. I was coming to see you if you hadn't sent for me, to say that I wished to give up my stripes and return to the ranks. I know I shall be degraded if I don't do it of my own free-will, and I would rather go down than be sent down."

"But what will your wife do? It would be a great change to her, Humphreys."

"My wife has made up her mind to go home, sir, and I think it is the best thing she can do. She will never be comfortable in the regiment, and to say the truth we are not comfortable together. She says that she has friends in England she will go and stay with, and I think it is best to let her go. I would rather cut my hand off than ask for any thing for myself, but as I am sure that it is for the best that she should go, and as I don't hear of any invalids or women going home at present, I should be very much obliged if you would lend me twenty pounds. I have got thirty laid by, and fifty will be enough to send her across by rail to Bombay, pay her passage home, and leave her twenty pounds in hand when she gets there. I will pay it off so much a month."

"You are welcome to twenty pounds without any talk of repayment, Humphreys. But I wouldn't take any hasty step if I were you. If your wife and you have had a quarrel she may change her mind in a day or two, and think better of it."

"No, sir; I think we are pretty well agreed on the point that she had best go home. People make mistakes sometimes, and I think we both made a mistake when we got married. Anyhow, we have both agreed that it is best to part for a time."

Accordingly three or four days later Mrs. Humphreys left Agra for Bombay, and was seen no more in the regiment. Sergeant Humphreys gave up his stripes and returned to the ranks, and for two years remained there. After his wife had left him he gradually gave up the habit into which he had fallen, and at the end of the two years again became a non-commissioned officer. He was never heard to speak of his wife after she left him, nor so far as his comrades knew did he ever receive a letter from her. Soon after he had again got his stripes the regiment returned to England, and a month later Captain Clinton sent in his papers and retired from the service.

CHAPTER II. AT CHELTENHAM.

"Everything packed and ready, boys?"

"Yes, father, I think so."

"The dog-cart will be at the door at eleven. Be sure and be ready in time. It won't do to miss your train, you know. Well, you have had a pleasant holiday this time, haven't you?"

"Very," both boys replied together.

"It has been awfully jolly," one went on, "and that trip in Brittany was certainly the best thing we have done, though we have always enjoyed our holidays. It is ever so much nicer going to out-of-the-way sort of places, and stopping at jolly little inns without any crowd and fuss, than being in those great Swiss hotels as we were last year, where every one was English, and one had to be in at regular times and almost fight to get something to eat. I hope next year you will be able to take us to Norway, as you were saying yesterday. I should think it would be just the same sort of thing as Brittany, only, of course, different sort of scenery, and different language and different people. Madge, you will have to set to and get up Norse to act as our interpreter."

"You are very lazy boys. I had to do all the talking in Brittany. You are supposed to have learnt French longer than I have."

"Oh, yes; supposed. Nobody cares about their French lessons. They make no difference in your place in the school, and so no one takes the trouble to grind at them. Well, come along, let us take a turn round the place for an hour before we start." And the two boys and Madge, who was a year their junior, went out through the French window into the garden.

Captain Clinton walked to the window and looked after them. They were lads any father might be proud of, straight, well-built, handsome English lads of about sixteen. Rupert was somewhat taller than Edgar, while the latter had slightly the advantage in breadth of shoulders. Beyond the fact that both had brown hair and gray eyes there was no marked likeness between them, and their school-fellows often wondered that there should not be more similarity between twins. Both had pleasant open faces, and they were equally popular among their school-fellows. As to which was the cleverest, there were no means of ascertaining; for although both were at Cheltenham together, one was on the modern and the other on the classical side, Captain Clinton having made this arrangement purposely in order that there should be no rivalry between them, and the unpleasantness that sometimes arises when two brothers are at the same school, and one is more clever than the other, was thereby obviated. Rupert was the more lively of the two, and generally did the largest share of talking when they were together; but Edgar, although he talked less, had the more lively sense of humour, and the laughter that broke out in the garden was caused by some quiet remark of his. Captain Clinton turned sharply round upon hearing a sigh from his wife.

"Well, Lucy, I know what you are thinking: another holiday over, and we are no nearer to the truth. I own that our plan has failed so far, for I can't see in either of the boys a shadow of resemblance either to you or myself. Some people profess to see likenesses. Mr. Tomline remarked yesterday that he should have known Rupert anywhere as my son, but then Colonel Wilson said the day before that Edgar had got just your expression. I don't see a scrap of likeness either way, and I begin to think, dear, that I don't want to see it."

"No, I don't want to see it either, Percy; I love one as well as the other. Still I should like to know which is our own."

"I used to think so too, Lucy; but I have been doubting for some time about it, and now I am quite sure that I don't want to know. They are both fine lads, and, as you say, we love one just as well as the other. Parental instinct, you see, goes for nothing. I should like to know that one of them was my son, but on the other hand I should be very sorry to know that the other wasn't. I think, dear, that it is much better as it is. We have got two sons instead of one; and after all, the idea that there would be a great satisfaction in the real one inheriting all our landed property has very little in it. There is plenty for them both, and each of them will be just as happy on three thousand a year as he would on six.

"As matters stand now, I have divided the property as nearly as possible equally between them. Madge, of course, will have her share; and I have left it in my will that they shall draw lots which shall have the part with the house and park on it, while the other is to have a sum of money sufficient to build an equally good house on his share of the estate. We can only hope that chance will be wiser than we, and will give the old house to the right boy. However, whether our son or our adopted son, whichever be which, gets it, does not concern me greatly. There is enough for our son to hold a good position and be comfortable and happy. Beyond this I do not trouble. At any rate the grievance, if there is a grievance, is a sentimental one; while it would be a matter of real grief to me should either of them, after having always looked upon us as his parents, come to know that he does not belong to us, and that he has been all along in a false position, and has been in fact but an interloper here. That would be terribly hard for him—so hard that I have ceased to wish that the matter should ever be cleared up, and to dread rather than hope that I should discover an unmistakable likeness to either of us in one or other of them."

"You are right, Percy; and henceforth I will worry no more about it. It would be hard, dreadfully hard, on either of them to know that he was not our son; and henceforth I will, like you, try to give up wishing that I could tell which is which. I hope they will never get to know that there is any doubt about it."

"I am afraid we can hardly hope that," Captain Clinton said. "There are too many people who know the story. Of course it was talked about at every station in India at the time, and I know that even about here it is generally known. No, it will be better some day or other to tell it them ourselves, making, of course, light of the matter, and letting them see that we regard them equally as our sons, and love and care for them alike, and that even if we now knew the truth it could make no difference in our feelings towards them. It is much better they should learn it from us than from anyone else."

At eleven o'clock the dog-cart came to the door. The boys were ready. Captain Clinton drove them to the station four miles away, and in two hours after leaving home they arrived at Cheltenham with a large number of their school-fellows, some of whom had been in the train when they entered it, while others had joined them at Gloucester. At Cheltenham there was a scramble for vehicles, and they were soon at the boarding-house of Mr. River-Smith, which had the reputation of being the most comfortable of the Cheltenham boarding-houses.

There was a din of voices through the house, and in the pleasure of meeting again and of exchanging accounts of how the holidays had been spent, the few lingering regrets that school-time had come round again completely vanished. Then there was a discussion as to the football prospects and who would get their house colours in place of those who had gone, and whether River-Smith's was likely to retain the position it had won by its victories over other houses in the previous season; and the general opinion was that their chances were not good.

"You see," Skinner, the captain of the team, said to a party gathered in the senior boys' study, "Harrison and White will be better than last year, but Wade will of course be a great loss; his weight and strength told tremendously in a scrimmage. Hart was a capital half-back too, and there was no better goal-keeper in the college than Wilson. We have not got any one to take their places, and there are four other vacancies in the team, and in each case those who have left were a lot bigger and stronger than any of the young ones we have got to choose from. I don't know who they will be yet, and must wait for the trial matches before we decide; but I think there is plenty of good material to choose from, and we shall be nearly all up to last year's mark, except in point of weight—there is a terrible falling off there, and we have no one who can fill the place of Wade. He was as strong as a bull; yes, he is an awful loss to us! There was not a fellow in the college who could go through a grease as he could. You remember last year how he rolled those fellows of Bishop's over and carried the ball right through them, and then kicked the deciding goal? That was grand! Why don't some of you fellows grow up like him?" And he looked round reproachfully at his listeners. "Over thirteen stone Wade was, and there is not one of you above eleven and a half—anyhow, not more than a few pounds."

"Why don't you set us an example?" Edgar Clinton asked; and there was a laugh, for the captain of the team was all wire and muscle and could not turn ten stone.

"I am not one of that kind," he said; "but there is Wordsworth, who is pretty near six feet in length, and who, if he gave his mind to it and would but eat his food quietly instead of bolting it, might put some flesh on those spindle-shanks of his and fill himself out till he got pretty near to Wade's weight. A fellow ought to do something for his house, and I call it a mere waste of bone when a fellow doesn't put some flesh on him."

"I can run," Wordsworth said apologetically.

"Yes, you can run when you get the ball," Skinner said in a tone of disgust; "but if a fellow half your height runs up against you, over you go. You must lay yourself out for pudding, Wordsworth. With that, and eating your food more slowly, you really might get to be of some use to the house."

Wordsworth grumbled something about his having done his share last year.

"It all depends what you think your share is," Skinner said severely. "You did your best, I have no doubt, and you certainly got a good many goals, but that arose largely from the fact that there was nothing tangible in you. You see, you were something like a jointed walking-stick, and, naturally, it puzzled fellows. You have grown wider a bit since then, and must therefore try to make yourself useful in some other line. What we want is weight, and the sooner you put weight on the better. I see Easton has not come yet."

"He never comes until the evening train," another said. "He always declares it has something to do with cross lines not fitting in."

"It takes him so long," Skinner growled, "to fold up his things without a crease, to scent his pocket-handkerchief, and to get his hair to his satisfaction, that you may be quite sure he cannot make an early start. As he is not here, and all the rest that are left out of last year's team are, it is a good opportunity to talk him over. I did not like having him in the team last year, though he certainly did better than some. What do you think? Ought we to have him this year or not? I have been thinking a lot about it."

"I don't care for him," Scudamore said, "but I am bound to say he does put off all that finicking nonsense when he gets his football jersey on, and plays a good, hard game, and does not seem to mind in the least how muddy or dirty he gets. I should certainly put him in again, Skinner, if I were you."

There was a murmur of assent from three or four of the others.

"Well, I suppose he ought to play," Skinner said; "but it does rile me to see him come sauntering up as if it was quite an accident that he was there, and talk in that drawling, affected sort of way."

"It is riling," another said; "but besides that I do not think there is much to complain about him, and his making an ass of himself at other times does not affect us so long as he plays well in the team."

"No, I do not know that it does, but all the same it is a nuisance when one fellow keeps himself to himself and never seems to go in for anything. I do not suppose Easton means to give himself airs, but there is nothing sociable about him."

"I think he is a kind-hearted fellow," Edgar Clinton said, speaking, however, with less decision than usual, as became one who was not yet in the first form. "When young Jackson twisted his ankle so badly last term at the junior high jump, I know he used to go up and sit with him, and read with him for an hour at a time pretty near every day. I used often to wish I could manage to get up to him, but somehow I never could spare time; but Easton did, though he was in the college four and was working pretty hard too. I have known two or three other things he has done on the quiet. I don't care for his way of dressing nor for his drawling way of talking, in fact, I don't care for him at all personally; but he is a good-natured fellow in spite of his nonsense."

"Well, then, we must try him again," Skinner said, "and see how he does in the trial matches. There is no certainty about him, that is what I hate; one day he plays up and does uncommonly well, then the next day he does not seem to take a bit of interest in the game."

"I have noticed several times," Scudamore said, "that Easton's play depends very much on the state of the game: if we are getting the best of it he seems to think that there is no occasion to exert himself, but if the game is going against us he pulls himself together and goes into it with all his might."

"He does that," Skinner agreed; "that is what riles me in the fellow. He can play a ripping good game when he likes, but then he does not always like. However, as I said, we will give him another trial."

Half an hour later the subject of the conversation arrived. He was in the first form on the classical side, and was going up at the next examination for Sandhurst. Easton was one of the monitors, but seldom asserted his authority or put himself out in any way to perform the duties of the office. He was dressed with scrupulous care, and no one from his appearance would have said that he had just come off a railway journey. He nodded all round in a careless way as he came in, and there was none of the boisterous friendliness that had marked the meeting of most of the others.

"Affected ass!" Skinner growled to Rupert who was next to him.

"You are a prejudiced beggar, Skinner," Rupert laughed. "You know very well he is not an ass, and I am not at all sure he is affected. I suppose it is the way he has been brought up. There is no saying what you might have been yourself if you had had nurses and people about you who always insisted on your turning out spick-and-span. Well, Easton, what have you been doing with yourself since we saw you last?"

"I have been on the Continent most of the time," Easton said, in the quiet, deliberate tone that was so annoying to Skinner. "Spent most of the time in Germany: had a week at Munich, and the same time in Dresden doing the picture-gallery."

"That must have been a treat," Skinner said sarcastically.

"Yes, it was very pleasant. The worst of it is, standing about so long makes one's feet ache."

"I wonder you did not have a bath-chair, Easton; delicate people go about in them, you know."

"It would be a very pleasant way, Skinner, only I don't think I could bring myself to it."

There was a laugh at his taking Skinner's suggestion seriously.

"What have you been doing, Skinner?"

"I have been up in Scotland climbing hills, and getting myself in good condition for football," Skinner replied shortly.

"Ah, football? Yes, I suppose we shall be playing football this term."

There was another laugh, excited principally by the angry growl with which Skinner greeted this indifference to what was to him the principal feature of the year.

"I shouldn't mind football," Easton went on, after looking round as if unable to understand what the others were laughing at, "if it wasn't for the dirt. Of course it is annoying to be kicked in the shins and to be squeezed horribly in the greases, but it is the dirt I object to most. If one could but get one's flannels and jerseys properly washed every time it would not matter so much, but it is disgusting to have to put on things that look as if they had been rolled in mud."

"I wonder you play at all, Easton," Skinner said angrily.

"Well, I wonder myself sometimes," Easton said placidly. "I suppose it is a relic of our original savage nature, when men did not mind dirt, and lived by hunting and fighting and that sort of thing."

"And had never learned the nuisance of stiff shirts and collars, and never heard of such a thing as a tailor, and did not part their hair in the middle, Easton, and had never used soap," Skinner broke in.

"No; it must have been beastly," Easton said gravely. "I am very glad that I did not live in those days."

"Ah, you would have suffered horribly if you had, wouldn't you?"

"Well, I don't know, Skinner; I suppose I should have done as other people did. If one does not know the comfort of a wash and a clean shirt, one would not miss it, you see. I have sometimes thought—"

"Oh, never mind what you thought," Skinner broke in out of all patience. "Come, let us go for a walk; it is no use stopping here all this fine afternoon. Let us take a good long spin. I can see half you fellows are out of condition altogether, and the sooner we begin work the better. Will you come, Easton? After lolling about looking at pictures a twelve-mile spin will do you good."

"Thank you, Skinner; I don't know that I want any good done to me. I should not mind a walk, if it is to be a walk; but a walk with you generally means rushing across ploughed fields and jumping into ditches, and getting one's self hot and uncomfortable, and splashing one's self from head to foot. It is bad enough in flannels, but it is downright misery in one's ordinary clothes. But I don't mind a game at rackets, if anyone is disposed for it."

"I will play you," Mossop said. "I want to get my hand in before the racket matches come off."

So they went and put on their flannels and racket shoes, while the rest of the party started for a long walk with Skinner.

"I am glad he has not come," the football captain said as they started; "he drives me out of all patience."

"I don't think you have much to drive out of you, Skinner," Rupert Clinton laughed. "I believe Easton puts about half of it on, on purpose to excite you. I am sure just now I saw a little amusement in his face when he was talking so gravely."

"He will find he has got in the wrong box," Skinner said angrily, "if he tries to chaff me."

A quiet smile was exchanged among the others, for Easton was tall and well built and had the reputation of being the best boxer in the school; and although Skinner was tough and wiry, he would have stood no chance in an encounter with him.

"Well, how did you get on, Mossop?" Scudamore asked as they sat down to tea.

"Easton beat me every game. I had no idea that he was so good. He says he does not intend to play for the racket, but if he did he would have a first-rate chance. I was in the last ties last year and I ought to have a good chance this, but either I am altogether out of practice or he is wonderfully good. I was asking him, and he said in his lazy way that they had got a decent racket-court at his place, and that he had been knocking the balls about a bit since he came home."

"If he is good enough to win," Pinkerton, the captain of the house, said, "he ought to play for the honour of the house. He has never played in any matches here before. I did not know he played at all."

"That is the way with Easton," Edgar Clinton said; "he is good all round, only he never takes trouble to show it. He could have been in the college cricket eleven last year if he liked, only he said he could not spare the time. Though Skinner doesn't think so, I believe he is one of the best in our football team; when he chooses to exert himself he is out and out the best chess player in the house; and I suppose he is safe to pass in high for Sandhurst."

"He is a queer fellow," Pinkerton said, "one never knows what he can do and what he can't. At the last exam Glover said that the papers he sent in were far and away the best, but that he had only done the difficult questions and hadn't sent in any answers at all to the easy ones, so that instead of coming in first he was five or six down the list. I believe myself he did not want to beat me, because if he had he would have been head of the house, and that would have been altogether too much trouble for him. Glover wanted him to go up for the last Indian Civil, and told him he was sure that he could get in if he tried, but Easton said he wasn't fond of heat and had no fancy for India."

"I suppose he was afraid to take the starch out of his collars," Edgar laughed. "Ah! here he is; late as usual."

Easton strolled quietly in and took his place, looking annoyingly fresh and clean by the side of those who had accompanied Skinner on his walk, and who, in spite of vigorous use of clothes brushes, showed signs of cross-country running.

"Have you had a pleasant walk?" he asked calmly.

"Very pleasant," Skinner said, in a tone that defied contradiction. "A delightful walk; just the thing for getting a little into condition."

There was a murmur of assent among the boys who had accompanied him, but there was no great heartiness in the sound; for indeed Skinner had pressed them all to a much higher rate of speed than was pleasant in their ordinary clothes, although they would not have minded it in flannels.

"You all look as if you had enjoyed it," Easton said, regarding them one by one with an air of innocent approval; "warmed yourselves up a bit, I should say. I remark a general disappearance of collars, and Rupert Clinton's face is scratched as if he had been having a contest with some old lady's cat."

"I went head-foremost into a hedge," Rupert laughed. "My foot slipped in the mud just as I was taking off, and I took a regular header into it."

"And what is the matter with your hand, Wordsworth?"

"A beast of a dog bit me. We were going across a field, and the brute came out from a farmhouse. My wind had gone, and I happened to be last and he made at me. Some fool has written in a book that if you keep your eyes fixed upon a dog he will never bite you. I fixed my eye on him like a gimlet but it did not act, and he came right at me and sprang at me and knocked me down and got my hand in his mouth, and I don't know what would have happened if Skinner hadn't pulled a stick out of the hedge, and rushed back and hit him such a lick across the back that he went off yelping. Then the farmer let fly with a double-barrelled gun from his garden; but luckily we were pretty well out of reach, though two or three shots hit Scudamore on the cheek and ear and pretty nearly drew blood. He wanted to go back to fight the farmer, but as the fellow would have reloaded by the time he got there, and there was the dog into the bargain, we lugged him off."

"Quite an adventurous afternoon," Easton said in a tone of cordial admiration, which elicited a growl from Skinner.

"You wish you had been with us, don't you?" he said, with what was meant to be a sneer.

"No, rackets was quite hard work enough for me; and I don't see much fun in either taking a header into a hedge, being bitten by a farmer's dog, or being peppered by the man himself. Still, no doubt these things are pleasant for those who like them. What has become of Templar?"

"He fell into a ditch," Wordsworth said; "and he just was in a state. He had to go up to the matron for a change of clothes. He will be here in a minute, I expect."

"Quite a catalogue of adventures. If I had known beforehand that there was going to be so much excitement I might have been tempted to go with you. I am afraid, Mossop, I have kept you out of quite a good thing."

"There, shut up Easton!" Pinkerton said, for he saw that Skinner was at the point of explosion; "let us have peace and quiet this first night. You have got the best of it, there is no doubt. Skinner would admit that."

"No I wouldn't," Skinner interrupted.

"Never mind whether you would or not, Skinner, it clearly is so. Now, let us change the conversation. For my part I cannot make out why one fellow cannot enjoy football and that sort of thing, and another like to lie on his back in the shade, without squabbling over it. If Skinner had his own way he would never sit quiet a minute, if Easton had his he would never exert himself to walk across the room. It is a matter of taste. I like half and half, but I do not want to interfere with either of your fancies. Now, it is about time to set to work. I expect there are a good many holiday tasks not perfect."

There was a chorus of assent, and the senior boys went off to their private studies, and the juniors to the large study, where they worked under the eye of the house-master.

Skinner's mournful anticipations as to the effect of the want of weight in the football team were speedily verified. The trial matches were almost all lost, the team being fairly borne down by the superior weight of their opponents. There was general exasperation at these disasters, for River-Smith's House had for some years stood high, and to be beaten in match after match was trying indeed. Skinner took the matter terribly to heart, and was in a chronic state of disgust and fury. As Easton observed to Edgar Clinton:

"Skinner is becoming positively dangerous. He is like a Scotch terrier with a sore ear, and snaps at every one who comes near him."

"Still it is annoying," Edgar, who thoroughly sympathized with Skinner, said.

"Well, yes, it is annoying. I am annoyed myself, and it takes a good deal to annoy me. I think we ought to do some thing."

"Well, it seems to me that we have been doing all we can," Edgar said. "I am sure you have, for it was only yesterday Skinner was holding you up as an example to some of us. He said, 'You ought all to be ashamed of yourselves. Why, look at that lazy beggar Easton, he works as hard as the whole lot of you put together. If it was not for him I should say we had better chuck it altogether.'"

"I observe that Skinner has been a little more civil to me lately," Easton said. "Yes, I do my best. I object to the whole thing, but if one does play one does not like being beaten. I think we had better have a talk over the matter together."

"But we are always talking over the matter," Edgar objected. "All the fellows who had a chance of turning out well have been tried, and I am sure we play up well together. Every one says that we are beaten just because we cannot stand their rushes."

That afternoon the house was badly beaten by the Greenites in the trial match, and as there was a special rivalry between Green's and River-Smith's the disgust not only of the members of the team but of the whole house was very great. Seven of the seniors met after tea in Skinner's study to discuss the situation.

"I don't see any thing to be done," Skinner said, after various possible changes in the team had been discussed; "it is not play we want, it is weight. The Greenites must average at least a stone and a half heavier than we do. I have nothing to say against the playing. We simply cannot stand against them; we go down like nine-pins. No, I suppose we shall lose every match this season. But I don't see any use in talking any more about it. I suppose no one has anything further to suggest."

"Well, yes, I have a few words to say," Easton, who had been sitting on the table and had hitherto not opened his lips, remarked in a quiet voice.

"Well, say away."

"It seems to me," Easton went on without paying any regard to the snappishness of Skinner's tone, "that though we cannot make ourselves any heavier, weight is not after all the only thing. I think we might make up for it by last. When fellows are going to row a race they don't content themselves with practice, they set to and train hard. It seems to me that if we were to go into strict training and get ourselves thoroughly fit, it ought to make a lot of difference. We might lose goals in the first half of the play, but if we were in good training we ought to get a pull in the second half. By playing up all we knew at first, and pumping them as much as possible, training ought to tell. I know, Skinner, you always said we ought to keep ourselves in good condition; but I mean more than that, I mean strict training—getting up early and going for a three or four mile run every morning, taking another run in the afternoon, cutting off pudding and all that sort of thing, and going in for it heart and soul. It is no use training unless one does a thing thoroughly."

"Well, one could but try," Skinner said. "There is no reason why one shouldn't train for football just as one does for rowing or running. You are the last fellow I should have expected to hear such a proposal from, Easton, but if you are ready to do it I am sure every one else will be."

There was a cordial exclamation of assent from the others.

"Well, of course it will be a horrible nuisance," Easton said regretfully; "but if one does go in for a thing of this sort it seems to me that it must be done thoroughly. And besides, it is very annoying just at the ticklish point of a game, when you would give anything to be able to catch the fellow ahead of you with the ball, to find that your lungs have given out, and that you haven't a cupful of wind left."

"I believe, Easton, that you are a downright humbug," Scudamore said; "and that while you pretend to hate anything like exertion, you are just as fond of it as Skinner is."

"Well, at any rate," Skinner broke in, "we will try Easton's suggestion. From to-night the team shall go into strict training. I will see River-Smith now and get leave for us to go out at six o'clock every morning. We will settle about the afternoon work afterwards. Of course pudding must be given up, and there must be no buying cakes or things of that sort. New bread and potatoes must be given up, and we must all agree never to touch anything to drink between meals. We will try the thing thoroughly. It will be a month before we play our next match with Green's. If we can but beat them I do not care so much about the others. There are two or three houses we should have no chance with if we were to train as fine as a university eight."

The rest of the team were at once informed of the determination that had been arrived at. Had it emanated only from Skinner several of the members might have protested against the hardship of going into training for football, but the fact that Easton had proposed it weighed with them all. If he was ready to take such trouble over the matter no one else could reasonably object, and the consequence was that, although not without a good deal of grumbling at being got up before daylight, the whole team turned out in their flannels and two thick jerseys punctually at six o'clock.

"Here is an egg and half cupful of milk for each of you," Skinner said as they gathered below. "Look sharp and beat up your egg with the milk. Here is a mouthful of biscuit for each. River-Smith said he did not like our going out without taking something before we started, and Cornish, who rowed in the trials at Cambridge, told me that egg and milk was the best thing to take."

Five minutes later, comforted by the egg and milk, the party started.

"We don't want to go at racing speed," Skinner said; "merely a good steady trot to make the lungs play. We don't want to pull ourselves down in weight. I don't think, after the last month's work, we have any fat among us. What we want is wind and last. To-morrow we will turn out with the heaviest boots we have got instead of running shoes. When we can run four miles in them, we ought to be able to keep up pretty fairly through the hardest game of football."

There was a good deal of lagging behind towards the last part of the run, a fact that Skinner pointed out triumphantly as a proof of want of condition, but after a wash and change of clothes all the party agreed that they felt better for the run.

Mr. River-Smith was as much concerned as the boys at the defeats of the house at football, and when they sat down to breakfast the members of the team found that a mutton-chop was provided for each of them. Strict orders had been issued that nothing was to be said outside the house of the football team going into training; and as, for the afternoon's exercise, it was only necessary that every member of the team should take part in football practice, and play up to the utmost, the matter remained a secret. In the first two or three matches played the training made no apparent difference.

"You must not be disheartened at that," Mr. Cornish, who was the "housemaster," told them. "Fellows always get weak when they first begin to train. You will find the benefit presently."

And this was the case. They won the fourth match, which was against a comparatively weak team. This, however, encouraged them, and they were victorious in the next two contests, although in the second their opponents were considered a strong team, and their victory had been regarded as certain.

The improvement in the River-Smithites' team became a topic of conversation in the college, and there were rumours that they had put themselves into regular training, and that some one had seen them come in in a body at seven in the morning after having been for a run. The challenge cup matches were now at hand, and as it happened they were drawn to meet the Greenites, and the match was regarded with special interest throughout the school. The rivalry between the two houses was notorious, and although the Greenites scoffed at the idea of their being defeated by a team they had before so easily beaten, the great improvement the latter had made gave promise that the struggle would be an exceptionally severe one. Skinner had for some days before looked after the team with extreme vigilance, scarcely letting one of them out of his sight, lest they might eat forbidden things, or in other ways transgress the rules laid down.

"We may not win," he admitted, as they talked over the prospect on the evening before the match, "but at any rate they will have all their work cut out to beat us. I know they are very confident, and of course their weight is tremendously in their favour. Now, mind, we must press them as hard as we can for the first half the game, and never leave them for a single moment. They are sure to get savage when they find they have not got it all their own way, and that will help to pump them. We shall have more left in us the second half than they will, and then will be our chance."

These tactics were followed out, and from the first the game was played with exceptional spirit on both sides; and as the Greenites failed, even by the most determined rushes, to carry the ball into their opponents' goal, the game became, as Skinner had predicted, more and more savage.

The sympathies of the school were for the most part with River-Smith's, and the loud shouts of applause and encouragement with which their gallant defence of their goal was greeted, added to the irritation of the Greenites. When the half-play was called neither party had scored a point, and as they changed sides it was evident that the tremendous pace had told upon both parties.

"Now is our time," Skinner said to his team; "they are more done than we are, and our training will tell more and more every minute. Keep it up hard, and when we see a chance make a big rush and carry it down to their end."

But the Greenites were equally determined, and in spite of the efforts of their opponents, kept the ball at their end of the field. Then Skinner got it and made a rush. One of the heaviest of the Greenites charged down upon them at full speed, but was encountered by Easton before he reached him, and the two rolled over together. The River-Smithites backed up their leader well, and he was more than half-way down the ground before the Greenites had arrested his progress. Then there was a close scrimmage, and for a time the mass swayed backwards and forwards. But here weight counted for more than wind, and the Greenites were pushing their opponents back when the ball rolled out from the mass.

Edgar Clinton picked it up, and was off with it in a moment, dodging through those who attempted to check his course. He was down near the Greenites' goal before two of them threw themselves upon him together; but his friends were close behind, and after a desperate scrimmage the ball was driven behind the Greenite goal. Some loose play followed, and a Greenite who had the ball threw it forward to one of his own team, who caught it and started running. The River-Smithites shouted "Dead ball!" "Dead ball!" and claimed the point; but the holder of the ball, without heeding the shouts, ran right through followed by the rest of his team, and touched down behind the River-Smith goal. The ball was then brought out and a goal kicked. All this time the River-Smithites had not moved from behind the Greenite goal, but had remained there awaiting the result of their appeal to the umpire, who now at once decided in their favour. Not satisfied with this the Greenites appealed to the referee, who confirmed the decision of the umpire. Too angry to be reasonable, the captain refused to continue the game, and called upon his team to leave the field. They were going, when the derisive shouts of the lookers-on caused them again to alter their intentions, and the game was renewed.

There were ten minutes yet remaining, and for that time the game was played with a fury that caused it to be long memorable in the annals of Cheltenham football. But weight and strength could not prevail over the superior last and coolness of the defenders of the River-Smith goal. Every attempt was beaten off, every rush met, and as no point had been added to the score when time was called, the umpire decided that the game had been won by the River-Smithites by one touch down to nothing. The captain of the Greenites appealed from the umpire's and referee's decision to the football committee of the college, who gave it against him, and he then appealed to the Rugby Union, who decided that the umpire's decision was perfectly right, and the victory thus remained beyond further contention with the River-Smithites.

CHAPTER III. GONE.

"Bravo, Clinton! Well done, indeed!" so shouted one of the big boys, and a score of others joined in in chorus.

"Which is Clinton?" a woman who was standing looking on at the game asked one of the younger boys.

The boy looked up at the questioner. She was a woman of about forty years old, quietly dressed in black with a gloss of newness on it.

"I will point him out to you directly. They are all mixed up again now."

"There are two of them, are there not?" the woman asked.

"Yes, that's the other; there—that one who has just picked up the ball and is running with it; there, that's the other, the one who is just charging the fellow who is trying to stop his brother."

"Well done!" he shouted, as Edgar's opponent rolled over.

The woman asked no more questions until the match was over, but stood looking on intently as the players came off the ground. Rupert and Edgar were together, laughing and talking in high spirits; for each had kicked a goal, and the town boys had been beaten by four goals to one. The boy to whom she had been speaking had long before strolled away to another part of the field, but she turned to another as the Clintons approached.

"Those are the Clintons, are they not?" she asked.

"Yes, and a good sort they are," the boy said heartily.

She stood looking at them intently until they had passed her, then walked away with her eyes bent on the ground, and made her way to a small lodging she had taken in the town. For several days she placed herself so that she could see the boys on their way to and fro between River-Smith's and the college, and watched them at football.

"I wonder who that woman is," Rupert said one day to his brother. "I constantly see her about, and she always seems to be staring at me."

"I thought she stared at me too," Edgar said. "I am sure I do not know her. I don't think I have ever seen her face before."

"She asked me whether you were Clinton the other day when you were playing football. It was just after you had made a run with the ball, and some one shouted, 'Well done, Clinton!' And she asked me which was Clinton, and whether there were not two of them. And of course I pointed you both out," a youngster said who was walking with them.

"That is rum, too," Rupert said. "I wonder who the woman is, Edgar, and what interest she can have in us."

"If she has any interest, Rupert, I suppose she will stop staring some day and speak. Perhaps it is some old servant, though I don't remember her. Well, it is no odds any way."

Jane Humphreys was much puzzled as to what step she should take first. During all these years she had waited she had always expected that she should have known which was her own child as soon as she set eyes on the boys, and was surprised and disappointed to find that even after a week's stay at Cheltenham, and examining their faces as closely as she could, she had not the slightest idea which was which. She had imagined that she should not only know, but feel an affection for the boy who was her own, and she had fully intended to place him in the position of Captain Clinton's heir, trusting to receive the promise of a large sum from him when he should come into possession.

Now it seemed to her that she cared no more for one than for the other, and that her best plan therefore was to place in the position of heir whichever of them was most likely to suit her purpose. But here, again, she was in a difficulty. If they resembled each other in no other point, they both looked thoroughly manly, straightforward, and honest lads, neither of whom would be likely to entertain any dishonourable proposition. Her intention had been to say to her son, "You are not really the twin brother, as you suppose, of the other. Captain and Mrs. Clinton do not know which of you two is their child." She wondered whether they already knew as much as that. Probably they did. So many people had known of that affair at Agra, that Captain Clinton had probably told them himself. She would tell the boy, "I am the only person in the world who can clear up the mystery. I have the key to it in my hand, and can place either you or the other in the position of sole heir to the estate. I shall expect to be paid a handsome sum from the one I put into possession. Remember, on one hand I can give you a splendid property, on the other I can show you to have been from the first a usurper of things you had no right to—an interloper and a fraud."

It had seemed to her a simple matter before she came down to Cheltenham. Surely no boy in his senses would hesitate a moment in accepting her offer. It had always been a fixed thing in her mind that this would be so, but now she felt that it was not so certain as she before imagined. She hesitated whether she should not defer it until the boys came of age, and the one she chose could sign a legal document; but she was anxious to leave England, and go right away to America or Australia. Besides, if she had the promise she could enforce its fulfilment. Which boy should she select? She changed her mind several times, and at last determined that she would leave it to chance, and would choose the one whom she next met.

It chanced that Edgar was the first she encountered after having taken this resolution, and it happened that he was walking by himself, having remained in the class-room a few minutes after the rest of the boys had left, to speak to the master respecting a difficult passage in a lesson. The woman placed herself in his way.

"Well, what is it?" he said. "You have been hanging about for the last week. What is it you want?"

"I want to speak to you about something very important."

"Oh, nonsense!" he said. "There is nothing important you can have to tell me."

"Yes, there is; something of the greatest importance. You do not suppose that I should have been here for a week waiting to tell it to you, if it was not."

"Well, I suppose you think it important," he said; "so fire away."

"I cannot tell you now," she said; "it is too long a story. Could you spare me half an hour, young sir? You will not be sorry for it afterwards, I promise you."

Edgar looked impatiently at his watch. He had nothing particular to do at the moment, and his curiosity was excited. "I can spare it you now," he said.

"I am staying at this address," she said, handing him a piece of paper. "It is not five minutes' walk from here. I will go on, if you will follow me."

"All right," Edgar said, looking at the paper; "though I expect it is some fooling or other." She walked away rapidly, and he sauntered after her. She was standing with the door open when he arrived, and he followed her into a small parlour. He threw himself down into a chair.

"Now, fire away," he said; "and be as quick as you can."

"Before I begin," she said quietly, "will you tell me if you know anything relating to the circumstances of your birth?"

He looked at her in astonishment. "No," he said. "What in the world should I know about the circumstances of my birth?"

"You know that you were born at Agra in India?"

"Of course I know that."

"And your father, Captain Clinton, has never spoken to you about the circumstances?"

Edgar shook his head. "No; I only know that I was born there."

"I should have thought that he would have told you the story," she said; "for there were many knew of it, and you would be sure to hear it sooner or later."

"I do not want to hear of it," he said, leaping to his feet. "If there was anything my father wanted me to know he would tell it to me at once. You do not suppose I want to hear it from anyone else?"

He was making for the door, when she said, "Then you do not know that you are not his son?"

He stopped abruptly. "Don't know I am not his son!" he repeated. "You must be mad."

"I am not mad at all," she said. "You are not his son. Not any relation in the world to him. Sit down again and I will tell you the story."

He mechanically obeyed, feeling overwhelmed with the news he had heard. Then as she told him how the children had become mixed, and how Captain Clinton had decided to bring them up together until he should be able to discover by some likeness to himself or wife which was his son, Edgar listened to the story with a terrible feeling of oppression stealing over him. He could not doubt that she was speaking the truth, for if it were false it could be contradicted at once. There were circumstances too which seemed to confirm it. He recalled now, that often in their younger days his father and mother had asked casual visitors if they saw any likeness between either of the children to them; and he specially remembered how closely Colonel Winterbottom, who had been major in his father's regiment, had scrutinized them both, and how he had said, "No, Clinton, for the life of me I cannot see that one is more like you and your wife than the other." And now this woman had told him that he was not their son; and he understood that she must be this sergeant's wife, and that if he was not Captain Clinton's son she must be his mother.

"You are Mrs. Humphreys, I suppose?" he said in a hard, dry voice when she had ceased speaking.

"I am your mother," she said. He moved as if struck with sudden pain as she spoke, but said nothing.

"I sacrificed myself for your sake," she went on after a pause. "I had them both, and it seemed to me hard that my boy should grow up to be a boy of the regiment, with nothing better to look forward to than to enlist in it some day, while the other, no better in any respect than him, should grow up to be a rich man, with everything the heart could desire, and I determined that he should have an equal chance with the other. I knew that perhaps some day they might find out which was which by a likeness, but that was not certain, and at any rate you would get a good education and be well brought up, and you were sure to be provided for, and when the time should come, if there was still doubt, I could give you the chance of either having the half or all just as you chose. It was terrible for me to give you up altogether, but I did it for your good. I suffered horribly, and the women of the regiment turned against me. Your father treated me badly, and I had to leave him and come home to England. But my comfort has all along been that I had succeeded; that you were being brought up as a gentleman, and were happy and well cared for."

Edgar sat silent for some time. "How do you know," he asked suddenly, "that it is Rupert and not I who is the real son?"

"One of the infants," she said, "had a tiny mole no bigger than a pin's head on his shoulder, and I was sure that I would always know them apart from that."

"Yes, Rupert has a mark like that," Edgar admitted, for he had noticed it only a short time before.

"Yes," the woman said quietly. "Mrs. Clinton's child had that mark. It was very, very small and scarcely noticeable, but as I washed and dressed them when babies, I noticed it."

"Well, what next?" Edgar asked roughly.

"As I said, my boy,"—Edgar winced as she spoke—"it is for you to choose whether you will have half or all the property. If I hold my tongue you will go on as you are now, and they will never know which is their son. If you like to have it all, to be the heir of that grand place and everything else, I have only to go and say that my boy had a mole on his shoulder. There is nothing I would not do to make you happy."

"And I suppose," Edgar said quietly, "you will want some money for yourself?"

"I do not wish to make any bargain, if that is what you mean," she said in an indignant tone. "I know, of course, that you can give me no money now. I suppose that in either case you would wish to help a mother who has done so much for you. I don't expect gratitude at present. Naturally you are upset about what I have told you. Some day when you grow to be a man you will appreciate better than you can now what I have done for you, and what you have gained by it."

Edgar sat silent for a minute or two, and then he rose quietly and said, "I will think it all over. You shall have my answer in a day or two," and without another word left the room and sauntered off.

"What is the matter, Edgar?" Rupert asked two hours later. "I have been looking for you everywhere, and young Johnson has only just said that you told him to tell me you were feeling very seedy, and were going to lie down for a bit."

"I have got a frightful headache, Rupert," Edgar, who was lying with his face to the wall, said. "I am too bad to talk, old fellow; let me alone. I daresay I shall be all right when I have had a night's sleep. Tell River-Smith, will you, that I am seedy, and cannot come down to tea. I do not want the doctor or anything of that sort, but if I am not all right in the morning, I will see him."

Rupert went out quietly. It was something new Edgar's being like this, he never remembered him having a bad headache before. "I expect," he said to himself, "he got hurt in one of those scrimmages yesterday, although he did not say anything about it. I do hope that he is not going to be ill. The examinations are on next week, it will be a frightful nuisance for him to miss them." He went into Edgar's dormitory again the last thing. He opened the door very quietly in case he should be asleep.

"I am not asleep," Edgar said; "I am rather better now. Good-night, Rupert," and he held out his hand. Rupert was surprised at the action, but took his hand and pressed it.

"Good-night, Edgar. I do hope that you will be all right in the morning."

"Good-night, old fellow. God bless you!" and there was almost a sob in the lad's voice.

Rupert went out surprised and uneasy. "Edgar must be worse than he says," he thought to himself. "It is rum of him saying good-night in that way. I have never known him do such a thing before. I wish now that I had asked River-Smith to send round for the doctor. I daresay Edgar would not have liked it, but it would have been best; but he seemed so anxious to be quiet and get off to sleep, that I did not think of it."

The first thing in the morning Rupert went to his brother's dormitory to see how he was. He tapped at the door, but there was no answer. Thinking that his brother was asleep, he turned the handle and went in. An exclamation of surprise broke from him. Edgar was not there and the bed had not been slept in, but was just as he had seen it when Edgar was lying on the outside. On the table was a letter directed to himself. He tore it open.

"My dear Rupert," it began, "a horrible thing has happened, and I shall be off to-night. I have learned that I am not your brother at all, but that I was fraudulently put in that position. I have been writing this afternoon to father and mother. Oh! Rupert, to think that it is the last time I can call them so. They will tell you the whole business. I am writing this by the light of the lamp in the passage, and you will all be up in a few minutes, so I have no time to say more. I shall post the other letter to-night. Good-bye, Rupert! Good-bye, dear old fellow! We have been happy together, haven't we? and I hope you will always be so. Perhaps some day when I have made myself a name—for I have no right to call myself Clinton, and I won't call myself by my real name—I may see you again. I have taken the note, but I know that you won't grudge it me."

Rupert read the letter through two or three times, then ran down as he was, in his night-shirt and trousers, and passed in to the master's part of the private house. "Robert," he said to the man-servant whom he met in the passage, "is Mr. River-Smith dressed yet?"

"He is not finished dressing yet, Master Clinton; at least he has not come out of his room. But I expect he is pretty near dressed."

"Will you ask him to come out to me at once, please?" Rupert said. "It is a most serious business, or you may be sure I should not ask."

The man asked no questions, for he saw by Rupert's face that this must be something quite out of the ordinary way. "Just step into this room and I will fetch him," he said.

In a minute the master came in. "What is it, Clinton,—nothing serious the matter, I hope?"

"Yes, sir, I am afraid it is something very serious. My brother was not well yesterday evening. He said that he had a frightful headache, but he thought it would be all right in the morning, and he went and lay down on his bed. I thought that he was strange in his manner when I went in to say good-night to him; and when I went in this morning, sir, the bed hadn't been slept in and he was gone, and he has left me this note, and it is evident, as you will see, that he is altogether off his head. You see, he fancies that he is not my brother."

The master had listened with the gravest concern, and now glanced hastily through the letter.

"'Tis strange indeed," he said. "There is no possibility, of course, that there is anything in this idea of his?"

"No, sir, of course not. How could there be?"

"That I cannot say, Clinton. Anyhow the matter is most serious. Of course he could not have taken any clothes with him?"

"No, sir; at least he cannot have got any beyond what he stands in. I should think the matron would not have given him any out, especially as he must have told her that he was ill, or he could not have got into the dormitory."

"I had better see her first, Clinton; it is always well to be quite sure of one's ground. You go up and dress while I make the inquiries."

Rupert returned to the dormitory, finished dressing, and then ran down again. "He has taken no clothes with him, Clinton. The matron says that he went to her in the afternoon and said that he had a splitting headache, and wanted to be quite quiet and undisturbed. She offered to send for the doctor, but he said that he expected that he should be all right in the morning, but that if he wasn't of course the doctor could see him then. So she unlocked the door of the dormitory and let him in. I asked her if he had his boots on. She said no; he was going up in them, contrary to rule, when she reminded him of it, and he took them off and put them in the rack in the wood-closet. I have seen the boot-boy, and he says he noticed when he went there this morning early to clean them, No. 6 rack was empty. So your brother must have come down, after he had gone up to the dormitory, and got his boots.

"Now let us ask a few questions of the servants." He rang the bell, and sent for some of the servants. "Which of you were down first this morning?" he asked.

"I was down first, sir," one of the girls said.

"Did you find anything unusual?"

"Yes, sir. One of the windows downstairs, looking into the yard, was open, though I know I closed it and put up the shutters last night; and John says the door of the yard has been unbolted too, and that the lock had been forced."

The master went out, walked across the yard, and examined the lock.

"There would be no difficulty in opening that on this side," he said to Rupert; "it could be done with a strong pocket-knife easily enough."

"What is to be done, sir?" Rupert asked anxiously. "Shall I telegraph to my father?"

"I think you had better go and see him, Clinton. Your brother probably did not leave the house until twelve o'clock, though he may have gone at eleven. But whether eleven or twelve it makes no difference. No doubt he posted the letter he speaks of the first thing on leaving; but, you see, it is a cross post to your place, and the letter could not anyhow have got there for delivery this morning. You can hardly explain it all by telegram; and I think, as I said, it is better that you should go yourself. I will have breakfast put for you in my study, and I will have a fly at the door. You will be able to catch the eight-o'clock train into Gloucester, and you should be home by eleven."

"You do not think anything could have happened to him?" Rupert asked anxiously.

"No, I do not think that there is any fear of that, Clinton. You see, he has got a fixed idea in his head; he has evidently acted with deliberation. Besides, you see in his letter to you he says he shall not see you until he has made a name for himself. I tell you frankly, Clinton, that my own impression is that your brother is not mad, but that he has—of course I do not know how, or attempt to explain it—but that he has in some way got the idea that he is not your brother. Has he been quite himself lately?"

"Quite, sir; I have seen nothing unusual about him at all."

"Did he seem bright and well yesterday morning?"

"Just the same as usual, sir. I was quite surprised when, just at tea-time, I found that he had gone to lie down with the headache."

"Did he get any letter yesterday?"

"No, sir; we neither of us had any letter, in the morning anyhow. He may have received one in the afternoon, for anything I know."

"I will go and ask Robert," the master said; "he always takes the letters from the letter-bag."

"No, Clinton," he went on when he returned; "there were only three letters for the boys in the afternoon mail, and neither of them was for him. He cannot have seen anyone, can he, who could have told him any story that would serve as a foundation for this idea?"

Then an idea flashed across Rupert. "Well, sir, a rather curious thing has happened in the last few days. There has been a woman about here, and it appears she asked one of the boys which were the Clintons; and we have seen her every time we have been out, and we both noticed that she has stared at us in a very strange way. I don't know that that can possibly have anything to do with it. She may have spoken to Edgar yesterday. Of course I cannot say."

"Well, I must be going now. I have told Robert to put your breakfast in my study, and to send the boy for a fly."

"What will you say to the boys, sir?" Rupert asked anxiously.

"There will be no occasion to say anything for a day or two beyond the fact that you are obliged to go home suddenly. I shall only say Clinton, but it will naturally be supposed that I mean both of you. If it gets out that you have gone alone, which it may do, although I shall give strict orders to the contrary, I shall of course mention that we fear that your brother got his head hurt in that football match, and that he has taken up some strange ideas and has gone off. But it is hardly likely that the matter will leak out in any way until you return, or I hear from you. I think you can make yourself quite easy on that score."

It was half-past eleven when Rupert Clinton reached home. On the way he had thought over how he had best break the news quietly to his father, and he got out of the trap that had driven him from the station at the lodge, and made a long circuit so as to reach the stable without being seen from the front windows of the house. He went at once to the old coachman, who was a great ally of the boys. The man uttered an exclamation of astonishment at seeing him.

"Why, Master Rupert, I thought that you were not coming home for another fortnight. Well, you have given me a start!"

"Look here, Fellows, I have come to see my father about a serious matter, and I want to see him before I see my mother."

"Nothing the matter with Master Edgar, I hope, sir?"

"Yes, it is about him; but I will tell you presently, Fellows, I don't want to lose a minute now. Please go into the house and get my father to come out at once to the stables. Make any excuse you like to bring him out, and as you come along you can tell him I am here."

In five minutes Captain Clinton hurried into the saddle-room, where Rupert was standing. He was pale and agitated.

"What is the matter, Rupert,—has anything happened to Edgar? I know that it must be something very serious or you would never come like this."

"It is serious, father, very serious;" and he told him what had happened, and handed him the letter that Edgar had left. "You see he has evidently gone out of his mind, father."

Captain Clinton ran his eye over the letter and gave an exclamation of surprise and grief, then he stood for a minute covering his face with his hand. When he removed it Rupert saw that his eyes were filled with tears. "Poor boy!" he murmured, "I see that we have made a terrible mistake, although we did it for the best."

"A mistake, father! Why, is it possible, can it be true that—"

"That Edgar is not your brother, my boy? Yes, it is certain that he is not your brother, though whether he or you is our son we know not."

Rupert stood speechless with astonishment. "One of us not your son!" he said at last in a broken voice. "Oh, father, how can that be?"

"It happened thus, Rupert," Captain Clinton said, and then told him the story of the confusion that had arisen between the children. He then went on: "You see, Rupert, we hoped, your mother and I, at first that we should find out as you grew up, by the likeness one of you might develop to your mother or myself, which was our child; but for some years now, my boy, I have feared rather than hoped to discover a likeness, and have been glad that neither of you took after either of us, as far as we could see. We loved you equally, and could not bear the thought of losing either of you. We had two sons instead of one, that was all; and had one been proved to be ours, we should have lost the other. We intended to tell you in a short time how the matter stood, and that while one was our adopted son and the other our own, we neither knew nor cared which was which, loving you both equally and regarding you both as our own. Indeed we should never have told you about it, had it not been that as the story of the confusion at your birth was known to a great many men who were at that time in India, it was almost sure to come to your ears sooner or later. Had we ever dreamt that it would come like this, of course we should have told you long ago. But how can Edgar have learnt it? Still more, how can anyone have been able to tell him—what even we do not know—that he is not our son?"

"You will know when the letter arrives by the next post, father. But now I have heard the story, I think it must have been told him by a woman;" and he related how they had been watched by a woman who was a stranger to them.

"What was she like, Rupert?"

Rupert described her as well as he was able.

"I have no doubt that it was Mrs. Humphreys, Rupert; she would be about the age you describe, and, allowing for the seventeen years that have passed since I have seen her, like her in appearance. But we had better go in to your mother now, she must be told. I will go in first and break it to her. Of course there is nothing else that can be done until we get Edgar's letter. I will send a man off on horseback to the post-office, we shall get it an hour earlier than if we wait for the postman to bring it."

It was half an hour before Captain Clinton came out from the drawing-room and called Rupert in. The boy had been telling the news to Madge, having asked his father if he should do so. She had been terribly distressed, and Rupert himself had completely broken down.

"You can come in now, both of you," Captain Clinton said. "Of course, your mother is dreadfully upset, so try and keep up for her sake."

Mrs. Clinton embraced Rupert in silence, she was too affected for speech.

"Do you think," she said after a time in broken tones, "Edgar can have gone with this woman?"

"I don't know, mother; I have not been able to think about it. I should not think he could. I know if it had been me I should have hated her even if she was my mother, for coming after all this time to rob me of your love and father's. I should run away as he has done, I daresay, though I don't know about that; but I would not have gone with her."

"I cannot make out how she could have known which was which," Captain Clinton said, walking up and down the room; "we have never seen any likeness in either of you to ourselves, but it is possible she may have seen a likeness in Edgar to her husband. By the way," he said suddenly, "I must send off a telegram to River-Smith; he, of course, will be most anxious." He took a telegram form from his desk, and after a minute's hesitation wrote: "No anxiety as to Edgar's mind can account for his conduct—will write fully to-morrow after I have received his letter—shall keep Rupert here some days." Then putting it in an envelope, he rang the bell and directed the servant to give it to one of the grooms with orders to ride with it at once to the nearest telegraph station.

"Now, Rupert, the best thing you and Madge can do is to go out for a walk. You can know nothing more until the letter arrives, and it will be better for you to be moving about than to be sitting here quietly. Your mother had best lie down until the letter comes; it cannot be here until five o'clock."

Madge and Rupert as they walked talked the matter over in every possible light, the only conclusion at which they arrived being that whoever might be Edgar's father and mother they would always regard him as their brother, and should love him just the same as before.

"I cannot think why he ran away!" Madge exclaimed over and over again. "I am sure I should not run away if I found that I wasn't father and mother's real daughter. They have been everything to me, and I could not love them a bit less if I did know that I was their adopted child instead of being their real one."

"No, certainly not," Rupert agreed; "but then, you see, Madge, Edgar may have thought that he had been adopted, not as childless people sometimes adopt children, but because they could not help adopting him."

"But that wasn't his fault, Rupert."

"No, that wasn't his fault; but I can understand him feeling that it made a great difference. Oh, I wonder what he is doing! I expect he went up to London by the night mail; he would have caught that at Glo'ster. But what could he do when he got there?"

"Oh, I am not thinking about that!" the girl said. "I am thinking what he must feel when he knows father and mother are not his father and mother, and that you and I are not his brother and sister. It must be awful, Rupert."

"It must be awful," Rupert agreed. "I do not know what I should have done had it been me, and you know it might just as well have been me as Edgar. I wish it were five o'clock!"

The afternoon seemed indeed endless to them all. For the last half-hour Rupert and Madge sat at the window gazing across the park for the first sight of the horseman, and at last they exclaimed simultaneously, "There he comes!"

Captain Clinton, who had been sitting by the sofa holding his wife's hand in his, rose. "I will go and meet him," he said. "Rupert and Madge, you had better go into the library until I call you. I must read it over first to your mother."

Without a word they went into the other room, and from the window watched Captain Clinton as he walked quickly down the drive to meet the groom. They saw him take the letter, and, as the man rode on towards the stables, open it and stand reading it.

"It is very bad," Madge said almost in a whisper, as she saw her father drop his hand despondently to his side, and then with bent head walk towards the house. Not another word was spoken until Captain Clinton opened the door and called them. Madge had been crying silently, and the tears were running fast down Rupert's cheeks as he sat looking out on to the park.

"You had better read the letter here," Captain Clinton said. "I may tell you what I did not mention before, that there was a strong opinion among many at the time, that the confusion between the children arose, not from accident, as was said, but was deliberate, and this letter confirms that view. This is what has hit Edgar so hard."

The letter was as follows:—

"My dearest father, for I cannot call you anything else, I have just heard about my birth from a woman who calls herself my mother, and who, I suppose, has a right to do so, though certainly I shall never call her or think of her so. She has told me about her child and yours getting mixed, and how you brought both up in hopes of finding out some day which was which.

"Rupert and I had noticed for some days a woman looking at us, and she met me this afternoon and said she had some thing of extreme importance to tell me. I went with her and she told me the story, and said that I was her son and not yours. I asked her how she knew me from Rupert, and she said that one of us had a small mole on the shoulder. I knew that Rupert had a tiny mole there, and she said that that was the mark by which she knew your son from hers.

"Then, father, she told me that she had done it all on purpose, and had sacrificed herself in order that I might benefit from it. This was all horrible! And then she actually proposed that I should not only keep silent about this, but offered to come forward and declare that it was her son who had the mole on his shoulder, so that I might get the whole and Rupert none. I don't want to say what I felt. I only told her I would think it over. I have been thinking it over, and I am going away. My dear father and mother, for I shall always think of you so, I thank you for all your love and kindness, which I have received through a horrible fraud. If it had all been an accident, and you had found out for yourselves by the likeness that Rupert was your son, I do not think that I should have minded, at least nothing like so much. I should, of course, have been very grieved that you were not my father and mother, and that Rupert and Madge were not my brother and sister; but it would have been nobody's fault, and I am sure that you would all still have loved me. But to know that it has been a wicked fraud, that I have been an impostor palmed upon you, that there has been a plot and conspiracy to rob you, and that I have a mother who not only did this, but who could propose to me to go on deceiving you, and even to join in a fresh fraud and to swindle Rupert, is so awful that there is nothing for me to do but to go away.

"I feel sure you will all be sorry, and that though I am not your son you would go on treating me as if I were a younger brother of Rupert's. But I could not bear it, father. I could not accept anything from you, for I should feel that it was the result of this wicked fraud, that it was what this woman, I cannot call her mother, had schemed for me to get. Some day when I have made my way, and when all this may not hurt me so horribly as it seems to do now, I will come and see you all if you will let me, to thank you all for the love and kindness that should never have been mine. But that will not be till I am in a position when I can want nothing, for I feel now that were I dying of hunger I could not accept a crust from your hands, for if I did so I should feel I was a party to this abominable fraud. God bless you, dearest father and mother and Rupert and Madge!—Your unhappy Edgar."

CHAPTER IV. BACK AT SCHOOL.

It was a long time after they had, with many breaks, read Edgar's letter to the end before Rupert and Madge could compose themselves sufficiently to accompany their father into the drawing-room. They again broke down when they met their mother; and it was not until Captain Clinton said, "Come, we must all pull ourselves together and see what is to be done, and talk the whole matter over calmly," that by a great effort they recovered their composure. "Now, in the first place, we must try to find Edgar. He has got twenty-four hours' start of us, but that is not very much. I suppose you think, Rupert, that there is no doubt that he went up to town by the night train."

"I have no doubt that he got away in time to do so, father; but of course he might have gone by the down train, which passes through Gloucester somewhere about the same time."

"I do not think it likely that he did that, Rupert. I should say he was sure to go to London; that is almost always the goal people make for, unless it is in the case of boys who want to go to sea, when they would make for Liverpool or some other port. But I don't think Edgar was likely to do that. I don't think he had any special fancy for the sea; so we may assume that he has gone to London. What money had he?"

"He had that five-pound note you sent three days ago, father, to clear off any ticks we had, and to pay our journey home. That is what he meant when he said, 'I have taken the note, but I know you won't grudge it me.' I think he had about a pound left—that is about what I had—and I know when the note came he said that the money he had was enough to last him to the end of the term. So he would have the five-pound note untouched when he got to London, and if driven to it he could get, I should think, six or seven pounds for his watch and chain."

"That would give him enough to keep him some little time. If he had been a couple of years older I should say that he would probably enlist at once, as you had both made up your minds to go into the army. But although lads do enlist under the proper age, no recruiting officer or doctor would pass him as being eighteen. The first thing to do will be to advertise for him—in the first place to advertise offering a reward for information as to his whereabouts, and in the second place advertising to him direct, begging him to come home."

"But he would never come, father," Rupert said, looking at the letter, which Captain Clinton still held in his hand.

"It would depend how we advertised. Suppose I were to say, 'Statement of woman not believed; we are in as much doubt as before.'"

The others looked up in intense surprise.

"Oh, father, how could you say that?" Rupert exclaimed. "Oh, if we could but say so! I should be quite, quite content to know that either of us might be her son—that would not matter so much if we felt that you loved us both equally; but how could you say so?"

"Because, Rupert," Captain Clinton said gravely, "I still think there is great ground for doubt."

"Do you really, father? Oh, I am pleased! I think—yes, I am sure that I could bear now to know that Edgar is your real son, and not I. It would be so different to learn it from your lips, to know that you all love me still, instead of hearing it in the dreadful way Edgar did. But how do you doubt, father? It seemed to me from reading the letter so certain."

"Do you really doubt, Percy?" Mrs. Clinton asked.

"I do indeed, Lucy; and I will give you my reasons. In the first place, this woman left India a few weeks after the affair. She certainly could not have seen the children until we returned to England, and, so far as we know, has never seen them since. If she has seen them, she never can have spoken to them or come in any sort of contact with them, therefore she cannot possibly have known which is which. When she saw them at Cheltenham, and Rupert says that she was there more than a week, she met them upon every possible occasion and stared hard at them. It is evident, therefore, that she was for all that time doubtful. No doubt she was doing what we used to do, trying to detect a resemblance. Now, if we in all these years with the boys, constantly watching their ways and listening to their voices, could detect no resemblance, it is extremely improbable that she was able to do so from merely seeing them a score of times walking in the streets. I do not say that it is impossible she could have done so; I only say it is extremely improbable; and I think it much more likely that, finding she could see no resemblance whatever, she determined to speak to the first whom she might happen to find alone."

"But there is the mark, father," Rupert said.

"Yes, there is the mark," Mrs. Clinton repeated.

"I did not know you had a mark, Rupert. I wonder we never noticed it, Lucy."

"It is a very tiny one, father. I never noticed it myself—indeed I can hardly see it before a glass, for it is rather at the back of the shoulder—until Edgar noticed it one day. It is not larger than the head of a good-sized pin. It is a little dark-brown mole. Perhaps it was smaller and lighter when I was a baby; but it must have been there then, or she would not have known about it."

"That is so, Rupert; but the mere fact that it is there does not in any way prove that you are our son. Just see what Edgar says about it in his letter. Remember the woman could not have known which of you boys had the mark; and that she did not know, that is to say, that she had not recognized the likeness, appears from Edgar's letter. This is what he says: 'She said that one of us had a small mole on the shoulder. I knew that Rupert had a tiny mole there; and she said that was the mark by which she knew your son from hers.' Suppose Edgar had replied, 'Yes, I have such a mark on my shoulder,' might she not have said, that is the mark by which I can distinguish my son from that of Captain Clinton?"

The others were silent. Then Mrs. Clinton said, "You know, Percy, I do not wish to prove that one more than the other of the boys is ours; but naturally the woman would wish to benefit her own boy, and if it had been her own boy who had the mark, why should she not have told Edgar that she had made a mistake, and that it was Rupert who was her son?"

"I do not suppose, Lucy, that she cared in the slightest which was her son; her main object, of course, was to extort money. Edgar does not say anything at all about that; and of course at first she would try and make out that she was ready to sacrifice herself for him, and would scarcely say that she expected him to make her a handsome allowance when he came into the property, but I have no doubt that was her motive. Well, you see, she had already begun with Edgar. Suppose she said that she had made a mistake, and Rupert was her son. Edgar would have gone in and told him, and would probably have telegraphed to me, so that I could get to Rupert before this woman saw him, and she would have known then that her story would have been upset altogether. No court of law would attach any weight to what she might say. She would have to stand confessed as having been concerned in a gross fraud, and with having lied at first; and unless she was in a position to produce corroborative evidence to prove that her child had this mark, her word would go for nothing.

"Now, I feel sure that she could produce no such evidence. The mark was almost an invisible one, for it was never afterwards noticed. Had she shown it to any of the women of her acquaintance, they would have come forward when the change of children took place, and have pointed out that the children could be easily distinguished, inasmuch as my child had a peculiar mark. I feel sure that even her husband knew nothing about this mark, for I don't believe he was a party to the fraud. He was terribly upset by the whole business, and took to drink afterwards. There were continual quarrels between his wife and himself, and she left him and went to England. I believe if he could have pointed out which was my child and which was his own, he would have done so.

"Certainly, I myself should have attached little or no weight to this woman's story if she had come here with it. I should have turned her out of the house, and have told her to go to a court if she dare and claim the custody of her son. She must have known the weakness of her own position, and as I say, having once opened the matter to Edgar, she determined to stick to it, knowing that a boy taken thus on a sudden would be likely to believe her, whereas if she said that you were her son she would find you already prepared and probably have to confront me too. So you see, Rupert, I can truthfully advertise—'Woman's story not believed; we are in as much doubt as before; both are regarded by us as our sons.'"

"I am glad, father!" Rupert exclaimed excitedly. "Oh! if Edgar had but written to you first, instead of going straight away."

"It would have been better," Captain Clinton said, "but I cannot blame him. I think it was natural that he should go as he did. He would have thought that had he written to me it would have seemed as if he wanted something from me, and anything would have seemed better to him than that. However, we must set about doing something at once. I shall go by the nine o'clock local to Swindon, and on by the night mail to town. Then I shall set a detective at work. He may find out from the porters if anyone noticed a lad arrive by the night mail this morning, and shall draw up carefully-worded advertisements. I shall write to Mr. River-Smith before I start. What would you like, Rupert—to go back to-morrow, or to stay away until the end of the term? If you take my advice, you will go back; it would be a pity for you to miss your examinations."

"I don't think I could get through the examinations, father, with this on my mind; besides, what should I say to the fellows about Edgar's going away? You see, if we find him before next term begins, we need say nothing about it."

"You would have to account for his having run away, Rupert, anyhow. I think you had better go back, my boy, and tell the facts of the story. There is not the slightest discredit in it, and it would be better for Edgar himself that it should be known that he went under the influence of a mistake than that all sorts of reasons should be assigned for his absence. There will, of course, be no occasion to go into full details. You would tell the story of the confusion that arose as to the children, and say that Edgar had received some information which led him erroneously to conclude that the problem was solved, and that he was not my son, and that therefore he had run away so as to avoid receiving any further benefits from the mistake that had been made."

"Perhaps that would be best, father. Indeed I don't know what I should do if I were to stop here now with nothing to do but to worry about him."

"I am sure it will be best, Rupert. I will tell your master you will return to-morrow afternoon."

Captain Clinton went up to town by the night mail, and in the morning went to a private detective's office. After giving particulars of Edgar's age and appearance he went on: "As he had no luggage with him, and there was nothing particular about his personal appearance, I consider it altogether useless to search for him in London; but I think it possible that he may try to enlist."

"Sixteen is too young for them to take him, unless he looks a good deal older than he is."

"Yes, I quite see that. At the same time that is the only thing that occurs to us as likely for him to try."

"Not likely to take to the sea, sir?"

"Not at all likely from what we know of his fancies. Still he might do that for a couple of years with a view to enlisting afterwards."

"How about going to the States or Canada?"

"That again is quite possible."

"Had he money with him, sir?"

"He had about five pounds in his pocket, and a gold watch and chain that he had only had a few months, and could, I should think, get seven or eight pounds for; but I do not see what he could do to get his living if he went abroad."

"No, sir; but then young gents always have a sort of fancy that they can get on well out there, and if they do not mind what they turn to I fancy that most of them can. Is he in any trouble, sir? You will excuse my asking, but a young chap who gets into trouble generally acts in a different sort of way to one who has gone out what we may call venturesome."

"No, he has got into no trouble," Captain Clinton said. "He has gone away under a misunderstanding, but there is nothing whatever to make him wish to conceal himself beyond the fact that he will do all he can to prevent my tracing him at present. Here are half a dozen of his photos. If you want more I can get them struck off."

"I could do with another half-dozen," the man said. "I will send them down to men who act with me at Southampton, Hull, Liverpool, Glasgow, and Plymouth, and will send two or three abroad. He might cross over to Bremen or Hamburg, a good many go that way now. I will look after the recruiting offices here myself; but as he is only sixteen, and as you say does not look older, I do not think there is a chance of his trying that. No recruiting sergeant would take him up. No, sir; I should say that if he has no friends he can go to, the chances are he will try to ship for the States or Canada. But what are we to do if we find him?"

Captain Clinton had not thought of this.

"Of course," the man went on, "if you gave an authority for me to send down to each of my agents, they could take steps to stop him."

"No," Captain Clinton said after a pause, during which he had been thinking that as he could not swear that Edgar was his son, he was in fact powerless in the matter. "No, I do not wish that done. I have no idea whatever of coercing him. I want, if possible, to see him and converse with him before he goes. If that is not possible, and if he is not found until just as the ship is sailing, then I want your agent to wire to me the name of the steamer in which he goes and the port to which it sails. Then if there is a faster steamer going, I might be there as soon as he is; if not, I should wish you to telegraph to a private detective firm across the water, which I suppose you could do, to have somebody to meet the steamer as she came in, and without his knowing it to keep him under his eye until I arrive."

"I could manage all that, sir, easily enough. I will send off four of the photographs at once to the ports and the others as soon as I get them, and will go down with the other photograph to the recruiting office and arrange with one of the sergeants engaged there to let me know if he turns up, and will send a man down to the docks to watch the ships there. I will send off the other photos directly I get them."

There was nothing else for Captain Clinton to do, but before he returned home he wrote out a series of advertisements and left them at the offices of the principal papers. They ran as follows:—"If E.C., who left Cheltenham suddenly, will return home he will find that he has acted under a misapprehension. The woman's story was untrustworthy. He is still regarded as a son by P.C. and L.C." Having done this he drove to Paddington, and went down by an afternoon train.

Rupert arrived at Cheltenham just as the others had sat down to tea.

"Hullo, Clinton! Back again, eh? Glad to see you."

Rupert nodded a reply to the greeting. His heart was too full to speak, and he dropped into the seat he was accustomed to use, the others moving up closely to make room for him. A significant glance passed between the boys. They saw that Edgar was not with him, and guessed that there was something wrong. There had been a good deal of wonder among them at the Clintons' sudden disappearance, and although several of the boys had seen Rupert go into his brother's dormitory none had seen Edgar, and somehow or other it leaked out that Rupert had started in a cab to the station alone. There had been a good deal of quiet talk among the seniors about it. All agreed that there was something strange about the matter, especially as Robert, when questioned on the subject, had replied that Mr. River-Smith's orders were that he was to say nothing about it. As a precautionary measure orders were given to the juniors that no word about the Clintons' absence was to be said outside the house.

After tea was over Rupert went up to Pinkerton.

"Pinkerton, I should like to have a talk with you and Easton and two or three others—Skinner, and Mossop, and Templer—yes, and Scudamore."

"Just as you like, Clinton. Of course if you like to tell us anything we shall be glad to hear it, but we all know that your brother was not the sort of fellow to get into any dishonourable sort of scrape, and I can promise you we shall ask no questions if you would rather keep the matter altogether to yourself."

"No, I would rather tell you," Rupert said. "I know none of you would think that Edgar would have done anything wrong, but all sorts of stories are certain to go about, and I would rather that the truth of the matter were known. You are the six head fellows of the house, and when I have told you the story you can do as you like about its going further."

"Well, if you go up to my study," Pinkerton said, "I will bring the others up."

In three or four minutes the party were gathered there.

"Look here, Clinton," Easton said, "Pinkerton says he has told you that we are all sure that, whatever this is all about, your brother has done nothing he or you need be ashamed about. I should like to say the same thing, and if it is painful for you to tell it do not say anything about it. We shall be quite content to know that he has left, if he has left—although I hope we shall see him again next term for some good reason or other."

"No, I would rather tell it," Rupert said. "It is a curious story, and a very unpleasant one for us, but there is nothing at all for us to be ashamed about." And he went on to tell them the whole story, ending with "You see, whether Edgar or I am the son of Captain Clinton, or of this sergeant and his scheming wife, is more than we can say."

"It does not matter a bit to us," Easton said, breaking the silence of surprise with which they had listened to the story. "We like you and your brother for yourselves, and it does not matter a rap to us, nor as far as I can see to anyone else, who your fathers and mothers were."

"I call it horribly hard lines for you both," Skinner put in; "deuced hard lines, especially for your brother."

Pinkerton said: "By what you say Captain Clinton and his wife don't care now which is their real son; one is real and the other adopted, and as they regard you in the same light they don't even want to know which is which. Well, now you know that, it seems to me you are all right anyhow. You see your brother didn't know that, and when this woman told him she was his mother, and that the whole thing had been a preconcerted plot on her part, I can quite understand his going straight away. I think we should all have done the same if we had had the same story told to us, and had seen we were intended to be parties to a fraud of that sort. Well, I am glad you told us, but I do not think there is any occasion for the story to go further."

"Certainly not," Easton agreed, "it would do no good whatever; and of course it would never be kept in the house, but would come to be the talk of the whole school. All that need be said is that Clinton has told us the reason of his brother leaving so suddenly, that we are all of opinion that he acted perfectly rightly in doing so, and that nothing more is to be said about the matter. We will each give Clinton our word of honour not to give the slightest hint to anyone about it, or to say that it is a curious story or anything of that sort, but just to stick to it that we have heard all about it and are perfectly satisfied."

"That will certainly be the best plan," Pinkerton agreed; "but I think it would be as well for us to say he has left for family reasons, and that it is nothing in any way connected with himself, and that we hope that he will be back again next term."

"Yes, we might say that," Easton agreed; "family reasons mean all sorts of things, and anyone can take their choice out of them. Well, Clinton, I shouldn't worry over this more than you can help. I daresay Edgar will be found in a day or two. At any rate you may be sure that no harm has come to him, or is likely to come to him. If he emigrates, or anything of that sort, he is pretty safe to make his way, and I am sure that whatever he is doing he will always be a gentleman and a good fellow."

"That he will," Mossop said cordially. "I hope we should all have done as he has under the same circumstances, but it would be a big temptation to some fellows to have the alternative of a good fortune and a nice estate on one side, and of going out into the world and making your own living how you can on the other."

There was a chorus of assent.

"Yes," Easton said, "it is very easy to say 'Do what is right and never mind what comes of it;' but we should all find it very hard to follow it in practice if we had a choice like that before us. Well, you tell your brother when you hear of him, Clinton, that we all think better of him than before, and that whether he is a sergeant's son or a captain's we shall welcome him heartily back, and be proud to shake his hand."

And so it was settled, and to the great disappointment of the rest of the house no clue was forthcoming as to the cause of Edgar Clinton leaving so suddenly; but as the monitors and seniors all seemed perfectly satisfied with what they had heard, it was evident to the others that whatever the cause might be he was not to blame in the matter.

During the short time that remained of the term Rupert got on better than he had expected. While the examination was going on Easton invited him to do his work in his private study, gave him his advice as to the passages likely to be set, and coached him up in difficult points, and he came out higher in his form than he had expected to do.

Three days before the school broke up Easton said: "Clinton, I have had a letter from my father this morning, and he will be very glad if you will come down to spend the holidays at our place. And so shall I. There is very good hunting round us. My father has plenty of horses in his stables, and I expect we shall be rather gay, for my brother comes of age in the week after Christmas, and there is going to be a ball and so on. I don't know how you feel about it, but I should say that it would be better for you than being at home where everything will call your brother to your mind, and your being there will make it worse for the others."

"I am very much obliged to you, Easton; I should like it very much. I will write off to the governor at once and hear what he says. They might like to have me home, and possibly I might be useful in the search for Edgar. As I have told you, I feel sure that he has enlisted. He would be certain to change his name, and it would be no use anyone who did not know him going to look at the recruits."

"But we agreed, Clinton, that no one would enlist him at his age, and he is altogether too old to go as a band-boy."

"Yes, I know that; and that is what worries me more than anything. Still I cannot help thinking that he will try some how to get into the army. If he can't, I believe he will do anything he can to get a living until they enlist him."

"I don't think he can anyhow pass as eighteen, Clinton. If it was for anything else he might get up with false moustache or something; but you see he has got to pass a strict examination by a surgeon. I have heard that lots of fellows do enlist under age, but then some fellows look a good bit older than they are. I don't believe any doctor would be humbugged into believing that Edgar is anything like eighteen."

"Well, I will write to my father this afternoon and hear what he says. If he thinks I cannot do any good and they don't want me at home, I shall be very pleased to come to you."

Captain Clinton's letter came by return of post. He said that he was very pleased Rupert had had an invitation that would keep him away. "We have received no news whatever of Edgar, and I don't think that it would be of any use for you to join in the search for him. There is no saying where he may have gone or what he may be doing. I agree with you that he will most likely take any job that offers to keep him until he can enlist. Arrangements have been made with one of the staff sergeants at the head-quarters of recruiting in London to let us know if any young fellow answering to Edgar's description comes up to be medically examined. So we shall catch him if he presents himself there. Unfortunately there are such a number of recruiting depôts all over the country, that there is no saying where he may try to enlist—that is, if he does try. However, at present there is certainly nothing you can do. I should like to have you home, and your mother says she should like you too, but I do think that for her sake it is better you should not come. As long as you are away there is nothing to recall at every moment the fact that Edgar has gone, whereas if you were here his absence would be constantly be before her. She is quite ill with anxiety, and Dr. Wilkinson agrees with me that change is most desirable. I am sure she would not hear of going away if you were at home; it would give her a good excuse for staying here; but when she hears that you are not coming I think I may be able to persuade her to listen to Wilkinson's opinion, and in that case I shall take her and Madge down to Nice at once. If I can get her there by Christmas so much the better, for Christmas at home would be terribly trying to us all. Once we are there, we can wander about for two or three months in Italy or Spain, or across to Algeria or Egypt—anything to distract her mind."

Accordingly Rupert accepted Easton's invitation, and went with him to his father's in Leicestershire. Had it not been for the uncertainty about Edgar he would have enjoyed his holidays greatly. Although he had always joined to a certain extent in the chaff of his school-fellows at Easton's care about his dress and little peculiarities of manner, he had never shared in Skinner's prejudices against him, and always said that he could do anything well that he chose to turn his hand to, and had appreciated his readiness to do a kindness to anyone who really needed it. It had been his turn now, and the friendly companionship of the elder boy had been of the greatest value to him. Easton had never said much in the way of sympathy, which indeed would have jarred Rupert's feelings, but his kindness had said more than words could do; and Rupert, as he looked back, felt ashamed at the thought that he had often joined in a laugh about him.

At home the points that had seemed peculiar at school were unnoticeable. The scrupulous attention to dress that had there been in strong contrast to the general carelessness of the others in that respect, seemed but natural in his own house, where there were a good many guests staying. Rupert and Edgar had always been more particular at home than at school; but Easton was the same, indeed Rupert thought that he was if anything less particular now than he had been at River-Smith's.

A week after Christmas Rupert received a letter from his father, written at Nice, saying that a letter from Edgar had been forwarded on from home, and giving the brief words in which the lad said that he was well, and that they might be under no uneasiness respecting him. "This does not tell us much," Captain Clinton went on, "but we are very pleased, inasmuch as it seems that Edgar does not mean altogether to drop out of our sight, but will, we hope, write from time to time to let us know that at any rate he is well. The letter has the London post-mark, but of course that shows nothing; it may have been written anywhere and sent to anyone—perhaps to a waiter at an hotel at which he stopped in London, and with whom he had arranged to post any letters that he might inclose to him. The letter has greatly cheered your mother, who, in spite of all I could say, has hitherto had a dread that Edgar in his distress might have done something rash. I have never thought so for an instant. I trust that my two boys are not only too well principled, but too brave to act a coward's part, whatever might befall them. Your mother, of course, agreed with me in theory; but while she admitted that Edgar would never if in his senses do such a thing, urged that his distress might be so great that he would not be responsible for what he was doing. Happily this morbid idea has been dissipated by the arrival of the letter, and I have great hopes now that she will rouse herself, and will shake off the state of silent brooding which has been causing me so much anxiety. It was but this morning that we received the letter, and already she looks brighter and more like herself than she has done since you brought us the news of Edgar's disappearance."

This news enabled Rupert to enjoy the remainder of the holidays much more than he had done the first fortnight. He and Edgar had both been accustomed to ride since they had been children, and had in their Christmas holidays for years accompanied their father to the hunting field, at first upon ponies, but the previous winter on two light-weight carrying horses he had bought specially for them. Mr. Easton had several hunters, and Rupert, who was well mounted, thoroughly enjoyed the hunting, and returned to school with his nerves braced up, ready for work.

"I won't say anything against Easton again," Skinner said when he heard from Rupert how pleasant his holidays had been made for him. "I noticed how he took to you and made things smooth for you the last ten days of the term, and I fully meant to tell him that I was sorry I had not understood him better before; only, in the first place, I never happened to have a good opportunity, and in the second place I don't know that I ever tried to make one. However, I shall tell him now. It is not a pleasant thing to be obliged to own that you have behaved badly, but it is a good deal more unpleasant to feel it and not have the pluck to say so."

Accordingly the next time Easton came into the senior study, Skinner went up to him and said:

"Easton, I want to tell you that I am uncommonly sorry that I have set myself against you because you have been more particular about your dress and things than the rest of us, and because you did not seem as keen as we were about football and things. I know that I have behaved like an ass, and I should like to be friends now if you will let me."

"Certainly I will, Skinner," Easton said, taking the hand he held out. "I don't know that it was altogether your fault. My people at home are rather particular about our being tidy and that sort of thing, and when I came here and some of you rather made fun of me about it, I think that I stuck to it all the more because it annoyed you. I shall be going up for Sandhurst this term, and I am very glad to be on good terms with all you fellows before I leave; so don't let us say anything more about it."

And with another shake of the hands their agreement to be friends was ratified.

The term between Christmas and Easter was always the dullest of the year. The house matches at football were over. Although a game was sometimes played, there was but a languid interest in it. Paper-chases were the leading incident in the term, and there was a general looking forward to spring weather, when cricket could begin and the teams commence practice for the matches of the following term.

Easton was going up in the summer for the examination for the line. He was not troubling himself specially about it; and indeed his getting in was regarded as a certainty, for Mr. Southley had said that he would be safe for the Indian Civil if he chose to try, and considered it a great pity that he was going up for so comparatively an easy competition as that for the line. He occasionally went for a walk with Rupert, and while chatting with him frequently about Edgar, was continually urging him not to let his thoughts dwell too much upon it, but to stick to his work.

The watch at the various ports had long since been given up, for had Edgar intended to emigrate he would certainly have done so very shortly after his arrival in London, as his means would not have permitted him to make any stay there.

"I think it is very thoughtful of Edgar," Easton said one day when Rupert told him that he had heard from his father that another letter had arrived. "So many fellows when they run away or emigrate, or anything of that sort, drop writing altogether, and do not seem to give a thought to the anxiety those at home are feeling for them. He is evidently determined that he will go his own way and accept no help from your people, and under the circumstances I can quite enter into his feelings; but, you see, he does not wish them to be anxious or troubled about him, and I don't think there is anything for you to worry about, Clinton. He may be having a hardish time of it; still he is no doubt getting his living somehow or other, and I don't know that it will do him any harm.

"I think he is the sort of fellow to make his way in whatever line he takes up, and though what he has learnt here may not be of much use to him at the start, his having had a good education is sure to be of advantage to him afterwards. A fellow who could hold his own in a tussle such as we had with the Greenites last term can be trusted to make a good fight in anything. At any rate it is of no use your worrying yourself about him. You see, you will be going up in a year's time for your examination for the line, and you will have to stick to it pretty steadily if you are to get through at the first trial. It won't help matters your worrying about him, and wherever he is and whatever he is doing he is sure to keep his eye on the lists, and he will feel just as much pleasure in seeing your name there as he would have done if he had been here with you. So I should say, work steadily and play steadily. You have a good chance of being in the college boat next term; that and shooting will give you enough to do.

"It is no use sticking to it too hard. I was telling Skinner yesterday he will regularly addle his brain if he keeps on grinding as he is doing now. But it is of no use talking to Skinner; when his mind is set on a thing he can think of nothing else. Last term it was football, now it is reading. It must be an awful nuisance to be as energetic as he is. I cannot see why he should not take life comfortably."

"He would say," Rupert laughed, "he cannot see why he should do things by fits and starts as you do, Easton."

"Ah! but I do not do it on principle," Easton argued. "I am all for taking it quietly, only sometimes one gets stirred up and has to throw one's self into a thing. One does it, you know, but one feels it a nuisance—an unfair wear and tear of the system."

"Your system does not seem to suffer seriously, Easton."

"No; but it might if one were called upon to do these things often. But it is time for us to turn back, or we shall be late for tea."

CHAPTER V. ENLISTED.

Edgar had found but little difficulty in getting out from the house. He had timed himself so as to arrive at the station just before the train left for Gloucester, and taking his ticket, had slipped into an empty carriage. At Gloucester there was half an hour to wait before the up-train came in. This time he got into a carriage with several other people. He did not want to spend the night thinking, and as long as his fellow-passengers talked he resolutely kept his attention fixed on what they were saying. Then when one after the other composed themselves for a sleep, he sat with his eyes closed, thinking over his school-days. He had already, while he lay tossing on his bed, thought over the revelation he had heard from every point of view. He had exhausted the subject, and would not allow his thoughts to return to it.

He now fought the football match of the Greenites over again in fancy. It seemed to him that it was an event that had taken place a long time back, quite in the dim distance, and he was wondering vaguely over this when he too fell asleep, and did not wake up until the train arrived at Paddington. It was with a feeling of satisfaction that he stepped out on to the platform. Now there was something to do. It was too early yet to see about lodgings. He went to a little coffee-house that was already open for the use of the workmen, had some breakfast there, and then walked about for two or three hours until London was astir, leaving his things at the coffee-house. Then he went to a pawnbroker's and pawned his watch and chain. Then, having fetched his things from the coffee-house, he went into the Edgware Road and took an omnibus down to Victoria and then walked on across Vauxhall Bridge, and set to work to look for lodgings.

He was not long in finding a bed-room to let, and here he installed himself. He was convinced Captain Clinton would have a vigilant search made for him, but he thought that he was now fairly safe, however sharp the detectives might be in their hunt for him. He felt deeply the sorrow there would be at home, for he knew that up to now he and Rupert had been loved equally, and that even the discovery that he had had no right to the care and kindness he had received would make no great difference in their feeling towards him. Had the change of children been really the result of accident, he would not have acted as he had done.

He himself had had no hand in the fraud, but were he to accept anything now from Captain Clinton he felt that he would be an accessary to it. Had not his mother, his own mother, proposed that he should take part in the plot, that he should go on deceiving them, and even that he should rob Rupert altogether of his inheritance? It was too horrible to think of. There was nothing for it that he could see but for him to go out utterly from their lives, and to fight his way alone until he could, at any rate, show them that he needed nothing and would accept nothing. He was dimly conscious himself that he was acting unkindly and unfairly to them, and that after all they had done for him they had a right to have a say as to his future; but at present his pride was too hurt, he was too sore and humiliated to listen to the whisper of conscience, and his sole thought was to hide himself and to make his own way in the world.

Lest his resolution should be shaken he carefully abstained from a perusal of the papers, lest his eye might fall upon an advertisement begging him to return. His mind was made up that he would enlist. He knew that at present he could not do so as a private, but he thought that he might be accepted as a trumpeter. He thought it probable that they would guess that such was his intention, and would have given a description of him at the recruiting offices. It was for this reason that he determined to live as long as he could upon his money before trying to enlist, as if some time elapsed he would be less likely to be recognized as answering the description that might be given by Captain Clinton than if he made the attempt at once. From Vauxhall he often crossed to West minster, and soon struck up an acquaintance with some of the recruiting sergeants.

"Want to enlist, eh?" one of them said.

"I am thinking of entering as a trumpeter."

"Well, you might do that. There are plenty of younger lads than you are trumpeters in the cavalry. I will look at the list and see what regiments have vacancies; but I doubt whether they will take you without a letter from your father saying that you are enlisting with his consent."

"I have no father that I know of," Edgar said.

"Well, then, it is likely they will want a certificate from a clergyman or your schoolmaster as to character; and I expect," the sergeant said shrewdly, "you would have a difficulty in getting such a paper."

Edgar nodded.

"Well, lad, if you have quite made up your mind about it, my advice would be, do not try here. In London they are a lot more particular than they are down in the country, and I should say you are a good deal more likely to rub through at Aldershot or Canterbury than you would be here. They are more particular here. You see, they have no great interest in filling up the ranks of a regiment, while when you go to the regiment itself, the doctors and officers and all of them like seeing it up to its full strength, so their interest is to pass a recruit if they can. I have known scores and hundreds of men rejected here tramp down to Aldershot, or take the train if they had money enough in their pockets to pay the fare, and get passed without a shadow of difficulty."

"I would rather not enlist for the next month or two," Edgar said; "there might be somebody asking after me."

"If you will take my advice, lad, you will go back to your friends. There are many young fellows run away from home, but most of them are precious sorry for it afterwards."

"I am not likely to be sorry for it, sergeant, and if I am I shall not go back. Do you think I could find anyone who would give me lessons on the trumpet?"

"I should say that there would not be any difficulty about that. There is nothing you cannot have in London if you have got money to pay for it. If you were to go up to the Albany Barracks and get hold of the trumpet-major, he would tell you who would teach you. He would not do it himself, I daresay, but some of the trumpeters would be glad to give you an hour a day if you can pay for it. Of course it would save you a lot of trouble afterwards if you could sound the trumpet before you joined."

Edgar took the advice, and found a trumpeter in the Blues who agreed to go out with him for an hour every day on to Primrose Hill, and there teach him to sound the trumpet. He accordingly gave up his room at Vauxhall, and moved across to the north side of Regent's Park. For six weeks he worked for an hour a day with his instructor, who, upon his depositing a pound with him as a guarantee for its return, borrowed a trumpet for him, and with this Edgar would start of a morning, and walking seven or eight miles into the country, spend hours in eliciting the most mournful and startling sounds from the instrument.

At the end of the six weeks his money was nearly gone, although he had lived most economically, and accordingly, after returning the trumpet to his instructor, who, although he had been by no means chary of abuse while the lessons were going on, now admitted that he had got on first-rate, he went down to Aldershot, where his friend the recruiting sergeant had told him that they were short of a trumpeter or two in the 1st Hussars.

It was as well that Edgar had allowed the two months to pass before endeavouring to enlist, for after a month had been vainly spent in the search for him, Rupert had suggested to his father that although too young to enlist in the ranks Edgar might have tried to go in as a trumpeter, and inquiries had been made at all the recruiting depôts whether a lad answering to his description had so enlisted. The sergeant had given him a note to a sergeant of his acquaintance in the Hussars.

"I put it pretty strong, young un," his friend had said when he gave him the note; "mind you stick to what I say."

The sergeant had indeed—incited partly perhaps by a liking for the lad, partly by a desire to return an equivalent for the sovereign with which Edgar had presented him—drawn somewhat upon his imagination. "I have known the young chap for a very long time," he said; "his father and mother died years ago, and though I am no relation to him he looks upon me as his guardian as it were. He has learned the trumpet a bit, and will soon be able to sound all the calls. He will make a smart young soldier, and will, I expect, take his place in the ranks as soon as he is old enough. Do the best you can for him, and keep an eye on him."

"I will take you round to the trumpet-major," the sergeant said; "he had better go with you to the adjutant. You know what Sergeant M'Bride says in this letter?"

"No, I don't know exactly what he says. He told me he would introduce me to you, and that you would, he was sure, do your best to put me through."

"Well, you had better hear what he does say. It is always awkward to have misunderstandings. He says you have lost your father and mother; you understand that?"

"That's right," Edgar said quietly.

"And that he has known you for a very long time?"

Edgar nodded.

"It seems to me a very long time," he added.

"And that though he is no actual relation of yours he considers he stands in the light of your guardian. That is important, you know."

"I will remember that," Edgar said. "There is certainly no one as far as I know who has a better right than Sergeant M'Bride to advise me, or give me permission to enlist."

"Well, you stick to that and you are all right. Now, come along."

"I wonder who the young chap is," the sergeant said to himself as they crossed the barrack yard. "As to what M'Bride said, we know all about that; I have been on the recruiting staff myself. But I think the young un was speaking the truth. He has lost his father and mother, he has known M'Bride for some time, and he has got no one who has any right to interfere with him. Rum, too. The boy is a gentleman all over, though he has rigged himself out in those clothes. Well, we are short of trumpeters, and I don't suppose the adjutant will inquire very closely."

The trumpet-major was quite willing to do his share of the business. He was glad to fill up one of the vacancies, especially as it seemed that the new-comer would soon be able to take his place in the ranks; and after asking a few questions he went across with him to the adjutant. The latter looked at Edgar critically.

"Smart young fellow," he said to himself. "Got into some scrape at home, I suppose, and run away. Of course he has some got-up lie ready. Well, sergeant, what is it?"

"Lad wishes to enlist as a trumpeter, sir. Here is a letter from his next friend, Sergeant M'Bride of the 18th Hussars. Lad's father and mother dead. M'Bride stands in place of guardian."

"A likely story," the adjutant muttered to himself. "What is your name, lad?"

"I enlist as Edward Smith," Edgar said, "age sixteen."

"Parents dead?"

"I lost them when I was a child, sir."

"Who were they?"

"My father was a sergeant in the 30th Foot, sir."

The adjutant was watching him narrowly.

"Either he is telling the truth," he said to himself, "or he is one of the calmest young liars I have ever come across."

"And there is no one who has any legal right to control you or to object to your enlisting?"

"No one, sir."

"You cannot play, I suppose?"

"I have been learning the trumpet for some little time, sir, and can sound a few of the calls."

"Well, I suppose that will do, sergeant. You had better take him across to the doctor. If he passes him put him up for the night, and bring him here to-morrow at twelve o'clock to be sworn in."

"Rather a tough case that," he said to himself as the trumpet-major left with the young recruit. "There is not a doubt the boy is lying, and yet I could have declared he was speaking the truth. Of course he may be the son of a non-commissioned officer, and have been brought up and educated by someone. He looks a gentleman all over, and speaks like one. Well, it is no business of mine;" and the adjutant gave the matter no further thought.

The next day Edgar was sworn in. The colonel, hearing from the adjutant that he had questioned the boy, and that there was no impediment to his enlisting, passed him without a remark, and Edgar was at once taken to the regimental tailor and measured for his uniform, and half an hour later was marched out with four or five of the other trumpeters beyond the confines of the camp, and was there set to work at the calls. His work was by no means light. He was at once sent into the riding-school, and he found it a very different thing to satisfy the riding-master and his sergeants than it had been to learn to sit a horse at home. However, his previous practice in that way rendered the work much easier for him than it would otherwise have been, and he was not very long in passing out from the squad of recruits. Then he had two or three hours a day of practice with the trumpet, an hour a day at gymnastics, and in the afternoon two hours of school. The last item was, however, but child's play, and as soon as the instructor saw that the lad could without difficulty take a first-class, he employed him in aiding to teach others.

The evening was the only time he had to himself; then, if he chose to take the trouble to dress, he could go out into the town or stroll through the camp or take a walk. If disinclined for this there was the cavalry canteen, with a large concert-room attached, where entertainments were given by music-hall singers brought down from London. The trumpeters and bandsmen had a barrack-room to themselves. Edgar, who had a healthy appetite, found the food of a very different description to that to which he had been accustomed. Although up at six o'clock in the morning, even in the winter, as it was, there was nothing to eat until eight. Then there was a mug of a weak fluid called tea, and an allowance of bread. The dinner, which was at one, consisted of an amount of meat scarcely sufficient for a growing boy; for although had the allowance consisted entirely of flesh, it would have been ample, it was so largely reduced by the amount of bone and fat that the meat was reduced to a minimum. However, when eked out with potatoes and bread it sufficed well enough.

Tea at six consisted, like breakfast, of a mug of tea and bread. Edgar found, however, that the Spartan breakfasts and teas could be supplemented by additions purchased at the canteen. Here pennyworths of butter, cheese, bacon, an egg, a herring, and many similar luxuries were obtainable, and two pence of his pay was invariably spent on breakfast, a penny sufficing for the addition to his tea.

He found that he soon got on well with his comrades. It was like going to a fresh school. There was at first a good deal of rough chaff, but as soon as it was found that he could take this good-temperedly, and that if pushed beyond a fair limit he was not only ready to fight but was able to use his fists with much more science than any of the other trumpeters, he was soon left alone, and indeed became a favourite with the bandsmen. Two months after he joined he was appointed to a troop. He found, however, that he did not have to accompany them generally on parade. The regiment, like all others at home, was very short of its complement of horses, and only one trumpeter to each squadron was mounted. Edgar, however, cared little for this. He considered his first two years' work as merely a probation which had to be gone through before he could take his place in the ranks as a trooper.

He found his pay sufficient for his needs. Although he had in the old days been in the habit of drinking beer, he had made a resolution to abstain from it altogether on joining the regiment. He determined to gain his stripes at the earliest possible opportunity, and knew well enough, from what he had heard Captain Clinton say, that drink was the curse of the army, and that men, although naturally sober and steady, were sometimes led into it, and thereby lost all chance of ever rising. He had never smoked, and it was no privation to him to abstain from tobacco, and he had therefore the whole of his pay, after the usual deduction for stoppages, at his disposal for food, and had always a little in his pocket to lend to any comrade who had the bad luck to be put on heavy stoppages by the loss of some of his necessaries.

In this respect he himself suffered somewhat heavily at first. Accustomed at school to leave his things carelessly about without the slightest doubt as to their safety, he was astonished and shocked to find that a very much laxer code of morality prevailed in the army, and that any necessaries left about instantly disappeared. The first week after joining he lost nearly half the articles that had been served out to him, and was for some months on heavy stoppages of pay to replace them. The lesson, however, had its effect, and he quickly learnt to keep a sharp look-out over his things. He was soon dismissed from school, obtaining his first-class at the examination, which took place two months after he joined, and this gave him time to attend the fencing-school, and to give more time to gymnastics.

When once accustomed to his work he found his life an easy and pleasant one, and had far more time at his disposal than had been the case at school. He resolutely avoided dwelling on the past, and whenever he found himself thinking of what had so long been home, he took up a book, or went out for a walk, or engaged in some occupation that served to distract his thoughts. He missed the games. Football was occasionally played, but there was no observance of rules, and after trying it once or twice he gave it up in disgust. He often joined in a game at fives, and practised running and jumping, so as to be able to take part in the regimental sports in the spring.

When Easter had passed and the weather became bright and pleasant he often took long walks alone, for it was seldom he could find anyone willing to accompany him. He had learnt drawing at Cheltenham, and as he found that it would be useful for him when he obtained the rank of a non-commissioned officer to make sketches and maps to send in with reports of any country reconnoitred, he accustomed himself to do this on his walks, jotting down the features of the country, noticing the spots where roads came in, the width of the bridges across the canals and the nature of their banks, and taking sketches of what appeared to him positions that would be occupied to check a pursuing force, or to be taken up by an advanced one.

At this time, too, he joined a class for signalling, and found it highly interesting, and before the end of the summer could send a message or read one with flags or flash-lights. As soon as the summer really began he took to cricket, and here he speedily attracted the attention of the officers. He had been the best bowler in the second eleven, and would have been in the first the next season at Cheltenham. But it was some little time before his proficiency as a bowler became known, although it was soon seen that his batting was far above the average.

"That youngster handles his bat well, Moffat," one of the lieutenants said to the captain, who was the most energetic cricketer among the officers, and who with one or two of the sergeants generally made up the team when the regimental eleven played against that of another corps.

"Yes, he plays in good form, doesn't he? Who is the young fellow at the wicket now, sergeant?"

"He is trumpeter of D troop, sir. He only joined three months ago, but he could play a bit when he came, and got posted to a troop before two others who joined four or five months before him."

"The man who is bowling now is not up to much, sergeant. Suppose you take the ball for an over or two; I should like to see how that young fellow would stand up to your bowling."

The sergeant, who was one of the regimental bowlers, took the ball. Edgar, who had been driving the previous bowler in all directions, at once played carefully, and for an over or two contented himself with blocking the balls, then one came a little wide and he cut it to leg for four.

Captain Moffat took off his coat and waistcoat and took the end facing the sergeant, and began to bowl some slow twisting balls, that were in strong contrast to the fast delivery of the sergeant. Edgar felt now that he was being tried, and played very cautiously. There were no runs to be made off such bowling until the bowler became careless or tired. At last a ball came rather farther than usual. Edgar stepped out to meet it, and drove it nearly straight forward and scored four, and it was not until his score ran up to thirty that he was at last caught.

"You will do, Smith," Captain Moffat said approvingly. "Where did you learn to play cricket?"

"I learned at school, sir."

"Ah! well, they taught you that well if they taught you nothing else. You go on practising, and I will give you a chance to play for the regiment the first time that there is a vacancy."

Two or three matches were played before the chance came. Then Sergeant Stokes, the bowler, hurt his hand the day before they were going to play the Rifle Brigade, which was considered the strongest team in camp.

"This is an unlucky business, sergeant," Captain Moffat said to him as they were talking over next day's play. "I thought if we had luck we might make a good fight with the Rifles. Bowling is never our strongest point, and now you are out of it we shall make a very poor show. Are there any of the men outside the eleven who show any bowling talent?"

The sergeant shook his head.

"Not one of them, sir. I hoped Corporal Holland would have made a bowler, but he seems to have gone off rather than come on. No; we must trust to the bowlers we have got. There are four or five of them who are not bad, though except yourself, sir, there is nothing, so to speak, to depend on."

"You cannot depend on me, sergeant; there is no certainty about my bowling. Sometimes I do pretty fairly, at other times I get hit all over the field. No; my proper place is wicket-keeping. I should never leave that if we had two or three bowlers we could depend upon. Well, we must go in for run making.

"I do not think that we can do better than put on that young trumpeter till you can play again. I have watched him several times at practice, and he always keeps his wickets up well, and hits freely whenever he gets a chance."

"Very well, sir. I will warn him that he will be wanted to-morrow. There can be no harm in trying him for once anyhow."

There was some little surprise among the men who played cricket at hearing that Trumpeter Smith was to play in the eleven against the Rifles, and some little grumbling among those who had hoped to be the next choice. However, all agreed that he was a very likely youngster. The Hussars won the toss, and went in first. The bowling of the Rifles was deadly, and the ten wickets fell for fifty-two runs. Edgar was the last to go in, and did not receive a single ball, his partner succumbing to the very first ball bowled after Edgar had gone out to the wicket. Then the Rifles went in, and the loss of the Hussars' fast bowler soon made itself felt. Two of the best bats of the Rifles were at the wicket, and in spite of several changes of bowling, seventy-four runs were scored without a separation being made. Captain Moffat looked round the field despairingly. He had tried all the men on whom he had any dependence. His own bowling had been very severely punished, and he had retired when thirty runs had been scored and was reluctant to take the ball again. As he was standing undecided after an over in which twelve runs had been scored, his eye fell on Edgar as he ran lightly across to take up his place on the opposite side.

"Smith!" Edgar ran up to him. "Do you bowl at all?"

"I have not bowled this season, sir, but I used to bowl pretty fairly."

"Very well, then, take the ball at this end after the next over. I am going to try Smith at this end," he said to the young lieutenant who was long-stop.

He shrugged his shoulders. "Well, there is one thing, he cannot make a worse mess of it than we are making already."

When the over was concluded, Edgar took the ball. The year that had elapsed since he had last played, and the gymnastics and hard exercise, had strengthened his muscles greatly, and as he tossed the ball from hand to hand while the field took their places he felt that he was more master of it than he had been before. He had then been a remarkably fast bowler for his age, and would have been in the eleven had it not happened that it already possessed three unusually good bowlers.

The first ball he sent up was a comparatively slow one; he wanted to try his hand. It was dead on the wicket, and was blocked; then he drew his breath, and sent the next ball in with all his force. A shout rose from the Hussars as two of the wickets went flying into the air. Another player came out, but at the fourth ball of the over his middle stump was levelled.

"What do you think of that, Langley?" Captain Moffat asked the long-stop as they walked together to the other end. "We have found a treasure. He bowls about as fast as any one I have ever seen, and every ball is dead on the wicket."

"He is first-class," the lieutenant, who was an old Etonian, said. "I wonder where he learnt to play cricket?"

The wickets fell fast, and the innings concluded for 98, Edgar taking seven wickets for twelve runs. Captain Moffat put him in third in the second innings, and he scored twenty-four before he was caught out, the total score of the innings amounting to 126. The Rifles had therefore eighty-one runs to get to win. They only succeeded in making seventy-six, eight of them being either bowled out by Edgar or caught off his bowling. After this he took his place regularly in the Hussar team, and it was generally acknowledged that it was owing to his bowling that the regiment that season stood at the head of the Aldershot teams.

CHAPTER VI. EGYPT.

Naturally his prowess at cricket made Trumpeter Smith a popular figure in the regiment, and even at the officers' mess his name was frequently mentioned, and many guesses were ventured as to who he was and what school he came from.

That he was a gentleman by birth nobody doubted. There was nothing unusual in that, for all the cavalry regiments contain a considerable number of gentlemen in their ranks; men of this class generally enlisting in the cavalry in preference to the other arms of the service. It was, however, unusual for one to enlist at Edgar's age. Many young men, after having failed to gain a commission by competition, enlist in hopes of working up to one through the ranks. Another class are the men who having got into scrapes of one kind or another, run through their money, and tired out their friends, finally enlist as the only thing open to them.

The first class are among the steadiest men in the regiment, and speedily work their way up among the non-commissioned officers. The second class are, on the other hand, among the wildest and least reputable men in the ranks. They are good men in a campaign where pluck and endurance and high spirits are most valuable, but among the worst and most troublesome when there is little to do and time hangs heavily on hand.

There were two of the sergeants who had failed in the examination for commissions, and were hoping some day to obtain them. One had been five years in the regiment, the other three. Their attention had first been called to Edgar by his getting a first-class in the examination, which at once stamped him as having had an education greatly superior to that of the majority of recruits. His position in the regimental cricket team further attracted their attention, and they took an opportunity to speak to him when it happened they were walking together and met Edgar returning from an afternoon's ramble across the country.

"Well, Smith, how do you like soldiering?"

"I like it very well; I don't think that there is anything to complain of at all."

"It is better than grinding away at Latin and Greek and mathematics, and that sort of thing," the younger of the two sergeants said with a smile.

"There are advantages both ways, sergeant."

"So there are, lad. Of the two I like drill better than grinding at books, worse luck; if I had been fond of books I should not be wearing these stripes. I asked the band-master if you were learning an instrument. He said you were not. So I suppose you mean to give up your trumpet and join the ranks as soon as you get to eighteen?"

"Yes. I should not care about being in the band."

"Your cricket is not a bad thing for you," the elder of the two men said. "It brings you into notice, and will help you to get your stripes earlier than you otherwise would do; as a man who does his regiment credit either as a good shot or as a cricketer or in the sports is sure to attract notice, and to be pushed on if he is steady and a smart soldier. If you won't mind my giving you a bit of advice, I should say don't try to push yourself forward. Sometimes young fellows spoil their chances by doing so. Some of the old non-commissioned officers feel a bit jealous when they see a youngster likely to make his way up, and you know they can make it very hot for a fellow if they like. So be careful not to give them a chance. Even if you are blown up when you do not deserve it, it is better to hold your tongue than to kick against it. Cheeking a non-commissioned officer never pays."

"Thank you, sergeant," Edgar said quietly; "I am much obliged to you for your advice."

"An uncommonly good style of young fellow," Sergeant Netherton, who was the son of a colonel in the army, and had been educated at Harrow, said to his companion. "Comes from a good school, I should say. Must have got into some baddish scrape, or he never would be here at his age."

"It does not quite follow," the other replied. "His father may have died or burst up somehow, and seeing nothing before him but a place at a clerk's desk or enlisting he may have taken this alternative; and not a bad choice either. For, putting aside altogether the chance of getting a commission, which is a pretty slight one, there is no pleasanter life for a steady, well-conducted young fellow who has had a fair education than the army. He is sure of getting his stripes in a couple of years after enlisting. A non-commissioned officer has enough pay to live comfortably; he has no care or anxiety of any sort; he has more time to himself than a man in any other sort of business. There are no end of staff appointments open to him if he writes a good hand, and does not mind clerk work. If he goes in for long service he has every chance of being regimental sergeant-major before he has done, and can leave the service with a pension sufficient to keep him in a quiet way."

"Yes, that is all very well, Summers, but he cannot marry. That is to say, if he has, as we are supposing, been born and educated as a gentleman, he cannot marry the sort of woman he would like as a wife."

"No, there is that drawback," the other laughed. "But then, you see, if he had been obliged to take a small clerkship leading to nothing, he could hardly invite a young countess to share it with him."

As Edgar walked back to barracks he thought over the advice that had been given him, and recognized its value. He knew that the chances of his ever obtaining a commission were exceedingly small, and that even young men whose fathers were officers of high standing and considerable influence seldom obtain a commission under six or seven years' service, and that the majority of commissions from the ranks are given to old non-commissioned officers who were made quarter-masters or pay-masters. He had not entered the service, as had the two non-commissioned officers with whom he had been speaking, for the express purpose of gaining a commission, but simply because he had always had a fancy for soldiering, and because it seemed at the time he left Cheltenham the only thing open to him.

He had resolved from the first that he would regularly put by a portion of his pay, so that he could at any time purchase his discharge if he wished to, should he see any opening in which he could embark by the time he reached the age of three or four and twenty. He would have gained experience, and might then, if he liked, emigrate to one of the colonies. He resolved that when winter came he would go into one of the regimental workshops and learn a trade, either saddlery or farriery, which would enable him to earn his living for a time abroad until he saw something better to do. At school Edgar had held his place rather by steady work than by natural talent. Rupert was the more clever of the two, but Edgar's dogged perseverance had placed him in a more advanced position on the modern side than Rupert held on the classical, and in whatever position he might find himself his perseverance, power of work, and strong common sense were likely to carry him through.

Edgar was conscious himself that he had acted hastily and wrongly in leaving Cheltenham as he had done, and yet he felt that if again placed in the same circumstances he should do the same. Captain Clinton had certainly a right to have a voice in his future, and yet he felt so keenly the dishonour of the fraud in which he had been an unconscious accomplice, that he could not have brought himself to accept any assistance at Captain Clinton's hands. Still he knew that those at home—for he still thought of it as home—would be feeling much anxiety about him, and once a month he wrote a short letter to Captain Clinton saying that he was well and was keeping himself comfortably. These letters he gave in charge of comrades going up for a day's leave to London to post there for him.

One day Edgar had gone with a dozen others to bathe in the canal. After doing so they had returned to barracks, and he had gone for a walk by himself. On his return he was walking along a lane at a distance of about a mile from the town, when he heard a scream. He at once started off at the top of his speed, and at a turn of the lane he came upon a group of two tramps and two frightened ladies. One of these was in the act of handing over her purse to a tramp, while the second man was holding the other by the wrist, and was endeavouring to tear off her watch and chain, which she was struggling to retain. Just as Edgar turned the corner he struck her on the face, and she fell backward on to the bank.

Another moment and Edgar was up to them. The tramp turned with a savage oath. Edgar, who was carrying his riding-whip, struck him with it with all his strength across the eyes, and the man staggered back with a shriek of pain. The other stood on the defensive, but he was no match for Edgar, who was in hard exercise, and in regular practice with the gloves, and whose blood was thoroughly up. The fight lasted but a minute, at the end of which time the tramp was lying in the road roaring for mercy, and shouting to his comrade to come to his assistance.

The latter, however, was stamping with pain, and was still unable to use his eyes.

Edgar turned to the ladies. "If you will kindly walk on to the town," he said, "and send the first man you meet here to me, I will take care of these two fellows until he arrives, and then we will hand them over to the police. Do not be alarmed," he went on, seeing that they hesitated, "I think they have had enough of it."

The ladies hurried off, and before going many hundred yards came upon three infantry men, who, when they heard what had happened, set off at a run to Edgar's assistance. They arrived just in time. The man on the ground had recovered his feet, and he and his companion had attacked Edgar with fury, and it needed all the latter's skill and activity to defend himself. As soon as the soldiers arrived upon the scene the combat ceased. As a measure of precaution the tramps were first knocked down; they were then dragged on to their feet and conducted by their captors into Aldershot, where they were lodged at the police station. They were followed by the two ladies, who after sending on the soldiers had waited until their return with the tramps. They waited outside the police station until a constable came out and asked them to sign the charge sheet, which they did. Edgar now looked at them fairly for the first time, and recognized one of them as being the wife of the major of his corps.

"You belong to my husband's regiment," she said as they came out from the police station. "What is your name?"

"Smith, madam. I am a trumpeter in D troop."

"Oh, yes! I remember your face now. I have often seen you in the cricket field. Miss Pearson and myself are greatly indebted to you. I should not mind so much being robbed of my purse, but I prize my watch very highly as it was a present from my father. Major Horsley will see you and thank you when he hears what you have done."

"I do not want any thanks," Edgar said; "it is a pleasure to punish such ruffians."

Half an hour later Major Horsley came across to Edgar's quarters, and the sergeant called the lad down.

"I am greatly indebted to you, Smith," he said, as Edgar saluted, "greatly indebted to you. You have behaved most gallantly, and have saved my wife from the loss of her watch and chain that she greatly valued, and perhaps from serious ill-treatment from those ruffians; as it was, one of them struck her a very severe blow on the face. I know enough of you, lad, to feel that I cannot offer you money for the service that you have rendered me; but be assured that I shall not forget it, and that when it is in my power to do you a good turn I will do so."

"Thank you, sir," Edgar said. "I am very glad to have been of service."

The major nodded kindly. Edgar saluted and turned away, well pleased at having made a friend who would have it in his power to be so useful to him, and still more pleased that the major had not offered him money as a reward for what he had done. An hour later he was sent for to the orderly-room, where the colonel in the presence of several of the officers thanked him for his gallant conduct.

"You are a credit to the regiment, Smith; and you may be sure that I shall keep my eye on you," he concluded.

The next day the tramps were brought up before the local magistrates and committed for trial for highway robbery with violence, and a month later they were brought up at the assizes at Winchester and sentenced to five years' penal servitude. Edgar gained a great deal of credit in the regiment from the affair, and came to be known by the nickname of "The Bantam." There were, of course, some men who were jealous of the young trumpeter's popularity, and two or three of the non-commissioned officers especially felt aggrieved at the notice taken of him. One of these was the corporal in charge of the barrack-room occupied by Edgar, for he had, since he had been regularly appointed to a troop, left the quarters he first occupied with the band for those allotted to troop D.

Corporals, however, have but little power in a barrack-room. They are in a sort of transitional state between a private and a sergeant, and are liable for even a comparatively small fault to be sent down again into the ranks. This being the case, they seldom venture to make themselves obnoxious to the men who were but lately their comrades, and may be their comrades again before a week is out. Corporal North, however, lost no opportunity of making himself disagreeable in a small way to Edgar. More than that he could not venture upon, for the men would at once have taken the lad's part.

The regiment had been for some little time first on the list for foreign service, and there was no surprise when the news ran round the barrack-rooms that the order had come to prepare for embarkation. It was supposed that as a matter of course India would be their destination; but it was soon known that the regiment was for the present to be stationed in Egypt. Most of the men would rather have gone direct to India, where soldiers are better off and better cared for than elsewhere. Edgar, however, was pleased at the thought of seeing something of Egypt, and it seemed to him, too, that there was a chance of active service there.

"It seems to me," he said, talking it over with several of his chums, "that sooner or later we must have some fighting in Egypt. I cannot understand how it is that some of the regiments there have not long ago been sent down to Suakim. We have smashed up the Egyptian army, and it seems to me that as we are really masters of the place we are bound to protect the natives from these savage tribes who are attacking them down on the Red Sea and up in the Soudan. The Egyptians always managed them well enough until we disbanded their army. If Hicks Pasha had had, as he asked for, an English regiment or two with him, he would never have been smashed up by the Mahdi's people; and it seems to me awful that the garrisons of Sinkat and Tokar should be deserted when we have a lot of troops lying idle at Cairo, while Baker is trying in vain to get up a native force to march to their relief. I wish, instead of going to Egypt, we were going straight down to Suakim to help him. There is one thing, if Baker fails and Sinkat and Tokar fall into the hands of the natives, there will be such indignation that government will have to do something. So I think there is a very good chance of our seeing some active service there, which will be a thousand times better than sweltering in hot barracks in Cairo."

"Right you are, Smith," one of the others said. "I don't go in for reading the papers, and I don't know anything about the chaps in Egypt; but if there is going to be a row, I say let us have our share in it. We are pretty well up in the pursuing drill; it would be a change to do it with somebody to pursue. Anyhow, wherever it is it will be a good job to get out of Aldershot, with its parades and its drills and its Long Valley, and the whole blooming lot of it."

Three days later the order came, and the regiment proceeded by rail to Southampton; they embarked as soon as they arrived there, and the transport started on the following morning. The weather was fine, and the voyage a pleasant one. They had but little to do, for they had left their horses behind them, as they were to take over the horses of the regiment they were going to relieve. The steamer was a fast one, and in twelve days after sailing they reached Alexandria. They were met when they arrived there by terrible news. General Baker's force had marched to the relief of Tokar, but on the way had been attacked by the natives and utterly defeated, half the force being killed; and the whole would have been annihilated had they not reached the sea-shore, where the guns of the vessels which had brought them down from Suakim checked the pursuit of the enemy. Sinkat had fallen.

The news had arrived only on the previous day, and the greatest excitement prevailed. The regiment at once proceeded to Cairo by train and took over the barracks and horses from the small detachment that had been left in charge of them, the main body of the regiment having crossed them on their journey from Alexandria, as they were to proceed to India in the same steamer that had brought out the Hussars. They were scarcely settled in their quarters before they heard that, now that it was too late, an expedition was to be sent down to Suakim. Two English regiments would have saved Baker's force from destruction, and would have rescued the garrisons of Sinkat and Tokar; now a large force would have to be employed. Some time would, of course, be needed for the organization of the expedition, and in the meantime the Hussars had plenty of opportunity for investigating Cairo.

To Edgar the town was delightful, with its bazaar and its varied population, and he and some of his comrades were never tired of wandering about examining the shops with their curious contents, their bright-coloured scarves, their wonderful pipes, their gaudy brasswork, and their oriental stuffs and carpets. But the population were even more amusing, with the mixture of Egyptians, Arabs, and Negroes clad in every variety of garb: from the Egyptian functionary in his neat blue uniform and fez, and the portly merchant in his oriental robes, to the Arabs muffled up in cotton cloths with turban and bernous, the lightly-clad Fellah, and the women shrouded in dark blue cottons with their faces almost entirely hidden by the yashmack. It needed some dexterity to avoid the strings of loaded camels that made their way through the narrow streets, the porters carrying heavy weights hanging from the centre of a thick bamboo pole resting on the shoulders of two or four men, and the diminutive donkeys with their high saddles, on the top of which were perched men who looked far more capable of carrying the donkeys than the donkeys of supporting their weight.

The men soon discovered that spirits were cheap in Cairo, and the result was a considerable addition to the number brought up at the orderly-room for drunkenness. Among these, to Edgar's satisfaction, was Corporal North, who was at once sent back to the ranks and sentenced to a week in the cells. On the day he came out Edgar went up to him.

"Now look here, North. You have made it pretty hot for me while you were corporal. If I had given you any cause for it I should bear no malice, but it has been simply persecution. As long as you were corporal I had to grin and bear it, but now that you are in the ranks we can settle matters; so I challenge you to meet me in the riding-school after we are dismissed from parade to-day."

"That will suit me exactly," North said. "You want a licking badly, young fellow, and now you will get it."

"Well, if I were you I would say nothing about it until it is over," Edgar replied; "for, you see, it is quite possible that it may be the other way."

As several of the men had heard the conversation there was a considerable gathering in the riding-school after they were dismissed from parade. The sympathies of the men were strongly with Edgar; but most of them thought that he was hardly a match for North, who had fought several times before he had got his stripes, and was a well-built young fellow of two-and-twenty.

The fight lasted upwards of an hour. North had some knowledge of boxing, but in this respect Edgar was his superior. He was far stronger and longer in the reach, while Edgar was the more active. In the early part of the fight the advantage lay all with the soldier, and Edgar was terribly knocked about, so much so that the general opinion was that he had better give in and say that he had had enough; but Edgar laughed at the suggestion.

"We have only begun yet," he said to the man who was acting as his second; "last tells in the long run. I have seen that before now, and I have double the last he has."

This was the fact. Edgar had been constantly at hard work since he joined the regiment, while North had had a comparatively easy time of it since he became a corporal. He had, too, spent no small portion of his pay in drink, and although he was seldom absolutely drunk, had had more than one narrow escape of his condition being observed on his return to barracks in the evening. As the fight went on, then, want of condition told upon him. Edgar, who had at one time seemed weak, gradually recovered his strength, while North became exhausted by the exertions he had made in the early part of the fight.

Edgar now took the offensive, and at the end of an hour and a quarter's fighting North was no longer able to come up to time, and a loud shout from the lookers-on proclaimed that Edgar was the victor. He went across to North and held out his hand.

"Let us shake hands, North," he said; "it has been a good tough fight. I owe you no malice now, and if you get your stripes again, as I daresay you will, I hope it will be a lesson to you not to drop unfairly upon anyone you may take a dislike to."

North took the hand held out to him.

"You have licked me fairly, Smith," he said. "I did not think you had it in you; but I don't think you would have thrashed me if I had been in as good a condition as you are."

"Very likely not," Edgar laughed. "Well, next time we fight I hope it will be against the Arabs, and not against each other."

This fight greatly added to Edgar's reputation in the regiment. North was not a popular character and had always been considered a bully, and the pluck with which Edgar had continued the fight was thoroughly appreciated. Neither of the combatants were able to take their place in the ranks for some days after the fight, being obliged to obtain an order from the surgeon dispensing them from appearing on parade, though they still did stable duty and inner guards. Through the surgeon the matter came to the ears of the officers, who, by quiet inquiry from the sergeants, learnt the particulars of the fight.

"Your friend Trumpeter Smith is reported as unfit for duty, my dear," Major Horsley said to his wife.

"Is he! I am sorry for that," the lady said. "Is there anything we can do for him in the way of sending him some soup, or anything of that sort? He is not seriously ill, I hope?"

"I am afraid he is beyond your skill, Emma," Major Horsley said; and then, seeing that his wife looked seriously grieved, went on, "don't be alarmed, he has only been fighting again."

"Oh! is that all? I was afraid it was fever, or something of that sort. Who has he been fighting with? He doesn't look quarrelsome at all."

"He has been fighting with a man named North, who was a corporal in his troop, and who, as I hear, has been persecuting him a good deal. The fellow got drunk the other day and was reduced to the ranks, and young Smith lost no time in challenging him to fight. I hear most of the men thought he was a fool for doing so, for North is five years older than he is, and a stiff-built young fellow too. I hear that it was a very hard fight, and lasted nearly an hour and a half. After the first half-hour it seemed to every one that Smith would have to give in, for the other man had all the best of it, knocking him down every round; but he stuck to it, and at last North was so beaten he could not come up to time. The sergeant says both of them are terribly knocked about, Smith worst. He can hardly see out of his eyes, and it will be fully a week before either of them can take their places in the ranks. I hear it was the longest fight that there has been in the regiment for years, and the sergeant-major tells me the men are quite enthusiastic over the pluck with which the young one fought. You see, he is not seventeen yet, and for a lad of that age to stand up against a man—and one too who, as I hear, is accustomed to use his fists—is a feather in his cap. It will do him good in the regiment. I have no doubt some of the men are rather jealous of the position he gained from his play at cricket, and from that affair of yours."

"It was very mean of them, then," Mrs. Horsley said warmly.

"Perhaps so, my dear; but favourites are not often popular. Anyhow, this will do him good, and will give him a better standing in the regiment than even his cricket could do; and, at any rate, those who don't like him are likely after this to keep their opinion to themselves."

"I wish we could do something for him, Robert. You see, we have never done anything yet."

"I shall have a chance of giving him a helping hand some day," the major replied, "and you may be sure that when the opportunity comes I shall do what I can. I have not forgotten what I owe him, I can tell you."

The opportunity came sooner than the major had expected. In a short time it became known that four squadrons of the 10th Hussars and one squadron of the 1st were to accompany the expedition, and the greatest excitement prevailed in the corps as to which troops should be chosen. Two days later Edgar was delighted to hear that the A and D troops had been named for the service.

"Why have they chosen the D troop, Robert?" Mrs. Horsley asked her husband.

"Partly, my dear, because Atkinson is the senior captain."

"Oh, yes! I forgot that. And what is the other reason?"

"Well, Emma, that reason is known only to myself, but I do not mind your knowing it; but you must not whisper it to anyone."

"What is it?" his wife asked curiously.

"Because, my dear, Trumpeter Smith belongs to that troop, and I thought I would give him the chance of distinguishing himself. Someday, when it comes to a question of promotion, it will count in his favour that he has seen active service."

"Oh, I am glad, Robert! It was very good of you to think of it. I wish that he could know that you thought of him."

"That he certainly cannot know," the major said decidedly. "It would be a nice thing for it to be known by anyone that the arrangements as to which troop should go on service had been influenced by my desire to do a good turn to a trumpeter. The other reason is a good and sufficient one. Atkinson, as senior captain, has almost a right to the first chance that offers. He is pretty sure to get brevet rank if there is any hard fighting."

At this moment there was a knock at the door and an orderly entered, and saluting handed a note to Major Horsley. He glanced through it, and an expression of pleasure crossed his face.

"My compliments to the colonel. I will come across and see him at once."

"What is it, Robert?" his wife asked as the door closed behind the soldier.

"Well, my dear, it is news that I own gives me great pleasure, but which I am afraid you won't like."

"Not that you are to go with the detachment, Robert?"

"Yes, Emma, that is it;" and he handed her the note.

"My dear Horsley, I have just received orders from the general that a field-officer is to go in command of the squadron. As senior major, you have, of course, the right to the chance. I congratulate you."

Mrs. Horsley turned a little pale as she read it, and her lip quivered as she said, "Well, Robert, no doubt you are glad of the opportunity, and as a soldier's wife I will not say anything to damp your pleasure. It is natural that you should wish to go. If I were a man I should wish so too. Anyhow, it will only last a very short time. You said you thought that they would be back again in a month, and surely there can be no very great danger in a fight with these savages."

"The smallest amount in the world, Emma. It is not like Baker's force, which was composed of these cowardly Egyptians; and it is ridiculous to suppose that these wild tribesmen, brave as they may be, can stand against British troops armed with breech-loaders. I am afraid that all our share of the business will be to do a little scouting before the fight begins, and a little pursuing practice afterwards, so there will be really no occasion whatever for you to be at all uneasy, child; and I must own that I am extremely glad of the opportunity of taking part in this little expedition against these fanatics. Well, I must go across and see the colonel."

Mrs. Horsley indulged in a quiet cry while he was away, for although she did not apprehend any real danger, the thought that her husband was going to run some risk of his life for the first time since she married him was a trial. However, she looked bright and cheerful when he returned, and at once set to work to pack up the kit required for the expedition.

The next morning the detachment of the 1st Hussars, eighty strong, marched down to the station with one hundred men of the 10th Hussars. They took train for Suez. Here they found another two hundred and twenty-eight men of the 10th who had come on by an earlier train, and the work of embarking the horses on board the steamer that was to take them down to Suakim at once began. It was continued until nightfall and recommenced again at daybreak, for the operation of getting horses on board a ship and slinging them down into the hold is necessarily a slow one; but by mid-day all was concluded, the baggage on board, and the troops in readiness for a start.

It was just sunset when the vessel steamed away from the wharf, the troops on board joining in a hearty cheer as she started. The ship was far more crowded than would have been the case had she been starting for a long voyage; but the run down to Suakim was so short that she was packed as full as she could hold, having in addition to the troops a number of mules for the transport. Every one was in high spirits. The change was a most welcome one after the monotony of barrack life in Egypt, and moreover all were burning to avenge the destruction of Baker's force and the massacre of the brave little garrison of Sinkat.

The voyage was a pleasant one. After passing out of the Gulf of Suez, with the lofty and rugged mountain of Sinai with its red rocks and patches of verdure rising almost from the water's edge, they entirely lost sight of land on the left. On the right, however, ran a range of steep hills, which became bolder and loftier as they made their way south. When night again fell the engines were slowed down, for it was not deemed advisable to arrive off Suakim before daylight, as the coast of the neighbourhood abounded with reefs, and the entrance to the harbour was intricate and difficult. As soon as day broke the engines were again put at full speed, and in an hour the masts of the shipping lying in the port could be made out. As they neared the port a small launch was seen coming out. An officer soon came on board.

"You are to go down the coast to Trinkitat," he said to the captain. "The transports have gone down there, that is to be the base of operations."

The officers clustered round the new-comer to learn the news.

"You have been more lucky than the 19th," he said. "The Neva ran ashore on a shoal eighteen or nineteen miles away and has become a total wreck. Several steamers went out at once to help her, and got out the men and horses. A good deal of the baggage was lost, and fifty transport mules, which there was no time to take out before she went to pieces. It was a very close thing, and it was very lucky that aid came two or three hours after she struck. There has been trouble with the black regiments. The scoundrels mutinied as soon as they got on shore, and announced their intention of joining the rebels; so the marines have been kept here for the defence of the place, instead of going with the expedition. I am sorry to say that Tokar has fallen."

A groan broke from his hearers.

"It is a bad business," he went on; "but happily there has been no repetition of the Sinkat massacre. We heard the news yesterday morning. It was brought by five soldiers who made their way down the coast. They reported that the civil governor of the town had entered into negotiations with the enemy, and had agreed to surrender on the promise that the lives of the garrison should be spared. In the afternoon two of our spies came back and confirmed the intelligence. It seems that they could have held out some time longer, and that the governor has behaved like a traitor. They were annoyed by a distant fire from six Krupp guns taken at the defeat of Baker's force, and worked by some black artillerymen captured at the same time. The fire did no material harm, but it seems to have frightened what little courage was left among the officials, and the governor and a hundred and fifty of the townsmen went out and arranged the surrender, although they knew perfectly well that in a very few days help would arrive. There is one thing, the surrender will enable General Graham to choose his own time, and to wait until all the troops are up, instead of pushing forward, as he might otherwise have done, directly he thought he had men enough, to save Tokar."

In another five minutes the officer had taken his place in the launch and was steaming back into Suakim, and the transport was making her way south. By noon she was anchored off the landing-place, a low beach with a flat country extending behind it. The shore was alive with troops, and numbers of boats were plying backwards and forwards. The work of disembarking the horses began immediately, and the greater part of them were on shore before night. There they found the Black Watch, Gordon Highlanders, Irish Fusiliers, 19th Hussars, and the Mounted Infantry, a corps of one hundred and twenty-six strong.

Edgar greatly enjoyed the bustle and excitement, and the troops were all in the highest spirits. The first comers were eagerly questioned. They said that during the day the 19th and Mounted Infantry had made a reconnaissance across a lagoon which lay between the beach and the country behind. The enemy had been seen there in force, but they retired at once upon seeing the cavalry advance. It was expected that by the following morning some of the infantry would cross the lagoon and occupy a battery which General Baker had thrown up there to cover his landing, for Trinkitat had been the spot from which he too had advanced to relieve Tokar, and the scene of the conflict in which his force had been destroyed would probably be crossed by the British in their advance.

No tents had been taken or were needed, for even in February the heat upon the shores of the Red Sea is very great; and as the evening went on the buzz of talk and laughter died out, and the troops lay down and slept under the starry sky.

CHAPTER VII. EL-TEB.

The next morning the Gordon Highlanders and Irish Fusiliers, accompanied by a squadron of Hussars and the Mounted Infantry, with a couple of small guns, crossed the lagoon and occupied the intrenchment. The cavalry went a little distance out; but the enemy were seen in considerable numbers, and as there might be a large force concealed among the low sand-hills, no attempt was made to attack them, as it was undesirable to bring on serious fighting until the whole force were in readiness to advance. In the evening the cavalry recrossed the lagoon, as there was no water obtainable on the other side, and the animals had to depend upon the supply landed from the steamers. All day the work of disembarkation had been going on, and in spite of the heat of the blazing sun, the men had worked enthusiastically in getting the horses and stores on shore.

The next day the Naval Brigade, one hundred and fifteen strong, all picked men from the crews of the gun-boats, with ten officers, landed. The troops on the beach were most anxious to advance, but as those beyond the lagoon had to depend entirely upon food and water carried across to them, it was unadvisable to push a larger body of men forward, especially as the natives had clearly no intentions of attacking them, contenting themselves by keeping up a distant fire.

"I expect the beggars are gathering their forces just as we are gathering ours," one of the Hussars said, as they sat round a fire they had lighted with some drift-wood picked up on shore. The heat was in no way required, but the light was cheerful, and the smoke kept away troublesome insects.

"They reckon," another said, "upon falling upon us on the march as they did upon Baker's men, but they will find they have got into the wrong box."

"General Baker came down himself in the steamboat which arrived this afternoon. I heard one of the officers say so," Edgar put in. "It will be a satisfaction to him to see these fellows well licked on nearly the same ground where they cut up his force."

"Ah! I expect Baker would give his right hand to lead the cavalry in the charge. What a splendid officer he is! There is not a man in the army can handle cavalry as he can; and wouldn't the 10th fight with their old colonel at their head!"

There was a general chorus of assent.

"How splendidly he fought in Turkey!" another trooper said. "I am told the Turks he led would have done anything for him, and had just the same confidence in him our chaps used to have. If he had been in command of the whole army, instead of those rotten old pashas, the Russians would have found it a very different job. I wonder when we are going on. Now we have got all the stores ashore it will be precious slow work being stuck on this beach."

"We are waiting for the 65th," a sergeant said. "I hear the Serapis was expected this morning. It is great luck for them getting a fight without any trouble at all. How pleased they must have been when they heard at Aden that they were to be stopped on their way up, to have a share in the affair!"

"Yes, I call that a first-rate piece of luck," another agreed, "to have a good fight and then go straight home, while we have got nothing to look forward to afterwards but garrison duty in Cairo. I would rather be going on to India fifty times."

"Like enough we may see some service there," the sergeant said. "If this Mahdi fellow comes down, which they say he means to do, to invade Egypt, you may be sure we shall all have to go up to stop him."

"I don't call it 'fighting' against these savages," one of the troopers said. "What chance have they got against regular troops?"

"I don't know, Johnson. The Zulus were savages, and they made a pretty tough fight against us. I suppose you don't want anything much harder than that? These fellows have been every bit as brave as the Zulus. They cut Hicks Pasha's army into mincemeat, and they have licked two Egyptian armies down in this neighbourhood. If you think this is going to be no harder work than a field-day at Aldershot, I think you are likely to find you are mistaken."

"You don't suppose, sergeant, that these naked beggars are going to stand for a moment against a charge of eight hundred cavalry?"

"It did not seem as if naked savages could stand infantry armed with breech-loaders, but you see the Zulus did. It does not seem possible these Arabs can stand for a moment against our charge; but, you see, we do not understand these fellows. One knows what regular infantry can do against cavalry, and it may be we shall find that these Arabs are not to be ridden over as easily as we think. When you have got to reckon with men who don't care the snap of a finger whether they are killed or not, you never can count upon an easy victory however badly they may be armed, and however undisciplined they may be.

"There is nine o'clock," he broke off, as the bells on board the gun-boats rang out twice. A moment later a bugle sounded "lights out," and the call was repeated by the buglers and trumpeters of the various corps, and a few minutes later the men stretched themselves out on the sand, and silence reigned in the camp. The next morning Admiral Hewett sent on shore eight seven-pounder guns from the fleet, to take the place of the same number of little camel-guns, which had been found to be of no real utility. At noon the smoke of a steamer was made out in the distance, and a few hours later the Serapis, whose engines had gone wrong, arrived with the 65th, who were landed at once, and immediately crossed the lagoon to the intrenchment, and it was known that the advance would at once begin.

In addition to the guns sent on shore from the fleet the artillery had ten brass mountain-guns and four Krupps; the Naval Brigade had with them two nine-pounders, three Gatlings, and three Gardners. The troops were divided into two brigades, the first consisting of 610 men of the Rifles, 751 Gordon Highlanders, and 334 of the Irish regiment; the second brigade of 761 Royal Highlanders, 500 of the 65th, 361 Royal Marine Artillery and Infantry, and 100 Royal Engineers. There were 600 camels for the transport, 350 mules and 100 camels for the ambulance corps, while the camel battery was composed of 80 camels and 100 men.

In the course of the afternoon Major Harvey and Lieutenant-colonel Burnaby rode out two miles beyond the intrenchment and planted a white flag with a letter attached to the flagstaff, calling upon the enemy to retire and allow us to pass on to Tokar without opposition. They were fired at by the Arabs, and as the flag disappeared a short time after the officers had returned, there was no doubt that the letter would arrive at its destination. Before nightfall the whole of the force, with the exception of one hundred and fifty men left to defend the stores on the beach, had crossed the lagoon. Three hundred men were to remain in the intrenchment, when the rest marched, to defend the transport animals and stores left there against any attacks. Bivouac fires were lighted, and round these the troops sat smoking and chatting until the bugle-call ordered all to lie down in their ranks. They were bivouacked in the order in which they were to advance.

The formation was to be a sort of square, of which the Gordon Highlanders were to form the front face, the Royal Highlanders the rear line, the Irish Fusiliers the right face with the Rifles inside them; the 65th were on the outside of the left face, the Marines being inside them. The whole square was about 250 yards long by 150 deep. Between the Marines and Rifles in the centre were stationed the transport animals with the reserve ammunition and hospital appliances. The camel battery with the seven-pounders was to remain in reserve in the centre of the square, while the sailors with the six marine-guns were placed at the left front of the square, next to the Gordon Highlanders.

The bivouac fires were kept up all night, as it was considered probable that the enemy, who occasionally fired from a distance, might attempt an attack upon the sleeping force. The night, however, passed quietly, but towards morning rain fell heavily, soaking the troops as they lay, and there was a general feeling of gladness when the reveille called them to their feet. Fresh fuel was thrown on to the fires, and the men tried as best they could to dry themselves. The kettles were boiled and breakfast eaten, and the cavalry recrossed the lagoon to the beach to give their horses water at the tanks there. They then rejoined the infantry. Their place was to be in the rear of the square, but two squadrons were to move in extended order as scouts a mile in front of it and on both flanks.

Their orders were that if attacked they were not to charge the enemy, but to open right and left and to retire at once and rejoin the main body in the rear of the square, so as to allow a clear space for the sweep of the infantry fire. The infantry were to fire only in volleys on word of command, and were not to open fire until within three hundred yards of the enemy.

Moving out from the camp the force was halted on open ground and a brief inspection made to see that all was in order, and soon after eight o'clock the advance began in earnest.

As soon as they moved forward the enemy could be seen retiring, evidently bent upon pursuing the same tactics that they had done upon the occasion of the advance of Baker Pasha's force from the same halting-place a month before. The officers with their glasses could make them out swarming along a slight ridge of ground in the neighbourhood of the wells; their flags extended along a front a mile in length, and guns could be made out in position. As the column advanced the enemy cleared off from the rising ground, but whether they had retired behind the ridge, and were there waiting in readiness to pour out to the attack, or whether they were moving round to fall upon the flank of the column, was uncertain. As the column neared the position it could be seen that a breastwork had been thrown up, and that the position of the guns had been well chosen, and the enemy could now be made out crowded among the bushes on the ridge.

It was now ten o'clock, the column was advancing briskly to the martial music of the pipes of the Royal Highlanders, the cavalry scouts had moved away from the front, and the square was within five hundred yards of the ridge. They were not, however, advancing directly against it, but were moving in a line almost parallel to its face, as General Graham had determined to pass it and then attack in flank, as it was evident that there would be serious loss in a front attack upon a position so strongly held and fortified. It was a trying moment, for all expected that the silence, so far preserved by the enemy, would be broken by the roar of cannon and the discharge of musketry, and that it would be followed by the tremendous rush that had proved fatal to Baker's force.

But the square kept its way for some distance across the face before the enemy opened fire. They had doubtless expected that a direct attack would be made upon their position, and the passage of the troops without the slightest attention to themselves surprised and disconcerted them. But at last they perceived that they must take the offensive, and suddenly a hot fire of musketry broke out from bush and earthwork, while the Krupp guns, manned by the soldiers who had formed part of the Tokar garrison, opened fire. The distance was but four hundred yards, and several of the men fell out from their places in the ranks wounded, but the greater part of the shot and bullets flew overhead.

No reply to the fire was made by the square, but its direction was changed a little more to the right so as to take it somewhat farther from the face of the enemy's position. The artillery now opened fire upon the guns of the enemy, but the square kept on its course steadily, while a storm of bullets and fragments of shrapnel-shell flew around them. The enemy's gunners proved that their training had been good. They worked their guns quickly and their aim was accurate. General Baker, who was acting as head of the intelligence department, was struck in the face by a ball from one of the shrapnel-shells. This imbedded itself so deeply in his jaw that it could not be got out by the surgeons until after the conclusion of the fight. But the gallant officer, having had his face bandaged up, remounted his horse, and continued his duties throughout the day.

Upon getting to a position at the end of the ridge held by the enemy the men were ordered to lie down, while the artillery continued their fire against the enemy's batteries. At a quarter to twelve the Arab guns ceased to fire, and the men were ordered to their feet again, and with loud cheers continued the advance. The square moved on until well in rear of the enemy's position, and then marched straight towards it. Owing to this change in the direction of its march the left flank of the square now became its front, and it was the 65th with the Naval Brigade on one flank and the Royal Highlanders on the other, who were nearest to the enemy.

Fast and thick the flashes of musketry broke out from the bushes; but as the square approached the fire ceased, and then groups of black forms sprang to their feet, and with loud yells rushed towards the square, waving their spears and swords. It seemed incredible that these little groups of ten or twelve men each should intend to assail the solid lines of the British, but as fresh parties every moment sprang up and charged down, the order was given to fire. A flash of flame ran along the face of the great square, and then a continuous roar told that the breech-loading rifles were at work, while the machine-guns of the sailors added their rattle to the din of the musketry.

As if utterly heedless of death the Arabs rushed forward through the leaden storm, but were mowed down like grass before it. Not one of these intrepid warriors reached the face of the square, not one turned to fly; but of those who left their shelter to attack the square, every man fell with his face to the foe. Without halting for a moment the square kept on its way until the front line reached the bushes. Then with a wild yell a swarm of Arabs sprang to their feet, with so sudden and desperate a rush that they reached the sailors, and for a minute a hand-to-hand struggle took place—bayonet against spear. But the wild courage of the natives was of no avail against the steady discipline of the sailors. The assailants were swept away, and the square moved on.

But the ground was now so broken with bush and rock that the even line could no longer be preserved. From every bush, and from rifle-pits dug among them, and from behind rough intrenchments, parties of Arabs leapt to their feet and hurled themselves in vain upon the British bayonets. As the front of the square reached the ridge that had formed the Arab position the fight was most desperate, the enemy throwing themselves furiously on its flanks; and the Royal Highlanders and the sailors had to fight hard to win their way through them. But at last the ridge was won.

Two of the enemy's Krupp guns were captured, and as soon as the square had been formed up again in order these were turned against the position the Arabs had now taken up in rear of their first line of defence. In the centre of the position they now occupied was a brick building, where an engine for pumping up water for irrigation purposes had formerly stood. The Arabs had loopholed the walls and surrounded the building with rifle-pits. Here they made a desperate resistance, until at last the doors were burst in and the building stormed. Several mud huts were defended with equal obstinacy, and many of our men were wounded by Arabs who lay feigning death in the rifle-pits, and then when the first line of troops had passed leaped out and rushed in among them, cutting and slashing until bayoneted or shot down.

While the 65th were winning this position the Gordon Highlanders carried the village, while the Royal Highlanders captured the redoubt at the extreme right of the position the enemy had first held. The enemy now had been driven from their last line and fled in all directions, at a speed that rendered pursuit by the infantry impossible.

During the early portion of the battle the cavalry had been kept in the rear, out of the range of the enemy's fire, and the men had nothing to do but to sit quiet on their horses and watch the attack of the infantry square upon the enemy's position, fretting and fuming not a little that they were unable to take their part in what was evidently a desperate struggle. But at last bodies of the Arabs were seen streaming out from the position, and General Stewart, who was in command of the cavalry division, gave the order, and, wheeling far round to the right of the infantry, led them against a large body of Arabs in the plain beyond the ridge.

The enemy did not await their attack, but fled, hotly pursued by the first and second lines for some distance. The order to cease pursuing was sounded, when it was seen that the third line, composed of a hundred men, were attacked by a body of Arabs who had advanced from the left, and the main body wheeled round and advanced to assist them. But the ground between was already occupied by the Arabs; these as the cavalry advanced threw themselves down among the tufted hillocks and mounds which covered the whole plain. The horses in their course leaped the hillocks, swerving at the sight of the dark figures lying among them.

The Arabs sprang instantly to their feet in the intervals between the horsemen and hurled their spears at them, or as they lay thrust them into the horses, and as these fell sprang upon the riders and cut them down. At the same moment a small body of mounted Arabs dashed into the fray. Most of them were cut down, but some made their way through the line, and turning the instant they did so fell upon the rear of the charging squadron. Colonel Barrow who commanded it fell, but it still pressed forward, the opposition becoming every moment more severe. General Stewart led the second line to the assistance of the first, but these too were desperately opposed, and had to fight hard before they could reach them. One of the general's orderlies was killed and two others wounded. Major Slade of the 10th Hussars, Lieutenant Freeman of the 19th, and Lieutenant Probyn fell, and twenty men were killed and as many wounded before the enemy retired.

Colonel Webster's squadron, which made several brilliant charges at the enemy, now joined the rest of the cavalry. But the Arabs were momentarily reinforced, and after what had been seen of the desperation with which they fought it was deemed imprudent to pursue them further.

With the exception of the losses sustained by the cavalry the total loss at the battle of El-Teb was small, amounting to only thirty killed and one hundred and forty-two wounded. One infantry officer was killed, one mortally wounded, and one severely so, while many received slight wounds. The loss of the Arabs exceeded two thousand.

Edgar's squadron was among the first line when the charge was made to the assistance of Colonel Webster's squadron. He was in the rear rank and could not well see what was passing in front, and he was astounded upon seeing men spring up apparently from the earth and furiously attack the horsemen with spear and sword. He himself had a very narrow escape. His horse swerved as it leapt a low bush, and almost simultaneously a native sprang to his feet and lunged at him with his spear. Instinctively he threw himself forward on the neck of his horse, and as he did so felt the spear graze his back below the shoulders. The next moment his horse had taken him beyond the Arab's reach; but at that instant he heard a cry and saw Corporal North's horse fall with him, pierced by a spear thrust given by a native lying on the ground.

Before the corporal could rise the Arab was upon him with his sword, and struck him down with a sweeping cut upon the shoulder. Edgar had wheeled his horse round instantly, and before the blow was repeated was within striking distance of the man and his sword fell upon the uplifted wrist. Dropping his sword the Arab sprang upon the horse and strove to tear Edgar from the saddle, while at the same instant the Arab who had first thrust at him ran up. Fortunately he came up at the side on which his comrade was clinging to Edgar, and was therefore unable to use his spear against him; but after a moment's hesitation he plunged it into the horse, which reared high in the air and then fell. Edgar had at the moment rid himself of the man who was grasping him, by shortening his sword and plunging it into his body, and as the horse reared he drew his feet from the stirrups and dropped off over his tail, coming down upon his feet just as the animal rolled over dead.

The other Arab rushed at him with his spear. Edgar cut at it with his sword and severed the iron head from the staff, and then springing forward ran the Arab through before he could take to his sword. But several others were running up, and Edgar felt that his case was desperate. By this time the corporal, though badly wounded, had freed himself from his fallen horse, and drawing his carbine from the bucket shot the Arab nearest to him. The others, however, came on without a pause. Edgar and his wounded companion made a desperate defence; but both received several sword-cuts, and Edgar felt the end was at hand, when with a roar like thunder the second line burst down upon them, and the Arabs were instantly cut down.

"Take those two men up behind you!" an officer shouted.

Two of the troopers reined in their horses and assisted Edgar and his companion to climb up behind them, and then riding at full speed soon regained the line. In another minute the trumpet sounded for a halt. Edgar and his companion now slipped from the horses and joined their own squadron. The corporal was scarce able to stand, and Edgar was not in a better plight. Major Horsley rode up to them.

"Not badly wounded, I hope?" he asked. "It is a miracle your getting in when once dismounted."

"I think I am pretty nearly done for, sir," the corporal said. "But I wish to report that Trumpeter Smith has saved my life by coming back to my assistance when my horse was stabbed and fell with me. He killed the two men who attacked me, and so gave me time to free myself and to aid him in making a fight of it until the second line came up." As Corporal North concluded he fell insensible from loss of blood.

At that moment the surgeon came up. "Are we going to charge again, major? because if so, these men, with the others badly wounded, had better be sent across at once to the infantry. There are too many of these Arab scoundrels about for them to be left behind here. But if we are not going to charge I will give their wounds a first dressing at once."

"I don't know," the major said. "I will ride to the general and ask him, and speak to him about the wounded. Sergeant Meekings, if the order comes to charge before I return, tell off a trooper to take up each man too badly wounded to ride, and let them carry them straight across to the infantry."

After giving this order he rode rapidly away, but returned in two or three minutes. "We are not going to charge again, doctor," he said; "they are mustering too strongly for us to attempt it. The general says he will halt where we are until the worst cases of the wounded are attended to. Here, two of you men, dismount and assist the surgeon."

"Get their jackets off, lads," the doctor said. "Take this corporal first; he is the worst case."

The other wounded men were now brought up, and their wounds were all bandaged. Those who could sit a horse then mounted behind other troopers, while a number of soldiers were ordered to dismount and to lay the others upon blankets and carry them in.

Edgar was one of these. He had received one cut on the top of his head, and his helmet had alone saved his skull from being cleft. He had another gash on the right cheek. His side was laid open with a spear-thrust, the weapon having fortunately glanced from his ribs, and he had another sword-cut on the hip. He was unable to walk from loss of blood, but he felt that none of his wounds were very serious; and the surgeon said to him cheerfully, "You will do, lad. Your wounds are ugly to look at, but they are not serious. You will be on horseback again in another ten days."

Major Horsley had not spoken to him, but he had given him a little nod of satisfaction when the corporal gave his report. The cavalry moved across at a walk towards the wells of El-Teb, the wounded being carried between the lines, as there was no saying how many Arabs might be lurking among the bushes. On reaching the wells they were taken to the field hospital, which had already been organized. There their wounds were more carefully examined and re-dressed; and after a drink of lime-juice and water, with a little brandy in it, Edgar soon dropped off to sleep. In the morning Major Horsley and Captain Atkinson came round to see how the men of their regiment were getting on. The surgeon's report was favourable except in the case of Corporal North.

"I think he will pull round, major; but I am sure he will never be fit for service again. That wound on the shoulder, which he tells me is the first he got, has cut clean through the collar-bone and penetrated almost to the upper rib. I doubt whether he will ever have the use of his arm again; but that I cannot say. Anyhow, it will be long before it is fit for hard work. Trumpeter Smith? There is nothing serious the matter with him, but he has had a marvellous escape. If his helmet had not saved his head, the blow would have cleft right through his skull; if the wound in his cheek had been a couple of inches higher, it would have opened the temporal artery; and if the spear had penetrated instead of gliding off his ribs, that alone would have been sufficient to have done his business. As it is, he is not much the worse except for loss of blood, and with luck will be fit to take his place again in the ranks in a fortnight."

"I am glad to hear so good an account of you, Smith," the major said as he went up to his bedside. "I have reported your conduct to General Stewart, and your name will be sent in among those recommended for the Victoria Cross. Mind, I don't say that you will get it, lad, I don't think you will; for so many men distinguished themselves yesterday in that hand-to-hand fight that the names sent in will be very much larger than the number of crosses given. Still, your having been recommended will count in your favour when the time comes." So saying, with a kindly nod he moved on to the next bed.

At nine o'clock the force moved out towards Tokar, half the Gordon Highlanders being left at El-Teb for the protection of the hospital and stores, and with orders to find and bury the Europeans that had fallen. During the day many of the Egyptian garrison of Tokar came into the camp from the surrounding villages. In the afternoon a mounted orderly brought in the news that the force had met with no resistance whatever on their way. Several parties of the enemy had been seen, but these fled as soon as they saw the troops advancing. In Tokar seventy of the Egyptian garrison were found in a half-starved condition. While their comrades had consented to join the Arabs they had steadily refused to do so, and had been very badly treated in consequence by them and by the inhabitants of the town. The arrival of the troops was hailed with great joy. The inhabitants had had a terrible time during the occupation of the place by the Arabs, and the whole population were preparing to accompany the troops on their march back to the coast. The cavalry had ridden out to Debbah, where the camp of the force besieging Tokar had been established.

In the afternoon Edgar was so far recovered that he was able to sit up. His wounds were sore and painful, and the strapping of plaster in which they were enveloped rendered him very stiff and uncomfortable. But, as he said to another soldier, he had been just as stiff and sore after a football match, and felt confident that in a few days he should be as well as ever.

The next evening the force returned from Tokar, and Edgar and the other troopers who were well enough to go outside the hospital tent to see them come in were amused at their appearance, for they had before starting armed themselves with spears taken from the fallen Arabs; for the fight on the previous day had shown them that their swords were of little avail against the tactics of the Arabs in throwing themselves flat upon the ground, and that spears were much better suited for warfare against savages. They were accompanied by the greater portion of the population of Tokar, who were to be conveyed in the ships up to Suakim. The cavalry had found that the Arabs had left the camp at Debbah before they arrived.

The expedition there was, however, by no means useless, for they found an immense quantity of rifles and ammunition, together with a Gatling and mountain gun, all of which had been captured by the Arabs at the rout of Baker Pasha's army, or at the destruction of the force under Colonel Moncrieff some months before. The guns captured in the intrenchments made up the complete number of those that had fallen into the hands of the natives on those two occasions, and so left them without artillery. The work of burying the dead had been carried on by the force left in camp, and by the aid of those who now returned was completed in a short time.

No less than a thousand Arabs were found to have fallen in and around their intrenchments, and numbers must have got away only to die subsequently from their wounds. It was learned from prisoners that Osman Digma had not himself been present at the battle, but had sent a thousand men to reinforce those engaged in the siege of Tokar.

The force now moved down to Trinkitat with three hundred men of the garrison of Tokar who had rejoined them, and four or five hundred men, women, and children from that town. The re-embarkation was speedily effected, and a few hours later the ships entered Suakim harbour.

It was found that the natives of that town had received the news of the victory of El-Teb with absolute incredulity, but the arrival of the Tokar fugitives convinced them that the Arabs had really been defeated. One of the prisoners taken at Sinkat came in a day or two later, having made his escape from Osman Digma's camp. He reported that the news of the battle of El-Teb had arrived there before he left, and that it had been given out that seven thousand of the English had been killed, and that it was only nightfall that saved them all from destruction.

The first step of Admiral Hewett and General Graham on their arrival at Suakim was to issue a proclamation calling upon all the tribesmen to leave Osman Digma and to come in and make their submission, promising protection and pardon to all who surrendered. This proclamation was backed by a letter by the Sheik Morghani, who was held in the highest estimation for his holiness. He told them that God had sent the English to destroy them because they had forsaken the old religion for a new one, and entreated them to come in and make their peace.

A fortnight had now passed since the fight at El-Teb. Edgar, who had remained on board the hospital-ship, had made rapid progress towards convalescence, and was now reported by the surgeons as fit to return to duty, which he was most anxious to do, as it was daily expected that the force would move out against Osman Digma, who was at Tamai, a place sixteen miles to the south-west of Suakim. The troops had been disembarked, and he was delighted when he was again able to join his squadron. Spies came and went daily, and they were unanimous in saying that Osman would fight another battle. The news that El-Teb was a disastrous defeat was by this time known, but his explanation that the misfortunes were solely due to his orders having been disobeyed, perfectly satisfied his followers, and their belief that he was invincible was wholly unshaken.

The most fanatical of the coast tribes still held to him, and on the 9th of March twenty-one of their sheiks sent in a defiant reply to the proclamation, saying that the ten thousand men they commanded would meet us in the field. It was therefore evident that the struggle to come would be much more serious and determined than that of El-Teb.

Edgar received quite an ovation upon rejoining his troop. The manner in which he had defended his wounded comrade had awakened their lively admiration, the more so since the man for whom he had so imperilled his life had but lately been his personal antagonist.

"Well, young un, you are getting on," a sergeant said to him. "I won't say you are getting all the luck, for luck has nothing to do with it this time, anyhow. You are doing well, Smith, and it won't be many months before you are in our mess, and it needs no prophet to see that you have every chance of going higher if you keep on as you began. Here you are only about seventeen years old, and you have made a big mark in the regiment already. You have got the major and the rest of the officers on your side from that affair at Aldershot, then the fact that you are the best cricketer in the regiment counts for a lot, and now you have got wounded and have been recommended for the Victoria Cross.

"If you don't mount up after all that it will be your own fault. You have every advantage. The fact that you have been a gentleman is in your favour, for naturally men are picked out for promotion who are best fitted for the position of officers; and your having been able to take a first-class certificate in the school in itself brings you into notice. Be careful with your self, lad. I know you don't drink, so I need not warn you about that. Don't get cocky. I don't think you will, for you haven't done so at present, and the notice you have had from your cricket and that Aldershot affair would have turned a good many lads' heads. But it is a thing to be careful about. You know there are a good many old soldiers who are inclined to feel a little jealous when they see a young fellow pushing forward, but if they see he is quiet, and gives himself no airs and is pleasant with every one, they get over it in time; and in your case every one will acknowledge that you deserve all the luck that may fall to you. So be careful on that head, Smith.

"You will find very little jealousy among us sergeants when you once get into our mess, for there are very few of us who have any idea whatever of ever getting a commission, or would take one if it were offered. A sensible man knows when he is well off, and except for a man who has had the education you have had one is much more comfortable as a sergeant, and better off too, than one would be as an officer. When one is with other men one wants to do as they do, and an officer who has got to live on his pay finds it hard work and painful work. Of course most men promoted from the ranks—I mean my class of men—get quarter-masterships, but there is no great pull in that. Quarter-masters are neither one thing nor the other. The officers may try to put him at his ease, but his ways are not their ways; and I have known many a quarter-master who, if he had his choice, would gladly come back to the sergeant's mess again."

"Thank you for your advice, sergeant," Edgar said quietly. "I will follow it to the best of my power. I don't think there is anything to be cocky about; for the thing at Aldershot was pure luck, and so it was the other day. I happened to be next to North when his horse fell, and of course I turned round to help him without thinking who he was or anything about him. It was just instinct, and it hasn't done him any good after all, for I hear he is not likely to live many days."

CHAPTER VIII. TAMANIEB.

"Are you sure you feel fit for active work again, Smith?" Major Horsley said as he met Edgar in camp.

"Yes, sir," the lad said saluting. "I am a little stiff, and it hurts me if I move suddenly, but I am sure I should not feel it if we were engaged again."

"Well, do not do anything rash, lad; these fellows are not to be trifled with." That, indeed, was the general opinion in camp. The men were ready and eager for another fight with the enemy, but there was little of the light-hearted gaiety with which the contest had been anticipated before they had met the Arabs at El-Teb. The idea that savages, however brave, could cope with British troops with breech-loaders had then seemed absurd; but the extraordinary bravery with which the Arabs had fought, the recklessness with which they threw away their lives, and the determination with which they had charged through a fire in which it seemed impossible that any human being could live, had created a feeling of respect. There was nothing contemptible about these foes, and it was expected that not only would the force be very much larger than that met at El-Teb, but as it would be composed of Osman Digma's best men, and would be fighting under his eye, the battle would be much more hardly contested than before. The cavalry were particularly impressed with the formidable nature of these strange foemen. While they would have hurled themselves fearlessly against far superior forces of the best cavalry of Europe, they felt that here their discipline and mastery of their horses went for little. They could charge through any number of the enemy, but the danger lay not in the charge but after it. The Arab tactics of throwing themselves down only to stab the horses as they rode over them, and then rising up cutting and thrusting in their midst, were strange and bewildering to them.

"I am game to charge a dozen squadrons of cavalry one after the other," a trooper said as they sat round the fire on the night of the 9th of March, "and if we had orders to go at a square of infantry I should be ready to go, although I might not like the job; but as for these slippery black beggars, the less we have to do with them the better I shall be pleased. You go at them, and you think you have got it all your own way, and then before you can say knife there they are yelling and shouting and sticking those ugly spears into you and your horses, and dancing round until you don't fairly know what you are up to. There ain't nothing natural or decent about it."

There was a general murmur of assent.

"We shall know more about their ways next time," another said. "But lancers would be the best for this sort of work. There is no getting at these beggars on the ground with our swords, for the horses will always leap over a body, and so you cannot reach them with your swords; but a lance would do the business well. I don't care much for lances for regular work, but for this sort of fighting there is no doubt they are the real thing. Well, there is one thing, if we get among the niggers this time we know what we have got to deal with, and up or down there will be no mercy shown."

On the 10th the Royal Highlanders marched out six miles towards Tamai and formed an encampment there, defending it with bushes interlaced with wire, this kind of defence being known among the natives as a zareba. The next afternoon the rest of the infantry marched out and joined them. Next morning the cavalry moved out, and in the afternoon the whole force started, the cavalry thrown out ahead. A few shots were exchanged with parties of the enemy, but there was no serious fighting. The march was slow, for the ground was thickly covered with bushes, through which the troops with the ambulance and commissariat camels moved but slowly. The sailors had very hard work dragging their guns through the deep sand, and it took four hours before they reached a spot suitable for encampment, within two miles of the enemy's position.

The spot selected for the halt was a space free from bushes, and large enough to afford room for the encampment and to leave a clear margin of some fifty yards wide between it and the bushes. As soon as the column halted the cavalry and part of the infantry took up their position as outposts to prevent a surprise on the part of the enemy, and the rest set to work to cut down bushes and drag them across the sand to form a fresh zareba. When this was completed the cavalry trotted back to the post held on the previous night, as they would be useless in case of a night attack, and their horses might suffer from a distant fire of the enemy.

Inside the zareba the greatest vigilance was observed. Fully ten thousand determined enemies lay but a short distance away, and might creep up through the bushes and make a sudden onslaught at any time. The moon was full, and its light would show any object advancing across the open space. Had it not been for this the general would not have been justified in encamping at so short a distance from the enemy. The march had been a short one, but the heat had been great and the dust terrible, and the troops threw themselves down on the ground exhausted when the work of constructing the zareba was completed; but after a short rest they took up their posts in readiness to repel an attack.

During the early part of the night all remained under arms. But Commander Rolfe of the Royal Navy crept out at the rear of the camp, gained the bushes, and crawled among them until he came within sight of the enemy. He saw them in great numbers sitting round their fires or stretched upon the ground, and returned to camp with the news that whatever might be the case later on, certainly no attack was meditated at present. The greater part of the troops were thereupon allowed to lie down and get what sleep they could.

The cavalry felt much anxiety respecting those they had left behind them; but the moon was sufficiently bright to permit signals to be flashed to them from the camp, and they learnt to their satisfaction that all was quiet.

Soon after one o'clock in the morning the stillness round the zareba was suddenly broken. A roar of musketry burst from the bushes all round, and it was evident that the enemy were assembled there in great force. The troops were ordered to lie down; and fortunately here, as at El-Teb, the Arab fire was far too high, and the storm of bullets swept for the most part overhead. Many of the camels, mules, and horses were, however, hit, but only one man was killed and an officer and two men wounded. Grasping their rifles the troops lay ready to spring to their feet and repel the attack should it be made; but the hours passed on slowly without the expected movement taking place, and there was a general feeling of relief when morning at last broke. As the Arabs continued their fire, a nine-pounder and Gatling gun were brought into play upon the bushes, and the fire of the enemy soon died out and they fell back to their camp.

The troops now had breakfast, and soon after they had finished the cavalry arrived from the other zareba. At eight o'clock the Mounted Infantry moved out, accompanied by a party of Abyssinian scouts. They had gone but a short distance when a very heavy fire was opened upon them, and the officer in command sent back to the general to say that there was a broad ravine stretching across the country a few hundred yards ahead, although hidden by the bushes from observation until closely approached, and that this ravine was held by the enemy in great force. The infantry now moved out from the zareba, formed in two squares. The second brigade, composed of the Royal Highlanders, the 65th, and the Marines, led the way. It was commanded by General Davis, and in its centre rode General Graham with his staff.

As soon as this had marched out the first brigade followed, taking its place in echelon a hundred yards on its right rear, so that its fire commanded its right flank and protected it from an attack in the rear. It consisted of the 89th, 75th, and 60th Rifles, under General Buller. The camels and baggage animals remained under a guard at the zareba.

The Mounted Infantry and Abyssinians fell back as the first brigade advanced, and as soon as they had moved clear of the face of the square the machine-guns at its angles opened fire. The enemy's fire soon ceased, and the brigade again advanced. But the Arabs had simply thrown themselves down and had not retreated, and their fire broke out again as soon as that of the machine-guns ceased.

General Graham now gave the order for the Highlanders, who formed the front face of the square, to charge. With a cheer they went forward at the double, and sweeping the enemy before them soon reached the head of the ravine. The result of the order was, however, that the square was broken up. Its front face had moved on at a run, while the flanks and rear had continued their march at the same pace as before, and there was consequently a wide gap between the 65th on the right flank and the Highlanders in front. Orders were given to the 65th to hurry up; but as they did so, masses of the enemy were seen coming on at a run and making for the gap in the square.

The right companies of the 65th tried to form up to meet them, while Lieutenant Graham, R.N., with the men of the Naval Brigade working the three machine-guns under his command, threw himself into the gap. But the yells of the enemy and the roar of musketry rendered it impossible for the men to hear the orders given, and before the 65th had formed up the enemy were close at hand. Their fire and that of the Gatlings mowed down the Arabs in hundreds, but the wild mob charged on. Some hurled themselves on to the 65th, others poured like a wave over the little group of sailors, while the rest, dashing through the gap, flung themselves on the rear of the 42d.

The sergeants, whose place is in rear of the men, were cut down almost to a man; and the rear rank, facing round, were at once engaged in a desperate hand-to-hand fight with the natives. All was now confusion. Fresh masses of the enemy poured down with exulting shouts, and in a confused crowd the brigade retreated. Had not help been at hand they would probably have met with the same fate that befell Baker's force, and none would have reached Suakim to tell the news of the massacre. The sailors, in vain trying to drag off their guns, were almost all killed, and the guns fell into the hands of the enemy.

But a check was given to the advance of the Arabs by the cavalry, who had moved forward to the left of the square. The officer in command saw that were he to charge across the broken ground his little force would be lost among the throng of Arabs. He therefore dismounted them, and they poured volley after volley with their carbines into the thick of the enemy. In the meantime General Buller's square was advancing. It had been attacked as desperately as had that of General Davis; but it was well handled, and its formation had not been broken up by any order such as that which had destroyed the formation of the other brigade. So steady and terrible a fire was opened upon the advancing enemy that not one of the assailants reached the face of the square; and having repulsed the attacks, it advanced rapidly to the relief of the shattered brigade ahead, pouring incessant volleys into the ranks of the Arabs as they swept down to its assault.

Thus, as they advanced, the first brigade cleared the right face of the second from its foes, and as soon as they came up with the retreating force these halted and reformed their ranks Both brigades were now formed in line, and advanced steadily towards the ravine. Upon their way they came upon the abandoned guns, which the enemy had in vain tried to carry off. Sweeping the Arabs before them, the British force reached the edge of the ravine. It was filled by the flying Arabs, and into these a terrible fire was poured by the musketry and guns until the Arabs had gained the opposite side and were concealed among the bushes. The fighting was now over, although the enemy still maintained a distant fire. It was necessary, however, to keep the troops together, for numbers of the Arabs still lay hidden among the bushes, leaping up and flinging themselves desperately upon any who approached them.

The scene of the conflict was terrible. A hundred and twenty of the British lay dead, of whom more than half belonged to the 42d. Three naval officers and ten sailors were killed, while a large number of officers and men of the 42d and 65th were seriously wounded. The slaughter among the natives had been very great—no less than four thousand of them strewing the ground in all directions. The British wounded were sent back to the zareba, and the force again advanced. Crossing the ravine they made towards three villages in its rear. Here was Osman Digma's camp, and the Arabs mustering in strength again opened a heavy fire. They were, however, unable to withstand the British guns and the heavy volleys of the infantry, and the troops advanced into the camp.

It was found filled with property of all kinds; for the Arabs had removed nothing, making perfectly sure that they should be able to repel the English advance. Bags of money, bundles of clothing, Korans, great quantities of grain, and plunder of all kinds were found in the huts. Osman Digma himself had taken no part whatever in the fight. He had looked on from a distant eminence, and when he saw the repulse of the Arab attack and the flight of his men he at once made off.

The next day the cavalry went on to a village two or three miles distant. Here they found a great quantity of ammunition for Krupp cannon and other loot, which had been captured from the forces of Baker and Moncrieff. The village was burnt and the ammunition blown up.

The next day the force started on its return march, after burning and destroying Osman's camp and the three adjoining villages. No attempt was made to pursue Osman Digma or his Arabs. The country beyond was steep and mountainous, and there would have been no chance whatever of overtaking and capturing him, while the troops might have been attacked in difficult positions and have suffered heavily.

It was supposed that after the two crushing defeats that had been inflicted on the enemy, and the proof so afforded of the falsehood of Osman Digma's pretensions, the tribesmen would no longer believe in him, and that his authority would have been altogether destroyed. The expectation was not, however, justified by events, for two years later the Arabs again mustered under him in such formidable numbers, that another expedition was necessary to protect Suakim against the gathering of fanatics reassembled under Osman's banner.

The cavalry had suffered no loss during the operations, and as they had had some share in the fighting, and had materially aided the shattered brigade by their fire upon the Arabs, they were not ill satisfied that they had not been called upon to take a more prominent part in the operations.

But little time was lost at Suakim. The greater part of the troops were at once embarked on the transports and taken up to Suez, a small body only being left to protect the town should the Arabs again gather in force. The policy was a short-sighted one. Had a protectorate been established over the country to the foot of the hills, and a force sufficient to maintain it left there, the great bulk of the tribesmen would have willingly given in their allegiance, and no further hostile movement upon the part of Osman Digma would have been possible; but the fact that we hastened away after fighting, and afforded no protection whatever to the friendly natives, effectually deterred others from throwing in their lot with us, and enabled Osman Digma gradually to restore his power and influence among them.

Short though the campaign had been it had the effect of causing some inflammation in Edgar's wounds, and as soon as the expedition returned to the coast the surgeon ordered him into hospital, and it was six weeks before he again took his place in the ranks. By this time the regiment was re-united at Cairo, and there was for some months nothing to break the even tenor of their way.

Long ere this Edgar had learnt that his recommendation for the Victoria Cross had not been acceded to. This, however, was no surprise, for after what he had heard from Major Horsley he had entertained but little hope that he would be among the favoured recipients of the cross.

"Never mind, Ned," a comrade said to him when the list was published and his name was found to be absent. "It is not always those that most deserve the cross who get it. We know that you ought to have had it, if any fellow ever did, and we shall think just as much of you as if you had got it on your breast."

In spite of the heat cricket matches were got up at Cairo, and the Hussars distinguished themselves here as they had done at Aldershot. The chief topic of interest, however, was the question of the safety of Khartoum, and especially that of General Gordon. He had been sent out by the British government in hopes that the great influence he possessed among the natives might enable him to put a stop to the disorder that prevailed in the Soudan. At the time that he had been in the service of the Egyptian government he had ruled so wisely and well in the Soudan that his prestige among the natives was enormous. He had suppressed slave-trading and restored order throughout the wide province, and by mingling mercy with justice he was at once admired and feared even by those whose profits had been annihilated by the abolition of the slave-trade.

But although Gordon had been rapturously received by the inhabitants of Khartoum, the tribes of the Soudan had not rallied, as it was hoped they would do, in opposition to the Mahdi, whose armies had gradually advanced and had besieged the city. General Gordon with the troops there had made expeditions up the river in the steamers, and brought in provisions for the besieged town; he had fought several battles with the Mahdists, in which he had not always been successful, and it was known that unless help arrived the city must finally surrender. Many letters had been received from him asking urgently for aid, but weeks and months passed, and the government who had sent him out were unable to make up their minds to incur the cost necessary for the despatch of so distant an expedition.

In Cairo public feeling ran very high, and among the troops there the indignation at this base desertion of one of England's noblest soldiers was intense and general. At last the news came that public feeling in England had become so strong that government could no longer resist it, and that orders had been issued to prepare an expedition with all haste. A number of flat-boats were to be built for conveying the troops up the Nile. Canadian boatmen had been sent for to aid in the navigation of the river. Camels were to be purchased in Egypt, a mounted infantry corps organized, and stores of all kinds hastily collected.

People who knew the river shook their heads, and said that the decision had been delayed too long. The Nile would have fallen to a point so low that it would be difficult if not impossible to pass up the cataracts, and long before help could reach Khartoum the city and its noble governor would have fallen into the hands of the Mahdi.

There was much disgust among the troops when it was known that many of them would remain in Lower Egypt, and that of the cavalry especially but a very small force would be taken, while three regiments mounted on camels, two of them consisting of cavalry men from England, would take part in the expedition.

Some of the soldiers, however, looked at the matter more philosophically. "We have had our share," they argued, "and if the Mahdi's men fight as well as Osman Digma's we are quite willing that others should have their whack. There will be no end of hard work, and what fighting they get won't be all one way. Sand and heat, and preserved meat and dirty water out of wells, are not very pleasant when you have to stick to them for months together. Like enough, too, there will be another rumpus down at Suakim while the expedition is away, and then those who are left here now will get some more of it."

But although these arguments were loudly uttered, there was no doubt that there was considerable soreness, and that the men felt the hardship of favoured troops from England being employed in their stead in a service that, if dangerous, was likely to offer abundant opportunities for the display of courage and for gaining credit and honour.

CHAPTER IX.

THE CAMEL CORPS.

"Trumpeter Smith! Trumpeter Smith!" The shout ran through the arched corridor of the barracks, and a soldier putting his head through one of the windows repeated the cry at the top of his voice, for Trumpeter Smith was not in his barrack-room. Edgar, in fact, was walking on the shady side of the great court-yard chatting with two other troopers when his name was shouted.

"Hullo! What is it?"

"You are to go to Major Horsley's quarters."

Edgar buttoned up his jacket, ran to the washing-place, plunged his head and hands in water and hastily dried them, smoothed down his hair with his pocket-comb at a piece of looking-glass that had been stuck up against the wall above the basins, and adjusting his cap to the correct angle made his way to Major Horsley's quarters, wondering much what he could be wanted for, but supposing that he was to be sent on some message into the town.

The soldier-servant showed him into the room where Major Horsley and his wife were sitting.

After a word or two of kindly greeting from the lady, Major Horsley went on: "I told you a long time back, Smith, that I should not forget the service you did my wife and her sister, and that I would do you a good turn if I ever got the chance. Is there anything you particularly want at present?"

"No, sir, except that I have been thinking that I should be glad to give up my trumpet. I am just eighteen now, and it would be better for me, I think, to take my regular place in the ranks. I should be more likely to be promoted there than I am as a trumpeter."

"Yes, you would be sergeant in a very short time, Smith; after your behaviour at El-Teb you would be sure of your stripes as soon as you were eligible for them. But I should not advise you to give up your trumpet just at the present moment."

"Very well, sir," Edgar said, somewhat surprised.

"But there is something else you are wishing for, is there not? I fancy every officer and man in the regiment is wishing for it."

"To go up the Nile, sir?" Edgar said eagerly. "Yes; I do wish that, indeed. Is there any chance of the regiment going, sir?"

"No, I am sorry to say there is not," the major said.

"And a very good thing too, Richard," his wife put in.

"I do not think so at all. It is the hardest thing ever heard of that the regiments here that have had all the heat and hard work, and everything else of this beastly place, are to be left behind, while fellows from England go on. Well, Smith," he went on, turning to Edgar, "I am glad to say I have been able to do you a good turn. When I was in the orderly-room just now a letter came to the colonel from the general, saying that a trumpeter of the Heavy Camel Corps is down with sunstroke and will not be able to go, and requesting him to detail a trumpeter to take his place. I at once seized the opportunity and begged that you might be chosen, saying that I owed you a good turn for your plucky conduct at Aldershot. The adjutant, I am glad to say, backed me up, saying that you have done a lot of credit to the regiment with your cricket, and that the affair at El-Teb alone ought to single you out when there was a chance like this going. The colonel rather thought that you were too young, but we urged that as you had stood the climate at Suakim you could stand it anywhere on the face of the globe. So you are to go, and the whole regiment will envy you."

"I am obliged to you indeed, sir," Edgar said in delight. "I do not know how to thank you, sir."

"I do not want any thanks, Smith, for a service that has cost me nothing. Now you are to go straight to Sergeant Edmonds. I have sent him a note already, and he is to set the tailors at work at once to rig you out in the karkee uniform. We cannot get you the helmet they are fitted out with. But no doubt they have got a spare one or two; probably they will let you have the helmet of the man whose place you are to take. You will be in orders to-morrow morning, and I have asked Edmonds to get your things all finished by that time. Come in and say good-bye before you start in the morning."

There was no slight feeling of envy when Edgar's good fortune became known, and the other trumpeters were unanimous in declaring that it was a shame his being chosen.

"Well, you see, you could not all go," the trumpet-major said, "and if Smith had not been chosen it would have been long odds against each of you."

"But he is the last joined of the lot," one of the men urged.

"He can blow a trumpet as well as any of you," the sergeant said, "and that is what he is wanted for. I think that it is natural enough the colonel should give him the pull. The officers think a good deal of a fellow who helped the regiment to win a dozen matches at cricket, and who carried off the long-distance running prize at Aldershot; besides, he behaved uncommonly well in that fight, and has as good a right to the V.C. as any man there. I think that a fellow like that ought to have the pull if only one is to get it, and I am sure the whole regiment will be of opinion that he has deserved the chance he has got."

By the next morning the suit of karkee was ready, and Edgar was sent for early to the orderly-room and officially informed by the colonel that he had been detailed for service in the Heavy Camel Corps.

"I need not tell you, Smith, to behave yourself well—to be a credit to the regiment. I should not have chosen you for the service unless I felt perfectly confident that you would do that. I hope that you will come back again safe and sound with the regiment. Good-bye, lad!"

Edgar saluted and left the room. Several of the officers followed him out and bade him a cheery farewell, for he was a general favourite. All knew that he was a gentleman, and hoped that he would some day win a commission. He then accompanied Major Horsley to his quarters, and there the officer and his wife both shook hands with him warmly.

"You will be a sergeant three months after you come back," Major Horsley said; "and your having been on this Nile expedition, and your conduct at El-Teb, will help you on when the time comes, and I hope you will be one of us before many years are over."

Edgar then went up to his barrack-room to say good-bye to his friends, and took off his smart Hussar uniform and put on the karkee suit, amid much laughter and friendly chaff at the change in his appearance. The adjutant had ordered a trooper to accompany him to the camp of the Camel Corps, which was pitched close by the Pyramids, and to bring back his horse. He therefore mounted and rode out of the barracks, amid many a friendly farewell from his comrades. He rode with his companion into the town and down to the river, crossed in a ferry-boat, and then rode on to the camp. Inquiring for the adjutant's tent Edgar dismounted and walked up to that officer, and presented a note from the colonel.

The officer glanced at it. "Oh, you have come to accompany us!" he said. "You look very young for the work, lad; but I suppose your colonel would not have chosen you unless he thought you could stand it. I see you have got our uniform, but you want a helmet. We can manage that for you. Sergeant Jepherson, see if Trumpeter Johnson's helmet will fit this man; he is going with us in his place. Fit him out with water-bottle and accoutrements, and tell him off to a tent."

The helmet fitted fairly, and only needed a little padding to suit Edgar, who, after putting it on, ran out to where his comrade was waiting for him and fastened his own head-gear to the pummel of his saddle.

"Good-bye, young un!" the trooper said. "Hold your own with these heavies for the honour of the regiment. They mean well, you know, so don't be too hard upon them."

Edgar laughed as he shook the man by the hand, and as he rode off turned to look at the scene around him.

There were two camps at a short distance from each other, that of the Heavy Camel Corps to which he now belonged, composed of men of the 1st and 2d Life Guards, Blues, Bays, 4th and 5th Dragoon Guards, Royals, Scots Greys, 5th and 16th Lancers. The other was the Guards Corps, composed of men of the three regiments of foot guards. Edgar's first feeling as he looked at the men who were standing about or lying in the shade of the little triangular Indian mountain-service tents, was that he had suddenly grown smaller. He was fully up to the average height of the men of his own regiment, but he felt small indeed by the side of the big men of the heavy cavalry regiments.

"This way, lad," the sergeant into whose charge he had been given, said. "What is your name?"

"I am down as Ned Smith."

The sergeant smiled at the answer, for no inconsiderable number of men enlist under false names. He led the way through the little tents until he stopped before one where a tall soldier was lying at full length on the sand. "Willcox, this man has come to take the place of Trumpeter Johnson. He is detached for duty with us from the Hussars. He will, of course, share your tent."

"All right, sergeant! I will put him up to the ropes. What's your name, mate?"

"I go as Ned Smith," Edgar said.

"So you are going in for being a heavy at present."

"I don't care whether I am a heavy or a light, so that I can go up the river."

"Have you been out here long?"

"About a year; we were through the fighting at Suakim, you know. It was pretty hot down there, I can tell you."

"It is hot enough here for me—a good deal too hot, in fact; and as for the dust, it is awful!"

"Yes, it is pretty dusty out here," Edgar agreed; "and of course, with these little tents, the wind and dust sweep right through them. Over there in Cairo we have comfortable barracks, and as we keep close during the day we don't feel the heat. Besides, it is getting cooler now. In August it was really hot for a bit even there."

"Where are we going to get these camels, do you know?"

"Up the river at Assouan, I believe; but I don't know very much about it. It was only yesterday afternoon I got orders that I was to go with you, to take the place of one of your men who had fallen sick, so I have not paid much attention as to what was going on. It has been rather a sore subject with us, you see. It did seem very hard that the regiments here that have stood the heat and dust of this climate all along should be left behind now that there is something exciting to do, and that fresh troops from England should go up."

"Well, I should not like it myself, lad. Still I am precious glad I got the chance. I am one of the 5th Dragoon Guards, and you know we don't take a turn of foreign service—though why we shouldn't I am sure I don't know—and we are precious glad to get a change from Aldershot and Birmingham and Brighton, and all those home stations. You are a lot younger than any of us here. The orders were that no one under twenty-two was to come."

"So I heard; but of course as we are out here, and we have got accustomed to it, age makes no difference."

"What do they send us out here for?"

"There are no barracks empty in the town, no open spaces where you could be comfortably encamped nearer. Besides, this gives you the chance of seeing the Pyramids."

"It is a big lump of stone, isn't it?" Willcox said, staring at the Great Pyramid. "The chaps who built that must have been very hard up for a job. When I first saw it I was downright disappointed. Of course I had heard a lot about it, and when we got here it wasn't half as big as I expected. After we had pitched our tents and got straight, two or three of us thought we would climb up to the top, as we had half an hour to spare. Just as we set off one of the officers came along and said, 'Where are you going, lads?' and I said, 'The cooks won't have tea ready for half an hour, sir, so we thought we would just get up to the top and look round.' And he said, 'If you do you will be late for tea.'

"Well, it didn't seem to us as if it would take more than five minutes to get to the top and as much to get down again, so off we went. But directly we began to climb we found the job was not as easy as we had expected. It looked to us as if there was but a hundred steps to go up; but each step turned out to be about five feet high, and we hadn't got up above twenty of them when the trumpet sounded, and we pretty near broke our necks in coming down again. After that I got more respect for that lump of stone. Most of the officers went up next day, and a few of us did manage it, but I wasn't one of them. I did try again; but I concluded that if I wanted to go up the Nile, and to be of any good when I got there, I had best give it up, for there would not be anything left of me to speak of by the time I got to the top. Then those Arab fellows got round, and shrieked and jabbered and wanted to pull us up; and the way they go up and down those stones is wonderful. But of course they have no weight to carry. No, I never should try that job again, not if we were to be camped here for the next ten years."

"I have been up to the top," Edgar said; "but it is certainly a hard pull, and there is nothing much to see when you do get there—only so much more sand in all directions. The view from the great mosque at Cairo is much finer. Do you have much drill?"

"Morning and evening we work away pretty stiff. It is infantry drill we have. They say we are not going to fight on the camels, but only to be carried along by them and to get off and fight if we see the enemy, and as we are all new to each other there is a good bit of work to be done to get us down to work as one battalion. We and the 4th make a troop together. We have drill in the afternoon, too, for a bit. Of a morning those that like can go across and have a look at the town. I went yesterday. Rum old place, isn't it? The rummiest thing is the way those little donkeys get about with a fat chap perched on the top of a saddle two feet above them. Never saw such mokes in my life. They ain't bigger than good-sized dogs some of them, and yet they go along with fifteen or sixteen stone on their backs as if they did not feel it. Those and the camels pleased me most. Rum beasts those camels. I can't think what it must feel like to be stuck up on top of them, and if one does fall off it must be like coming off a church. Have you tried one?"

"No. I have never been on a camel. Of course we always have had our horses."

"Why didn't they get us horses?"

"I don't know. They could have bought a couple of thousand, no doubt, if they had tried; besides, they could have got some from the Egyptian cavalry. But if they had they would never have sent out you and the Guards; though the horses would have done very well to carry light cavalry. I fancy the idea is that in the first place we have to go long distances without water. Camels can stand thirst for three or four days together, and each camel can carry water for its rider. Then, too, we may perhaps march sometimes, and the camels could carry water and food. So, you see, they will be useful both ways."

"Well, I suppose it is all right," Willcox said; "and as you say, if they had gone in for horses they could not have carried us heavies. I am precious glad to come. So are we all; though why they wanted to bring us and the Guards—the biggest and heaviest men they could pick out in the army—on a job like this, is more than I can say."

"It is more than anyone can say, I should think," Edgar said; and indeed no reason has ever been assigned for the singular choice of the heaviest men that could be collected in the service for duty on a campaign such as this was to be, and for which light, active, wiry men were especially suitable.

"There is the dinner call."

"What troop are we in?" Edgar asked, seizing his trumpet, and on learning at once gave the troop call.

"We are in messes of eight," Willcox replied. "We and the three tents to the right have one mess. It is our turn to go over and get the grub."

Accordingly Willcox and Edgar went across to the field-kitchen and received the rations for their mess, consisting of beef and vegetables—the bread for the day had been served out early. Returning to the tents the rations were divided between the party of eight, and Edgar was introduced by Willcox to his new messmates.

"Your regiment was at Aldershot with us eighteen months ago."

"Yes; but I did not know any of your men. I was over one or two evenings at your canteen, which was by a long way the best in the camp."

"Yes, we used to have some good singing there and no mistake," one of the men said.

"The Long Valley is not bad in the way of dust, but this place beats it hollow," another put in.

"This is a cleaner dust," Edgar said. "The Long Valley dust blackened one; this does not seem to have any dirt in it. As far as the uniforms go there is not much difference, but one doesn't feel so grimy after a charge over this Egyptian sand as one did in the Long Valley."

"We played you fellows at cricket, I remember," the man said. "I was in our eleven. You beat us, for you had a youngster we could not stand up against, he was a beggar to bowl."

Edgar laughed. "I rather think I am the fellow," he said, "Trumpeter Smith."

"It was Trumpeter Smith, sure enough. Well, you can bowl and no mistake, young un. It is rum meeting out here like this. And how have you been getting on since? You fellows were in the thick of it at El-Teb, I saw; and got cut up a bit by those niggers, didn't you?"

"That we did," Edgar replied. "I am not sorry that we are going to fight as infantry this time, for I can tell you it is not pleasant charging among fellows who throw themselves down and hamstring your horse or drive a spear into him as he passes over them; and once down it is likely to go pretty hard with you."

"The infantry had it pretty hot too at Tamanieb?"

"Yes, they got into one of our squares, and I don't think many of our fellows would have ever got away if it had not been that Buller's square came up to their assistance. Still, I don't suppose that will ever happen again. If the infantry stand firm and shoot straight they ought never to be broken, while that cavalry business was a thing nothing could guard against. The best horseman in the world may go down if a fellow shams dead and then suddenly stabs your horse."

"There is no doubt the beggars can fight," Willcox said; "and I expect we shall get some tough work before we get to Khartoum. I only hope they won't catch us suddenly before we have time to get off those camels. Fancy being stuck up on one of those long-legged beasts with half a dozen niggers making a cock-shy of you with their spears."

"I don't think that will happen," Edgar replied. "We shall have the 19th to act as scouts, and as there will be no woods or thick scrub, from what I have heard of the country, as there was on the plains round Suakim, we ought not to be surprised."

"This meat is horribly tough," Willcox remarked. "It strikes me they ought to have examined every one's mouth before they sent them out, and to have chosen men with good sets of grinders, for I am sure they will want them for this stuff."

"The meat is tough out here. You see, it won't keep and has to be cooked pretty nearly warm, but it is better by a long way than that tinned meat which is all we shall get, I expect, when we once start."

"When are we going to start?"

"In a few days, I should think. The boats are being taken up fast, and I believe a lot of the Canadians went up yesterday. There are two or three infantry regiments up there ready to go on as soon as the boats for them get up; and as most of the camels are up there too, I should think they will push us up as soon as they can, as I suppose we are intended to go ahead of the boats and clear the banks."

Then they began to talk about the route, and Edgar, who had studied the maps and knew all that was known on the subject of the journey, drew on the sand the course of the Nile with its windings and turnings.

"You see the river makes a tremendous bend here," he said, "round by Berber. The general idea is that when we get to this spot, where there is a place called Ambukol, if there is news that Gordon is hard pressed and cannot hold out long, a column will march across this neck to Metemmeh, where there are some of Gordon's steamers. I expect that is the work that will fall to the Camel Corps, and that it is specially for this that we have been got up. You see, the rest of the journey is along the water side, and horses would have done just as well as camels, and would be much more useful, for, of course, the infantry will do the main fighting, and the cavalry are only wanted for scouting and pursuit. Camels are no good for either one work or the other, for nothing will persuade the beggars to move out of their regular pace, which is just about two and three-quarter miles an hour. If they did not intend to cut across this neck, I don't see what they wanted more than the boats with the infantry and a regiment or two of light cavalry on these country horses, which are wonderfully hardy and can stand work that would knock English horses to pieces in no time."

"Well, then, all that I can say is," Willcox put in, "that it is very lucky for us that the river makes that big twist, other wise we might be all kicking our heels at Aldershot or the Curragh, or in some garrison town. But I thought camels were fast beasts. I am sure I have seen pictures of Arabs riding about in the desert at a tremendous pace."

"There are some sort of camels called riding camels that are faster than the others, and there are dromedaries, which can trot as fast as a horse and keep it up for a long time; but the riding camels and dromedaries are both scarce and expensive, and you may be sure we shall not have many of them with us."

"They are beastly ill-tempered looking brutes," Willcox said. "When I was walking in the streets there the other day a string of them came along, and they grumbled and growled like wild beasts, and one showed his teeth and made as if he was going right at me. If I had not jumped into a shop I believe he would have had my ear off."

"They can bite, and bite very hard too; but it is very seldom they do, though they do make a wonderful pretence of being fierce. They call them the patient camel, but from what I have seen of them I should say that they are the most impatient, grumbling beasts in creation. It makes no difference what you do for them—whether you load them or unload them, or tell them to get up or lie down, or to go on or stop—they always seem equally disgusted, and grumble and growl as if what you wanted them to do was the hardest thing in the world. Still, they can do a tremendous lot of work, and keep on any number of hours, and I don't know what the people of this country would do without them."

In the afternoon Edgar paraded with his troop and fell into the usual routine of duty. As he had had a year's campaigning in Egypt he was regarded as an authority, and after three or four days was as much at home with the troop as he had been in his own regiment. He found these big men very pleasant and cheery companions. All had been picked for the service as being men of exemplary character; they were in high spirits at the prospect of the expedition before them, and were like a party of great school-boys out on a holiday. They took to Edgar kindly; belonging, as he did, to the light cavalry, they regarded him as a sort of guest among them, and from his being so much younger and smaller than themselves they looked upon him as a boy, and he quickly got the nickname of "The Kid."

Many questions were asked him as to the fighting powers of the wild natives.

"How they could break right into a square beats me altogether," one of the big troopers said. "They always tell us that cavalry have no chance nowadays of breaking into a square, for they would all be shot down by the breech-loaders before they could reach it, and yet these niggers, with nothing but spears, manage to do it. I cannot make head or tail of it; no more I can of you chaps getting cut up by them."

"You will understand it when you see it," Edgar said. "They run pretty nearly as fast as a horse can gallop, and they don't seem to fear death in the slightest, for they believe that if they are killed they go straight to heaven. It seems to me that savages must be braver than civilized soldiers. It was the same thing with the Zulus, you know, they came right down on our men at Isandula, and the fire of the breech-loaders did not stop them in the slightest."

"No more it would stop us, young un, if we got orders to charge. It did not at Balaclava."

"No, that is true enough," Edgar agreed; "but then we have got discipline. The order is given, and the whole regiment goes off together; one could not hold back if one would. But that is a different thing from rushing forward each man on his own account, as they did against us, and running up to what seemed certain death. I know the feeling among our fellows was that they would not have believed it had they not seen it."

"Well, I hope we shall get a chance of seeing it," the man said, "only I hope that we shall not be atop of them camels when they try it. I have been looking at the beasts over there in the city, and there does not seem to me to be any go about them. Beastly-tempered brutes! I don't believe you could get a charge out of them if you tried ever so much."

"No, I don't think you could," Edgar laughed. "But, you see, we are intended to fight on foot. We shall be like the old dragoons, who used their horses only to carry them to the place where they were to fight."

"No chance of any loot?" another put in.

"No chance in the world. At the best of times they wear a sort of dirty cotton sheet round their shoulders, but when they go into battle they leave that behind them, and fight only in their loin-cloths."

"I have heard," an old soldier said, "from some of our chaps who fought in the Indian mutiny, that they often found a lot of money and jewels and things in those loin-cloths of the sepoys."

"Ah, that was because they had been plundering treasuries and capturing booty of all sorts. But I do not suppose many of these Arabs ever saw a gold coin in their lives. They don't see many silver ones. What wealth they have is in sheep and cattle and horses, and with these they barter for such things as they require. No; if you are fighting out here for a year you will get nothing except a few worthless charms, of no value whatever except as curios."

"Well, I wish they would let us be off," another said. "I am sick already of these sands and that big lump of stone. I hear the boats are going up every day, and if they do not move us soon the infantry will be there before us."

"I think we shall travel a good deal faster than they do when we are once off," Edgar said. "They will have rapids and all sorts of difficulties to contend with, while we shall go on steadily, five-and-twenty miles a day perhaps. You may be sure we shall be well in front when the time for work comes. They would never go to the expense of sending you all out, and mounting you on camels, and then keep you behind."

"Have you heard the news, lads?" a sergeant asked, joining the group.

"No! What is it?"

"We are to strike tents at four o'clock this afternoon, march down to the river, embark in a steamer, and start to-night."

"Hooray!" the men shouted. "That is the best news we have had since we landed."

In a short time most of the men were at work giving a final polish to their arms. By four o'clock the tents were levelled and rolled up, the baggage was packed and sent forward on camels, and the regiment was formed up awaiting the orders to march. The heat of the day had somewhat abated, but the march, short as it was, was a trying one, from the clouds of light sand that rose from beneath the feet of the column, and the men were heartily glad when they embarked, two troops on board the steamer and the rest on large flats which she was to tow up the stream. Kits and belts were taken off, and the men made themselves as comfortable as the crowded state of the flats would permit. The officers were on board the steamer. As they started a loud cheer broke from the men. They were fairly off at last. There was no thought of the dangers and difficulties before them. It was enough for them that they were fairly on their way up the Nile to relieve, as they hoped, Khartoum, and to rescue Gordon.

"If this is campaigning I don't care how much we have of it," the soldier who was sitting next to Edgar said, looking up at the deep blue sky studded with stars. "This suits me down to the ground."

"You had better make the most of it," Edgar laughed, "it won't last long; and you will have nothing like it again. I own that, at any rate until we reach the highest point to which the boats can go, I think the infantry have got the best of it. Of course they will have hard work in hauling the boats past the rapids, and they will have some rowing to do when the wind is too light for the sails to carry them up, but I would rather sit in a boat and row than sit on the back of a camel."

"But the boats will go all the way, won't they?"

"It is not known yet. It is possible that when we get to a place named Korti, where the river makes a tremendous bend, some of us may cross the desert to Metemmeh, where Gordon's steamers will meet us. If we do I expect that will be the work of the three Camel Corps, and all the boats will go right round the river and join us there; that is, if they can get up the cataracts. I know the Egyptians say the water will be too low for the boats to go up. That may be true enough as to the native boats, but ours draw so little water that I believe there must always be depth enough for them, for there is always a good lot of water coming down here even at the driest season."

The regiment was disembarked at Assouan, and the next day four companies went up in two steamers to Wady Halfa, a hundred and eighty miles higher up the river. Edgar's troop formed part of the detachment. They had expected to see a place of some size, but found that it consisted only of a few mud huts and some sheds of the unfinished railway. Here for some days the men practised infantry drill and received their equipments and saddles, and then they were marched to the camel depot a mile away.

The soldiers were immensely amused at the sight of their chargers. These animals had been collected from all parts of Egypt, from Aden and Arabia. As soon as the proper number had been received and told off to the men, the work of fitting on the saddles commenced. This was by no means easy, as the camel humps differed greatly from each other, and a good deal of padding and altering was necessary before the saddles were comfortably fitted. When the men mounted they formed in line, and found that the animals were docile and obedient to the rein, and man[oe]uvred together without difficulty. Several days were spent in learning to sit the animals, and there were many spills, but as the sand was deep no harm came of them, and they caused great amusement to all except the victims themselves.

The greatest difficulty was the mounting and dismounting, both of which performances had to be done when the camel was kneeling. In order to make him kneel it was necessary to tug at the head-rope, at the same time making a sound like clearing the throat. Then the rope was pulled at until his head was brought round to his shoulder. This prevented him from getting up again. The rifle, which was slung in a bucket on one side behind the rider, was found to render it impossible to get the leg over, and it consequently became necessary for the man to mount with his rifle in his hand, and to drop it into the bucket afterwards. As the camel always rose and lay down with great suddenness, men were, until accustomed to it, constantly pitched over his head.

"I never want to see a camel again," Edgar grumbled, after one or two days' exercise diversified by numerous falls; "they are the most discontented beasts I ever saw."

"I don't mind their growling," a trooper said; "it is the twistiness of the brutes I hate. When you are looking after a horse you know what he can do and where he can reach you. Of course if you get behind him he can kick, but when you are standing beside him all that you have got to look after is his head, and he cannot bring that round to bite very far. These brutes can reach all over the place; they can kick at you any way. They can scratch their ears with their hind legs, and even rub the top of their humps with it if they are disposed, or scratch themselves under the chin. Their necks are the same, they can twist them anywhere. They can bite the root of their tails, and lay their heads back and give them a rub on the top of their humps. There is no safety with them at all; and when they come at you growling and roaring with their mouths open and showing their teeth it is enough to scare you."

"It is fortunate that their hoofs are soft and spongy, so that they cannot hurt like the kick of a horse," Edgar said.

"Spongy, be blowed!" the trooper replied. "Mine kicked me in the chest yesterday and I went flying about ten yards, and the breath was knocked out of my body for a quarter of an hour."

"That was bad, no doubt," Edgar laughed; "but if it had been a horse you would be in the hospital-tent now with some of your ribs broken, if you hadn't been smashed up altogether."

"They are up to all sorts of tricks," the trooper went on, looking savagely at his growling camel. "There was Rogers, this morning, he was just passing a camel who was kneeling down. Well, who would think that a kneeling camel could do anything except with his head. Rogers swore that he did not go within four yards of him, and the brute suddenly shot out his hind leg and caught him on the knee and cut him clean over, and he thought for some time that his leg was broken. Blow all camels, I say!"

As the camels were not to be used for fighting from, in the presence of an enemy the troopers were to dismount and fight on foot. When down the camels were to be knee haltered, one of the fore-legs being doubled up and strapped, which prevented the animal from rising. Each camel received about five pounds of grain night and morning, and the whole were taken down to the river every other day to drink. The conduct of many of them was exasperating in the extreme to their riders. When taken down into the stream they would stand and look about in an aimless way as if wondering what on earth they had been brought there for, and would be sometimes ten minutes or a quarter of an hour before the idea seemed to occur to them that they might as well have a drink.

Once on the march they went steadily and well, obeying the slightest motion of the halter, and keeping up their regular pace without intermission from the time they started until they were ordered to halt.

After a week's drill and practice the men became accustomed to the ways of their animals, and were glad when the order came for them to start. By this time the leading regiments of the infantry had begun to go up in their boats. These were broad, flat crafts, which had been specially built in England for the purpose. Each carried twelve men and three months' supply of provisions and stores for them. They were provided with sails and oars, and as the direction of the wind was up the river the sails were of great assistance.

As the cavalry passed the Great Cataract they had an opportunity of seeing the process of getting the boats up. The rush of waters was tremendous, and it seemed well-nigh impossible to force the boats against them. It would indeed have been impossible to row them, and they were dragged up by tow-ropes by the united strength of the troops and a large number of natives. At times, in spite of all the efforts of the men at the ropes, the boats made no progress whatever, while if the steersman allowed the stream for a moment to take the boat's head it would be whirled round and carried down to the foot of the rapid, when the work had to be recommenced.

The troopers thought, as they watched the exertions of the infantry, that, rough as was the action of the camels, they had decidedly the best of it, but such was not their opinion on the following day when, as they were jogging wearily along, several of the boats passed them running before a strong wind, with the soldiers on board reclining in comfortable positions in the bottom or on the thwarts. Again their opinions changed when, the wind having dropped, they saw the men labouring at the oars in the blazing sun.

"There are pulls both ways," one of the troopers said philosophically, "and take it all round I don't know which has got the best of it. If there are many of these cataracts I should say we are best off, and they say there are lots of them between this and Khartoum."

"I think we have got the best of it, certainly," Edgar said; "for if it comes to leaving the river and pushing on we are sure to be in it."

The journey from Wady Halfa to Dongola was 235 miles. The day's march was generally about twenty miles, the halting-places being made at spots previously settled upon, where there were depots of provisions formed for them. The start was made about five o'clock in the morning. For the first two hours the men walked, leading their camels; then when the sun became hot they mounted and rode the rest of the distance. At first they found the monotonous motion very trying, but became accustomed to it in time, and would even go off to sleep in the saddles, with the result, however, that they were probably shot off if the camel came upon a sudden irregularity of the ground.

In the cool of the evening the men bathed in the river, and the officers often went out in search of game, which was found, however, to be very scarce. There were many regrets among the men that they had brought no fish-hooks or lines with them, for these would have furnished not only amusement during their halts, but might have afforded a welcome change to the monotony of their diet.

The country bordering the Nile was composed of low rocky hills and hard gravel, with occasional tufts of dry grass and scrub. Sometimes the troops marched four abreast, at other times they had to go in single file across the rocky ground. The fun of the camel-riding very soon passed off, and the men found the marches extremely dull and monotonous, and were heartily glad when they got to Dongola.

Here the rest of the regiment joined them. Marching twenty miles up the river they crossed the Nile in boats, and another day's march took them to Shabadud; and after a stay there of some days, drilling with other corps, they moved on to Korti, four days' march. The site chosen for the camp delighted the men. Groves of palms grew along the steep banks of the river; beyond were fields of grass and broad patches of cultivated land. Here they were to wait until the rest of the mounted troops came up, and a portion, at any rate, of the infantry arrived in the boats.

CHAPTER X. AN UNEXPECTED MEETING.

"It is a nice place for a camp, isn't it, youngster?"

"Very nice, sergeant; but it will soon be spoiled with all these troops arriving. It is very pretty now with that grove of palm-trees, and the low green bushes that hide the sand, and the river with all the boats with white sails. I have just been counting them, there are thirty-two in sight. But when we get three or four regiments here they will soon cut down the scrub and spoil its appearance altogether."

"That is so, lad; troops make a pretty clear sweep of everything where they settle down."

Edgar had taken a good deal to Sergeant Bowen, who had shown him many little kindnesses on the way up. He was an older man than most of those engaged in the expedition, and Edgar judged him to be thirty-two or thirty-three years old. He was a fine, tall, soldierly-looking fellow, and had served in various parts of the world.

"Let us sit down," the sergeant said; "this bush will give us a little shade. How long have you been in the army, lad?"

"Better than two years. Directly the campaign is over I shall give up my trumpet, and hope I shall get my stripes soon."

"How old are you—nineteen?"

"Not for some months yet, sergeant."

"Hope to get your commission some day?" the sergeant said. "I suppose that is what you entered the army for."

"Yes, partly, sergeant; partly because I saw no other way of keeping myself."

"But what are your friends doing?"

"I have not any friends; at least none that I care to apply to," Edgar answered shortly.

"No friends, lad? That is bad. But I do not want to know your story if you do not choose to tell it. It is easy to see that you have had a good education. Keep steady, lad, and you will get on. I might have been a quarter-master years ago if it hadn't been for that. Drink and other things have kept me down; but when I was twenty I was a smart young fellow. Ah! that is a long time back."

"Why, one would think that you were an old man, sergeant," Edgar said, and smiled.

"Older than you would think by a good bit. How old do you take me to be?"

"Something past thirty."

"A good deal past that. I am just forty, though they don't know it, or I should not be here."

"Why, then, if you enlisted when you were my age, sergeant, you must have done over twenty years' service."

"It's twenty-two since I first enlisted. I served eight years in the infantry. I don't know why I am telling you this, but somehow I have taken a fancy to you. I was uncomfortable in the regiment. It does not matter why. I got my stripes twice, and had to give them up or I should have been put back for drinking. Then I left the regiment without asking leave. I was three or four years knocking about at home; but I had no trade and found it hard to get work, so at last I enlisted again. I was thirty then, but looked years younger than I was. Of course I had shaved off my moustache and put on a smock-frock when I went to enlist, and I gave my age as twenty-two. No one questioned it. I chose the cavalry this time, because I knew that if I entered an infantry regiment again they would spot me as an old soldier at once; but as it was all new in the cavalry I managed to pass it off, and now I have had ten years' service, the last six of them as sergeant. And as I gave up drink years ago I have a good character in the regiment, and when a steady non-commissioned officer was wanted for this business I had the luck to be chosen. Officers coming, lad!"

They rose to their feet and saluted as three officers passed. They were talking eagerly together, and returned the salute mechanically without glancing at the two soldiers.

"It is a rum chance, Clinton, our meeting here. I ran against Skinner at Assouan quite accidentally. I had seen his name in the list of the officers of the Marines going up; but we met quite by chance, and only forgathered here yesterday, and now here you are turning up as one of Stewart's A.D.C.'s. Who would have thought that we three should meet here, when we have never seen each other since we left Cheltenham?"

The sergeant stood looking after them with an air of interest till their voices died away. Then he turned to his companion.

"Hullo, lad, what is the matter? Are you ill?"

"No, I am all right," Edgar said huskily.

"Nonsense! Your colour has all gone, and you are shaking like a leaf. What! did you know any of those officers?"

"I knew them all once," Edgar said. "We were at school together. I did not know that any of them were out here. I would not have them recognize me for anything."

"Oh, that is it! I thought you must have run away from school; got into some scrape, I suppose. Well, my lad, as you have made your bed you must lie in it. But it is not likely that any of them would know you even if they ran up against you. Two years' service under this sun changes a lad of your age wonderfully. By the way, one of them called the other Clinton; do you happen to know whether he is the son of a Captain Clinton—Captain Percy Clinton?"

"Yes, he is."

"He was captain of my company when I was a young sergeant. Well, well, time flies fast, to be sure. Do you know whether this young fellow has a brother, and, if so, what he is doing?"

"No, he has no brother," Edgar said shortly.

"There were two of them," the sergeant said positively. "Perhaps one has died. I wonder which it was," he muttered to himself.

"Do you know the story?" Edgar asked suddenly.

"Do I know the story!" the sergeant repeated slowly. "What story do you mean?"

"The story of Captain Clinton's baby being confused with another."

"Oh, you know about that, do you?" Sergeant Bowen asked in turn. "So they made no secret of it. Ay, lad, I know it; every man in the regiment knew it. And good cause I had to know it, it was that that ruined me."

"Are you Sergeant Humphreys?" Edgar asked, putting his hand on the man's shoulder.

The sergeant started in surprise.

"Why, lad, how come you to know all the ins and outs of that story? Ay, I was Sergeant Humphreys, and for aught I know that young fellow who has just passed, whom they call Clinton, is my son."

"No, he is not, sergeant; I am your son!"

The sergeant looked at the young trumpeter in bewilderment, then his expression changed.

"You have got a touch of fever, lad. Come along with me to the hospital; I will report you sick. The sooner you are out of the sun the better."

"I am as sensible as I ever was in my life," Edgar said quietly. "I was brought up by Captain Clinton as his son. I was at Cheltenham with Rupert Clinton, who has just passed us. We believed that we were twins until the day came when a woman came down there and told me the story, and told me that I was her son and yours; then I ran away, and here I am."

"My wife!" the sergeant exclaimed passionately. "I have not seen or heard of her for fifteen years. So she came down and told you that. She is a bad lot, if ever there was one. And so she told you you were my son? You may be, lad, for aught I know; and I should be well content to know that it was so. But what did she come and tell you that for? What game is she up to now? I always knew she was up to some mischief. What was her motive in coming down to tell you that? Just let me know what she said."

"She said she had deliberately changed me as an infant for my good, and she proposed to me to continue the fraud, and offered, if I liked, to swear to Rupert's being her child, so that I might get all the property."

"And that she might share in it!" the sergeant laughed bitterly. "A bold stroke that of Jane Humphreys. And how did she pretend to recognize you as her child more than the other?"

"She told me that Captain Clinton's child had a tiny mole on his shoulder, and as Rupert has such a mark, that settled the question."

"Jane Humphreys told you more than she knew herself. Whether she intended to make the change of babies or not I don't know, but I believe she did; but whether it was done by chance, or whether she purposely mixed them up together, one thing I am certain of, and that is, that she confused herself as well as every one else, and that she did not know which was which. When I came into the room first she was like a woman dazed, and, clever as she was, I am sure she was not putting it on. She had thought, I fancy, that she could easily distinguish one from the other, and had never fancied that she could have been confused as well as other people. She undressed them, and looked them over and over, and it was then she noticed the little mole on the shoulder, and she turned to me and said, 'If I had but noticed this before I should always have told them apart.'

"We had a pretty bad time of it afterwards, for it made me the laugh of the whole regiment, and caused no end of talk and worry, and we had frightful rows together. She taunted me with being a fool for not seeing that there was money to be made out of it. She acknowledged to me over and over again that she had intended to change the children, and had dressed them both alike; and when I asked her what good had come out of her scheming, she said that in the first place we had got rid of the bother of bringing up the boy, and that if I were not a fool we might make a good thing out of it yet. But she was vexed and angry with herself for not having seen this little mark, and for having herself lost all clue as to which was her child. I told her that as she had intended to change them she could have cared nothing for her own boy, and that her only object could have been to make money.

"She did not deny it, but simply jeered at me for being content to remain all my life a non-commissioned officer when there might be a fortune made out of this. I do not say that if she had been able to tell one child from the other she would have told me, for if she had I should certainly have gone to Captain Clinton and told him; but she did not know. A woman can act well, but she cannot make herself as white as a sheet and put such a wild look into her eyes as she had when I found her turning those children over and over, and trying to make out which was which. I could take the Bible in my hand and swear in court that Jane Humphreys knew no more than I did which was her child, that she had never noticed the mark until after the change was made, and that to this day she does not know.

"One of the points we quarrelled on was that I made her start for the captain's quarters in such a hurry. She afterwards said that when it first came across her that she did not know which child was which, her blood seemed to go up into her head, and she lost her power of judgment altogether. She said over and over again that if I hadn't hurried her so, and had let matters be for a day or two, so that she could have slept on it and had looked at them quiet, she would have known which was her child. So that is how it is, lad. You may be Jane Humphreys' child and mine, or you may be Captain Clinton's, but no living soul can decide which. As to Jane Humphreys, she is a liar and a thorough bad un, and if it is only on her word that you have run away you have made a bad mistake of it. Still it is not too late to put that right. My word is as good as hers; and as she swore before she did not know which was which, her swearing now that she does, after all these years, will go for nothing at all."

Edgar was silent for some time, then he said, "I have thought a good many times since I ran away that I was wrong in not waiting to hear what Captain Clinton said. But I had no reason to doubt the story she told me, and when she proposed that I should go on with this fraud and cheat Rupert out of his position as heir, it was too horrible, and the thought that such a woman was my mother was altogether too much to bear. I will not make such a mistake again, or act in a hurry. My present thought is that as I have chosen my way I will go on in it. Before, Captain Clinton and his wife did not know which was their child and loved us both equally, now that they believe that Rupert is their son and that I was a fraud, they will have come to give him all their love, and I am not going to unsettle things again. That is my present idea, and I do not think that I am likely to change it.

"I shall be glad to know that I need not consider myself that woman's child, though it would not grieve me, now that I know you, to be sure that you were my father. But Captain Clinton and his wife were a father and mother to me up to the day when I ran away, and I could never think of anyone else in that light."

"Quite natural, quite natural, lad! You have never seen me or heard of me, and it would be a rum thing if you could all of a sudden come to care a lot about me. I know that you may be my son, but I don't know that at present I like you any the more for that than I did before. So we are quite of one mind over that. But we will be friends, lad, stout friends!"

"That we will," Edgar said, clasping warmly the hand the other held out to him. "You have been very kind to me up to now, and now that at any rate we may be father and son we shall be drawn very close together. When this campaign is over it will be time to talk again about the future. I do not think now that I am at all likely to change my mind, or to let the Clintons know what you have told me; but I need not trouble about it in any way until then. I was contented before, and I am contented now. If I have made a fool of myself, as I think I have, I must pay the penalty. I have much to be thankful for. I had a very happy time of it until the day I left Cheltenham. I have had a good education, and I have a first-rate chance of making my way up. I have made friends of some of the officers of my regiment, and they have promised to push me on. I had the luck to attract the colonel's attention at El-Teb, and was among the names sent in for the Victoria Cross; and although I did not get it, the fact that I was recommended will count in my favour."

"You are the right stuff, lad," the sergeant said, putting his hand on his shoulder, "whether I or the captain was your father. I reckon that it was he—I don't see where you can have got what there is in you from our side. And now it is time to be going back to camp. Who would have thought, when we strolled out together, that so much was to come out of our walk?"

While this conversation had been going on, Rupert Clinton and his two old school-fellows were sitting on the ground in the tent which Easton shared with another of General Stewart's aides-de-camp.

"The scene has changed," Easton said as he handed them each a tumbler of weak rum and water, "otherwise one might imagine that we were in my study at River-Smith's, and that Skinner was about to lay down the law about the next football match."

"Ah! if we had but Edgar here!" Rupert sighed.

"I did not like to ask whether you had found him, Clinton; but I guessed you had not by your keeping silence."

"No, we have heard nothing of him beyond the fact that we have occasionally a letter saying that he is well and comfortable. They were all posted in London, but I still believe that he is in the army. My father is as convinced as ever that the statement of that woman I told you of was a false one, and that Edgar is just as likely to be his son as I am. I know I would gladly give up my share of the heirship to find him. However, unless I run against him by pure chance I am not likely to do that. We still put in advertisements occasionally, but my people at home are as convinced as I am that we shall not hear from him until he has made his way in some line or other, and he is in an independent position."

"He always was a sticker," Skinner said, "and if he took a thing in hand would carry it through. You remember his rush in our last match with Green's, how he carried the ball right down through them all. I should not worry about it, Clinton; it will all come right in time. He will turn up some day or other; and when he finds that matters are just as they were before, and that your people believe him to be just as likely to be their son as you are, he will fall into his old place again—at least that is my opinion of it."

"Yes, that is what I hope and believe," Rupert said. "Well, Easton, how do you like the Guards, and how do you like campaigning? I see that you have given up white shirts, like the rest of us. I rather expected that if we did meet I should find that, in some miraculous way, you still contrived to get up immaculately."

Easton laughed. "No, I left my last white shirt at Cairo, Clinton. I consulted my soldier-servant about it. He was ready to guarantee the washing, but he did not see his way to starching and ironing; so I had to give them up and take to flannels. They were awful at first, and irritated my skin until they brought on prickly heat, and I was almost out of my mind for a few days. However, I have got over it now. What made you go into the Marines, Skinner?"

"Well, just before the exam, came off an uncle of mine, who is a great friend of the first lord, wrote to say that he could get me a commission. Well, in the first place I did not feel very sure of passing for the line; in the second place I had a liking for the sea, and in the third place, as my governor's living is not a very large one and I have a lot of sisters, and I thought I had had more than my share already in being sent to Cheltenham—and one can live a good deal cheaper in the Marines than in the line—I concluded the best thing I could do was to accept the offer; and I have not been sorry that I did it. It was awful luck my coming out in the Naval Brigade here; it was just a fluke. The man who was going was chucked off a horse and broke his arm the day before the brigade sailed from Suakim, and I was sent up in his place. Well, what is the last news, Clinton? You ought to know, as you are on the staff."

"They don't intrust aides-de-camp with their secrets," Rupert replied; "but I think it likely there will be a move in a day or two, and that the Camel Corps will push across to Metemmeh and wait there till the boats get round."

"Yes, that is what every one is talking about," Easton said. "The question that is agitating us is whether all the Camel Corps will go; and if not, which will be chosen?"

"Ah, that I know nothing about, Easton; but I should think if any go, the Guards would be sure to be in it. But whether the Heavies or the Lights will go, if only two are chosen, I cannot say. I should fancy one will go with the boats anyhow, so as to keep along parallel with them and protect them against any sudden attack while they are afloat."

"Will the chief go on, do you think?"

"Not if only a small body cross the desert. At least I should think not. I should say he would stay here until Metemmeh is occupied and the boat column is well on its way, and that then he will go on to Metemmeh, and take the command there when the whole force is assembled. In that case Stewart would of course command the desert column, and I should be all right."

"The great question is, will the beggars fight?" Skinner remarked; "and if so, where?"

"They are sure to fight," Easton said. "I don't think there is the least doubt about that, but I should not think there will be any fighting this side of Metemmeh; it will be some where between that and Khartoum. The Mahdi cannot help fighting after smashing up Hicks and giving himself out as invincible. He would lose his hold altogether of the people if he did not come down and fight. Of course there is no doubt about the result; but, judging from the way those fellows fought down by the Red Sea, it is likely to be pretty tough work I shall be sorry for the poor beggars with their spears against our breech-loaders, but it has got to be done."

Skinner and Rupert both laughed, for Easton spoke exactly as he used to do with regard to football.

"It will be a nuisance your having to exert yourself, won't it, Easton?"

"Yes, that is always a nuisance, and in a climate like this!" Easton said seriously. "Why nature made a place so hot, I cannot make out. I am sure if I were to be weighed I should find I had lost nearly a stone since I came out."

"You have quite enough flesh on you," Skinner said critically. "If you have lost a stone you must have been getting beastly fat. You fellows in the Guards do not take enough exercise. The time was when the Guards used to row and had a very good eight, but they never do that sort of thing now. It would do you all a lot of good if, instead of wandering between London and Windsor and Dublin, you were to take your turn for foreign service."

"But then we should not be Guards, Skinner."

"Well, you would be none the worse for that," Skinner retorted.

"He is just as bad as he used to be, Clinton," Easton laughed; "just the same aggressive, pugnacious beggar that he was at River-Smith's."

"He means well, Easton. We never expected more than that from him. He must make himself fearfully obnoxious to the fellows who have the misfortune to be shut up on board ship with him."

"I shall make myself obnoxious to you, Clinton, if you don't look out. It is only the heat that protects you. Have you met any others of our fellows out here?"

"Not from our house, but I know there are seven or eight fellows of about our own standing out here altogether."

"If we are up here in the cold weather," Skinner said, "that is, if there ever is any cold weather, we will get a football made and challenge a team from any other school."

"Don't talk about it," Easton said plaintively. "It throws me into a perspiration even to think about it. The dust would be something awful. Possibly if we are up here through the winter, or through the period they are pleased to call winter, we might get up cricket; but as for football, it is out of the question. Of course if we were stationed at Dongola, or Berber, or Khartoum, we could get the bats and stumps and things sent up to us. It would be fun if it were only to see how these lazy, squatting beggars would stare when they saw us at it."

"But you were never enthusiastic about cricket."

"No. But then, you see, I do not propose to play on our side. My idea is that I should sit down on the sands in the shade of the scrub and smoke my pipe quietly. That is the oriental idea of taking exercise; pay somebody to dance for you, and sit and watch them, but do not think of attempting to take a hand yourself. It would be fatal to any respect these Egyptians may feel for us if they were to see us rushing about the sand like maniacs in pursuit of a ball. However, though I should not play myself, I should take a lively interest, Skinner, in seeing you and Clinton working hard. But I must be going, it is near time for us to parade. Come across to my tent at nine o'clock this evening. I cannot ask you to dinner—that must be deferred until we get home again—but we can smoke a pipe and talk over old days; and I can give you a glass of good brandy and water, which is a change from the commissariat rum. I managed to smuggle up half a dozen bottles."

Edgar was much disturbed by the story he had heard so unexpectedly from the sergeant. He regretted now that he had acted so hastily. Certainly the story put a completely new complexion on the case, and his chance of being Captain Clinton's son was just the same as it had ever been. He wondered whether his father and mother—for so in his thoughts he always named them—had doubted the truth of this woman's statement to him, or whether they had believed it as he had done, and had put him out of their hearts as one with whom they had nothing to do, and who had been already too long imposed upon them. But he felt that this was an unjust view, and that however they might now be confident that Rupert was their son and heir they still cherished an affection towards him. "However," he said, "this will make no difference to me. The die is cast, and I cannot go back now. Still I shall be happier than I was before. Then I considered that I had been an impostor who had received affection and care and kindness to which I had no shadow of right. Now I know that this is not so, and that it is just as likely that I am their son as it is that Rupert is; and I stay away for my own choice, and because, having made them believe that Rupert was their son, I am not going to disturb and make them unhappy again by showing them that this was a mistake, and that everything is as unsettled as before.

"I told them that they would never hear of me until I had made my own way, and I shall stick to that. Who would have thought of meeting Rupert here? It has been a great piece of luck for him getting out here as General Stewart's aide-de-camp, but I know the general is a friend of my father, and that accounts for it. Perhaps this sergeant is my father. I did not seem to mind the thought before. I did not even know whether he was alive, and never really faced it; and yet, if Sergeant Bowen is to be my father, he is as good as another. He seems a fine fellow, and has had no hand in this fraud. I ought, indeed, to think myself lucky; for he is steady and respectable, a good soldier, and I can see liked by the officers as well as the men. It was curious that he should have taken a fancy to me.

"Still it does go against the grain, though I can see he has no intention of claiming me openly as his son. If he had, I think I should have kicked against it; but as it is, I am sure we shall be very good friends."

After drill was over next morning, and the camels had been seen to and the men dismissed, Sergeant Bowen came up to him—

"Let us take another turn together, lad. I have been thinking a lot," he went on when they were beyond the lines, "of our talk yesterday. Now, lad, you have been brought up as a gentleman, and to consider yourself as Captain Clinton's son; remember, I don't want you to think that I expect you to make any change about that. I have done nothing for you as a father; and whether I am your father or not you do not owe me anything, and I want to tell you again that I don't expect in the least that because it is possible you are my son you should regard me in the light of your father.

"I can understand that after all your life looking at the captain as your father, and after he and his wife being everything to you, you would find it mighty hard to regard me in that way. I don't expect it, and I don't want it. If he is not your father by blood, he is your father in right of bringing you up and caring for you and educating you, and it is quite right and quite proper that you should always regard him so. You can look upon me, lad, just as a foster-father—as the husband of the woman who was for a time your nurse, and who would gladly repair the wrongs he did to you. I just say this, lad, to make things straight between us. I want us to be friends. I am an old soldier, and you a young one. We are comrades in this expedition. We have taken to each other, and would do each other a good turn if we had a chance. I don't want more than that, lad, and I don't expect you to give more. If I can lend you a helping hand on or off duty, you know I shall do so. So let us shake hands on it, and agree to let the matter drop altogether until this campaign is over. Then we will talk over together what had best be done. A few months longer of this life will do you no harm, and you will make all the better officer for having had two or three years in the ranks. But I will say at once that I think that you are wrong, now you know how the matter stands, in not writing at once to the captain and letting him know the truth. Still there is no harm in its standing over for the present. You must go through the expedition as you are now, and they would be no easier for knowing that you are exposed to danger out here than they are at present when they know nothing of your whereabouts."

Edgar shook the sergeant heartily by the hand, and the bargain was sealed.

Every day troops kept on arriving, and by the 27th of December there were already at Korti a considerable portion of the Sussex, the Duke of Cornwall's Light Infantry, the Essex, Gordon Highlanders, Black Watch, and Staffordshire, all of whom had come up in the whale-boats; a large number of the commissariat, transport, hospital, and engineer train in native boats; the whole of the Guards' Camel Corps, and the greater portion of the Heavy and Light Camel Corps, a hundred men of the Marines, who were provided with camels, and appointed to form part of the Guards' Camel Corps, two squadrons of the 19th Hussars, and the Mounted Infantry.

In the few days that had passed since the troops to which Edgar was attached had arrived at Korti the change in the appearance of the place was great. The grove of palm-trees still stood near the bend of the river, but the green fields of grass and the broad patches of growing crops had been either levelled or trampled down, and the neighbourhood of the camp presented the appearance of the sandy wastes of Aldershot.

On the evening of that day Skinner rushed into Easton's tent.

"I have just seen Clinton," he said, "and the rumours are going to be fulfilled at last. They did not inspect our water-skins, arms, and accoutrements for nothing to-day. We are to start on the 30th across the desert. There is no secret about it, or of course Clinton wouldn't have told me. There are to be our regiment, a squadron of Hussars, the Mounted Infantry, and Engineers. We are to take with us baggage-camels and the camels of the heavy and light regiments. We are going to Gakdul, about a hundred miles off. There all the stores are to be left, and the camels and Mounted Infantry to come back here. We are to remain to guard the stores. As soon as the camels return here, the Heavies are to take their own beasts, and, with the Mounted Infantry, escort every baggage animal that can be got up here, when we shall all go on together. Sir Herbert Stewart commands."

"What about baggage?" Easton asked, after expressing his deep satisfaction that the advance was about to begin.

"Only what we can carry ourselves on our camels, and the weight is limited to forty pounds, which is abundant even for sybarites like you guardsmen. A quarter of that would be amply sufficient for me. A couple of blankets, a waterproof sheet, half a dozen flannel shirts, ditto socks, pair of slippers, and a spare karkee suit; sponge, tooth-brush, and a comb. What can anyone want more?"

"I should like to take my waterproof bath," Easton said.

"Pooh! nonsense, man! Where are you going to get your water from?"

"There is water at Gakdul, and there will be plenty when we get to Metemmeh," Easton said.

"Well, I will grant that," Skinner said; "but anyhow you can manage very well as we do. Make a hole in the sand and put your waterproof sheet into it, and there you have got as good a bath as anyone can want. What is the use of lumbering yourself up with things you do not want? Much better take those three bottles of brandy you have got left and a couple of pounds of tobacco. That is the utmost allowance I should give. The camels will have to go a long time without water, and the less you put on their backs the better. You know what a difference a few pounds makes to a horse; and I suppose it must be the same thing with them."

At three o'clock on the afternoon of the 30th the force intended for the desert march paraded, and after marching past Lord Wolseley moved off in solid formation, thirty camels abreast. The total force consisted of 73 officers, 1212 men and natives, and 2091 camels. The whole camp had turned out to see the departure of the column, and Edgar, with his helmet pressed down low over his eyes, watched Rupert as he rode after Sir Herbert Stewart, and Easton and Skinner with the Guards Camel Corps. The Heavies had been much disappointed at not forming part of the first advance, and especially at their camels being taken for baggage animals; but they consoled themselves by the fact that the native spies all reported that there were no bodies of the enemy between Korti and Gakdul, and it was not likely therefore that there would be any fighting until the whole force moved forward together from Gakdul to Metemmeh.

In front of the column were half a dozen natives on camels. These acted as the guides of the party. They had been extremely unwilling to go, and it was only when the general offered them the alternative of going willingly and receiving good pay for their work, or being lashed to their camels and forced to go without any pay whatever, that they elected the first. The Hussars scouted in front of the column, riding far ahead and scouring the country in search of lurking foes. Two hours after starting there was a halt, fires were lighted from the dry grass and mimosa bushes, and tea was made and served out. By this time it was five o'clock, and the sun had set. In an hour or two the moon, which was nearly full, rose, and afforded ample light for the journey.

For a time the silence of the desert was broken by the laughter and talk of the men, but as the time went on the sounds were hushed as sleepiness fell upon them. Short halts were of frequent occurrence, as the baggage animals in the rear lagged behind, or their loads slipped, and had to be readjusted. Then a trumpet was sounded by the rear-guard, and it was repeated by the trumpeters along the column, and all came to a halt until the trumpet in the rear told that the camels there were ready to advance again. So the march continued throughout the whole night.

The ground was of hard sand or gravel, with round smooth hills of dark stone rising from it. Near the hills the ground was covered with low mimosa bushes and long yellow grass, and in some places the mimosa trees rose to a length of ten or twelve feet. At five o'clock day broke, and at half-past eight the column halted at a spot where there were a good many trees. Here they dismounted, breakfasted, and slept for some hours. At three in the afternoon they started again, and at half-past eight arrived at the first wells, those of Hambok; but as they were found to contain very little water, the march was continued to the El Howeiyat Wells, thirteen miles further. Before they got there the watches told that midnight had arrived, and the commencement of the new year was hailed with a burst of cheering, and singing broke out all along the line, and was continued for an hour, until they reached the wells.

There was but little water here, but the men carried theirs in skins. The horses of the 19th Hussars received a bucketful apiece, which exhausted the supply of the wells. At six o'clock in the morning they again advanced, and after a rest of three hours at mid-day continued their way until midnight, when a light being seen at a distance the column was halted, and the Hussars went out and captured a caravan loaded with dates for the use of the Mahdi troops. It was not until eight o'clock in the morning that the weary troops and animals reached the wells of Gakdul.

CHAPTER XI. ABU KLEA

"Where on earth are the wells?" Skinner said to the officer who was riding next to him; and a similar question was asked by scores of others.

They had advanced through a narrow pass, and were now in a small flat surrounded apparently on all sides by hills. However, as Major Kitchener, the head of the intelligence department, and the native guides were there, every one supposed it was all right, and set to work to unload the camels. It was not such easy work as usual, for the ground was strewn with large stones, upon which the camels objected strongly to kneel. For a time there was a prodigious din—the camels grumbling and complaining, the natives screaming, the soldiers laughing, shouting, and using strong language. At last the loads were all off, the stores piled, and the din quieted down.

"Where on earth is this water, Skinner?" Easton asked as the two young officers met after the work was done.

"I cannot make out, Easton. I hope it is not far, for my water-skin has leaked itself empty and my throat is like a furnace."

"I have some water in mine," Easton said, "but it tastes of leather so strongly that it is next to undrinkable. Oh, here is Clinton. Where is the water, Clinton?"

"By that rock at the end of the valley. I am just going to have a look at it. Can you come?"

"Yes; there is nothing to do here at present."

They hurried towards the rock that Clinton pointed out, and when they reached it they still saw no signs of water, but on going round it burst into a shout of delight. Before them lay a pool some sixty feet wide by a hundred long. The rocks rose precipitously on each side; it was evident that the water was deep.

"There are two more pools further up," an officer who had got there before them said.

"Let us climb up and have a look," Clinton said; and with some difficulty they climbed up to the top of the rock. Going along for some little distance they looked down. Eighty feet below them lay two beautiful pools. They were evidently very deep, for at the edge the water was green, but nearly black in the centre of the pools.

"This is something like," Skinner said. "There is no fear of running short of water. Come on, let us clamber down and get a drink. Look there, at the rows of camels coming along to the lower pool. I suppose that will be kept for them, and that we shall get our water from these."

With a good deal of difficulty they got down, but were unable to reach the edge. However they tied a string round one of their water-bottles, and soon brought it up full. The water was deliciously clear and cool, the high rock completely sheltering the pools from the heat of the sun. They indulged in several long draughts before their thirst was satisfied.

"I shall never say anything against water again," Skinner remarked. "I have always allowed its utility for washing purposes, but have considered it a distinct failure as a drink. I recant. While considering that at home beer is good enough for me, I am prepared to maintain that, in the middle of the Bayuda Desert, clear cold water and plenty of it is good enough for anyone. But how in the world are we going to get at this water? Oh, here come the Engineers; they are going to do it somehow."

A party of Engineers arrived with some pumps and a hundred yards of hose.

"How are you going to take it down?"

"We are going to lead the hose right through the lower pool, letting it lie at the bottom. That is the only way we can do it. There is no way of fixing it against that wall of rocks."

The pumps were fixed in a very short time and the hose laid, and in less than an hour the stream of pure water was being poured into a large trough placed near the lower pool, and from this the cooks of the various companies filled their kettles and boilers.

Some of the men, in spite of their long and fatiguing journey, had followed the example of the young officers and filled their water-bottles as they had done, but the majority had thrown themselves on the ground and were fast asleep a few minutes after the work of unloading the camels had been completed. For hours the work of watering the camels went on, slowly at first, as only a few could drink at a time, but more rapidly when large troughs were erected, at which thirty could be watered at once.

As soon as dinner was over the Guards set to work to erect two forts that the Engineers had already marked out. One of these was at the mouth of the pass leading into the little valley, the other was placed just above the pools. The baggage was piled close to the wells. By evening the work was well advanced, and at eight o'clock the Mounted Infantry and the whole of the camels started on their return journey, leaving the Guards, with fifteen Engineers and six Hussars, to hold the wells and guard the great pile of stores that had been brought up. As soon as work was over there was a general movement to the wells, and there were few who did not indulge in the luxury of a bathe in the lower pool.

Rupert Clinton returned with the column to Korti, as General Stewart went back with them to bring out the main body of troops. It was calculated that ten days must elapse before these would arrive at Gakdul, and the Guards and Marines set to work in earnest the next morning to get things into order. The work was very heavy, but as the men had plenty to eat and no lack of excellent water they did not mind it, congratulating themselves heartily upon the fact that they had not to make the long and wearisome journey to Korti and back.

In the course of the ten days the walls of the forts rose to a height of over five feet—a very laborious piece of work, for one fort measured twenty yards by twenty-three; the other thirty yards by fifteen, and the stones had all to be picked up and carried considerable distances, or loosened out of the solid rock by aid of the six pickaxes and four crowbars that were alone available.

In addition to this the site of a camp was marked out, roads were formed by clearing away the stones, and paths made up to the forts and picket stations. The outpost duty was very severe, two officers and sixty-five men being always on duty, as it was possible that at any time, night or day, an attack might be made.

"This is awful!" Easton said to Skinner, as, sitting down on the ground, he mournfully contemplated his boots; "these boots that I relied upon to last me through the campaign are hopelessly done for."

"They do look bad," Skinner agreed, "but no worse than mine, or in fact than any one else's. These rocks are awful. If Nature had scattered ten million knives broadcast about this valley they could not have been more destructive to boots than these rocks. I used to think that, although the camels were well enough for taking up the baggage or as a means of conveyance for men, they were a mistake, and that it would be much pleasanter to march than to sit upon these wearisome beasts; but my opinion has been changed by our experience here. If we had to march many miles over such a country as this the whole force would be barefooted. I had a frightful job of it last night. I went the rounds with the field-officer, and how it was I didn't break my neck I cannot imagine. I had a dozen tremendous croppers down the rocks. The lantern went out the first time, and got smashed the second. The major seemed to think that it was my duty to have kept it alight whatever happened to myself, and was as savage as a bear. We lost our way a dozen times, and once came up to a picket on the wrong side, and deuced near got potted."

"I know all about it," Easton said. "I did it three nights ago, and have no skin at present on my knees or my elbows or my hips, and mighty little on my back. I went down one place fifty or sixty feet deep head-foremost, bumping from rock to rock, and it flashed through my mind as I did so what an ass I was to be going through all this when I might be comfortably in bed at home. They don't tell one of these things," he said plaintively, "when they talk of the advantages of the army."

"Bosh!" Skinner said wrathfully. "I don't suppose you were a bit more hurt than you would be in a good close rally at football. It is a thousand times better after all than mooning about Windsor, or being mewed on board a ship at Suakim. However, I shall be precious glad when the others arrive, and we have done with this fatigue work. The men's hands are pretty well cut to pieces getting up and carrying those sharp rocks, and I am heartily tired of acting as a sort of amateur mason."

On the 11th of January a convoy of a thousand camels with stores and ammunition arrived, and the next day the troops were delighted at seeing the main body approaching. In addition to the Mounted Infantry and Heavy Camel Corps, 400 men of the Sussex Regiment came up on the camels. They were intended to garrison the forts and protect the wells when the rest of the force moved forward, but a hundred of them were to go forward with the troops. With the new-comers were 30 sailors with a Gardner gun, 30 men of the Royal Artillery with three 7-pounder guns, 45 of the Medical and Commissariat Staff, and 120 native drivers for the baggage camels. As the Heavy Camel Regiment numbered 380 and the Guards 367, the Mounted Infantry 360, and there were 90 men of the 19th Hussars and 100 of the Sussex, the total force which was to advance was about 1500 men, 90 horses, and 2200 camels.

All the men with the exception of the natives, who were on foot, were mounted on camels, the Hussars of course excepted, as they rode sturdy little Egyptian horses, which, although little larger than ponies, were capable of enduring an amount of fatigue, hardship, and privation, that would in the course of a few days have rendered English horses useless.

Those who had left Gakdul but ten days before were astonished at the change which the labours of the Guards' Camel Corps had effected in it, and great commendation was given them by the general for the zeal with which they had worked.

Large as was the number of animals to be watered, the work was conducted with far greater speed and ease than had been the case on their former arrival. The arrangements were all excellent, and in a comparatively short time the whole were watered and fed. The troops, however, were dismayed at the change which had come over the camels. These animals are capable of enduring great fatigue and scarcity of water and food, but the authorities had acted as if there were no limits whatever to those powers, and for a fortnight the camels had been kept at work with only three or four hours' rest out of each twenty-four, with a very scanty supply of food, and a sufficient allowance of water but twice, namely, at Gakdul and Korti. The natural result had followed: the animals were weak and exhausted, the majority were suffering from sore backs, some had already succumbed, others were absolutely incapable of further work until they had had a rest. In this respect none of the three corps had any advantage over the other, as the camels had all performed the three journeys.

"If we are only going to Metemmeh, and are to halt there until the boats come round, the poor beasts will have time to recover before we want them again," Easton said to Skinner as they were looking ruefully at the condition of the camels who had carried them so well ten days before; "but they certainly won't be fit to advance for some time. I am afraid, Skinner, that they must have very bad news from Khartoum, and that every day is of extreme importance. If the matter hadn't been most urgent they would never have ruined the whole of our transport as they have done in this way. If the camels had had a couple of days' rest here before starting to go back again, and four or five days' good feeding at Korti before they started up again, it would have made all the difference in the world to them. A camel is not a steam-engine, that can take in fuel and water and be off again an hour after it comes in from a journey."

"I don't like these night marches," Skinner said. "I consider them to be a mistake altogether."

"So do I, Skinner. It was bad enough when we had the moon, but it will be ten times worse now. As to the heat, that is all rot. We travelled in the daytime coming up by the banks of the Nile, and it is cooler now than it was then. It is all very well for men to march at night if they have no animals or baggage-train with them, but it is a different thing altogether on such an expedition as this. To begin with, the delays from falling behind and readjusting baggage are far greater at night than at day; there is much greater difficulty in keeping the column together; the men are in a state of drowsiness the whole time, if they were marching they would keep awake, but sitting on the camels there is nothing to rouse them. Then when they get in camp the heat of the day has just begun, and what with that and the flies it is next to impossible to sleep. What sleep they get does not refresh them. I quite dread this march on to Metemmeh. However, it has got to be done; but certainly I should not mind it half so much if we were going to travel by daylight."

It was soon known that there was to be no delay at Gakdul, and orders were issued that the start was to be made on the 13th; the intervening day being devoted to seeing to the arms and ammunition, issuing stores, and replenishing the water supply. The water-skins were extremely defective, leaking freely, the only exception being the india-rubber bags with which the sailors had been supplied. Every effort was made during the halt to sew up holes and stop leaks, but with poor success. Each man carried on his camel one of these skins in addition to his water-bottle. Strict orders were given that upon the march he was to rely upon the latter alone; the supply in the skins being for general purposes, such as cooking and making tea.

During the halt Edgar applied himself steadily to the work of repairing the water-skins. The camp of the Heavies joined that of the Guards, and he felt that his danger of being recognized by Easton or Skinner was great; but sitting with a group of others sewing, with his face shaded by his helmet, the risk was very much less than if standing up or moving about the camp. At two o'clock in the afternoon the force paraded and moved off in columns of companies. The Heavy Camel Corps led, the Guards followed, the baggage and stores were in the centre, and the Mounted Infantry in the rear.

Many of the camels had to be left behind, and those that remained were only sufficient to carry the absolutely necessary stores, the rations for the men, and a quantity of corn that would suffice but to give two feeds of eight pounds each to the animals, who were, therefore, obliged to depend almost entirely on such sustenance as they could pluck from the mimosa shrubs and the dry yellow grass. The men carried a hundred and seventy rounds each. There were a hundred rounds per gun for the artillery, but only a thousand rounds were brought for the Gardner gun, a quantity sufficient but for five minutes' work when in action.

The journey was over a gravelly plain, and the halt was made at six o'clock in the evening. Fires were lit of the shrubs and dry grass; the camels were unloaded and fed, and were ranged in such order that in case of attack the troops could form square at the angles of the mass, and thus support each other and protect the convoy.

At three in the morning the trumpets and bugles sounded. The fires were soon blazing again, and at half-past four breakfast had been eaten, the camels loaded, and the column on its march again. At ten o'clock there was a halt for two hours for dinner and a short rest; and it was not until just as they were going to start that the rear-guard arrived, having been delayed by the breaking down of numbers of the camels, many of which had fallen dead as they walked, while others incapable of movement had to be left behind to take their chance of recovering sufficiently to browse upon the bushes and make their way back to the wells. As the loads of those that fell had to be distributed among their already exhausted companions the prospect was far from cheerful.

Starting at twelve, the column passed a conical hill known as Gebel El Nur an hour later, and entered a broad valley covered with grass and trees twenty feet high, and where, doubtless, water could be obtained had the force been provided with little Abyssinian pumps. At five o'clock the column halted, and as the ground was sandy passed a more comfortable night than the one before. Every one was in good spirits. The men found the journeys by day far less fatiguing than those at night, and were able to obtain refreshing sleep in the cool night air.

Before daybreak they again started over a gravelly plain, hoping to reach the wells of Abu Klea that evening. They halted at eleven in a valley flanked by hills. The track, according to the maps, lay over a steep hill in front and then along a pass between two hills, the wells lying some three miles beyond the pass. Dinner was cooked, and as soon as they had finished their meal the Hussars started for the wells, as their horses had had no water since leaving Gakdul. The rest of the force were stretched upon the ground taking it quietly when two of the Hussars returned at full gallop with a message to the general, and the order was immediately issued for the men to fall in and for the officers to examine their arms and ammunition. Then the news spread through the force that the enemy had been discovered in large numbers upon the hill, and were evidently prepared to bar the way to the wells.

The change effected by the news was wonderful. It had been generally supposed that Metemmeh would be reached without fighting, all the spies agreeing in saying that there was no force of the enemy near the line of march. In a moment fatigue and thirst were forgotten, and the quiet was exchanged for bustle and animation. Men laughed and joked with each other in the highest spirits, and all prepared for the fray with the most absolute confidence as to the result. As the troops fell in the general with his staff galloped ahead to some rising ground, and with their field-glasses reconnoitred the hills surrounding the pass, upon which numbers of white-robed Arabs could be made out.

The Hussars speedily reported that there was a considerable force in the pass below. With the fighting men in front and the baggage behind, the troops moved slowly forward up the hill in front, and finally took up their position on a piece of flat ground whence they could see down the pass by which the Arabs expected the advance would be made. On the side of the hills commanding it they had thrown up small stone walls from which to fire. On the hilltops out of range large numbers of Arabs could be seen in constant motion, gesticulating and waving their arms. It was now four o'clock in the afternoon, and the general decided that as the real force of the enemy was unknown it would be imprudent to attempt to force the passage with only an hour and a half of daylight before him, consequently a halt for the night was ordered.

A strong detachment of Mounted Infantry and sailors with their Gardner ascended a hill on the other side of the pass and set to work to build a small fort and mount the gun there. A company from each of the camel regiments extended to cover the front. The camels were all made to kneel, their legs being lashed at the knee so that they could not rise. This done, the whole of the troops were set to work to build a wall. There were, however, but few loose stones lying about, and though officers and men alike worked hard the wall in front was but two feet high when the sun went down. A hedge of thorny bushes and wire was raised to protect the flanks as much as possible.

As twilight fell a number of the enemy took possession of the top of a hill some twelve hundred yards away on the right and opened fire, to which the three guns of the artillery replied with shrapnel-shell. The guns ceased firing when darkness came on, but the enemy kept up an occasional fire all night. A drink of lime-juice and water was served out to all the men, who then lay down, with their arms in readiness to repel an attack, by the little wall. All night the enemy kept on beating tom-toms and occasionally yelling, approaching at times comparatively close to the position. Knowing, however, that the sentries were out in front, the men for the most part slept quietly in spite of the noise and firing. As the Arabs could fire only at random but two men were hit during the night.

In the morning it was found that the number of the enemy on the hilltops had largely increased during the night, and the bullets now flew incessantly round and over the inclosure. Lying under such shelter as the wall afforded, the men ate their breakfast of the tinned meat and biscuits they carried in their haversacks.

"I must admit, Skinner," Easton said to his comrade, who had come across from his own company to have a chat with him, "that this is more unpleasant than I had expected. This lying here listening to the angry hiss of the bullets is certainly trying; at least I own that I feel it so."

"It is nasty," Skinner agreed. "I sha'n't mind it as soon as we go at the beggars, but this doing nothing is, as you say, trying. I wish they would make up their minds and come out to us, or if they cannot get up their pluck enough to do it, that we should sally out and attack them."

"You may be sure we shall before long, Skinner. They know well enough that we cannot stop here, but must move on to the water sooner or later; and knowing that, they would be fools if they were to give up their strong position to attack us here. At any rate I would rather be lying behind this wall than moving about as the general and his staff are doing. Major Dickson has just been shot through the knee, I hear. There! Look! there is another officer down. I wonder who he is. I do hope they won't pot Clinton."

A few minutes later an officer passing by told them that Major Gough of the Mounted Infantry had been knocked senseless by a bullet which had grazed his forehead, and that an officer of the artillery had been hit in the back.

"What do you think of it, sergeant?" Edgar asked, as he and Sergeant Bowen were eating their breakfast together under shelter of the wall.

"I think that it is going to be a hot job, lad. If they had attacked us out in the plain we should have made short work of them, but it is a different thing altogether among these hills. The beggars can run three feet to our one, and if we were to climb one of these hills to attack them, they would be on the top of the next before we got there. I see nothing for it but to move straight for the wells, and let them do their worst as we go. It would be all right if we hadn't this tremendous train of camels; but if they come pouring down while we are on the march we shall have difficulty in protecting them all."

"I wish Rupert were lying here with us," Edgar said, looking anxiously at his brother, whose figure he could perceive among those near the general. "It is horrid lying here in safety while he is exposed to their bullets."

"We must all take our chances," the sergeant said. "Maybe presently you will be in more danger than he is."

Half an hour later orders were issued that the men were to prepare for action, and it became known among the officers that the general had determined to leave a small garrison to protect the baggage and camels in the zareba, and to push forward with the rest of the force and capture the wells, and then send back and fetch in the camels and baggage. But the movement was delayed until ten o'clock in hopes that the enemy would attack. As they did not do so, orders were given, and the square formed up. The Guards' Camel Corps formed half the front of the square, and the right flank. The Mounted Infantry filled up the other half of the front, and half the left flank. The rest of the left flank and the rear were formed by the Heavy Camel Corps and the Naval Brigade; the hundred men of the Sussex taking the right rear corner between them and the Guards, while the Naval Brigade with their Gardner gun were in the centre of the rear line, between the troop of the 4th and 5th Dragoon Guards and that of the 1st and 2d Life Guards and Blues.

In the centre behind the fighting line were two guns of the Royal Artillery, the other having been left in the zareba, while the centre of the square was filled with camels carrying water, ammunition, and cacolets or swinging beds for the carriage of the wounded.

The instant the square was formed and moved out the fire of the enemy redoubled. Swarms of natives appeared on the top of the hills, moving parallel with the advance of the square. The march was taken in slow time to allow the guns and camels to keep up. The ground was extremely difficult and broken, deep water-ruts and rocky hillocks having to be crossed, and the whole very undulating and broken.

Men fell fast, and frequent halts had to be made to enable the doctors to attend to the wounded, and place them in the cacolets. The front face and sides of the square advanced in fair order, but there was much confusion in the rear face, caused by the lagging camels. Skirmishers were thrown out on either side, and these did their best to keep down the fire of the enemy. For an hour the square proceeded, and had nearly emerged from the pass on to the plain beyond, when a number of green and white flags were seen at some distance on the left front. As the firing had principally come from the right, and as it was from that side that an attack was expected, there was considerable curiosity as to the meaning of these seemingly deserted flags; and a small party were about to go out to investigate them, when a great number of other flags suddenly appeared at the same spot, and a moment later a vast mass of Arabs who had been concealed in a gulley sprang to their feet. (See plan on page 138.)

They were about five hundred yards distant from the square, which was at the moment halted at the foot of a stony knoll. It was moved at once on to the rising ground, and the skirmishers were called in. The Arabs with wild yells moved across the left front, disappeared for a minute behind some rocks and high grass, and then reappeared close to the left rear, when they wheeled into line, and with wild yells charged down upon the square. So quick were their movements that the skirmishers had hardly time to reach the square, and one man was overtaken and speared before he reached it.

Several of the exhausted camels with their loads of wounded had been left outside, lying down at the foot of the slope when the square moved up it. Their native drivers rushed into shelter, and the wounded would have fallen into the hands of the enemy had not an officer of the Guards' Camel Corps and several privates of the Heavies rushed out, seized the camels, and by main force dragged them into the square. In the square itself there was a din of voices, the officers shouting to the men to stand steady and reserve their fire until the skirmishers, who were between them and the enemy, had run in. The instant they had done this a roar of musketry broke out from the left and rear faces of the square, at first in volleys, then in independent fire as fast as the men could load; but though scores of the enemy fell, their rush was not checked for a moment, and with wild yells they fell upon the left corner of the square.

The men were but two deep, and were unable to stand the pressure of the mass of the enemy, and in a moment the rear face of the square was driven in, and a hand-to-hand fight was going on between the soldiers, mixed up with the struggling camels and the Arabs. All order was for a time lost; the voices of the officers were drowned by the din of musketry, the yells of the Arabs, and the shouts of the men. Each man fought for himself; but their bayonets were no match for the long spears of the Arabs, and they were pressed back until the throng of camels pushed hard against the Guards in front of the square.

The rear ranks of the Mounted Infantry on the left and the Marines on the right were faced round, and opened a terrible fire into the crowded mass of natives, while the Heavies with bayonets and clubbed muskets fought singly, man to man, with their foes. The combat did not last long. Mowed down by the fire on both flanks the assailants withered away, and it was not long before silence succeeded the terrible din of battle. In the interior of the square the last Arab of those who had pierced the square had fallen, and the fire of the outside faces of the square had prevented them from receiving any reinforcement from their friends, and these now fell back sullenly before the leaden hail. As soon as they had done so there was time to investigate what had taken place in the centre of the square.

A terrible sight presented itself. The ground was strewn with bodies of the natives, mingled with those of men of the corps that had formed the rear face of the square, the 4th and 5th Dragoon Guards, Naval Brigade, 1st and 2d Life Guards, and the Sussex. Among them lay camels which had been hamstrung or speared by the natives, broken cacolets, and water tanks and skins, medical stores, and a confusion of articles of all kinds.

Although forced back by the sheer weight of the native attack, the Heavies had never been completely broken up. They maintained their resistance to the end, jammed up as they were against and among the camels, and thus enabled the men on the two sides of the square to concentrate their fire on the Arabs.

A loud cheer had broken from the square as the enemy retreated, and they were prepared to resist another onslaught; for only a portion of their foes had yet been engaged with them. However, the enemy contented themselves with keeping up a distant fire from the hills, and then, doubtless as the news spread how terrible had been the loss of those who had charged the square, they gradually drew off and all became quiet. The square now moved off from the rocky knoll upon which they were crowded, and the work of seeing who had fallen and of assisting the wounded began. No less than nine officers had been killed and nine wounded, the greater portion of them belonging to the Heavy Camel Regiment. Two officers of the Naval Brigade were also among the killed. Eighty of the rank and file were killed, and upwards of a hundred wounded. Among the whites lay hundreds of dead Arabs, while arms of all sorts—spears, javelins, muskets, clubs, hatchets, swords, and knives, banners and banner-staffs—were everywhere scattered thickly.

Among the killed were Colonel Burnaby, Majors Gough, Carmichael, and Atherton, Captain Darley, and Lieutenants Law and Wolfe—all belonging to the Heavies.

To the survivors of those corps who had formed the rear face of the square, the scene they had gone through seemed a wild and confused dream. Sergeant Bowen and Edgar had been among those who rushed out and hauled in the camels with the wounded just before the Arabs came up. As they got them inside the ranks the roar of fire broke out and they fell into their places. "Independent firing!" the officer shouted as the first volley had been discharged, but scarcely had the roll of musketry begun than through the smoke a dense mass of black figures appeared. A storm of spears and javelins were poured in upon them, and in an instant there was a crash as club, spear, and sword struck the muskets, and then the Heavies were hurled back.

Edgar scarce knew what had happened, but the instant the square was broken Sergeant Bowen threw himself beside him.

"Steady, lad, steady," he said, "don't throw away a shot; load and stand ready to shoot the first man who falls on you. That is good!" he said as Edgar shot a tall Arab who was rushing at him with uplifted spear; "load again. Now it is my turn," and he brought down a man; and so firing alternately, sometimes defending themselves with their bayonets, but always keeping together, they fell back. Once Edgar stumbled and fell over the body of one of his comrades, but the sergeant seized him by the shoulder and jerked him on to his feet again, and the next moment ran an Arab through who was rushing at them with uplifted hatchet. When they were back among the crowd of camels the fighting became more even. Stubbornly the men made a stand here, for the natives could no longer attack them except in front, while the roar of fire from the troops on the flanks told with terrible effect upon the Arabs.

"Thank God that is over!" the sergeant said as the fight ended. "Are you badly hurt, lad?"

"I am not hurt at all," Edgar said.

The sergeant pointed to Edgar's left arm. The latter uttered an exclamation of surprise. He had bayoneted an Arab in the act of striking at him, and in the wild excitement had for the moment been unconscious that the blow of the native had taken effect. It had missed his shoulder, but had cut a deep gash in the arm, almost severing a strip of flesh down to the elbow.

"I had not the least idea I had been touched," he said. "I don't think there is any great harm done; the principal arteries are on the other side of the arm."

"We must stop the bleeding, anyhow," the sergeant said. "I will soon find a bandage. There are sure to be plenty about, for the surgeons were at work when they broke in."

He was not long in finding one, and then assisting Edgar off with his coat he bandaged up his arm.

"You have got a wound on the side, sergeant!" Edgar exclaimed suddenly.

"It is of no consequence, lad. A fellow threw a spear at me. I tried to dodge it, but was not quite quick enough, and it has grazed my side."

"It is more than a graze—it looks like a deep cut. Just undo your belt."

"Well, give me your handkerchief. I will roll that and mine into a pad and shove it in, and put a bandage tightly round my waist to keep it there. That will do for the present.

"That will do nicely," he said as Edgar fastened the bandage round him. "Now we shall both do very well until the surgeons have time to tie us up properly. I am afraid they will have serious cases enough to last them all night. Now, what is the next move, I wonder? I am horribly thirsty."

"So am I," Edgar agreed.

"Are you both wounded?" an officer asked, coming up with two men carrying a water-skin.

"Yes, sir, but not seriously; but we are awfully thirsty."

"Then you can have a drink of water," the officer said. "There is little enough of it, and it is kept strictly for the wounded."

Many of the men standing near looked on with envious eyes, for all were suffering horribly from thirst. Several fainted, and the men's lips were black and swollen, and in some cases the tongue swelled so that the mouth could not be closed. The 19th were out searching for the wells, but for a long while their search was in vain. The general was about to give the word to retire to the zareba where there was a little water still left, when the Hussars fortunately hit upon the wells. The wounded who were unable to walk were at once carried there, and the troops followed and halted near them, and in a short time the thirst of all was satisfied. Although the water was not to be compared with that at Gakdul, being found in shallow pools one or two feet deep, and stirred up by the Arabs till it was almost of the consistency of thin cream, nevertheless it was water, and was enjoyable indeed.

CHAPTER XII. METEMMEH.

As soon as the thirst of the men was satisfied the troops formed up for the night on some rising ground near the wells, where it was probable that the natives might renew their attack. Volunteers were called for, and three hundred men from the various corps started to march back to the zareba to bring in the baggage before daylight. It was a heavy duty after such a day's work, but those who remained behind had reason almost to envy those engaged in active work, for the night was terribly cold. The men had left everything behind as they advanced prepared for action, and had no blankets, and nothing but their shirts and their suits of thin serge to protect them from the cold.

The surgeons were at work all night attending to the wounded. No alarm was given by the outposts during the night, and as when morning broke there were no signs of the enemy, the men were allowed to fall out. A herd of lean cattle left by the Arabs was discovered not far off, and the Hussars went out in pursuit of them; the tired horses were, however, no match in point of speed for the cattle, but a few of them were shot, cut up, and a supply of fresh meat for the day secured. At seven o'clock the baggage train came up. The camels were quickly unloaded, and the men set to work to prepare breakfast, having had nothing to eat since the meal they had taken the previous morning under fire in the zareba.

During the day the dead were buried, the arms left by the natives collected and destroyed, and a stone inclosure commenced near the wells, for here the wounded were to remain under the protection of a small force of the Sussex. Both Edgar and the sergeant protested that they were perfectly capable of continuing the march, and were permitted to take their place in the ranks again. At four o'clock the force formed up, and half an hour later set out. It was given out that the march would be a short one and they would presently halt for the night, but as the hours went on it became evident that the general had determined to keep straight on for the river, a distance of twenty-six miles from the wells.

It was known that there was a considerable force of the enemy at Metemmeh, and as this would be augmented by the addition of the thousands of Arabs who had been engaged on the previous day, it was probable that, were the enemy aware of the advance of the force, a battle even more serious and desperate than the first would have to be fought before reaching the Nile. The object of the night march, then, was to reach the river before they were aware that the column had started from the wells. The Nile once gained, and a supply of water ensured, the force would be able to withstand any attack made on it. Nevertheless it would have been far better to have risked another battle in the open than to have made a night march across an unknown country.

The guides differed among themselves as to the route to be pursued, and more than once the column marched in a complete circle, the advance guard coming up to the rear. Thick groves of mimosa were passed through, causing the greatest confusion among the baggage animals. Great numbers of these lay down to die, unable to proceed a step further, and the transport of all kinds got mixed up together in the most utter confusion. The men, who had had but little sleep for two nights, were unable to keep awake on their camels, and in their passage through the bushes many of the animals straggled away from the main body.

Sergeant Bowen had managed to place Edgar next to himself upon the plea that being wounded he wanted to keep his eye upon him. Being both weakened by loss of blood, they were less able to resist the pressure of sleep than the others, and when their animals got separated in the passage through the mimosa grove from the main body, and stopped to crop the leaves, they were unconscious of what had happened until Edgar woke with a start as one of the boughs his camel had pushed aside struck him smartly in the face. His exclamation roused the sergeant. "Hullo! what has happened?"

"I don't know what has happened," Edgar said. "But it seems to me that we are alone here. We must both have been asleep, and these brutes must have separated from the column."

"This is a pretty mess, this is!" the sergeant said. "I cannot hear anything of them, and there was row enough in the rear with the baggage to be heard miles away. What on on earth are we to do, lad?"

"Well, we were marching nearly south. The Southern Cross was almost dead ahead of us. We had better steer by that, and go on ahead until morning."

The camels were at once set in motion, and for hours they plodded on. All desire for sleep had been completely dissipated by the excitement of the situation, and they talked in low tones as to what they were to do if they could make out no signs of the column when day broke. They agreed that their only plan was to keep on until they got to the river, and that when they arrived there they would water the camels and give them a feed, and after a rest start on foot along the bank one way or the other until they found the column.

"There is safe to be a lot of firing," the sergeant said; "for even if the Arabs don't discover the force in the morning before they get to the river, they are certain to turn out to attack them as soon as they get there. Judging by the pace we were going, and the constant halts for the baggage to come up, there is very little chance of the column getting to the river before daylight; and as we have nothing to delay us, I expect we shall be there before they are."

"In one respect that will be all the better," Edgar said; "for as soon as the natives make out the column they will be swarming all over the country to look for stragglers, whereas if we are ahead of them we may get through to the river without being noticed. I don't think that it will be very long before morning breaks, and, do you know, sergeant, I think our camels are going faster than they were."

"I think so too, lad. That looks as if we were getting near the water, and they smell it."

Just as the first signs of daybreak were apparent in the east the character of the country changed, and they could make out clumps of trees, and, as the light grew brighter, cultivated ground. Ten minutes later they both gave a shout of joy as on mounting a slight ascent the river lay before them. A few minutes later they were on its bank. The camels rushing down put their noses into the water; their riders slipped from their backs regardless of the fact that the water was knee-deep, and wading back to the shore threw themselves down by the edge, and took long draughts of the clear water. Then throwing off their clothes they rushed in and indulged in a bathe.

The camels, after filling themselves nearly to bursting, lay down in the stream until the sergeant and Edgar went out and compelled them to return to shore, when they set to work cropping the long grass that grew abundantly there, while their riders sat down and made a meal from the contents of their haversacks.

"Well, at any rate," the sergeant said, "we can do nothing just at present. The troops may be within a mile, and they may be ten miles off; there is no saying. There is nothing for us to do but to wait until we hear something of them. If we do not hear anything of them we shall know that they either have not struck the river, or have struck it so far off that we cannot hear the guns. In that case my opinion is that we may as well rest here for to-day. Before we move I think it will be decidedly better to take the saddles off the camels and hide them in the bushes, and then move away some distance and hide up ourselves. This is evidently a cultivated country, and if there are any natives about they will be sure to see the camels, so we had better not be near them. There is no fear of the animals straying; they will be eating and drinking all day."

The saddles were accordingly removed from the camels' backs and hidden; the two men went back a few hundred yards from the river and lay down amongst some bushes. Edgar was just dropping off to sleep, when the sergeant exclaimed, "Listen! they are at it."

Edgar at once roused himself, and distinctly heard the boom of a distant gun.

"That is one of the seven-pounders," the sergeant said; "and I think I can hear the sound of musketry, but I am not sure about that."

Presently, however, the wind brought down distinctly the sound of dropping shots.

"Skirmishing, lad! I suppose the enemy are hovering about them, but haven't come to close quarters yet."

"It is horrible being here instead of with them!" Edgar exclaimed as he rose to his feet.

"It is no use thinking of moving, lad; they are four or five miles away certainly, and as the Arabs are probably all round them, there wouldn't be the slightest chance of our joining them. There is nothing to do but to wait here. The sound comes from inland, so it is certain they have not got to the river yet. As far as I can judge it is pretty nearly behind us, so when they lick those fellows they are likely to come down on the river somewhere near this point. They will be down before evening. You may be sure they had not got water enough to last them through the day, so they must move forward however many of the natives may be in their way. It is not like the last business; then they were on us almost before we knew they were coming, but in this flat country we shall have plenty of warning; and I will bet a year's pay they don't get up to our square again. I think, lad, I will get you to set my bandages right again."

Edgar uttered an exclamation of alarm. There was a large dark patch on the sergeant's trousers. In dressing after their bathe the bandages had shifted a little, and the bleeding had recommenced. It was evident at once to Edgar that a great deal of blood had been lost, for Sergeant Bowen lay faint and exhausted upon the ground. Unknown to himself the action of the camel had set the wound off bleeding during the night, and although he had said nothing to Edgar about it, he had with difficulty walked up from the river to their hiding-place. Edgar ran down to the river with the two water-bottles; when he returned he found his companion insensible. He unbuttoned his tunic and got at the wound, from which blood was still flowing. He washed it, made a plug of wet linen, and with some difficulty bandaged it tightly. After some time the sergeant opened his eyes.

"Don't try to move," Edgar said. "I have staunched and bandaged the wound, and you will be better soon."

"It is a bad job, lad; just at present when we want to be up and doing."

"There is nothing to do at present, sergeant. We have only to wait quietly until our fellows come down to the river, and then I will soon get you assistance."

"Do you hear the firing still?"

"It is just as it was," Edgar replied, after listening attentively for a minute.

"Then I expect they have formed another zareba, as they did at Abu Klea, and that they will leave the camels there and march straight down to the river."

"I will steal up to the edge of the desert, if you don't mind being left alone a bit. I shall be able to judge then how far they are off."

"Do so, lad; I am all right here. But do not be too long away or I shall be anxious."

Edgar made his way a quarter of a mile back. Some cultivated fields stretched before him, and beyond them the rolling hillocks of the desert. He could see men on horseback and foot moving about, and looking to the right saw about half a mile distant a place of some extent, which was, he felt sure, Metemmeh. Numbers of men were pouring out from the town. The firing was not straight ahead, but somewhat to the left. "If they attack Metemmeh at once we shall be all right," he said to himself. "If they march straight down to the river we shall be all right still. We shall only have to move along to them. It is lucky we did not strike the river above the town, for it would have been next to impossible to get round to them without being observed."

He went back to his companion, and told him what he had seen.

"There is evidently going to be another tough fight before they get down to the water," the sergeant said. "It is very hard our being cut off here. Not that I should be good for any fighting if I were with them."

"I have no great desire to be in another fight like the last," Edgar said. "One go at that sort of thing is quite enough for me."

The hours passed slowly. The sergeant slept a good deal, and anxious as Edgar was he too several times dozed off. Presently he exclaimed, "The fire is become much heavier, sergeant; and it is nearer too. Listen!"

"It is the Arabs, lad," the sergeant said, raising himself on his elbow. "It is heavy, but it is nothing like the roll of musketry you hear when our fellows begin. But, as you say, it is much nearer; the column, or part of it, is on its march towards the river."

Five minutes later a dull continuous rattle came to their ears.

"They are at it now. They have stopped!" he said a minute later when the roar suddenly ceased. "What has happened now, I wonder? Ah! there they are again. That is more like it—steady and even."

The musketry came in sudden crashes. "Volleys!" the sergeant said. "They are near them."

For three or four minutes the sounds continued, and then there was silence.

"They have beaten them off," the sergeant said. "They didn't let them get near them this time, I expect. If they had there would have been independent firing. As long as you hear volleys you may be sure our fellows are not pressed."

Beyond an occasional shot the firing had ceased.

"How far do you think they are away now, sergeant?"

"If they were four miles before I don't think they are more than two now, and a good bit more away to the left. They are making to the river, so as to establish themselves there before they tackle Metemmeh."

"Then in half an hour they will be down on the river," Edgar said. "I will wait that time, and then start and get a party to bring you in."

"You had better wait until to-morrow morning, lad. We can do very well until then. I may be able to crawl by that time. Anyhow, they will have their hands full this afternoon. They will have to make a zareba by the river, attend to the wounded, and perhaps send back a force to bring in the camels and baggage, who were no doubt left behind at the spot where they were firing this morning. There is grub enough in the haversacks to last us until to-morrow, and plenty of water for the fetching."

"Just as you think best, sergeant. My shoulder is smarting a good deal, and I shall be all the better for a few more hours' rest myself. It will soon be getting dusk, so I will go down and get another supply of water at once, and then we can do a good twelve hours' sleep without fear of being called up for outpost duty. We have got three or four nights' sleep to make up."

It was broad daylight before they awoke. The sergeant got on to his feet, but it was evident to Edgar that he was altogether unfit for walking.

"Shall I saddle your camel for you, sergeant?"

"No, lad; I will stay where I am. Like enough the Arabs will be swarming about just within gun-shot of our camp. They are obstinate beggars, and do not know when they are fairly beaten. If I were as active as you are we might manage to get through on foot, but a man on a camel would be sure to be seen. Be very careful, lad, how you go. Remember, if you are seen you are lost; for these fellows could run you down to a certainty, and your only chance is to get through without being noticed."

"I don't like leaving you, sergeant."

"But you must leave me, lad. We have no food to speak of left, and it will be just as dangerous to-morrow or next day as it is to-day. Besides, your duty is with the corps. Every musket may be needed, and the sooner you go the sooner I shall be fetched in."

"Very well, then, I will start at once," Edgar said.

He first went down to the river, filled the two water-bottles and placed them both by the sergeant's side, and emptied what little food remained in his haversack.

"Now you will do for a couple of days if anything should occur to prevent them from sending out."

"I shall do very well, lad. It is not of myself I shall be thinking, but of you. The gladdest sound that ever fell on my ears will be the tramp of infantry, for then I shall know that you have got safely through. Good-bye, lad, and God bless you!"

Edgar wrung the sergeant's hand, and, unable to trust himself to speak, turned and started through the wood. He had not gone very far when he found that the grove was by no means a large one, for the trees opened before him. He bore to his left, hoping that they would extend along the river bank; but it was not so. The grove was isolated, and a large patch of cultivated land stretched down to the river. Half a mile further there was another grove; but whether this was more extensive than that in which he now was he had no means of telling. Standing at the edge of the trees he could see several figures on horseback moving about, and saw at once that they were natives.

"The Hussars will want two or three days' rest, I expect," he said, "before their horses are fit to go out and drive these fellows into the town. Well, here goes!" and he descended the bank of the river, which was now low, and kept along under its shelter until he reached the next grove.

It seemed so much safer where he was than it would be above that he determined to keep under shelter of the bank until he reached the camp. He had gone a hundred yards farther when there was a sudden exclamation on the bank above him, and almost at the same instant a spear struck his helmet from his head. He turned round and brought his rifle to his shoulder, but in a moment the Arab on the bank was joined by a score of others, who with loud yells rushed down upon him.

He saw that to fire was to ensure his death, and that resistance was worse than useless. He therefore threw down his gun and held up his arms. The Arabs rushed upon him in a body with uplifted spears and swords, but on an order sharply given by one who seemed to be their leader they lowered these. Edgar was, however, knocked down, kicked, and beaten, then some cords were placed round his body and arms, and he felt himself lifted up and carried away.

He was thrown down again in the wood, and an animated and, as it seemed to him, angry discussion was carried on some time. He had picked up a good many Arabic words, but not enough to enable him to understand the discussion; but he had no doubt that the subject of dispute was whether he should be killed at once or carried away prisoner. As after a time he was lifted up, the cords round his legs taken off, and he was hurried along with many curses and an occasional sharp prick with a spear, he judged that those in favour of sparing his life for the present had won the day.

His own prospects seemed desperate, but for the time he was more concerned at the thought that the man who was perhaps his father was lying helpless in the wood vainly expecting his return. But he did not consider his case altogether hopeless. As soon as the troops were all assembled on the river bank they would be sure to move forward against Metemmeh; and even if they did not pass through the wood the sergeant might gain sufficient strength to reach its edge, get sight of them, and join them. Unless one or other of these alternatives took place, he was lost. As to himself, he could not blame himself for the misfortune that had befallen him. He had taken what seemed by far the safest course, and had it not been for the accident that one of the Arabs had been standing at the moment at the edge of the river, he would have got through safely.

His captors had evidently no fear of being attacked. Probably the column that had gone out to fetch in the baggage had not yet returned, and the small force left at the zareba on the river bank would certainly not undertake any offensive operation until it came back. He was sorry now that he had not persisted in his own opinion and remained with the sergeant, as in another day or two some scouting party might have passed near the grove in which they were concealed. However, it might have made no difference. The Arabs were evidently swarming about the country, and parties would be likely to occupy that wood just as they occupied the one nearer to the English camp.

As they approached the village the Arabs raised shouts of triumph, and a crowd gathered as they entered the street, gesticulating and screaming so furiously that Edgar thought he would be torn to pieces. However, his captors forced their way through the crowd, turned off from the street, and entered a court-yard, in the centre of which stood a house of larger size than the majority of those that composed the town. Edgar's legs were again tied, and he was thrown into an outhouse, where he lay for hours. He could hear almost continuous talking in the house, and the voices occasionally rose into angry altercation.

He was surprised that he had not been killed as he entered the place, for the Arabs, if they fought with the same courage as those engaged at Abu Klea, must have suffered very heavily before they fell back, and the friends and relatives of those who had fallen would be thirsting for vengeance upon any European who fell into their power. Then he considered that it was probable that the people of Metemmeh itself, who lived by the passage of caravans and the river traffic, would at heart be as much opposed to the Mahdi as were those of Khartoum and other cities.

The force with which the British had fought at Abu Klea was composed partly of the Mahdi's regular followers, partly of wild tribesmen, animated alike by Mahommedan fanaticism and the hope of plunder; and although these might unite in an attack against Christians, they had little love for each other. The band into whose hands he had fallen might be townspeople, but more probably were members of some tribe that had been summoned to arrest the progress of the troops going up to the relief of Khartoum.

Now that he was detained a prisoner instead of being at once killed, Edgar felt that there was a strong chance for him. In a couple of days the force might attack Metemmeh, and in that case he might be rescued. It was, however, a place of considerable size, and containing at present a very large number of fighting men; and after the losses the column had suffered in the first fight and during its subsequent encounters, General Stewart might well hesitate to risk still greater loss than he had already suffered by an attack upon the place.

It was probable that the Mahdi would send down a large body of troops from those besieging Khartoum, as soon as he heard of the arrival of the small British force on the river, and every gun might be needed to maintain the position and repel attacks until the arrival of reinforcements across the desert.

Thus Edgar felt it to be very doubtful whether any attack would be made for the present. Of course as soon as reinforcements arrived, or the boat column came up the river, Metemmeh would be captured; but by that time he might be hundreds of miles away. The boat column might not get round for six weeks, while all reinforcements coming across the desert from Korti would have to march, for Edgar felt sure that it would be a long time before the camels were in a condition for work again.

It was well that when he filled the two water-bottles for the use of the sergeant Edgar had taken a long drink, for no one came near him until after dark, and he suffered a good deal from thirst, and from the pain caused by the tightness with which he was bound. He began to think that he had been altogether forgotten, when the door of the outhouse opened and two Arabs came in, and seizing him as if he had been a package dragged him out into the court-yard. Then he received two or three kicks as an intimation that he could sit up; but this, roped as he was, he was unable to accomplish, and seeing this the men pulled him against a wall and raised him into a sitting position against it.

A fire was burning in the centre of the court-yard. On some cushions in front of it sat a man, whom he recognized as the leader of the party who seized him. Other Arabs were squatted on the ground or standing round. The chief was past the prime of life, but still a powerful and sinewy man. His features were not prepossessing; but Edgar, looking round, thought that the expression of his face was less savage than that of the majority of his followers.

"Does the Christian dog speak the language of the Prophet?" he asked.

"I speak a little Arabic," Edgar replied, inwardly congratulating himself upon the trouble he had taken to pick up a little of the language during the time he had been in Egypt.

The answer was evidently satisfactory. The chief bowed his head.

"It is good!" he said. "The Kaffir is henceforth a slave in the tents of the Sheik Bakhat of the Jahrin tribe."

As he pointed to himself, Edgar understood that his captor intended to keep him as his own property, at any rate for the present, and bowed his head to signify that he understood.

"Why are the English foolish enough to come here?" the sheik asked. "They must know that they cannot stand against the power of the Mahdi."

"They did not come to interfere with the Mahdi, but to bring back their countryman Gordon and his friends from Khartoum."

"They will never reach Khartoum," the sheik said. "Their bones will whiten in the desert."

Edgar did not reply, partly because his knowledge of Arabic was insufficient for a discussion, partly because it was not worth while to run the risk of exciting the anger of the chief by pointing out that as they had failed to prevent a thousand men crossing the desert to Metemmeh, they might similarly fail in preventing a force of seven or eight times that amount marching up the banks of the river to Khartoum. He therefore remained silent.

"The Mahdi is invincible," the sheik went on after a pause. "He will conquer Egypt, and after that will destroy the Kaffirs and take their city of Rome, and will capture Constantinople if the Turks deny his authority."

"The Mahdi is a great man!" Edgar said gravely, although with difficulty repressing a smile. "Who can say what may happen?" Then seeing that this answer was also considered satisfactory he went on: "Your slave is hungry and thirsty. He has been wounded, and his bonds hurt him greatly. If he is to be of use to you, will you order that food and drink be given him?"

The chief nodded, and at a motion of his hand two of his followers freed Edgar from his bonds, and a dish containing some boiled meal and a jug of water were placed beside him. Edgar drank deeply, but was only able to take a few mouthfuls of food as he was feverish and in considerable pain; for the wound in his arm, which would have been comparatively slight had proper attention been paid to it, was inflamed and angry, and the arm greatly swollen.

As no further attention was paid to him he returned to the outhouse, took off his karkee tunic, and tearing some strips from it, wetted them and laid them on his shoulder. Presently the door was closed, and he heard a heap of brushwood thrown against it, an effectual way of preventing an attempt to escape, for as the door opened outwards the slightest movement would cause a rustling of the bushes and arouse the Arabs who were sleeping in the court-yard. There was no window. Edgar, seeing that escape was out of the question, laid himself down and tried to sleep, but the pain of his arm was so great that it was some hours before he succeeded in doing so. The next morning he was allowed to go out into the yard, and for some time no attention was paid to him. Then a considerable hubbub was heard in the town, with much shouting and yelling. An Arab ran in at the gate with some news. Edgar could not understand his hurried words, but the effect was evident. The men seized their arms, and then at the sheik's order Edgar was again securely bound and fastened in the outhouse.

In the course of an hour he heard firing, first dropping shots and then two or three sharp volleys, and knew that the British were advancing against the town, and that the Arabs had gone out to skirmish with them. Then there was a long pause, and he heard the sound of the English field-pieces. He listened for musketry, but in vain.

"It is only a reconnaissance," he said to himself. "Those little guns would not batter down the mud walls round the town without an expense of ammunition that could not be afforded. No doubt the troops could take it by storm, but surely the general would not risk the heavy loss they would suffer before they got in, especially as the place would be of no use to them when they took it, and must fall as a matter of course when the rest of the force arrives."

Such being his opinion, he was but little disappointed when the firing ceased, and he knew by the triumphant yells of the Arabs that the British force were retiring. In a short time he heard a clamour of voices in the court-yard, and he was presently unbound and released.

"The Kaffirs did not dare to attack the place," the Arab said exultantly. "They have gone back to their camp. In a day or two there will be forces here from Khartoum and Berber, and then we will destroy or make slaves of them all."

Four days later there was a great firing of muskets and triumphant yelling in the streets. Edgar felt very anxious, fearing that the expected reinforcements had arrived, and that a tremendous attack was about to be made upon the camp. He did not believe that it had already taken place, for he felt confident that every pain had been taken to strengthen the position, and that in whatever numbers the assault might be made it would be repulsed. Presently, however, the sheik himself deigned to tell him the cause of the rejoicing.

"There is news from Khartoum," he said. "The city has been taken, and the Englishman Gordon and all his followers have been killed. The news is certain. It has been brought down to us by tribesmen on both sides of the river. I told you that the Mahdi was irresistible."

The blow was a terrible one to Edgar. In the first place it was grievous to think that the expedition had been made in vain, and that, owing to those in authority at home delaying for months before making up their minds to rescue Gordon, it had failed in its object, and that the noblest of Englishmen had been left to die, unaided by those who had sent him out. He thought of the intense disappointment that would be felt by the troops, of the grief that there would be in England when the news was known, and then he wondered what would be done next. It was evident to him at once that his own position was altogether changed. He had before felt confident that unless his captors moved away from the town before the arrival of the main body of the expedition he should be rescued, but now it seemed altogether uncertain whether the expedition would come at all.

So long as Gordon was alive England was bound to make every effort to rescue him; but now that he and his companions were dead, and Khartoum had fallen, she might not feel herself called upon to attempt the reconquest of the Soudan. It was probable, however, that this would be the best, and in the end the cheapest way out of the difficulty. Here was a force that had at an enormous expense been brought up almost to within striking distance of Khartoum, and which could be relied upon to make its way thither to defeat the armies of the Mahdi, and to recapture Khartoum without any very great difficulty. The provisions and stores had all been purchased and brought up, and scarce any outlay additional to that already incurred would be entailed by the operation.

Upon the other hand, to retire now would be to leave the whole Soudan in the hands of the Mahdi and his fanatics. It would mean the destruction of the settled government established by the Egyptians, and it would expose Egypt to incessant invasions, which we should be bound to repel. Common sense, humanity, and even economy seemed to favour the advance of the force to Khartoum. The British people, roused to anger by the fate of Gordon, would probably call loudly for the vindication of the national honour, and for an act of retribution on the murderers of Gordon.

But Edgar felt that another way out of the difficulty might present itself to the authorities at home. It was not unlikely that the counsels of those who, from the first, had been against the expedition would prevail, and that it would retire to Egypt without striking another blow. In that case it seemed that there was nothing before him but lifelong slavery. Edgar, however was at an age when hope is not easily relinquished.

"I may be a slave a long time," he said, "but sooner or later I will escape. I will get to speak the language like a native. I am already almost burnt to their colour, and shall ere long be able to pass as one of themselves. It is hard indeed if after a time I cannot manage to escape, and to make my way either back to Egypt or down to the Red Sea, or into Abyssinia. If I did not feel sure that I could do either one or the other, I would do something that would make them kill me at once."

CHAPTER XIII. ABU KRU.

Sergeant Bowen and Edgar were by no means the only men who straggled away from the main body during that terrible night's march from the wells of Abu Klea. Many straggled; some managed to rejoin the column in the morning, others wandered away and were never heard of again. Morning found the exhausted and worn-out men and animals still at a distance from the Nile. Some miles away a long line of verdure showed where the river lay, but the general felt that at present the men could do no more, and that a halt for some hours was absolutely necessary. Parties of the enemy's horse and foot men could be seen among the sand-hills, and distant shots had already been fired.

The object of the terrible march had failed; it was no longer possible to reach the river without fighting again, and to fight as they were, encumbered with the baggage train and overpowered with fatigue, was but to court disaster. Therefore a halt was ordered. To the soldiers the order was unwelcome; tired as they were, they would rather, now that the river was but some four miles away, have pushed straight on and have done with it. But the condition of the animals positively forbade this. A camping ground was chosen on a bare gravelly place on the scrub where the ground rose slightly. The work of unloading and arranging the camels at once began, but before it was concluded a dropping fire was opened by the natives from the long grass and bush in the distance.

The troops were set to work to erect a zareba with the saddles, biscuit-boxes, and other stores, while parties of skirmishers endeavoured to keep down the fire of the enemy. This, however, was a difficult task, as the natives were entirely concealed, and the men could only fire at the puffs of smoke arising from the grass and bushes. To the Arabs, however, the camp presented a clear mark, and the sharp rap of the musketballs as they struck the wall, or the thud with which they buried themselves among the crowd of kneeling camels, was very frequent. Several men were hit, and soon after nine o'clock the report spread through the camp that Sir Herbert Stewart had received a very dangerous if not mortal wound.

The news caused deep sorrow throughout the troops. The general was most popular both with officers and men, and there was not one but felt that his loss would be a personal one. It was, moreover, most unfortunate for the expedition itself at such a moment to be deprived of its leader. Before starting, Colonel Burnaby had been designated to assume the command in case of any accident happening to the general; but Burnaby had fallen at Abu Klea, and it therefore devolved upon Sir Charles Wilson, who was accompanying the force solely in a diplomatic capacity, and who was to push up the river in one of the steamers and communicate with General Gordon as soon as the force reached the Nile.

Soon afterwards orders were given that a ridge of ground sixty yards distant on the right front should be occupied, as from that point the ground beyond was commanded to a considerable distance, and the enemy thus prevented from gathering for a sudden rush from that direction. Skinner and Easton were lying down together under cover of the wall when the order was given. Skinner was energetically denouncing the night march and the present halt. Easton was smiling quietly, and occasionally pointing out the difficulties which would have ensued had his companion's view of the matter been adopted.

"It is beastly lying here doing nothing," Skinner finally grumbled.

"Well, there is no occasion for you to do so," Easton said as an officer passed along saying that volunteers were required to carry boxes to build a small work on the ridge.

Skinner at once jumped to his feet, ran to the pile of biscuit-boxes, seized two of them, swung them on to his shoulders and started for the ridge. Easton followed in more leisurely fashion, and a number of other officers and men at once set about the work. It was not pleasant. As soon as the concealed enemy saw what was being done they directed their fire upon the party, and the bullets flew fast across the ground that had to be passed over. Several men dropped, but the work was continued vigorously, and in the course of an hour a small work was raised upon the ridge, and a half-company placed there as its garrison. Hour after hour went on, the fire of the enemy getting heavier and heavier, the men dropping fast.

"Well, Easton, what do you think of it now?" Skinner asked.

"I think it is most annoying," Easton said. "I cannot think why we don't do something. I suppose the general being hit has upset the arrangements. If we are going to move I don't see what advantage there is in putting it off; it isn't as if we were getting any rest here. I hope to goodness we are not going to wait here until dark; every hour we stop adds to the casualties. I hear two of the special correspondents have been killed, Cameron of the Standard and St. Leger Herbert of the Post. The camels are being killed in scores. Another four-and-twenty hours of this work there won't be enough men left to fight our way down to the river. It has got to be done, and we might just as well do it at once."

It was not until half-past three that the welcome order was given to prepare to move forward. A portion of the Heavy Camel Regiment, the Hussars, and Naval Brigade were left behind with the three guns to hold the inclosure, while the rest, formed in square as at Abu Klea, advanced.

The camels with the wounded were in the centre. The Marines and Grenadiers formed the front of the square, the Coldstream and Scots Guards were on the right, the Mounted Infantry on the left, the Sussex and the remainder of the Heavies in the rear. The fire of the enemy redoubled as the square set out on its way. Halting occasionally to fire a few volleys at the spots where the enemy's fire was thickest the square made its way gradually onward, keeping as much as possible on ridges so as to avoid being surrounded by the enemy placed in commanding positions. At last the fire of the Arabs suddenly ceased, and a great crowd, several thousand strong, headed by many horsemen, charged down upon the face and left flank of the square.

They were some five hundred yards away, and a cheer broke from the British square when it was evident that the long suspense was over and the supreme moment at hand. Volley after volley was fired, and then, seeing that the fire was taking but little effect, and knowing that nothing discourages men so much as seeing their fire fail to stop the rush of an enemy, Sir Charles Wilson ordered the bugle to sound "Cease firing!" The order was obeyed; the men stood steady until the enemy were within three hundred yards; then the bugle-call "Commence firing!" sounded, and from the front and left face of the square sweeping volleys were poured into the crowded mass.

"Aim low and fire steadily, men!" was the shout of the officers; and so well were they obeyed that the front ranks of the Arabs were mown down like grass. For a time they still pushed forward, but the fire was too terrible to be withstood; and although a few of the leaders arrived within fifty yards of the square, their followers hesitated when still at a distance of a hundred. Hesitation in the case of a charge is fatal. The storm of bullets still tore its way through the mass; the Arabs wavered, turned, and were soon in full flight.

The battle had lasted but a few minutes, but the victory was complete, and three hearty cheers broke from the victors. There was a halt for a few minutes for the men to fill up their pouches from the reserve ammunition and to have a drink of water. They then moved forward again, confidently expecting that the attack would be renewed; but the Arabs had had enough of it, and the square moved on without interruption until, half an hour after sunset, they reached the river. The wounded were at once carried forward to the water, and then the troops were marched up by companies, and each in turn were permitted to drink their fill. Then guards were posted, and the exhausted troops threw themselves down on the ground.

The object of their long march was attained, the Nile was reached, and thenceforth there would be no further suffering from want of water. The next day communication would be opened with Gordon's steamers, their friends would in the morning be fetched in from the zareba, and then there would be a long rest until the boat column arrived and the remainder of the force from Korti marched across to join them.

In the morning Easton went across from his own company to the Marines.

"Where is Mr. Skinner?" he asked a sergeant.

"He is down with the wounded at the river, sir. He had his left arm broken by a bullet just as we left the zareba. He was just in front of me at the time, and I made a shift to bandage his arm and tied it up to his body, and then he took his place in the ranks again and kept on with them until we got here; then when we halted he fainted right off, and we carried him down to the hospital camp by the water."

Easton at once went down to visit his friend. He was lying on a stretcher.

"Well, Skinner, I am awfully sorry to hear that you got hit. How are you feeling, old man?"

"I cannot say much for myself just at present; it is only about half an hour since they finished bandaging me up and putting on splints; they just stopped the bleeding last night, and then I asked them to leave me alone until this morning. They had lots of serious cases to attend to, and mine would keep well enough; besides, I was so weak with loss of blood, and so really done up, that I felt that I could not stand any more then, and I was asleep in a very few minutes. However, my arm woke me up before daylight, and I was glad enough to have it put in proper shape, though it hurt me deucedly, I can tell you. However, it is comparatively easy now, and I hope I shall be all right by the time the advance begins. What a blessing it is having shade and water here!"

"It is, indeed," Easton agreed. "Now I must say good-bye, for I don't know what is to be done, and we are sure to be under arms directly."

The troops moved off in a few minutes after Easton returned to his company, and after carefully examining the ground a small village named Abu Kru, a few yards from the river on rising ground, entirely deserted by the natives, was selected for a camp. The wounded were at once carried up there and were left in charge of the Heavies, while the Guards and Mounted Infantry started for the zareba, the Sussex being sent out on the right to watch Metemmeh and keep the enemy in check should they advance against the village. The water-skins and camel-tanks were all filled, for but little water had been left at the zareba; and the men, although they had scarcely eaten any food for the last forty-eight hours, started in good spirits, perfectly ready for another fight should the enemy try to stop them. But although large numbers of them gathered on a hill near the town they abstained from any attack, and the column reached the zareba, where they were received with hearty cheers by its little garrison.

These had not been attacked during their absence, although a scattered musketry fire had been kept up upon them until dark. To this they replied vigorously, and the guns had done good service to the square while on its march by keeping up a shell fire upon any bodies of the enemy that could be made out on the eminences near it. The garrison had suffered great suspense after the square had disappeared from their sight, for they could see large bodies of men hurrying in that direction, and their anxiety was great when the sudden outburst of musketry told them that the square was attacked. What the issue of the fight had been they knew not, but their hopes that the Arabs had been defeated increased as time went on and no attack was made upon themselves, for had the enemy been successful they would speedily have poured down to the attack of the feebly-defended baggage.

As soon as the column arrived the work of pulling down the walls of boxes and saddles, getting the camels to their feet and loading them, began. So many of the camels had been killed that the number surviving was insufficient to carry down the stores, therefore the smaller redoubt was left untouched and a stronger garrison than before placed in it, and the rest moved down to the river. The troops all partook of a hearty meal before the start was made. Sir Herbert Stewart and the rest of the wounded were taken down in the cacolets with the column.

Rupert Clinton had remained in the zareba when the square had marched forward. He had been greatly exhausted by the night march and had had a slight sunstroke before the square moved out; the doctors had therefore ordered him not to accompany it, but to stay at the zareba and assist the general and other wounded.

"You are looking very shaky, Clinton," Easton said when he joined him.

"I am all right to-day," he replied; "rather heavy about the head; but a bath and a long night's rest will set me up again. Skinner is all right, I hope?"

"No, I am sorry to say he has got his left arm broken. I saw him for a moment before we started. He got hit just after he left here, but stuck to his company all through. I asked one of the surgeons, and he said that unless fever or anything of that sort came on he was likely to go on all right, and that he did not think that there was much chance of his losing his arm. He has plenty of pluck, Skinner has."

"I should think so," Rupert said. "A fellow who could play an uphill game of football as he could can be trusted to keep his courage up under any circumstances. Do you know what we are going to do, Easton? Are we going to attack Metemmeh?"

"I have not the least idea. It is a big place, a lot bigger than we expected, and there are a tremendous lot of fighting men there. It is fortunate they did not all make a rush at us together yesterday, although I don't think it would have made any difference. But it would be a very risky thing to attack such a place as that, swarming with fanatics, with our present force. It would be too big to hold if we took it, and we might lose two or three hundred men in the attack and street fighting; and as it is said that a big force is coming down the river to attack us, it would certainly be a risk, and a big one, to lose a lot of men in an attack on this place, which we shall be able to take without any difficulty as soon as the rest of the force comes up. I expect we shall try a reconnaissance. If the Arabs bolt, and we find that we can take the place without hard fighting, we shall take it; but if they show a determination to stick there and defend it to the last I think we shall leave it alone."

The column returned to the river without meeting with any opposition; but it was evident from the number of Arabs who were seen moving about in the direction of Metemmeh that the check of the previous day had by no means disheartened them, and that they were still in very considerable force in and around the town.

Late at night the orders were issued for the troops to parade at half-past four in the morning; and leaving a small force to guard Abu Kru, or as it was sometimes called Gubat, the rest of the troops marched towards Metemmeh. Two villages deserted by the inhabitants were passed, and then a view was obtained of the town. Crowds of Arabs were seen outside its walls.

The officer in command of the company of Grenadiers that was marching in extended order in front of the column picked out twenty of the best shots and ordered them to elevate their sights to two thousand yards and fire five volleys. Great as the distance was, the effect was considerable. With the aid of glasses two or three of the enemy were seen to fall, and the rest scattered in all directions and speedily took shelter within the walls. The seven-pounders then opened fire, but the shot produced little or no result, simply punching holes in the mud walls. The troops then moved nearer, marching along the southern side to see if any place suitable for an assault could be discovered; but everywhere the wall was loopholed, and the incessant fire showed that it was strongly manned.

A Krupp gun on the walls presently opened fire with so accurate an aim that the column fell back a short distance. At this moment a cheer rose as four steamers were seen coming along the river flying the Egyptian flag. They ran towards the shore and landed two hundred negro soldiers with some small brass guns. These were speedily placed into position beside the seven-pounders, and the negro infantry, advancing in skirmishing order, opened fire at once. They brought news that Gordon was still holding out, and also that three thousand of the enemy were on their way down and were but two days' march away.

This news decided Sir Chas. Wilson against running the risk of materially weakening his force by an assault on the town, and the column fell back to Abu Kru. On their way a portion of the Guards' Regiment was told off to search the groves and plantations to see that there were no Arabs lurking there. Presently they came upon two camels grazing in a grove. "Search about well, men," the officer in command said; "their owners may be hidden somewhere close."

In a minute or two one of the men called out, "Here are two saddles, sir, hidden in the bushes; they are scarlet, and belong to one of our regiments."

The officers speedily gathered to the spot. "They are certainly our saddles," the officer in command said, "how in the world did the camels get here? I suppose they must have wandered away during the night march and been picked up by some of the Arabs and driven on here."

"But they are riding camels," one of the others put in; "they must have belonged to some of the men who were missing on the night march; the poor fellows were killed, no doubt."

"They may have ridden them on here," Easton suggested; "after they got separated from the column the camels may have smelt the water and come on here before daylight broke."

"That is true, Easton. You see one of these saddles has blood stains on it; perhaps its rider was wounded. We will search the grove thoroughly."

The search was renewed, and in a few minutes a sergeant ran up to the group of officers. "We have found a man, sir; he belongs to the Heavies; he is insensible."

The officers hurried to the spot. "Yes, the poor fellow is a sergeant of the Heavies. No doubt you were right, Easton. You see he has been wounded in the side. He looks in a bad way."

"There are two water-bottles by him," Easton said; "one is empty and the other is half full," he added as he took them up and shook them. "He must have a comrade somewhere."

"No doubt he has, Easton; he could scarcely have been in a condition when he arrived here to take off the saddles and hide them away. What can have become of the other?" The grove was searched thoroughly from end to end, but no sign found of the missing man. Some boughs were cut down and a rough stretcher made, and upon this the sergeant was laid and the force then moved on, the camels being saddled and mounted by two of the men, and on arriving at the camp the sergeant was taken to the hospital.

As soon as dinner was eaten the men were paraded again. A council had been held to decide upon the best course to be taken, and it was decided that a fort should be built down by the river, and that the whole force should establish itself there with the exception of the Guards' Camel Regiment, which should remain at Gubat so as to prevent any body of the enemy posting themselves there and keeping up an annoying fire upon the fort down by the river.

Gubat had already been roughly fortified, and the whole force was therefore set at work to erect with camel-saddles and boxes a defence for the position by the river. When this was done the wounded were all carried down to the new fort. After the work was over Rupert strolled up through the village to have a chat with Easton. As he was sitting there an orderly came up.

"Mr. Clinton, the surgeon has sent me up with two letters that were found inside the jacket of the wounded sergeant who was brought in this afternoon. One is directed to you and the other to Captain Percy Clinton."

"That is very curious," Rupert said, taking the letters and turning them over in his hand. "How is the man going on, orderly?"

"He is insensible still, sir. I believe the doctors say that it is fever, and that his wound is not serious. One of the men of his regiment who is in the hospital says he got it at Abu Klea, and that it was attended to there."

"Thank you, orderly, that will do. What in the world can the man be writing to me about, and to my father, which is still more curious?"

"I should say the best way of finding out, Clinton, will be to open the letter."

"Well, I suppose it will be," Rupert replied. "Still, it is always interesting to guess at a mystery before you find the key."

"Well, guess away," Easton said, stretching himself out on his back. "I never was a good hand at riddles."

It was some little time before Rupert, finding himself unable to find any solution whatever to the mystery, opened the letter. As he did so he stirred the fire by which they were sitting into a fresh blaze. He read a few lines and uttered an exclamation of such intense surprise that Easton sat up with a start.

"What is it, Clinton?"

"It is the most extraordinary thing I ever came across, Easton. You know the story about Edgar and myself. Well, this wounded sergeant is either his father or mine."

"Impossible!" Easton exclaimed; "he did not look much above thirty; besides, no soldier of twenty-one years' service—and he must have had fully that—would be out here."

Rupert made no reply; he was running his eyes rapidly through the letter.

"Good heavens!" he exclaimed; "Edgar is out here; he is a trumpeter in the Heavies."

"That is news, Rupert. I congratulate you heartily, old fellow. You are sure that there is no mistake?"

"No; there cannot be any mistake about that," Rupert said, thrusting the letter into his tunic. "Come along, Easton, let us be off. He goes by the name of Ned Smith."

"Wait a moment, old man," Easton said, laying his hand kindly on Rupert's shoulder. "Where was the letter written?"

"At Korti."

"Well, Clinton, don't be too sanguine. You know how terribly the Heavies suffered at Abu Klea. Don't make up your mind too warmly to see your brother; he may be among the wounded we left behind at Abu Klea; he may—" and he stopped.

"I won't think it," Rupert said; "it would be too hard, after our searching for him for all these years, to find out that but four or five days since he was in camp with us, and to learn it only too late. I won't think it."

"I hope to God that it is not so, Clinton, only I thought it best to prepare you for what may be possible. Which troop did he belong to?"

"The Dragoon troop."

Easton was silent, for it was upon this troop that the heaviest loss had fallen.

"Well," Rupert went on, "let us go down and learn the best or the worst."

They walked down the slope to the new fort by the river, and finding out where the Heavies were bivouacked soon discovered the Dragoons.

"You go and ask, Easton," Rupert said nervously; "I dare not."

Easton went on alone and presently accosted a sergeant.

"Sergeant, can you tell me whether the trumpeter of your troop was wounded at Abu Klea? Is he here now?"

"He was wounded at Abu Klea, sir, though not seriously; but he is not here now, he was one of those missing on the night march, he and Sergeant Bowen. I hear the sergeant was found and brought in this morning very bad, but I have heard nothing of Smith; but I expect that one of the camels brought in this afternoon was his; in fact I know it was, for it has got Smith's number on the saddle. It is likely that they would be together, for the sergeant had taken a great fancy to the lad. We all liked him. He joined us at Cairo from the Hussars, as our own trumpeter was taken ill; he was a general favourite, but Sergeant Bowen took to him specially."

"Thank you, sergeant;" and Easton turned and walked slowly back to where Rupert was awaiting him.

"You have bad news, Easton," Rupert said huskily. "I could see it as you stood talking to that man."

"Yes, I have bad news," Easton said, "but hardly the worst, Clinton."

"He is badly wounded then," Rupert groaned.

"I am afraid it is worse than that, Clinton; he is missing. It was he who was the rider of the second camel that we found in the grove this morning. He and the sergeant were both missing on the night march, and evidently found their way down to the river where we discovered the sergeant. What can have become of your brother since I know not. Evidently he left his water-bottle by his comrade and went somewhere, probably to join us. As I was saying to you when we were chatting about it before you opened that letter, he was probably either making his way towards the square on the day of the fight or coming towards our camp after we got in, and was seized by the Arabs. That was the conclusion at which we all arrived, though I had little thought when we were talking it over that the missing man was your brother."

"Then you think he has been killed?" Rupert said hoarsely.

"I don't know that, Clinton. He may have been made a prisoner. You see, we have searched the ground between that grove and our camp thoroughly to-day, and had he been killed there I think we should certainly have found him. Of course it may have happened further out on the plain if he was making his way out to join our square; but I should think he would never have done that, for the Arabs were swarming all round it. Besides, the Hussars were scouting about all over the plains this morning, and if they had seen the body of any of our men would certainly have reported it. The Arabs in fight never show mercy, but if they came upon him by himself they might very well have carried him off as a prisoner, especially if he made no resistance. You see, they are all slave-dealers at heart; besides, they might think that a white prisoner would be an acceptable present to the Mahdi. Of course I know no more about it than you do, but I should say that the chances are quite as great of his being taken prisoner as of his having been killed."

"One is as bad as the other," Rupert said in a broken voice. "This is awful, Easton. I will walk up to your camp again. Would you mind seeing the colonel of his regiment or the officer of his troop, and find out what you can about him?"

Easton soon found one of the few surviving officers of Edgar's troop.

"Can you tell me anything about Trumpeter Smith?" he asked. "I have reason to believe that he was a relative of a friend of mine, and that he ran away and enlisted under a false name."

"He bore an excellent character," the officer said. "He came to us from the Hussars at Cairo, and no one could behave better than he has done from the time he joined us. They would not have sent him to us if he hadn't been a thoroughly well-conducted young fellow. I was chatting with one of the officers of his regiment on the day we left Cairo; he spoke in very high terms of him, and said that he was quite a popular character in the regiment. It seems that he was a first-rate cricketer, and especially brought himself into notice by some exceedingly plucky conduct when two ladies belonging to the regiment were attacked by a couple of tramps at Aldershot; and besides that he had greatly distinguished himself at El-Teb, where the Hussars got badly mauled. His name was amongst those sent in for the Victoria Cross, and he was specially chosen to go with us to give him another chance. I never heard a young fellow more warmly spoken of. We were awfully sorry when we heard that he was missing. There is no doubt he was with Sergeant Bowen whom your men brought in this morning. One of the two camels was the one he rode. We have been talking that over to-day, and the general opinion is that he was caught by the Arabs as he was trying to rejoin the regiment. It is a thousand pities he did not wait a little longer in that grove, but I have no doubt he was anxious to get assistance as soon as possible for the sergeant. I intend as soon as we are settled here to ask the colonel to let me go out with a party to search the plains to see if we can find his body."

"I am more inclined to think that he has been taken prisoner," Easton said; "he would hardly have gone out to meet the square, as he must have seen the plains swarming with Arabs and that he had no chance whatever of getting through. He would have known that we were making for the water, and that he would have a far better chance of reaching us by waiting until we got there. My own idea is that he did wait, and that the Arabs came upon him somewhere between that grove and our camp; if so, they did not kill him, for if they had done so we must have found his body to-day, for we searched every foot of the ground. I think that he is a prisoner in their hands."

"He had better have been killed at once," the officer said.

"I agree with you, except that it is just possible that a slave may escape. You see, on our way up to Khartoum if we defeat the Mahdi's troops—which we certainly shall do—all the country will no doubt submit, and there would be in the first place the chance of his being given up to us, and in the second of his escape."

"It is possible," the officer agreed, "but I certainly would not build on that. The probability is that if he is taken prisoner he will be sent to the Mahdi, and if he isn't killed at once when he gets there, he will be when the Mahdi sees that his game is up."

Easton nodded, and then, thanking the officer for his information, took his way up to the village, where he repeated to Rupert what he had heard. His own voice faltered as he told the story, while Rupert sobbed unrestrainedly. When he had finished Rupert rose, pressed his hand silently, and then returning to his own bivouac threw himself down and thought sadly for hours over the loss of his brother.

The next day Rupert was busy from morning until night. A portion of the force was employed in strengthening the fortifications of the two posts, and a strong body was at work cutting wood for the use of the steamer in which Sir Charles Wilson was to start next morning for Khartoum. While at work they were guarded by another strong party, lest the enemy should make a sudden attack. All, however, passed off quietly, and on the following morning Sir Charles started with two steamers, taking with him twenty men of the Sussex regiment and one hundred and fifty of the black troops. On the same day three hundred troops selected from the various regiments started on camels, with four hundred baggage camels under their convoy, for Gakdul, in accordance with the orders given to General Stewart by Lord Wolseley at starting, that as soon as he had established himself upon the river he was to send back a convoy for some more stores.

The convoy was, however, but a small one, for of over two thousand camels which had left Korti, this number alone survived, and most of these were in such a state from exhaustion, starvation, and sore backs, that they were wholly unfit to travel. The force on the river was now reduced to some fifty officers and eight hundred and seventy men, including medical staff, commissariat, natives of all kinds, and the remainder of the black troops and one hundred and twenty wounded. The defences were greatly strengthened, officers and men both sharing in the work.

During the day the Hussars scouted round the camp, frequently exchanging shots with the enemy. At night strong lines of sentries were posted round the forts. No attack was, however, made, although the natives sometimes showed in considerable force during the day, and the beating of tom-toms went on day and night round Metemmeh. The hard work upon which the troops were engaged kept them for the most part in good health, and the wounded did extremely well, the doctors themselves being surprised at the rapidity with which wounds healed and the men recovered their strength, an effect doubtless due to the clear dry air.

The troops in the village enjoyed better health than those down by the river, as they obtained the benefit of the air from the desert, while down near the stream heavy dews fell at night and there were several slight cases of fever. All looked eagerly for the return of the steamers from Khartoum with news how things were going on there. As for their own position, no one had the slightest anxiety. No news had been received of the approach of the three thousand troops which had been reported as on their way down against them, and they felt confident in their power to repulse any attack that the enemy at Metemmeh could make against them. They were, too, in hourly expectation of the arrival across the desert of reinforcements from Korti.

CHAPTER XIV. A SLAVE.

Although Edgar had felt disappointed when the sounds of the firing round Metemmeh died away, and he knew by the triumphant shouts of the Arabs that the British had retired, he had hardly expected that an attack would be made upon the town until reinforcements came up, and he consoled himself with the idea that within a few weeks at the utmost the reinforcements would arrive, and that if the Arabs remained in the town until that time he would be rescued. Two or three days later he heard a great hubbub just after nightfall in the streets outside. The Arabs who were in the court-yard snatched up their guns, and the din became louder than before.

Above the uproar Edgar could catch the words, "Death to the Kaffir!" and "Send him to the Mahdi!" and guessed that his own fate was the subject of dispute. Picking up one of the Arab swords he determined at least to sell his life as dearly as he could. For an hour his fate trembled in the balance. At times there were lulls in the tumult, while a few voices only, raised in furious argument, were heard. Then the crowd joined in again and the yells became deafening, and every moment Edgar expected to hear the clash of weapons, and to see the little party to which he belonged driven headlong into the house followed by the Mahdi's men. But he had before witnessed many Arab disputes, and knew that however furious the words and gestures might be they comparatively seldom came to blows, and though greatly relieved he was not altogether surprised when at last the uproar quieted down, and his captors returned into the court-yard and barred the door behind them.

In a short time an argument broke out, almost as furious and no less loud than that which had taken place outside. The sheik had evidently his own opinion and was determined to maintain it. Two or three of his followers sided with him, but the rest were evidently opposed to it. From the few words Edgar could catch in the din he gathered that the sheik was determined to carry him off as his own particular slave, while the bulk of his followers were in favour of handing him over to the Mahdi's officers. All Arabs are obstinate, but the sheik happened to be exceptionally obstinate and determined even for an Arab. Had the Mahdi's officers recognized his right to the captive, and offered him some small present in return for his slave, he would probably have handed him over willingly enough; but that they should threaten him, and insist on his handing over his property, was, he considered, an outrage to his dignity and independence.

Was he, an independent sheik, to be treated as if he were a nameless slave, and ordered to surrender his own to the Mahdi or anyone else? Never! He would slay the slave and stab himself to the heart rather than submit to be thus trampled on. If his followers did not like it they were free to leave him and to put on white shirts and follow the Mahdi; he could do without such men well enough. What would the Mahdi do for them? He would send them to be shot down by the Kaffirs, as they had been shot down at Abu Klea and outside the town, and someone else would possess their wives and their camels and their fields. If they liked that they could go, and he went to the gate, unbarred and threw it open, and pointed to the street. The effect was instantaneous. The Arabs had no desire whatever to become soldiers of the Mahdi, and they at once changed their tone and assured the sheik that they had no idea of opposing his wishes, and that whatever he said should be done, pointing out, however, that in the morning the Madhists would assuredly come and take the prisoner by force.

The sheik was mollified by their submission, and ordering Edgar to close and bar the gate again seated himself by the fire.

"By to-morrow," he said, "we will be far away. I am not a fool; I am not going to fight the Mahdi's army. As soon as the town is still we will make our way down to the river, take a boat, and cross. Two days' journey on foot will take us to the village where we sent our camels with the plunder and came on here to fight, believing, like fools, that the Mahdi was going to eat them up. We have seen what came of that, and they say that there are crowds more of them on the way. I am ready to fight; you have all seen me fight over and over again, and all men know that Sheik El Bakhat is no coward; but to fight against men who fire without stopping is more than I care for. They are Kaffirs, but they have done me no harm, and I have no vengeance to repay them. Fortunately we did not arrive till an hour after the fighting was over, or our bones might be bleaching out there in the desert with those of hundreds of others. It is the Mahdi's quarrel and not mine. Let him fight if he wants to, I have no objection. Why should I throw away my life in his service when even the slave we have captured is not to be my own."

As these sentiments commended themselves to his followers the sheik's plans were carried out.

The unfortunate trader and his wife, who had been cowering in a little chamber since the sheik and his party had unceremoniously taken possession of the rest of the house, were called in and informed that their guests were about to leave them, and were ordered to close the gate after them and on no account to open it until morning. The party then set to work to cook a large supply of cakes for the journey. A little before midnight they sallied out, and making their way noiselessly through the streets issued out near the river at a point where the walls that surrounded the other sides of the town were wanting.

There were several boats moored against the banks, and choosing one of them they allowed it to drift quietly down the river until some distance below the town, and then getting out the oars rowed to the other side of the river and landed below the large town of Shendy. They made a wide detour to get round the town, travelling at a long swinging trot that soon tried Edgar's wind and muscles to the utmost. He was not encumbered by much clothing, as before leaving he had been made to strip and to wrap himself up in a native cloth. Before he did so, however, he had been rubbed from head to foot with charcoal from the fire, for his captors saw that the whiteness of his skin, which greatly surprised them, for his face and hands were tanned to a colour as dark as that of many of the Arabs, would instantly betray him.

The perspiration was soon streaming from him at every pore, but he well knew that any display of weakness would only excite the contempt of his captors, and although he was several times well-nigh falling from fatigue he kept on until, when many miles away from Metemmeh, the natives slackened their pace and broke into a walk.

"I thought," Edgar muttered to himself, "that a good long run with the hares and hounds at Cheltenham was pretty hard work, but it was nothing to this. This climate does take it out of one and no mistake. There is one thing, I have got to get accustomed to it, and am not likely to try any other for some time."

They continued the journey until morning broke, and then turned off to the left, and after miles of walking halted among some sand-hills outside the zone of cultivated land. Edgar was ordered to go and find some fuel, for the morning was cold, and even the Arabs felt the keen air after their exertions. Edgar at once hurried away, and was fortunate enough to find some dried stalks of maize in a field not far off. Pulling it up by the roots he collected a large bundle and carried it on his shoulder to the point where he had left the Arabs. An exclamation of satisfaction greeted his arrival. The sheik produced a box of matches from a corner of his cloth, for European goods were obtainable in Metemmeh, and they had found several boxes in the house that they had occupied. A fire was soon blazing, and the Arabs squatted closely around it, while Edgar, tired out with his journey, threw himself on the ground some distance away.

The sheik was in high spirits; he was, in the first place, glad that he had had his way, and carried off his captive; and in the second, he felt assured by the manner in which Edgar had kept up with them by the way, and by the speed with which he had collected the materials for a fire, that he would turn out a very useful slave. Before starting they had partaken of a good meal, and each of them had carried off a bag of five or six pounds in weight of dry dates from the merchant's store. A few of these were eaten, and then the whole party lay down to sleep, the sheik first rousing Edgar, and ordering him to lie down between him and another Arab, tying a cord from his wrists to theirs, so that he could not move without disturbing one or other of them.

A few hours' rest was taken, and then, with the sun blazing overhead, the journey was recommenced. They now kept among the sand-hills so as to avoid the villages near the river, in case a party should be sent out from Metemmeh in pursuit of them. Edgar had difficulty in keeping up with the rest, for the hot sand burned his naked feet, and he had to avoid the prickly grass through which his companions walked unconcernedly. They continued their journey until nightfall, and then went down to the river for a drink. Edgar had suffered greatly from thirst, which he had in vain endeavoured to assuage by chewing dry dates. His feet were causing him agony, and after satisfying his thirst he sat with them in the water until his companions again moved back into the desert.

Edgar could not obtain a wink of sleep for the pain of his feet, and in the morning he showed them to the sheik, who only laughed at their raw and swollen condition. As, however, he was desirous that his slave should continue in good condition, he told him to tear off a strip from his cotton cloth, and himself walked down to the river with Edgar. There he allowed him to again bathe his feet, and showed him some broad smooth leaves which he bade him gather; these were placed under his feet, which were then bandaged with the strip of cotton. As soon as this was done they returned to the party, and again set out.

Edgar found the application greatly relieved the pain, and as the leaves and bandages kept the feet from contact with the sand, he was able to get on fairly. He felt, too, the benefit from the drink of water he had obtained from the river, and was able to keep up with the party until, late in the afternoon, they approached the village where the natives had sent their camels.

Edgar was left in charge of two of the Arabs half a mile from the village when the others went on, the sheik saying that in the morning they were to await him half a mile on the other side of the village. There was a good deal of grumbling on the part of the men who were left with Edgar, and he saw that nothing would please them better than to cut his throat; but when they looked threatening towards him, he simply laughed, knowing that they dare not use their weapons, and that, did they venture to strike him with hand or stick, he was a match for both of them.

It was nearly two years now since he had stood up against the two tramps at Aldershot, and in that time he had grown from a lad to a powerful young fellow, with every muscle hardened by exercise. Perhaps the men concluded that the experiment was not worth trying, and presently left him to himself, and entered into an animated conversation together.

When it became dark they insisted on tying Edgar's legs, and to this he made no objection, for he understood that here they were only obeying the orders of the sheik. A few minutes later he was sound asleep, and did not wake once until he was roused by the Arabs stirring; they untied his feet, and at once started on their way. In less than half an hour they were at the spot the sheik had named; in a few minutes he came up with six of his men mounted on camels and four spare animals. The two Arabs and Edgar mounted three of these, and the journey was continued. They struck off from the river and journeyed all day among sand-hills, among which they camped for the night. They had brought water-skins with them, and Edgar received his share.

They started at daybreak again, and travelling the whole day came down at night upon a small village at a short distance from the river. Here the sheik had evidently friends, for he was warmly greeted as they entered. By the conversation at the camp on the previous evening Edgar had gathered that the rest of the party had gone off to villages to which they belonged in that neighbourhood, and that those with the sheik belonged to the village of Bisagra, near Khartoum, that word being frequently repeated. Before entering the village a short stay had been made, while some pieces of wood were burned, and Edgar was again rubbed over with charcoal.

When they arrived at the house at which the sheik intended to stop, Edgar was directed to follow him, while the rest looked after the camels. On entering the house he was told by the sheik to go into a little court-yard, where a negro presently brought him a dish of boiled meal and some water. He heard a great talk inside the house, but could understand nothing of what had been said. Half an hour later two of the Arabs came in, and lay down beside him as before, and in addition his feet were firmly tied. The next morning the party still further divided, the sheik with two men and Edgar starting alone.

He felt sure that they were now some distance above Khartoum, as the city lay less than eighty miles from Metemmeh; they had made, he calculated, fully fifteen the first night. They had walked at least five-and-twenty on the second, and had ridden thirty, he calculated, on each of the last two days. On these they had not, as he noticed by the sun, followed a straight course, going far to the east of south on the first day, and to the west of south on the second, having doubtless made a large detour to avoid the city. During the whole time they had been travelling over a trackless country, and had met no parties of natives on the way. They started again before daybreak, and now travelled along the bank of the river.

Here the country had been cultivated for some distance back, and villages were scattered here and there. Nevertheless they passed but few natives, and Edgar saw that many of the houses were roofless, and that there were signs of fire and destruction everywhere, and understood that this ruin had been wrought by the hosts of the Mahdi. About mid-day they arrived at a village on the bank. Its name, Edgar learned by the exclamations of the Arabs when they caught sight of it, was Gerada. Here a large native boat was lying moored. Bidding Edgar remain among the camels the sheik alighted, and was for half an hour engaged in bargaining with two men, who were apparently owners of the boat.

Terms were at last agreed to, the camels were led down and placed on board, and the boat pushed off. The sheik made a peremptory sign to Edgar to lie down and cover his head with his cloth, and Edgar heard him say to the boatman, "My slave is ill." The river was now at its shallowest, and the men were able to pole the boat across. Edgar was hurried ashore with the camels, while the sheik remained behind settling with the boatman. They were now, he knew, between the two Niles, which joined their waters at Khartoum. The country here had evidently been rich and prosperous before the host of the Mahdi passed like a blight over it. They halted a few miles from the river, near a ruined and deserted village. Edgar was told to watch the camels while they plucked heads of corn from the deserted fields, while the Arabs lit a fire and baked some cakes. None of these were offered to Edgar, who had to content himself with some heads of dried maize that he picked from the field.

Two days later they arrived at the bank of the White Nile. They followed it for upwards of a mile, and then the sheik, who evidently knew the way, turned off the bank into the river, the others following. The ford, for such it was, was shallow, the water scarcely coming up to the girths of the camels. Although the journey had been a short one, they halted again for the night in cultivated ground, a mile from the river, and Edgar was ordered to pick corn. The fields had already been ransacked, and it was only here and there that he found a head of maize hidden in its brown cases.

After a time the two Arabs joined in the search, and by nightfall a good-sized sackful had been collected. At daybreak the camels were taken to a well, where the apparatus for drawing the water still stood, with a trough beside it. When Edgar had filled the trough the camels were urged to drink their fill, being taken back once or twice to the trough, until they could drink no more. The water-skins were filled, the Arabs took long draughts from a bucket, and the sheik ordered Edgar to do the same. Then the bag with their maize was fastened on the back of the spare camel, which was already laden with a miscellaneous collection of goods, and the party started.

Edgar understood by the preparations that had been made that they had still a serious journey before them, and it proved to be so. For eight days they travelled across a desert, their course being to the north of west, marching from early dawn until sunset. The moment the day's journey was over he was set to work to gather tufts of coarse grass growing among the rocks, which cropped out here and there from the sand. Other vegetation there was none, save some low stunted bushes, which he also gathered whenever he came across them. With these and the grass a fire was lighted, and the sheik and two followers roasted a few heads of maize for their own eating, and with these and a handful of dry dates appeared perfectly satisfied.

After they had done Edgar was permitted to roast some maize for his own use. The camels had each a dozen heads given to them. Except at one halting-place, where there was a muddy well, they received no water; the Arabs themselves drank sparingly, and Edgar received but a mouthful or two of the precious fluid. Towards the end of the eighth day the Arabs began to hasten their camels, and soon afterwards, on mounting an eminence, Edgar saw some tents standing in a small green valley ahead. The Arabs fired their guns and uttered loud yells, and at once some figures appeared at the entrances of the tents and hastened towards them. In five minutes the two parties met. There were a few men among those that came out, but the majority were women and children. All uttered shouts of welcome, and a babel of questions arose.

The sheik did not alight from his camel, but with his followers continued his way until he reached the encampment. Here dismounting he entered one of the largest of the tents. The other two Arabs were surrounded by the natives, and Edgar stood by the camels doubtful as to what he was expected to do next. He was not left undisturbed long. The Arabs had evidently told the news that their black comrade was a white slave whom the sheik had captured, and all crowded round him examining him with the greatest curiosity. There was nothing to them remarkable about his colour, for he was darker than any of them; but his hair, closely cropped like that of all engaged in the expedition, evidently amused them much.

One of the women quickly fetched a large gourd full of water, and made signs to him to wash himself, which he was glad enough to do after his four days' dusty journey, but before commencing he plunged his face into the bowl and took a long drink. Shouts of surprise and amusement arose as with diligent rubbing he gradually got rid of the thickest part of the charcoal, and his skin began to show through.

"I wish to goodness," he muttered to himself, "I had got a cake or two of soap here, but I suppose it is a thing that they never heard of; even a scrubbing-brush would be a comfort. I shall be weeks before I get myself thoroughly white again; it is completely ground into my skin."

He had, however, managed to get rid of the greater part of the charcoal, and was from the waist upward a dingy white, when the sheik came out from his tent. He was followed by a good-looking Arab woman. He called Edgar to him and said, "This is your mistress." Edgar had during the journey guessed that he was intended as a special present for the sheik's wife, and that his lot would depend in no slight degree upon her, and resolved to do his utmost to earn her good opinion. He therefore bent on one knee, and taking her hand placed it on his head. The woman laughed good-naturedly, and said something to the sheik which by its tone Edgar felt was an expression of approval.

The camels had all this time remained kneeling, and the sheik now ordered them to be unloaded. Edgar had wondered what the various bundles might contain, and looked with almost as much curiosity as the expectant Arabs at the process of opening them.

As their contents were gradually brought to light, he understood at once why the sheik and his followers had taken no part in the fight outside Metemmeh. They had evidently been far out in the desert, on the track the column had followed, on the search for loot. The collection was a singular one, and it appeared to Edgar that they must either have got hold of three or four of the camels that had strayed away from the column, or had followed the troops and rifled boxes and cases that had fallen from the backs of the animals on their way through the trees, or that had been left behind when the camels fell.

Here were articles of clothing of all sorts—shirts, socks, karkee suits, boots, ivory-backed brushes (the property, no doubt, of some officer of the Guards or Heavies), a hand-glass, a case of writing materials and paper, a small medicine-chest, some camp-kettles, two or three dozen tins of cocoa and milk and as many of arrow-root, scores of small tins of Liebig (these three lots clearly forming part of the burden of one of the hospital camels), a handsome field-glass, an officer's sword without a scabbard, a large bundle of hospital rugs, a tin-box marked "tea, 10 lbs.," a number of tin drinking-cups, plates, knives, forks, and spoons, and a strange collection of odds and ends of all sorts.

Each article that was taken out caused fresh excitement, its uses were warmly discussed, and Edgar was presently dragged forward and ordered to explain. The various articles of clothing particularly puzzled the Arabs, and Edgar had to put on a shirt and pair of trousers to show how they should be worn. The chocolate and arrow-root had apparently been brought chiefly for the sake of their tins, and one of the Arabs illustrated their use by putting one of them down on a rock, chopping it in two with his sword, cleaning out the contents, and then restoring as well as he could the two halves to the original shape. Some of the children were about to taste the arrow-root scattered about the ground, but the sheik sharply forbade them to touch it, evidently thinking that it might be poison. Edgar was consulted, and said that the contents of all the tins were good.

As they were evidently anxious to know their uses, he took one of the tin pots, filled it with water, and placed it over the fire. Then with one of the Arabs' knives he opened a tin of chocolate, cutting it carefully round the edge so that it should make a good drinking tin when empty. When the water boiled he took out some of the contents of the tin with the spoon and stirred them into the pot, and poured the contents into a dozen of the cups. The sheik still looked a little suspicious, and ordered him to drink one first, which he did with deep satisfaction. The others then followed his example, and evidently approved very highly of the compound, and another pot of water was at once placed on the fire. Edgar was then requested to show what were the virtues of the white powder, and of the little tins. He said that both these were good for people who were ill. The Arabs, however, were not satisfied without making the experiment.

The arrow-root was not approved of, and the chief would have ordered the tins to be all opened and the contents thrown away, but on Edgar continuing to insist that they were good for illness, he told his wife to put them away in the tent. The Liebig was warmly approved of. Edgar explained that it was good for sickness, and good for a journey. The Arabs, seeing how small a quantity was required for making a tin of broth, at once recognized this, and the sheik ordered his wife to take great care of them, and said they were to be used only on a journey. The medicine-chest, with its bottles of various sizes, was also the subject of great curiosity, and one of the women, going into a tent, brought out a girl seven or eight years old, and requested Edgar to say which was the medicines that were suitable for her case.

Edgar felt the child's pulse, and found that she was in a high state of fever. Quinine was, he knew, a good thing for fever, but whether it ought to be administered to a patient in that stage he did not know. He told the sheik that he was not a Hakim, but that if he wished he would give the child the medicine that he thought was best suited to it, but he could not say for certain whether it would do it good. The sheik, who, like all the rest, was deeply interested in the contents of the chest, said he must do his best. He accordingly gave the child a dose of quinine, and told the mother to give her a cup of the arrow-root, and that in two hours she must take another dose of the quinine.

The last subject of investigation was the tea. There was a small sliding trap at the top of the tin, and when Edgar poured out half a cup of the contents, these were examined with great curiosity. The men took a few grains in their fingers, smelt them, and then tasted them. The result was unsatisfactory, and they were content to watch Edgar's proceedings before they went further. When he had the water boiling, he put the tea into a tin pot and poured the water over it, and when it had stood a few minutes served it out. The verdict was universally unfavourable, and the chief, in disgust at having brought a tin of useless stuff so far, kicked it over and over. Seeing that Edgar had drunk up his portion with satisfaction, the sheik's wife told him that if he liked the nasty stuff he might keep it for himself, a permission of which he very thankfully availed himself.

The uses of all the articles being explained, the sheik proceeded to a distribution. He took the lion's share for himself, gave a good portion to the two men who had followed him, and a very small one to each of the other grown-up men and women in the camp. He ordered Edgar to carry his portion into the tent, where, under the instructions of the sheik's wife, the articles were all stowed away. The tent, which was a large one, was constructed of black blanketing woven by the women from camels' hair, and was divided into two portions by a hanging of the same materials. The one next to the entrance was the general living and reception room, that behind being for the use of the sheik's wife and children.

There were two female slaves who slept in a tiny tent constructed of a blanket in the rear of that of the sheik, and two negro slaves who looked after the camels, tilled the ground, and slept where they could.

The sheik's wife was evidently pleased with Edgar, and regarded him as her special property. Darkness had fallen long before the examination of the booty had concluded, and as soon as he had carried the sheik's share into the tent, she gave him a bowl of camel's milk and some meal in a gourd, and also bestowed on him one of the black blankets, and pointed out to him a place where he was to sleep just outside the tent.

"It might be a great deal worse," Edgar said to himself as he ate his supper; "the sheik himself does not seem to be a bad fellow; and at any rate I owe him my life for his obstinacy in sticking to me, instead of handing me over to the Mahdi's people. His wife is evidently disposed to be kind, and my work will be no harder than an agricultural labourer's, at any rate as long as we stay here. This is an out-of-the-way sort of place, and if it does not lie on the route between any two places, is not likely to be much visited. It certainly looks as if the sheik regarded it as his private property, which he would not do if it were a regular caravan halting-place.

"It is likely enough that there are very few people who know of its existence. We travelled something like fifty miles a day, and must be three hundred miles to the west of the Nile. What I have got to do now is to work willingly, so as to keep in the good graces of the sheik and his wife, and to learn the language so as to speak it fluently. It is no use my thinking about escaping until I can pass as a native, unless, of course, I hear that we have gone up and taken Khartoum. I wonder how they are getting on at Metemmeh, and whether they have found the sergeant. If they have, it is likely enough when he finds that I have never reached the camp he will go to Rupert and tell him who the trumpeter of his troop was. I hope he won't; it is much better that they should wonder for some years what has become of me, and at last gradually forget me, than know that I am a slave among the Arabs. I am sure that would be a great grief to them all, and I hope they will not know anything about it until I return some day and tell them."

He was very glad of his blanket, for the nights were cold; and when he had finished his supper he wrapped himself up in it and was soon asleep. He was awoke at daylight by voices inside the tent, and a few minutes later the sheik and his wife came out, and seeing Edgar standing there the sheik ordered him to go and assist the other slaves; but Amina pouted: "I thought you had brought him home as a present to me; what use will he be to me if he is to work in the field all day with the others?"

"But the Kaffir must do some work, Amina; he cannot have his food for nothing."

"Of course he shall work when I don't want him," the woman said, "but I shall find much for him to do. He will draw the water, he will fetch the fuel, he will grind the meal when I have anything else for the women to do. When he has done all I require of him, then he can go and work in the fields. It is no use your giving me a slave and then taking him away again."

"Well, well!" the sheik said, "do with him as you will; women are always pleased with novelties. You will soon get tired of having this Kaffir about the tent, but keep him if you will."

Amina took one of the large hospital kettles, and putting it into Edgar's hands pointed to the well which lay a hundred yards away and told him to fetch water. When he returned with it she bade him go out and gather fuel. The last order was by no means easy to execute. The Arab fuel consisted almost entirely of dried camels' dung, as the scrub very speedily becomes exhausted for a considerable distance from a camp. Edgar took a rough basket to which Amina pointed and was away for some hours, following the track by which he had arrived and making a circuit of the oasis, and returned with the basket piled up with the fuel.

Amina was evidently well satisfied with the result of his work, for fuel is one of the great difficulties of Arab life in the desert. She rewarded him with a calabash of meal.

"Has my lady anything more for me to do?" he asked when he had finished his food.

"Not now," she replied.

"Then I will go out and help the others in the field;" and he walked off to where the negroes were engaged in watering a plantation of maize. The process consisted of drawing water from the well in leathern buckets and pouring it into channels by which it was conducted to the plantation. The negroes looked at him sourly as he took hold of the rope attached to the long swinging beam that acted as a lever to bring the bucket to the surface, and one of them muttered in Arabic, "Kaffir dog!" Slaves as they were they despised this white Christian.

"Well, look here," Edgar said in English, letting go the rope, "the sooner we come to an understanding the better. I am not going to stand any nonsense from you fellows; and if you don't keep a civil tongue in your heads I will give you such a licking as will teach you to do so in future."

Although they did not understand his words they guessed the import of them, and the biggest of the men, a powerful negro, repeated the word Kaffir and spat upon him. Edgar's right arm flew out from his shoulder, the blow struck the negro on the nose, and in an instant he was upon his back upon the ground. His comrade stood for a moment stupefied, and then with loud yells ran towards the tents, leaving the negro to pick himself up at his leisure. Edgar continued the work of raising and emptying the bucket until the negro returned, followed by the sheik, his wife, and all the inhabitants of the village. By this time the negro who had been knocked down had risen to his feet and was roaring like a bull at the top of his voice, while the blood was streaming from his nose.

"What is this?" the sheik shouted in great anger.

The negro volubly explained that the Kaffir slave had struck down their comrade.

"Why is this?" the sheik demanded of Edgar.

"I am my lord's slave," Edgar said; "but this fellow is a slave also. He called me a Kaffir dog and spat upon me. I knocked him down; and if any other slave does the same I will punish him also."

As the woman whose child had been ill had a short time before reported that the fever had left her, and that having drunk two basins of the arrow-root she was much better, the sheik had been greatly pleased with the idea that he had made a far more valuable capture than he had anticipated; he therefore received Edgar's explanation in his broken Arabic favourably.

"The white slave has done right," he said. "Who are you that you are to insult him? He came to work on my business, and you would have interfered with and hindered him. Hamish has been rightly punished, though truly the white man must have hit hard, for his nose is flattened to his face. Mashallah it must have been a wonderful blow. The white men are Kaffirs, but they have marvellous powers. Now go to work again and let me hear of no more quarrels."

"The white man is my slave," Amina said, stepping forward and addressing the negroes, "and if anyone insults him I will have him flogged until he cannot stand. He is a Hakim, and his medicines have saved the life of Hamid's child. He is worth a hundred of you." And bestowing a vigorous and unexpected box on the ears to the negro standing next to her she turned and walked back to her tent, accompanied by her husband, while the rest of the villagers remained for some time staring at the negro, and commenting upon the wonderful effect of the white man's blow.

CHAPTER XV. BAD NEWS.

No sooner was work over in the afternoon of the day after that on which Rupert had heard of his brother's loss than Skinner came across with Easton to see him.

"My dear Skinner, surely you are not fit to be walking about," he said as he saw them approaching.

"Oh! it won't do me any harm, Clinton; my arm is all in splints, and, as you see, bandaged tightly to my side. The doctor seemed to say that I had better not move, but I promised to take care of myself. I should have come, old man, if I had been ten times as bad. Easton has just been telling me of this horrible business, so of course I came over to see you. I think from what he says you take too dark a view of it. There is no doubt in my mind that he is a prisoner, and that is bad enough; but these Arabs don't slaughter their prisoners in cold blood, they are not such fools as that, they make them useful. I own it must be disgusting to be a slave, especially to these Arabs, and of many fellows I should say they would never stand it any time. Easton wouldn't, for example. In the first place he wouldn't work, and in the next place, if they tried to make him he would be knocking his master down, and then of course he would get speared. But I have great hopes of your brother; he was always as hard as nails, and I should have no fear of his breaking down in health. Then he is a chap that can look after himself. Look how well he has been going on since he bolted from Cheltenham. Then he is a beggar to stick to a thing, and I should say the first thing he will make up his mind to do will be to escape some day, and he will be content to wait any time till the opportunity occurs. You see he has learnt a lot since he left school. He has been roughing it pretty severely. He has had over a year in this beastly hot climate, and will be able to make himself at home pretty near anywhere. I tell you, Clinton, I would lay odds on his turning up again even if he is left to himself. Besides that, if we go on to Khartoum and thrash the Mahdi, these Arabs will all be coming in and swearing that they are most grateful to us for freeing them from him, and you may be sure that any slaves they have will be given up at once. I don't say your brother is not in a hole; but I do say that he is just the fellow to get out of it."

"I have thought of everything you say, Skinner, and I do think that Edgar is as likely to make his escape some day as anyone would be under the circumstances; but I doubt whether anyone could do it."

"Why not?" Skinner asked, almost indignantly. "I don't suppose he could make his way down the Nile, although he might do that; but there are several caravan routes down to the Red Sea, and then there is Abyssinia. The people are Christians there, and, they say, fighting against the Mahdi's Arabs now; so if he got there he would be pretty sure to be treated well. I should say that there were lots of ways that he could escape. I don't mean now; but when he has got accustomed to the country, it seems to me a fellow with pluck and energy such as he has got ought to find no great difficulty in giving the people he is with the slip, and making his way somewhere. I do think, Clinton, there is no occasion to feel hopeless about your brother. It may be a long time before you see him again, but I do honestly believe he will turn up some time or other."

"I begin to hope he will," Rupert said. "At first I did not think so for a moment; but now I have had time to look at it calmly I think that there is a chance of his getting off some day; besides, when we are once at Khartoum and have scattered the Mahdi's army, I have no doubt General Gordon will send orders through the land for all Egyptian and European slaves to be brought in. You know it is still hoped that some of Hicks' officers may be alive, and there is such a feeling for Gordon throughout the country that his orders will be sure to be obeyed."

"That is right, Clinton," Easton said; "that is the view I take of it myself, and I am very glad to see that you have come to see it in that light. And now will you tell us what there was in that letter that gave us the news of your brother's being out here. How came the sergeant to write to you? How did he know you were his brother? It seems an unaccountable business all through."

"I have not looked at the letter since," Rupert said. "It would have been very important if it had not been for Edgar's loss. As it is, it does not seem to matter one way or the other. Still, as you say, it is very singular altogether its coming into my hands;" and he took out the letter. It began: "Sir, two days ago I was with the trumpeter of my troop when you passed by with two other officers. One of them called you Clinton, and as I had an interest in the name it attracted my attention, and I found that it also attracted the attention of the young fellow with me. I questioned him, and he acknowledged that he had been to school with you and the two officers with you."

"Good heavens!" Skinner broke in; "to think that we three should have passed close to your brother and that none of us should have recognized him! How awfully unfortunate!"

"It is terrible to think of now," Rupert agreed, and then continued reading the letter: "I then told Smith, which is the name the trumpeter went by, that my interest in you consisted of the fact that for aught I knew I was your father. He exclaimed, that in that case it was probable that I was his father, as he had been brought up with you. He then told me how he came to enlist, namely, that my wife, whom I have not seen since she left India, and who was, I thought, dead long ago, had been to him and had told him all about the change of infants, and said that she had done it on purpose for his good, and that she knew that he was her son because you had a mole on your shoulder; and she wanted him to go on pretending to be Captain Clinton's son, and offered to swear that the other one was hers, so that he might get all the money.

"That is why I write this. My name is Humphreys. I was a sergeant in the 30th, and it was at Agra, when we were stationed there, that the change of infants took place. My wife went over to England. I took to drink and disgraced myself, and five years afterwards deserted. I stayed in England for some years and then enlisted again in the 5th Dragoon Guards, and being young-looking gave my age as eight years younger than I was. I now go by the name of Bowen, and am a sergeant and bear a good character in the regiment. The lad did not wish me to say anything about this, at any rate until the campaign was over; but as we shall be marching in a day or two, and it may be that I shall be killed, I write a letter to you and one to Captain Clinton, so that in case I am killed the truth may be known.

"I affirm most solemnly that the statement made by my wife was a lie. Whether she did intend to change the children or not is more than I can say. Sometimes she said she did, sometimes she said she didn't; but at any rate, she herself did not know which child was which, and did not discover the little mark on the shoulder until after the babies got mixed up. Over and over again I have seen her cry and wring her hands because she could not say which was which. She acknowledged that she meant to make money out of it, and lamented that she had lost her chance because she could never herself tell which was which. Of this I am ready to take my oath in any court of justice, and if she says she knows now, she is a liar. I have read this letter over to Troop-sergeant Matthews, and have in his presence sworn on a Bible to its truth. He will place his name by the side of mine as witness to that and to my signature. I remain, your obedient servant, John Humphreys, now known as John Bowen. The letter to your father is word for word the same as this. I have written it in duplicate in case you should be killed before I am."

"Well, that is plain enough," Easton said when Rupert had finished. "It is just what you said all along. The woman did not know which was her son, and you and Edgar stand in the same relation to Captain Clinton that you always did."

"Thank God for that!" Rupert said. "We want no change, and my father has said, talking it over with me again and again, he has two sons and loves us both equally, and it would be a deep grief to him now to know for certain that one of us is not his son. I will walk across to the hospital and ask how the sergeant is going on. I am strangely placed towards him now."

"It is a curious position," Easton said; "but in any case you do but stand towards him as a son would do towards a father who had given him up in infancy to be adopted by someone else."

Rupert did not reply, but, saying, "Wait here until I come back," walked over to the hospital lines. He returned in a few minutes.

"The doctor says he is sinking," he said gravely. "I shall go over there and remain until all is over."

"Will he be sensible at the last?" he asked the surgeon as he stood by the litter.

"Possibly," the surgeon said.

"I have a great interest in asking, doctor; I am most anxious to have a few words with him if possible before he dies."

"If you will call me if he opens his eyes," the surgeon said, "I will do what I can to rouse him. His pulse is getting weaker and weaker; I do not think the end is far off."

Half an hour later the dying man opened his eyes. Rupert beckoned to the surgeon, who came across at once and poured a few drops of spirits between his lips, and moistened his forehead with a sponge dipped in vinegar and water.

"Do you know me, Humphreys?" Rupert asked. "I am Rupert Clinton."

The dying man's face brightened. Then his lips moved. "Where is Smith? He left me to get help; he never returned."

"He is away now," Rupert said, anxious not to disturb the dying man. "When we got to you you were insensible, that was two days ago. Edgar is not in camp at present."

"There is a letter for you."

"Yes, it was found on you and I have read it, and I know how we stand towards each other, and that perhaps you are my father; here is the letter."

"I will swear to it; get a witness."

Rupert called the surgeon. "Doctor, the sergeant wishes you to hear him swear that this letter was written by him and that its contents are true."

"Bible," the sergeant said faintly.

A Bible was brought and the dying man's hand placed upon it. "I swear," he said in a firmer voice than that in which he had hitherto spoken, "that this letter was written by me and that every word in it is true, and that neither I nor my wife, nor anyone save God, knows whether Trumpeter Smith or Lieutenant Clinton is my son."

The effort was made and he closed his eyes. Rupert took his hand and knelt beside him. Once again the sergeant opened his eyes and spoke. "Good lads both," he said; "better as things are."

A few minutes later he ceased to breathe. The surgeon had retired after hearing the sergeant's declaration. When he saw Rupert rise to his feet he came up to him. "I have just written down the words," he said, "and have signed my name as a witness to the fact that it was a declaration sworn on the Bible by one who knew that he was dying."

"Thank you," Rupert said; "it is a strange story, I will tell you it some day."

After leaving the hospital Rupert went to Easton, in whose judgment he had a great deal of confidence, and after stating what had occurred asked him if in his opinion he could take any steps to learn more about Edgar.

"I think, Clinton, that were I in your place I should go to the commanding officer and tell him you have learnt that the trumpeter who was with the wounded sergeant of the Heavies found in the grove, and who left him to fetch aid from our camp, was your brother. You can say that on account of a misunderstanding he left home and enlisted under a false name, and beg that a search be instituted for his body, and also that the politicals who are in communication with the natives should make inquiries whether any white captive had been brought into Metemmeh. If you like I will say as much to our colonel, and I am sure that he will give orders that whenever detachments go out strict search will be made of all ground over which they pass. I am afraid that if we do learn from the natives that he is at Metemmeh our chance of getting him back before we take the place is small, for even if the people into whose hands he fell were willing to part with him for a ransom, the fanatical dervishes would not allow it; however, there would be no harm in trying. I know that to-day half a dozen natives came in with some cattle and grain, and no doubt some others will be in to-morrow."

Rupert took the advice, and at once went over to the quarters of the officer in command and made the statement that Easton had suggested. The colonel expressed great regret, and promised that every step should be taken to ascertain the fate of his brother and to endeavour to recover him if alive. Another party was sent out in the morning, and a further and most minute search made of the ground between the camp and the grove where the sergeant had been found, and the 19th Hussars were directed while scouring the plain to search every depression and to examine every clump of bushes to discover if possible the body of a missing soldier or any signs of his clothes or accoutrements. The political officer closely questioned all the natives who came in, but these came from villages higher up the river, and no news was obtained of what was going on at Metemmeh. The next day there was a great outburst of firing in Metemmeh, guns and cannon being discharged incessantly for two or three hours. At first it was thought that some dispute might have arisen between the various tribes now occupying the place, but this idea was abandoned when it was seen that the cannon on the walls were discharged not into the town but towards the open country, and it was then concluded that some great festival of the Mahdi was being celebrated. The following day was Sunday. Just as the troops were being formed up for a church parade a staff officer came up to Rupert and his fellow aides-de-camp as they were buckling on their swords.

"Is anything wrong, major?" Rupert asked, as he saw that the officer was much agitated.

"Yes, we have terrible news. A boat has just come down from Wilson with the news that he arrived too late; that Khartoum has fallen, and that Gordon is murdered."

An exclamation of horror broke from the two young officers.

"Do you think it is true, major?"

"I fear there is no doubt of it. The steamers got up to the town, and the Mahdi's flags were flying everywhere, and the vessels were peppered with shot from all the batteries. There is other bad news. Wilson's steamers both ran aground, and cannot be got off. Beresford is to go up and bring the party off, that is, if he can fight his way past the batteries. You see, that is what the firing in Metemmeh yesterday was about. No doubt a messenger had arrived from the Mahdi with the news of the fall of Khartoum. Don't say anything about it. Of course the news will not be kept from the officers, but it is to be kept from the men as far as possible."

Feeling almost stunned with the news, Rupert and his companions joined the rest of the staff and proceeded to the parade-ground. An hour after the service had concluded the terrible intelligence was known to all the officers. The feelings of grief, indignation, and rage were universal. All their efforts and suffering had been in vain, all the money spent upon the expedition entirely wasted. Gordon and his Egyptian garrison at Khartoum had perished, and it seemed not unnatural that the authorities at home should be blamed for the hesitation they had displayed in sending out the expedition to rescue the heroic defenders. Even at the last moment, they had countermanded their orders for the purchase of camels, which, had they been available, would have enabled General Stewart's desert column to march straight across, instead of being obliged to send the camels backwards and forwards; and in that case the steamers would have arrived in time to save Gordon, for it was but two days before they reached Khartoum that the town had fallen.

Never was an expedition so utterly useless, never did brave men who had fought their way through all difficulties find their efforts so completely vain!

The news could not long be kept from the men. The words of passionate grief and indignation that burst from their officers were soon caught up and carried through the camp, and the rank and file joined with their officers in a wholesale denunciation of those who were responsible for this disaster which had suddenly overtaken the expedition. The future was warmly debated among the officers. Some maintained that the expedition having come so far, the money having been laid out, it would be allowed to finish its work, to proceed to Khartoum, to recover the city, crush the Mahdi, and restore peace and order to the Soudan. Others asserted that after this failure to carry out the main object of the expedition, the authorities at home might now hasten to withdraw an expedition which they had only with apparent reluctance sent out at all. Rupert feared that the latter alternative was the most probable, and with it his hopes of seeing his brother before long were dashed to the ground.

It was maddening to think that he was lying a helpless prisoner in the hands of the Arabs in the mud-walled town but two miles away; for it was now probable that the force would march back, and Edgar be left to his fate. Easton and Skinner in vain attempted to cheer him. They had, however, no arguments to combat his conviction that the expedition would be abandoned, and could only fall back upon their belief that sooner or later Edgar would manage to make his escape from the hands of the Arabs. To Rupert's distressed mind this was poor consolation.

Lord Charles Beresford at once started up the river in a small steamer to rescue Sir Charles Wilson's party. As it was known that there was a strong battery below the spot where the steamers had been lost, and that Beresford would have to run the gauntlet of this on his way up, much anxiety was felt as to the result, and a constant and eager watch was kept up for a sight of the steamer on her return. When the time came that she was expected to make her appearance, and no signs were visible of her, the anxiety heightened; and when another day passed, and still she did not return, grave fears were entertained for her safety. At last the welcome news came that smoke could be seen ascending from the river higher up, and loud cheers burst from the men when the flag at the masthead was seen above the trees.

There was a general rush down to the shore of all who were not on duty to hear the news when she arrived; and when she drew up near the bank and the first party landed, it was found that her escape had been a narrow one indeed. In passing the battery she had had a sharp engagement with the artillery there, and a shot had passed through her boiler and disabled her, and she had been obliged to anchor. Fortunately she was a little above the battery when this took place. The guns could not well be brought to bear upon her; and although assailed by a constant fire of musketry, her own guns, her Gardner, and the rifles of the troops had kept the enemy at a distance and prevented them from shifting any of their guns so as to play upon her, until an officer of the Naval Brigade, who was acting as her engineer, had managed to repair the boiler.

While the fight was going on Sir Charles Wilson's party were upon an island, near which the second steamer had sunk, two miles higher up the river, and were hotly engaged with a force upon the bank. They were able to see that the rescuing steamer was disabled, and at night had crossed to the river bank, and marching down it to a point opposite the steamer, opened communication with her by signals, and then did what they could to divert the attention of the enemy from her by opening fire upon the battery with one of their guns, causing the enemy to turn two or three of his pieces of artillery against them. At nightfall they marched down the river to a point where the steamer had signalled she would pick them up. The steamer ran past the battery in the morning and fortunately escaped without serious injury, and then picking up the whole of Sir Charles Wilson's party came down the river without further molestation.

All this time no despatch of any kind had been received from Korti, although a small reinforcement consisting of a company of the Naval Brigade and half a battery of artillery had arrived, and the camels—or rather a portion of them, for nearly half had died upon the journey—had returned from Gakdul with a supply of stores. The days passed heavily until, on the 10th of February, General Buller and the 18th Royal Irish arrived; hopes were entertained, as they were seen approaching, that the appearance of the infantry signified that the expedition was still to continue to advance; but it was very soon known that the Royal Irish had merely arrived to cover the retreat. The next morning the whole of the wounded were sent off under a strong escort; then the work of destroying all the stores that had been brought up by the last convoy, except what were needed for the march down to Gakdul, was carried out, and two days later the forts that had been built with so much labour were evacuated, and the whole force set out upon their march down to Korti.

This time the journey was performed on foot. The camels of the three corps and of the vast baggage train with which they had started were bleaching on the desert, and scarce enough animals remained for the service of carrying down the sick and wounded. Rupert Clinton was among them. His strength had failed rapidly, and a sort of low fever had seized him, and he had for some days before the convoy started been lying prostrate in the hospital lines. Skinner was, at his own request, carried by the same camel that conveyed Rupert, the beds being swung one on each side of it. He had protested that he was perfectly capable of marching, but the doctors would not hear of it; and when he found that he could accompany Rupert he was glad that they decided against him, as he was able to look after his friend and to keep up his spirits to a certain extent by his talk.

Several of the wounded died on their way down, among them Sir Herbert Stewart, who had survived his wound a much longer time than the surgeons had at first believed possible. One piece of news that they had learned the day before they left the neighbourhood of Metemmeh had some slight effect in cheering Rupert, a native of that town having reported that a white prisoner had been brought in on the day after the battle near the town; he had been captured by some men of the Jahrin tribe and not by the regular troops of the Mahdi; three or four days later there had been a quarrel, the Mahdi's people wanting to take the prisoner and send him up to Khartoum; his captors had objected, claiming him as their private property; but as they were only a small party he would doubtless have been taken from them by force had they not, during the night, stolen out of the town with him, taken a boat, crossed the river, and made off.

Thus there was evidence that Edgar was still alive, and Skinner endeavoured to impress upon Rupert that in every respect the intelligence was favourable.

"You see, Clinton, if your brother had been sent up to the Mahdi, the villain would have endeavoured to force him to change his religion. Edgar would never have done that, and in that case it is pretty certain that they would have chopped his head off. As it is, the chief of these Arabs who took him evidently means to keep him as a slave for himself. Of course it is not pleasant to be a slave, but it is better than having the choice between worshipping a greasy Arab or having your head chopped off, and it will give him time to learn the language, to make his plans of escape, and to carry them out."

Rupert was too weak and ill to fully enter into the question, but he did see that Edgar's position was certainly better under an Arab master than it would have been had he been sent up to Khartoum, and the knowledge that he was alive and was in no immediate danger of his life did much to revive him, and enable him to bear the weary journey down to Korti better than he would otherwise have done. Once there the comparatively cool air of the hospital tents, the quiet, and the supply of every luxury soon had their effect, and in the course of three weeks he was up and about, though it would be some time before he would be fit for active duty. It was still altogether uncertain what decision would be finally arrived at at home respecting the expedition, but for the present the troops were stationed at various points on the river as far down as Dongola, and it was hoped that later on the advance against Khartoum would be recommenced.

Rupert, as soon as he was able to get about, had a long conversation with Major Kitchener, the political officer who was in charge of all communications with the natives. He related to him the circumstances of his brother's capture, and how he was a prisoner of some men belonging to the Jahrin tribe. Major Kitchener promised that his spies should make every inquiry, and held out hopes that by the offer of a large reward his captors might be induced to bring him down to the camp.

The time passed very slowly, the heat increased in intensity and became intolerable from nine in the morning until five in the afternoon. Between those hours there was nothing to do but to lie still in the mud huts that had now been erected, for it would have been well-nigh impossible to exist in the little tents that the troops had brought with them.

In the early morning and in the evening every one bathed in the Nile. Then the officers, each of whom had picked up some sort of pony from the natives, went for a ride, chased the wild dogs, or wandered gun on shoulder in search of such game as was to be found. After sunset was the only really pleasant time of day, and when the moon was up both officers and men enjoyed themselves; but on dark nights neither walking nor riding could be indulged in, so broken was the ground, and there was nothing to do but to talk, sing, and vary the tedium by a game of cards.

The Guards' Camel Regiment were posted close to Dongola. Rupert, who since the death of General Stewart had no longer any staff duties, was attached to the transport corps and spent a considerable portion of his time going up or down the river in boats. He did not, therefore, see much of his friends, although he never passed Dongola without managing to make it a halting-place so as to have a few hours' talk with them.

"You have thoroughly picked up again, Clinton," Skinner said as he arrived upon one of these visits. "No one would know you to be the same fellow who was brought down to Korti with me on that wretched camel's back. I think you are very lucky to have got put on to that transport work."

"So do I, Skinner; it gives me little time to sit and think, and though it is terrifically hot in the middle of the day I can always manage to get up some sort of shelter with straw or matting of some kind, and at any rate it is cooler there than on shore."

"I wish they would give me a turn at it," Skinner said. "I cannot offer to take an oar, for although my arm is going on very well the doctor says it may be months before I can venture to use it in anything like hard work. We get up jolly horse races here once a week in the evening. The natives enter their animals. Of course we have no chance with them on our little tats, but we sometimes manage to requisition two or three horses from the Hussars. I dare not ride myself, for though the horses and ponies are both very sure-footed these natives ride in the wildest way and one might get cannoned over. Still it is an amusement to look on and make small bets and watch the natives; crowds of them come out to see it, and they get tremendously excited over it. I wish we could get up a good football match, the Guards against Dongola; it would be awful fun. As far as running goes we should not be in it, and if one of them got the ball he would carry it right through us up to the goal, for they are as active and slippery as eels. Of course when it came to a good close fight we should have it our own way."

"Have you managed to get up football on board ship, Skinner?" Easton, who was stretched at full length on the ground, asked lazily.

"Not yet," Skinner laughed. "If we played at all we should have to use a cannon-ball, so that it should not be kicked over the sides; but then, unless we got iron shoes made for the purpose, we should all be laid up. But I have got a football in my cabin, and once or twice we have had games at Suakim, and very good fun it was too."

"No news, I suppose, Clinton?" Easton asked, sitting up.

Rupert shook his head. "Not a word. We hear very little of what is going on above us, and the natives who do come in lie so, there's no believing a word they say. I have been thinking that if one could trust them I would pay one of the sheiks to dress me up and stain my skin and take me with him on a wandering expedition to Khartoum and over the country on both sides of the river."

"It would be madness," Easton said. "Of course if you could talk their language perfectly it might be possible to manage it, for I suppose that with dye and false hair one might be got up to pass as far as appearances go, but not being able to speak the language would be fatal."

"Of course I should have to go as a dumb man. I was asking the surgeon the other day if there would be any great difficulty in cutting a fellow's tongue out."

"In doing what?" Easton and Skinner asked in astonishment.

"Cutting my tongue out," Rupert said seriously. "You see, if my tongue was cut out anyone could see at once that I was dumb. Of course it wouldn't be pleasant, but I believe it would be possible to get to talk after some time. If there were no other objections I should not hesitate for a moment; but unfortunately I should have to pass for deaf as well as dumb, for of course I should not understand anything that was said to me. I have been thinking it over in every light, and really the only great objection I see to the plan is that though one might depend upon the chief's being faithful if he were well paid, it would be very doubtful as to his followers."

"And are you really serious in saying that you would have your tongue cut out, Clinton?"

"Of course I am serious," Rupert said, almost angrily. "What is one's tongue in comparison to one's brother? What do you think, Easton? Do you think the idea is at all feasible? I may say that for the last two months I have been working almost night and day at the language. I engaged a fellow the day I came out of hospital. He was working for one of those Greek shopkeepers. He is a native of Dongola, but has been down in Egypt and picked up a certain amount of French. He goes about with me in the boat, and we talk all day and as long as I can keep him awake at night. Of course I don't think for a moment that I could learn enough to pass as a native for at least a couple of years; but it would be of no use my going up with a party of Arabs if I could not make out what they say and learn what news they pick up, and make arrangements to get Edgar away if we find him."

"It would be a fearfully risky business, Clinton," Easton said gravely. "The betting would be tremendously against you, but I don't say that it is absolutely impossible that you should be successful. I don't think it would be necessary to carry out the idea of having your tongue cut out. As you say, a tongue is nothing in comparison to a brother, and if I thought that the loss of your tongue would ensure your success I should say nothing against it, it would be a matter for you and you only to decide; but I should think it might be managed in some other way. The fellow you would be with would naturally avoid all large encampments, and would send you off to look after camels or something if other natives arrived at the same encampment."

"You don't really mean, Easton," Skinner said, "that you seriously think that it might be done; that is, that the betting is not more than ten to one against it?"

"No; I don't think the odds are longer than that, Skinner. You know Burton went to Mecca in disguise, and I believe that it has been done since by somebody else. I grant that Burton could talk the language well, and that having to play the part of a dumb man adds to the risk. Still, I do not think, as I said, that the chances are more than ten to one against it."

"Well, I shall think it over," Rupert said; "but I must be going now, for the boat will be loaded by this time."

"Why did you encourage Clinton in this mad idea, Easton?" Skinner asked after Rupert had left them.

"I don't think I did encourage him. I told him the betting was ten to one against his coming back alive, and I don't call that encouraging; but I believe it is possible, and I am not at all sure that if I were in his place, and the idea had occurred to me, that I shouldn't try to carry it out."

CHAPTER XVI. IN DISGUISE.

As long as there was a chance that the expedition might again advance Rupert did nothing farther, and indeed was unable to come to any decision as to his course. He had long since received an answer from Captain Clinton to his letter written as soon as he was well enough to sit up after arriving at Korti, with the news that Edgar had been present with the expedition, and was now a prisoner in the hands of the Arabs. Captain Clinton wrote in great distress himself, and said that his wife was completely prostrated with the news. He said: "I know I need not urge you, Rupert, to use every means to obtain some news of Edgar. Draw upon me for any amount, however large, that may be necessary for bribing natives to find, and if possible rescue, him. I fear that the latter is hopeless. Still, if you see even the most remote chance of it, let no question of expense stand in the way."

But even the promises of rewards that seemed to them to be fabulous failed in eliciting from the spies any information as to Edgar's whereabouts. He certainly was neither at Berber nor at Khartoum, nor had the people he was with returned to Metemmeh; but beyond this negative information Rupert could learn nothing. He continued to work assiduously with his interpreter, and by the middle of May he had, after three months' work, made such progress that he was able to converse in simple phrases and to understand what was being said by the natives around him.

In the third week in May, on his arrival at Korti, he learned that orders had that day been received that the whole force was to at once retire, that even Dongola was to be abandoned, and that Wady Halfa was to be the highest point on the river occupied. That evening he went up to General Buller's tent. The general was still at mess, and Rupert waited outside his tent until he returned. He had several times spoken to the general on matters of duty.

"Who is that?" General Buller asked as he saw a figure standing in front of his tent.

"Clinton, sir. I am particularly anxious to speak to you if you can spare me a short time."

"Come in," the general said. "What can I do for you? Take a seat there."

"You have perhaps heard, sir, that I made the discovery at Metemmeh that a brother of mine who had two years and a half ago run away from school and enlisted, was the trumpeter of the Heavies who was carried off by the Arabs close to Metemmeh."

"Yes, I heard that, Clinton, and was very sorry for you. I cannot imagine a more distressing affair."

"It was really no fault of his that he ran away, general; he was under a misconception altogether, and neither my father nor mother blamed him in the slightest. I only say this to show that he did not run away from wildness. No one could have been steadier than he was. It was a frightful mistake connected with his birth which I need not trouble you about. We were greatly attached to each other, and my father and mother are completely broken down at the thought of his being a slave for life in the hands of the Arabs. Now, sir, for the last three months I have been working almost day and night at the language, and can get on fairly in it."

"Yes?" General Buller put in, wondering what was coming next.

"I have come to ask you if you would be good enough to ask Lord Wolseley to let me have six months' leave. My intention is to disguise myself, and to go up the country with one or two friendly natives. I should pass as being dumb; as although I can make myself understood in simple matters I should, of course, be detected were any native to enter into a long conversation with me. I have seen Major Kitchener to-day, and he says that he has no doubt he could arrange with one of the sheiks for me to go with him, and to travel about the country with him until we found my brother. My father has authorized me to spend any money that may be required, and I could pay high enough to make it well worth the while of any of these natives to be faithful. I do not see any reasons why I should not succeed. I have been speaking to one of the surgeons, and he says that if at any time it is suspected that I am not really dumb, I can in half a minute burn my tongue so with caustic that if I open my mouth anyone would think I have got some disease of the tongue which prevents my speaking. As to the disguise, I got Captain Hunter, who sketches capitally, to make sketches of the heads of some of these Arabs. I sent these down to a man at Cairo, and I have got up from him a wig that will, I think, deceive anyone."

"It is a tremendous risk, Clinton," General Buller said when he concluded; "a tremendous risk, and I don't know that Lord Wolseley would consider himself justified in allowing you to attempt it. The idea does you honour, but upon my word I do not know what to say to it. It seems a mad scheme, and yet I cannot say that it might not succeed. You seem to have worked it all out in your own mind. To carry it through will require not only pluck but unfailing watchfulness and presence of mind. A simple word or a gesture might betray you."

"I have thought of all that, sir; but I don't see any reason why it shouldn't be done. I am quite sure, general, that if you had a brother a slave among the Arabs you would not hesitate a moment about attempting it."

General Buller did not reply, but rising put on his helmet.

"I will go to the chief and ask him," he said; "but I don't think he will feel authorized in letting you go."

"I don't ask him to authorize it officially, sir. I only ask for six months' leave of absence, or even for a month's leave of absence. At the end of that time of course my name would be removed from the Army List, but I think, if I ever return, I should be reinstated, or if not, I might get a fresh commission granted me."

"Oh, that would be all right! the general would see to that. Wait here until I come back."

In a quarter of a hour General Buller returned.

"Come with me to the chief's tent," he said. "I think that if you can convince him that you have thought the matter out thoroughly, and are prepared at all points, he will give you three months' leave, and will get it renewed as long as there is a chance of your turning up alive."

Rupert was most kindly received by Lord Wolseley, who asked him many questions as to his plans. After he had again explained them Rupert said: "Major Kitchener has kindly promised that if you give me leave he will buy for me two of the fast camels. He said there was a party came in yesterday with two exceptionally good ones, and that no doubt they would sell if a sufficient price were offered. Of course I should not think of riding on either of these unless I had to run for my life, or until I found my brother, for they would at once attract attention. The natives could ride on them, and I should have an ordinary camel until the time came to use the fleet ones. I have a letter from my father authorizing me to draw to any extent; therefore no question of money would interfere with my carrying out the plan thoroughly."

"I do not know what your father would say to me on my return to England should you never get back, Clinton."

"I am sure that if my father were here he would approve, sir. Of course I shall write him a long letter explaining the whole circumstances, and I am as sure as if he stood here that he would say that I was perfectly right in making an effort to rescue Edgar. I should never be happy again were I to turn my face down the river now and leave him to slavery for life among the Arabs."

"Well, I will strain a point and let you go," Lord Wolseley said. "I don't know whether I am right in doing so, but I cannot resist your desire to carry out your scheme for your brother's rescue. It is a noble attempt, Clinton, and I honour you for undertaking it. When your preparations are complete let me see you again. Consider yourself relieved of all duty at once."

Thanking Lord Wolseley and General Buller for their kindness Rupert left the tent and returned to his quarters. The next morning he went the first thing to Major Kitchener's camp and told him that the question of his leave was settled, and that he should start as soon as the camels were procured and an arrangement could be made with one of the sheiks.

"Very well, Clinton, I will manage that for you. I expect a sheik down in three days who has worked faithfully with us since the beginning of the campaign. He is the man I had in my eye; he has made journeys to Wady Halfa and to points on the Red Sea, and will know that our promises as to payments will be kept, and that whatever sum is agreed upon would be handed him over at any place to which he may take you. In order to prevent any difficulty on that score, I will, before you start, give you letters to merchants at Wady Halfa and all the ports requesting them to pay the sum we may agree upon, upon the presentation of my letter with your signature attached. I put it in that way because it is possible that you may have to make your way alone into Abyssinia, and in that case if you are satisfied with your guide you will put your name to the letter and he may then obtain the money at whichever port he may go to. All this of course I will explain to him. I will get the two camels this morning. They are exceptionally good beasts, and the owner will want a very long price for them. Camels like these are very rare, but they may be the means of saving your life."

"I will pay whatever he wants me to, sir; I quite see the importance of getting them. I am off duty now, and as the sheik is not to arrive for three days I will go down to Dongola. There is one of the transport boats starting in half an hour. I shall want to lay in a stock of dye. Fortunately, the exact colour is not material, for the natives are any shade between yellow and black."

When Skinner and Easton came in from an evening ride they got off their ponies, and Skinner entered his hut. He was astonished at seeing a native calmly sitting there with the usual wild tangled hair and a dirty cotton cloth wrapped round him. For a moment Skinner stood astonished.

"Well, this is cheek!" he exclaimed. "Easton, look here; here is a beast of a native squatting in my hut. Sentry, what the deuce do you mean by letting a nigger come into my hut? Now, then, who are you? What do you want? What do you mean by it? Out you go sharp, or I will break your neck!"

The two young officers, for Easton had joined his friend, stood astounded when the native broke into a yell of laughter.

"He is mad, Easton; he is a mad nigger who has escaped from a lunatic asylum!" Skinner exclaimed. "Don't go near him; perhaps he bites, and you might get hydrophobia. How is this, sentry?" he asked, turning to the soldier, who had come up to the door. "How is it you let this mad nigger come in here?"

"I did not see him come in, sir," the sentry said; "he must have slipped in when my back was turned. I saw an officer come in half an hour ago, but I haven't seen anyone else."

"Well, move him out, sentry; prod him up with your bayonet if he won't go."

The sentry was about to enter the tent when Rupert gasped, "That is enough, Skinner; order him out. You will kill me with laughing."

"Clinton!" The word broke from the lips of Easton and Skinner simultaneously, while the sentry almost dropped his rifle in surprise at hearing his officer thus addressed in pure English by the native.

"It is all right, sentry, you can go," Easton said, recovering himself first from his astonishment; and then saying as soon as they were alone: "What on earth does this masquerade mean, Clinton? have you gone out of your mind?"

"Then you think I shall do, Easton?"

"Do!" Easton repeated, the truth dawning upon him. "You don't mean to say that you are going to carry out that scheme you talked about a month since?"

"Indeed I do, Easton. I have obtained the chief's permission. Major Kitchener is making the arrangements for me, and I hope in another three days to be out on the desert again. At any rate you will allow that as far as appearances go I can pass fairly as a native."

Skinner had not yet spoken. He now walked round and round Rupert two or three times, and at last gave vent to his feelings: "Well, I am jiggered! There is no doubt about your disguise, Clinton, at least if you are Clinton and not a nigger who has stolen his voice. Did you ever see such a head of hair, Easton?"

"Never mind that," Easton said impatiently; "don't you understand, man, that Clinton is going away among those Arabs to search for his brother?"

"No, I did not understand; in fact I did not hear a word that was said. I was too much stunned to do anything but stare. And you are really going, Clinton, old fellow?"

"Yes, I am off to-morrow at daybreak for Korti. There is a good strong breeze blowing, and I shall go up as quickly as I came down. There was a delay of three or four days before we could get hold of the man I am to go with, if he will take me, so I ran down here partly to get some dyes for my skin in the bazaar here, but principally to say good-bye to you both. My wig, that so astonishes you, Skinner, I had made at Cairo and sent up."

"Well, there is no fear, Clinton, of anyone recognizing you as an Englishman. You may ride in the middle of them from here to Khartoum, and they would never suspect you as far as looks go. You have abandoned that idea about your tongue, I hope?"

"Yes. I have got a bottle of caustic from one of the surgeons. He put me up to it. He says if I see that I am suspected, if I slip aside and rub one of these little sticks of caustic over my tongue it will make such a sight of it that I have only to open my mouth and let them look at it, and they will believe readily enough that I have got some frightful disease in my tongue and cannot use it. In case of necessity I can mumble out a few words, and the state of my mouth will quite account for any difficulty they may have in understanding me."

"Will that stuff you have got on your skin wash off?" Easton asked.

"Yes, this will with a little difficulty; but I have got some other stuff that my interpreter tells me will only want renewing once a week or ten days."

"Then for goodness' sake set to and get it off, Clinton, and put on your own clothes and let us see you again as you are. I don't seem to be able to talk to you naturally in that disguise, and it will be a long time before we get another talk together."

Rupert at once set to work with soap, water, and a nail-brush, and in a quarter of an hour got his face and hands tolerably white. Then he put on his uniform.

"Now you are yourself again, Clinton. Sit down and tell us all about it. What are your plans?"

Rupert told him the arrangements that Major Kitchener was making for him, and both his companions greatly approved of the purchase of the fast camels. "That is a capital idea, and if you can get a good start with them you may laugh at Arabs who are mounted on ordinary camels or on foot; but you must mind that there are no fellows with horses about when you make your bolt. You see, all these fellows who led the attacks were mounted, and I suppose you will find that a few of the principal men in every large village have horses. Now a horse will go faster than the fastest camel for a bit, although the camel will beat him in a long-distance race. What are you going to do about arms?"

"I cannot take any arms, Easton; they would betray me at once."

"You cannot show any, I grant, but there is no reason in the world why you shouldn't take a brace of revolvers. They could be stowed away easily enough, with a couple of boxes of cartridges, somewhere in the saddle. There is room to hide anything in one of these great clumsy contrivances. Of course pistols would be of no use to you if you are discovered in the middle of a tribe or a big town; but if you find your brother, and you make a bolt for it together on these camels and are pursued, you could make a pretty good fight against half a dozen mounted men, and the betting is against more than that getting together, if you had a revolver apiece. I should advise you most strongly to take them."

"I think you are right, Easton: I will certainly do so."

"Have you got a brace?"

"No, I have only one."

"Then you shall have mine, old fellow. What calibre is yours?"

"·45."

"Ah! that is the same as mine. I have got a couple of boxes of cartridges, and as they are done up in india-rubber they are sure to be all right. By the way, is it true that we are all going down? There was a rumour last night that orders had come."

"Yes, we are to retire to Wady Halfa."

"What! and abandon Dongola?"

Rupert nodded.

"Then I call it a beastly shame. More than that, I call it a downright dishonourable action!" Easton said hotly. "Here we are going to abandon a town of some twenty thousand inhabitants to these fanatics. Not only that, but to give up to their vengeance all the tribes between Wady Halfa and Metemmeh who have trusted in our promises, have thrown in their lot with us, and have for the last four months been doing all our transport. Our fathers used to be proud to call themselves Englishmen, but, by Jove, there is very little reason for us to be. That Boer business was shameful and humiliating enough, but this is worse still. I don't say that we are bound to go on to Khartoum, although it would be the best and cheapest and most satisfactory mode in every way of settling this Mahdi and ensuring order in the Soudan; but I do think that we are bound to hold the river from Korti downwards to protect the tribes that have been friendly to us, and to save this town from ruin and desolation. Not only this town, but all the peaceful villages down the river. Besides, so long as we are here the Arabs will see that the Mahdi is not all-powerful, and may sooner or later rise against his tyranny. Well, I never thought this campaign was going to end in the disgraceful abandonment of the Nile Valley from Korti to Wady Haifa. However," he went on, checking himself suddenly, "it is of no use talking of that now; we have got to think about your expedition, which to us three is a far more important business. How does your Arabic get on?"

"Fairly well. I don't say that I can talk a great deal, but as I have learnt it by ear I speak with a fair accent, at least so Ibrahim says. I have taken particular pains with what you may call salutations, such as one man gives another as they pass each other on a journey, or what one says on entering a house or a village. I can ask for food all right, return thanks for hospitality, ask the way, and all that sort of thing; and Ibrahim said that in all these things I could pass very well as a native, especially as there are slight distinctions and differences between the language of the various tribes. They are a very mixed people, of Arab, Egyptian, and Negro blood. So that as far as it goes my language will pass, and of course every day I travel I shall improve. I intend, as I have said, to pretend to be dumb whenever we come across strong parties of strangers, and my sheik will shield me as much as possible by sending me out to look after the camels and to gather wood and to fetch water, or on other business, whenever we are with strangers. I really think, Easton, I have a very fair chance of getting through it without being found out. Major Kitchener tells me that the sheik only has two or three of his tribesmen with him, and that he has no doubt picked men he can trust to hold their tongues, otherwise he would get into a mess when he went back again among his people. Of course the men will be promised a reward also if I get safely through. The trouble on my mind is more the difficulty there will be in finding Edgar and getting him off than about myself. In the first place there is no saying as to the direction in which the men who have got him have gone. They have probably gone to some out-of-the-way place, so as to be out of the way of the Mahdi's people.

"Ibrahim tells me that there are no people more pig-headed than these Arabs, and if they once make up their mind to a thing nothing will turn them. That is all the better, as far as the risk of Edgar falling into the hands of the Mahdi is concerned, only it makes it all the more difficult to find him. There is no saying where he may have moved to; he may have gone far south of Khartoum, he may have pushed away near the borders of Abyssinia, he may be within a few miles of Suakim, he may be in the desert we crossed. I don't disguise from myself that it is likely to be a long search; but that is nothing if I am but successful at last. Of course the great thing will be to endeavour to pick up a clue near Metemmeh.

"The tribe is a very scattered one, and is to be found dispersed among other tribes all the way from Berber to Khartoum on the eastern side of the river, and I hear that there is a branch of it who live in the desert to the west. Well, it is likely that Edgar's master will have stopped in some of these villages among his own people, if only for a few hours, and it is from them I hope to get some clue as to the general direction at least in which they were travelling. Unless they disguised Edgar, and wrapped him up as a woman, or something of that sort, the fact of a white prisoner passing through is certain to have caused talk. However, it is impossible to say where or how I may find a clue.

"At any rate I shall stick to it. I shall tell my father, that as it may take me a year to find Edgar he need not even begin to feel anxious until the end of that time, and that as I shall be continually improving in my knowledge of the language, the risk of detection will become less and less every month, and that I anticipate no difficulty whatever when the time comes in passing down to Suakim or Massowah, or should any difficulty arise in that direction, in either working down to Wady Halfa or through Abyssinia."

They sat and talked until far into the night, and then lay down for a few hours' sleep, and at daybreak Rupert said good-bye to his friends and took his place in the boat, which, spreading its sails, rapidly made its way up stream. The two friends stood for a long time looking after it.

"By Jove, Clinton has turned out a fine fellow," Skinner said; "a grand fellow! I hardly thought he had it in him. Of course I knew he was plucky, and all that sort of thing; but this is a tremendous undertaking."

"It is," Easton said. "Of course now the die is cast I would not say a word last night to discourage him; but the risk is tremendous. However he is going about it in the right spirit, and somehow I feel almost confident that he will pull through it, and that we shall shake his hand in England again. May God protect him on his journey!"

Skinner responded with an earnest Amen, and then they walked slowly back to the camp.

As soon as he arrived at Korti Rupert made his way to Major Kitchener's, and was greeted with a cheery welcome by that officer.

"Things are going well, Clinton. I have bought the two riding camels. I was a whole day haggling over the price with the chief. I had to pay a stiff price after all, but that I expected. But it won't come quite so heavy, because he wanted to take it out in goods, and as we don't mean to take all the things back to the coast again, I got an order from the chief for our quarter-master's department to sell me a lot of rugs, cooking pots, and tin goods, and also some powder and ball and a dozen muskets. As I get them cheap the camels won't cost you more than half what they would if you had had to pay in silver for them. In the next place, the sheik arrived yesterday afternoon and I had a long talk with him. He is willing enough to undertake the business and to wander about with you for as many months as you may choose, and to assist you in getting off your brother if you find him, if he thinks that you can disguise yourself well enough to pass as a native, but of that he is to be the judge. He won't take you at any price unless you satisfy him in that respect."

"I think I can do that, major," Rupert said. "I will go back to my tent and dress now. I took in my two friends of the Guards, and I think I can pass inspection even by a native." In half an hour Rupert returned in his native get-up, carrying as usual a spear and a sword and two or three knives stuck into his girdle. Major Kitchener was inside his tent, and Rupert squatted down outside and awaited his coming out. When the major issued from his tent his eye fell upon him.

"Hullo!" he said in Arabic, "what do you want? Where do you come from?"

"I am my lord's servant," Rupert replied in the same language.

"Yes, that is all very well, but I suppose you want some thing."

"I am ready to go for my lord to Khartoum, and to bring him news."

Major Kitchener shook his head. "I don't want to send anyone up at present," he said; "we know all about it."

"Then you think I shall do, major?" Rupert said in English.

"Bless me!" the officer exclaimed; "is it you, Clinton? I did not suspect you for a moment. You will do, lad, you will do. The sheik himself won't know you to be white with that wonderful head of hair of yours. It is a splendid imitation. One would think you had scalped one of these natives and put his hair on. Come along with me. You will see how we shall take in the sheik."

He went across to a small group of camels by the side of which a sheik and two natives were seated talking and gesticulating violently. The sheik rose to his feet as they came up and began to talk volubly; he was evidently in a rage with his followers, for he pointed to them with open hand and was complaining of their conduct. Presently they began to interject angry denials, and then sprang to their feet and excitedly poured out their view of the question. Rupert could not catch a word, and had no idea of the subject of the dispute, although he saw that Major Kitchener was listening with some amusement. The combat rose higher and higher. At last, with a sudden gesture, the sheik, who had looked furtively at this disguised stranger several times, seized the two men by the arm and whirled them round until they faced Rupert, who was leaning on his spear. "There!" he shouted. "Where are the eyes you boast of? You say that anyone could in a moment detect a white man through his disguises. What! are you then blind or idiots that you do not see that this is a white man standing here?" The Arabs stood motionless, wondering and incredulous, while the chief broke into a triumphant laugh at his own superior sagacity.

"Is he white?" one of the men asked, turning to the major.

"Yes, this is the officer who is to travel with you."

"What is it all about, major?" Rupert asked as the three natives proceeded to walk round him and examine him from every point.

"The sheik was declaiming against the obstinacy of his followers. He really wants to take you, and was in vain trying to persuade his men that such clever people as the whites could disguise themselves so that they would not be known. The two men protested against the risk, and maintained that anyone could tell a white from a native a mile off. Really the sheik did not suspect you in the slightest, but I thought it was well to let him have a triumph over his followers, and so as he was going on I gave a little nod towards you and he caught it at once; but I could see at first he thought he was mistaken, and while the others were having their say I nodded to him and said, 'Yes it is he.'"

With many interjections: "It is wonderful! Can such things be! Eyes have never seen it!" the three Arabs had continued to gaze at Rupert while the officer was speaking.

"It is a white man," the sheik said at last; "there is more flesh on his limbs than on those of a young Arab. But who ever saw such hair on a white man; by what miracle did it grow thus?"

"It is what is called a wig," Major Kitchener explained. "It was made for him at Cairo; he can take it off and on. Take it off, Clinton."

Rupert pulled off his wig and stood before them in his closely-cropped head. The natives made a step or two backwards in astonishment and awe.

"The whites are great people," the sheik said; "they can turn a white man into a black. They can put an Arab's hair on to their heads, so that they can take it on and off like a turban. It is well, my lord, we will take the young officer with us; but he must remember that though when he is standing still he may look so like an Arab that no eyes could detect him, it is the movements and the ways and the tongue, and not the skin and hair only, that make a man. He will have to keep a watch always over himself and be ever careful and prudent, for were he discovered it would cost him his life, and would go hard with us also for bringing him as a spy into the land."

"We know that, sheik," Major Kitchener said; "and all that has, you know, been considered in the handsome terms we have offered you."

"If he spoke the language as you do, my lord, it would be easy."

"It will not be long before he does so, sheik; you will see that he speaks with a fair accent already. Just suppose that you are the sheik of a village and that he has come in to get something. Now, Clinton, begin with the usual Arabic salutations."

Rupert at once addressed the sheik, and the usual ceremonial salutations which precede all conversation were exchanged between them.

"I have wandered from my camp," Rupert went on; "my camel has travelled far, and I am hungry and athirst. I would buy meal and dates for my further journey, and a feed of grain for the camel," he continued, with a dozen other sentences that he had committed to heart and gone over scores of times with Ibrahim.

The sheik nodded his approval. "It is good," he said. "For a time, as you have said, he will not talk, but will go as an afflicted one who has lost his speech, but even now he could pass through a village with us without exciting suspicion. We will take him. What say you?" he asked his followers, who replied together, "We will take him."

Then there was a long discussion in Arabic between the sheik and Major Kitchener. "He has seen your camels," the major said turning to Rupert, "and wants them thrown into the bargain when it is all over. I have told him that this is quite out of the question. The terms I have already agreed upon are ten times as high as he could earn with his camels in any other way; besides it is, as I pointed out to him, probable that you and your brother may have to ride away alone on the camels. But I have said that if you should arrive together at any port or place where the sum agreed upon can be paid to him, and if you are thoroughly satisfied with the way in which you have been treated, you will let him have them, deducting from the amount to be paid half the sum that you have just given for them, and as you paid for them in goods that will really be about the price they cost you."

"That will be an excellent arrangement," Rupert said; "the hope of getting the camels at the end of the journey will certainly be a great inducement to him to be faithful. I know that the Arabs think as much of these fast camels as we do of race-horses at home. And will you tell him too that if we have to leave him and take the camels, I will see that they are left, to be given up to him on his arrival, at some place he may name. I think that it would be as well that he should feel that he will get the camels anyhow in addition to payment; otherwise the temptation to seize them might be so great that he might get rid of me on the first opportunity."

"Yes, that would be as well, Clinton. A pair of such camels as these are certainly a great temptation to an Arab. I have great faith in this man, for he was very highly recommended to me by some Egyptian merchants at Cairo who had travelled with him right down to the great lakes. At the same time it is always better to throw no temptation in people's way. He wanted a portion of the money down, but I would not hear of this. I said that he knew he was certain of it when the duty was performed, and that therefore there was no reason whatever for his making any demand beforehand, except that he should have a sum just sufficient and no more to enable him to pay any expenses he might incur for his own food and that of the camels. That is little enough: dates, meal, a kid sometimes for the men, and an occasional feed of grain for the camels, who as a rule pick up their own living except when engaged on hard work."

What Rupert had said was explained to the sheik, who, although he showed little outward satisfaction, was evidently pleased with the prospect of some day owning the two fast camels. There was now a long discussion between Major Kitchener and the sheik as to the best route to be pursued, and the probabilities as to the course that Edgar's captors had followed, and then the conference broke up, the sheik saying his camels required another two days' rest, and that on the third day at daybreak he should be ready to start. At the last moment Rupert suggested, that as the Arabs had, they said, two spare camels before, and would now have three, he should present them with a sufficient load of rugs, powder, and other things they valued to form light loads for the three spare animals. There would be nothing suspicious in their possessing such goods, as many of the loaded camels had, especially on the night march to Metemmeh, strayed away or fallen, and their loads had been plundered by the Arabs. For twenty pounds he could get from the quarter-master's stores plenty of goods for the purpose, and as these could be used for barter it would obviate the necessity of carrying silver. The offer added to the good temper of the sheik and his followers, and as Rupert walked back to Major Kitchener's tent with him the latter said, "I think, Clinton, you have won your fellows fairly over. I could see by the way they discussed the routes to be followed, that they have got thoroughly interested in the matter themselves, and will throw themselves heartily into it. I really think you have a very fair chance of getting through this business safely. I did not think so when you first proposed it to me, but the difficulties seem to have disappeared as we have gone on; and now that I have seen you in disguise, I think that, unless from some unforeseen accident, or some forgetfulness on your own part, there is no reason why you should not travel with those Arabs from end to end of the Soudan."

CHAPTER XVII. A RUNAWAY SLAVE.

Negroes have an immense respect for strength, and the, to him, astounding manner in which Edgar had struck down his comrade as by a stroke of lightning completely cowed the other negro, and he resumed his work with Edgar with an air of timidity; but he soon recovered from this, and before long was laughing and joking at the speed with which the bucket was being raised and emptied, the water pouring out at a rate vastly exceeding that usually achieved by their leisurely movements. Indeed, he entered heartily into the fun of the thing, repeating Edgar's English words of "Now, then, up she goes!" "Over with her!" and working until the perspiration rolled down his black skin as fast as it did down Edgar's white one. The other man had thrown himself down by the trough, and lay there bathing his face with water till at an angry shout from the sheik he rose to his feet and joined in the work sullenly and silently.

"There is no great harm done," Edgar said cheeringly to him. "You had no beauty to spoil, so you will be none the worse that way. You have had a lesson, and it will do you good. I daresay we shall get on very well together in future." Hamish gave an angry growl; he was in no mood for a reconciliation, and continued to work silently until the sun went down. As soon as it sunk below the sand-hills the negroes ceased work, and signified to Edgar that their time of labour was over.

The sheik had several times looked out from his tent to see how the work was getting on. "My capture was indeed a fortunate one, Amina," he said. "Never did I see men work as they have done this afternoon. Three times the usual amount of water has been poured over the field; truly he is a treasure."

When the slaves had ceased work they went to the lower end of the valley, where, on some ground covered with coarse grass, separated from the growing crops by a thorn hedge, a herd of goats and some twenty camels were grazing, and proceeded to milk the females. Edgar was a passive spectator, for the animals all showed their aversion to his white skin, and would not let him approach them. When the work was over they returned to the tents with the calabashes of milk, and were rewarded for their extra work with large platefuls of meal. Before eating his share Edgar filled a tin pannikin Amina had given him for his special use with water, boiled it over the fire, and dropped in a spoonful of tea, and going up to Amina asked for a little milk, which she readily gave him, surprised that a spoonful or two was all that he required.

"If I use it sparingly," he said to himself as he sat down to his meal, "that ten pounds of tea will last me over a year, and before it is gone I hope I shall see some way of getting off." As soon as he had finished it the woman whose child was ill came to him and took him off to see her. She was, as even Edgar could see, better; her skin was soft and her pulse was quieter, but she was evidently very weak. The woman held out a bowl of the arrow-root, and signified that she would not eat it, which Edgar was not surprised at, for it was thick and lumpy.

"I suppose the water didn't boil," he said to himself. "No wonder the poor little beggar cannot eat that stuff. I should think the Liebig would be the best for her, at any rate better than this stuff. I will get a tin or two from Amina, or rather she had better get it; I don't want to be always asking for things."

He had noticed where he had thrown the little pot the evening before, brought it to the woman, and then pointing to the sheik's tent said, "You fetch."

The woman understood and went off, and presently returned with two of the pots. Boiling water was required. This is not an item to be found in an Arab tent. Edgar therefore boiled some in his own tin over the fire in front of the sheik's tent, and showed the woman how much of the paste was to be used and how much water. When this was made he asked her for milk; this also he boiled and made some arrow-root, and told the woman to give that and the Liebig alternately every three or four hours. The benefit the child had received had created a most favourable impression towards Edgar in the community, and several of them came round him as he left the tent to ask for medicine. Edgar was sorely puzzled, and determined that if he could do no good he would certainly do no harm. He thought it likely that most of the illnesses were imaginary, "For why," he said to himself as he looked at three of them who were all placing their hands on their stomachs and twisting about to show that they were suffering great pain, "should they be all bad together?" There was in the chest a large bottle of pills marked "blue-pills," and of these he gave two to each applicant.

One case of those who applied was of a very different character. It was a boy some fifteen years old. He crawled up on his hands and knees, and sitting down took off some bandages and showed him his leg. It was terribly inflamed from the instep up to the knee, with a great sloughing wound that showed the bone for two or three inches. It was evidently the result of a serious graze, perhaps caused by falling on to a sharp rock. Had it been attended to at first it would have been trifling, but doubtless the boy thought nothing of it and had continued to get about as usual. The sand and dirt had got into the wound, inflammation had set in, and the leg was now in a very serious state.

Edgar felt a little more certain of his ground this time, for he remembered that one of the fellows at River-Smith's house had had a bad leg after a severe kick on the shin at football, and he knew what had been done for it. The lad's father, who was one of the elderly men who had remained in camp, had accompanied him. Edgar told him that, in the first place, he wanted a good deal of water made hot. The chest contained a half-gallon bottle of carbolic acid, and searching among the smaller bottles Edgar found one containing caustic. When the lad's father returned with the hot water, Edgar bathed the wound for a long time; then he poured a little of the acid into a calabash of cold water, dipped a piece of cotton cloth into it, folded it several times, and laid it on the wound, then wrapped another cloth soaked in water round and round the limb, and explained as well as he could to the father that as often as the bandage became dry the one must be dipped in the calabash with the lotion, the other in water, and applied again. For two or three days this treatment was continued, and then Edgar burned the unhealthy surfaces with caustic, continuing the carbolic poultices.

In a week the inflammation had greatly abated, and the sore assumed a healthy aspect. The process of healing would in England have been a long and tedious work, but in the dry air of the desert it healed with a rapidity that surprised Edgar, and in a fortnight the boy was able to walk again. The girl too had gained strength rapidly, and Edgar was regarded in the encampment as a Hakim of extraordinary skill; and even the children who had at first shouted Kaffir after him, and thrown stones at him whenever they could do so unobserved, now regarded him with something like awe, while the friends of the boy and girl showed him many little kindnesses, often giving him a bowl of camels' milk, a handful of dates, or a freshly-baked cake of meal. With one of the negro slaves he got on very well. He could not be persuaded to continue to work with the energy which he had displayed the first afternoon, but he seconded Edgar's efforts fairly, and his merry talk and laughter, although he could understand but a small portion of what he said, cheered Edgar at his toil.

The other negro remained sullen and hostile. For some days after his encounter with Edgar his face was so swollen up that he was scarcely able to see. He would have been compelled to work as usual, for humanity is not a characteristic of the Arabs; but Edgar told the sheik's wife that if the man was forced to work at present he would be very ill, and that he must for a time remain quiet and apply bandages soaked in hot water to his face. Under this treatment the swelling gradually abated, but the nose did not resume its normal shape, the bridge having been broken by Edgar's blow. Any presents that the latter received in the way of milk or other articles of food he shared with the negroes, the allowance of food served out being very scanty and of the coarsest description.

"Kaffirs are dogs," the sheik said to his wife as he one day saw Edgar dividing some milk and dates with the others; "but there is good in them. That Muley," for so they had named Edgar, "divides all that is given him with the others, even giving Hamish a share. I could understand his giving it to the other, so that he might do some of his work for him, but not to Hamish, who I can see has not forgiven him that blow."

"I don't think the other does his work for him," Amina said. "He works for me of a morning and then goes into the fields; and when I watch them to see that they are doing their work it seems to me that he does more than any of them."

"He does," the sheik agreed; "he is a willing slave. I am glad I did not give him up to the Mahdi. Kaffir as he is, I think he brings good luck to the village. If he would change his religion and follow the Prophet I would adopt him as my son, seeing that you have only girls."

Edgar made very rapid progress with the language. It was well for him that he had picked up a few words and sentences at Suakim and Cairo, for this enabled him to make far more rapid progress than he would have done had he been ignorant of the language. He attempted to keep up a constant conversation with the negro, and although the latter often went into screams of laughter at his mistakes he was ready to help him, correcting his errors and repeating sentences over and over again until he was able to pronounce them with a proper accent. In two months he was able to converse with tolerable fluency, and the sheik was meditating broaching the subject of his conversion to him when an event occurred that for a time gave him other matters to think of.

One morning when the encampment woke Hamish was found to be missing, and it was ere long discovered that the best camel in the encampment had been stolen, and that two water-skins had been taken from the sheik's tent, and a perfect hubbub arose in the village when this became known. The sheik seizing a stick fell upon the other negro and showered blows upon him, exclaiming that he must have known of and aided his companion in his flight, although he declared he had not the least idea of his intentions. As soon as his first burst of rage was over the sheik ordered four of the best camels to be saddled and water-bottles to be filled.

"The fellow must be mad," he said as he walked up and down before his tent; "he must know that he cannot escape; he would be known as a slave by the first people he comes upon, and it would only be a change of masters, and he would be long before he finds one so gentle as I have been with him."

"I do not think he has gone away to make a change in masters," Amina said. "It is worse than that, I fear."

"What is it, Amina? What do you mean?"

"I fear that he has made for Khartoum to report that you have a white slave here. He hates Muley, and I think that it is to obtain vengeance on him that he has fled."

"You are right, Amina; that is what the son of Sheitan intends to do. Quick! bring up those camels," he roared.

Three of the men were ordered to accompany him. Then he gave orders that the rest of the camels should be loaded at once with his goods, the valuables of the village, and a portion of the crops, and that they should start without delay to the oasis of Wady El Bahr Nile, or the valley of the Dry River, two days' journey to the west, driving with them the herd of goats.

"If I do not catch him we must break up the donar," he said, "and all who do not wish to be found here by the Mahdi's men had best be in readiness to start when we return. Let half a dozen men and women go to the wady to look after the goats and guard the property. The camels must be brought back as soon as they get there."

Ten minutes later he and his three companions had disappeared from sight over the brow of the nearest sand-hill, while all in the encampment were busy in preparing for their departure. A camel was allotted to each of the ten tents of which the camp consisted; three camels were claimed by Amina for the sheik's possessions; the remaining six were to carry the food. All who were not engaged were at once set to work gathering the maize that was fit to pluck and cutting and tying up into bundles the forage for the camels.

In three hours a great change had been effected in the appearance of the little valley. The sheik's tent and three others remained standing, but the rest were levelled to the ground, their occupants preferring to start at once rather than risk being caught by the Mahdists. It was mid-day when the party started. Edgar could hardly help smiling at the appearance the camels presented, each animal being almost hidden by the pile of baggage, bundles, cooking-pots, and articles of all kinds, at the top of which were perched a woman and two or three children. The men walked, as did many of the younger women and boys and girls.

It would be a fatiguing journey, for they would travel without a halt until morning, then rest until the sun was low again, and again journey all night, when they would reach the wells soon after daybreak. As it was but a two days' journey the camels carried far heavier loads than would have been placed upon them had it been one of longer duration. Amina took the lead in the whole matter. She gave orders to the men, scolded the women, and saw that everything was done in order.

"Do you think that the sheik has any chance of catching Hamish?" Edgar asked her as they stood together watching the retreating line of camels.

She shook her head.

"Very little," she said, "unless the camel breaks down, which is not likely, or he misses the track. When he once gains the cultivated land he will turn the camel adrift and will make his way on foot to Khartoum. He will avoid all villages where he might be stopped and go straight to the city, where he will tell his story to the first officer of the Mahdi he meets. If the sheik does not overtake him before he gets beyond the limit of the desert he will pursue no further. It would be useless. He would never find him in the fields, where he might lie down among the crops. It would only be waste of time to search for him."

"Does Hamish know of the other wady?"

She nodded. "It may be that the Mahdists will not follow further. It will depend upon the orders they have received. Of course we shall leave someone here to watch, and if they start for the wady he will bring us news before they get there."

"Are there any other wells?"

"None nearer than six days' journey to the south. Then there is a great cultivated country with many villages and towns, but the journey would be terrible. I do not know what we shall do. But do not be afraid, Muley; whatever we do you will not be given up until the last thing. When my lord once sets his face one way he never turns it. He has said the Mahdi shall not have you, for you are his captive and none other's, and he will never go back from that."

"You have been very good to me," Edgar said, "and I would rather run my own risk than that suffering and perhaps death should fall upon the women and children of the douar."

"My lord will never hear of it," she said. "When he has said a thing he has said it. There is nothing to do now but to wait until we learn what force is coming against us. There is another encampment of the tribe in a wady two days' journey to the north, and we may summon help from there if the party is not too strong. The great thing will be to kill Hamish, for the Wady El Bahr Nile is known only to a few of our own tribe, and were he not with them they would not be able to find their way there. Even this wady is known to few, for it lies altogether beyond the track of caravans. But now there is nothing to do but to wait until my lord returns. It will be, I think, on the fourteenth day. You were eight days coming across the desert. They will do it in six but will be eight on their return, for there will be no occasion for haste. Hamish will take two more days to get to Khartoum; it may be a day or two before a party is sent out from there, and they will take ten days getting here, so that it should be some days at least after my lord's return before they appear."

"I am sorry, indeed, to have been the cause of so much trouble falling upon you," Edgar said.

"It is not your fault. It was the will of Allah that you should be brought here. But anyhow we should not have stopped here much longer. We have been here six months now, and my lord was saying but a few days since that as soon as the rest of the crops were gathered he should send those who are not fit to travel to El Bahr Nile, and should leave you there and should start with the camels to Khartoum, sell our crops there, and then carry merchandise to El-Obeid or some other distant place. He has been waiting for things to settle down; we have only been stopping here so long because trade has been stopped by the siege of Khartoum, and since then he has not ventured to go there lest his camels should be seized by the Mahdi; but, as he said, he must risk something. Of what use is it to have camels if you do not employ them. They are getting fat and lazy; never have they had so long a rest before. It matters nothing our having to leave this wady. The worst is that the Mahdi will be set against us, and that we shall have to move away far from here to get trade."

"It is possible that at the present time Khartoum is in the hands of the English," Edgar said. "We have heard no news from without since I came here three months ago now, and by this time our expedition may have arrived there and the Mahdi's power may be altogether broken."

"I hope it may be so," the woman said; "before the Mahdi came the country was peaceful and prosperous; there was employment and trade for our camels, and all went about their occupations unmolested. Now everything is changed; trade is at an end, the villages are destroyed, and the fields deserted. I know not how it will end. If the tribes would all turn together against them they would soon drive them out of the land. But there is no hope of this; we have our own quarrels, and cannot unite even when everything is at stake. The Mahdi may be the Mahdi, but what is that to us? He tells his followers that he will lead them to conquer Egypt, and to go to Jerusalem and Roum (Constantinople). But how is he to do it when a handful of white soldiers defeated thousands of his men in the desert? What would it be were he to meet a great army of them? It is one thing to fight the Egyptians as they did at El-Obeid, but another when it is your soldiers. I hear that multitudes of Osman Digma's men were slain down by the sea, and yet they say they fought well."

"They did fight well," Edgar said. "I was there and saw it; no men could have been braver; but we have terrible weapons, and it was impossible for them to stand against them. The Mahdi may say what he likes, but there is no more chance of his taking Egypt as long as we stay there than there is of his flying."

"Well, well!" the woman said, "it will be as Allah chooses. You do not believe in Allah, Muley, you are a Kaffir."

"I beg your pardon," Edgar said; "we and you worship the same God. We call him God, and you call him Allah; but it is the same. Your Prophet acknowledges Moses and Christ to be prophets. The only difference between us is that you believe that Mohammed was also a prophet, and the greatest of all, while we do not acknowledge that, but in other respects there is no great difference between us."

"My lord will talk to you, Muley; I am but a woman, and these things are not for us."

Each morning one of the boys remaining at the douar was sent up to the crest of the sand-hills, and there remained all day on watch. At the end of the thirteenth day the sheik's wife gave orders that everything should be in readiness for instant departure. The camels had returned on the previous day from El Bahr Nile, having made two journeys there and back, and were now ready for a fresh departure. There was a further cutting of the crops until as much was gathered as would, with the remaining tents and goods, make up a full load for the camels, for as the party had not arrived it was almost certain that they had not succeeded in overtaking the fugitive. On the evening of the thirteenth day a shout from the boy on the hill proclaimed that he saw figures coming.

"How many of them?" one of the men shouted to him.

"There are five camels, but only four of them are ridden."

There was a shout of satisfaction. This looked as if the party had overtaken the fugitive, in which case they would have brought the camel back and left the body of Hamish in the desert.

A shout of welcome greeted the chief as he rode up. "You have overtaken him, El Bakhat, I see; Bishmillah, God be praised, we are safe from the trouble the treacherous dog would have brought upon us!"

The sheik shook his head. "The son of Sheitan has escaped. We caught sight of him just at the edge of the desert, having ridden with scarce an hour's rest from the time we started. As soon as we did so Aboo and myself dismounted and started in pursuit; but he must have seen us as soon as we caught sight of him, for when we came up to his camel it was alone. We followed him to the edge of the cultivated lands, but the grass was long and the crops stood in some places as high as our heads, and it would have been useless searching for him, so we brought the camels on, gave them water and a night's halt to fill themselves in the fields, and then started back. Has all been well?"

"All has been well," his wife replied. "The camels made three journeys, have rested, and are ready to start afresh. We have cut down as much as they can carry, and have indeed left but little remaining."

"We will start the day after to-morrow," the sheik said. "Our camels need a rest, and time does not press. Before we leave the wady we will set fire to the dry stalks and grass. There is little that will not burn. We must destroy all that we can, so that when they arrive here in search of us they shall not be able to sit down here, but must turn and travel back with all speed, unless they decide to push on in pursuit of us to Wady El Bahr Nile."

Two days later the tents were struck and the camels loaded up; then when they had moved away, the dried grass and corn stalks were fired at the windward end of the valley and in a few minutes the flames swept along in a broad sheet, and in a quarter of an hour a coating of gray ashes covered the soil where lately the encampment with its surroundings of cultivation stood. Two of the men were left behind with fast camels. They were to leave the animals a mile from the camp on its northern side, so that they would neither be on the line by which the enemy would come or that leading to the wady. They had forage for their camels and food for themselves for a fortnight. One was to remain by the camels, the other to keep watch concealed among the sand-hills near the well.

If an enemy was seen approaching the watcher was to return at once to the camels, take his own animal, and ride to the wady with news as to their strength; the other was to remain on watch until they either retired or set out on the track of the fugitives, when he was to push forward with all speed with the news. A messenger was also sent off to the douar to the north saying that an expedition of the Mahdi's men was on its way out to plunder and destroy the encampments of the tribe, and begging them to send to El Bahr Nile all their fighting men in order that the dervishes should have such a lesson that they would be well content to leave the tribes alone in future.

As before, the women and children were perched on the summit of their household goods on the top of the camels. Contrary to their usual custom most of the men walked, as the camels were loaded to the full extent of their powers.

Edgar had manufactured for himself, soon after his arrival at the camp, a pair of sandals from the skin of a goat that had been killed for food, and he was therefore able to keep up with the camels with comfort. As it was considered that there was no occasion for hurry, and as the camels were very heavily laden, three days instead of two were devoted to the journey, and even then it was a very fatiguing one for those on foot. On arriving at El Bahr Nile Edgar found that the oasis was much smaller than that they had quitted. The soil was rocky, and although there were two large pools of clear water there was but little ground round them in any way suitable for cultivation. Acacias and other shrubs, however, grew thickly down the valley, showing that there was a certain amount of moisture below the surface. The tents were soon erected by the side of those of the first party, and when the fires were lighted and the camels unloaded, taken to the water and then turned loose to browse among the trees, the place assumed a home-like appearance.

"You can shoot, Muley," the sheik said to Edgar. "If I give you a gun will you fight against these dervishes?"

"Certainly I will, sheik."

"Your guns carry a long way; they are wonderful weapons. At Metemmeh men were killed two miles away."

"Yes, they are good weapons, sheik, and I wish I had one of them here, for I am afraid I should not be able to do much with your guns."

The sheik turned to his wife: "Fetch out that Kaffir gun, Amina." And to Edgar's surprise she brought out from the tent a Martini rifle and a pouch filled with cartridges. This gun had been found strapped on to one of the camels that had been captured, and the sheik had appropriated it for his own use, concealing it in one of the bales, so that Edgar had not noticed it when the camels were unloaded.

"I do not understand it," the sheik said; "it is much stranger to me than our guns would be to you. I tried to put these brass things with the bullet sticking out into it, but they would not go into the barrel. You shall show me how to use it, but if the dervishes come I will hand it to you, for you understand it and will do much better with it than I should; but show me how it works."

The sheik's astonishment was great when Edgar pushed the lever, opened the breech, inserted a cartridge, and closing the breech said that it was now loaded and could be fired at once.

"Fire at that rock," he said, "and then load again as quickly as you can."

Edgar did so, and in a few seconds was again ready to fire.

"Inshallah!" the sheik exclaimed, "but it is wonderful. No wonder that they tell me that the roar of the guns was like never-ceasing thunder, and that the sound of one shot could not be heard from another. Can you take out the cartridge without firing?"

Edgar showed him how this was done, and the sheik then repeatedly loaded and unloaded the gun until he could manipulate it quickly. "And what is this thing?" he asked, touching the back sight.

Edgar explained to him that the sight was raised or lowered according to the distance of the object to be aimed at.

"The Franks are wonderful men," the sheik said gravely; "if they had but the true faith, and Allah was with them, no one could stand against them. When the ammunition is used up can you make more?"

Edgar shook his head.

"If I had caps to fit in here and a mould for the bullets I could refill these cases two or three times, but after that they would be useless. Powerful machinery is used for making these cases. It might be possible to have them made by hand by a skilled worker in brass in Khartoum, but it would be very expensive, and I am afraid, sheik, when the ammunition is gone the gun would be useless unless you can procure some more cartridges from traders in Egypt; unless, indeed, my countrymen have retaken Khartoum, in which case I could obtain for you any quantity of cartridges."

"Your countrymen have retired to Korti," the sheik said.

Edgar gave a cry of disappointment. He had feared that when the news of Gordon's death was known the expedition might be abandoned; but he had still retained some hope that it might advance to Khartoum. The news that they had already fallen back to Korti came as a shock.

"How did you learn the news, sheik?" he asked presently. "You did not say that you had spoken to anyone."

"Yes, we went a little way into the fields in hopes of catching sight of Hamish, and came upon two peasants who were gathering the crop. They had seen nothing of the negro. Upon questioning them as to what was going on at Khartoum they said that the Mahdi was still all-powerful; that the Kaffirs had fallen back from Metemmeh and were scattered along the river between Korti and Dongola; and that the Mahdi had announced that his forces would ere long advance, conquer Egypt, and destroy the Kaffirs."

"Do you mean to wait for the attack of the Mahdi's men here or to go to meet them?" Edgar asked after a long pause.

"If they come here too numerous to fight we must fly; but if they are not too strong we will give them battle here. Why should we go to meet them?"

"It is for you to decide," Edgar said. "I know nothing of your Arab ways of fighting. But it seemed to me that it might be better, if they are not altogether too strong, to meet them as near the other wells as we can."

"But why so, Muley? They would have water close to them and we should have none. If one was wounded he would have to be carried a long distance. Why do you advise that we should fight them there?"

"You told me, sheik, that the existence of this well was only known to you and your people and a small section of the tribe."

"That is so, Muley. It is a secret that has been well guarded. The wady has served as a retreat many times in our history."

"If they come on and any of them go back again the secret will be a secret no longer," Edgar said. "It is for this reason that I thought that we had better go out and meet them. There is but one man with them who knows the way hither, and against him our balls should be all directed. If we kill him they would be without a guide and would be unable to find the way, for they would never venture into this desert knowing that if they failed to find our well they might all perish for want of water."

"You speak well," the sheik said. "I had not thought of this; but I see that your plan is a good one. As soon as I learn that they have arrived at the wells we will set out to meet them unless their force is altogether too strong for us."

On the seventh day after their arrival at the wady the messenger who had been despatched for aid returned. His news was that the greater part of the men were away; they were expected in a few days, but it might be a week or more before they came back. The sheik was unwilling to send off the few men at the douar, but promised that as soon as his main force returned he would set out with the whole strength of his fighting men to their assistance.

Upon the following morning one of the men left to watch the wells also returned. He had come through without stopping, and reported that late in the evening before he left he and his companions had seen a line of camels with some horsemen coming towards the wells. He had waited until morning in order to discover their force; he put it down as forty men.

"That is very bad news," the sheik said. "We can only muster eighteen fighting men, and some of these are old and others mere lads. They are two to one against us, and if we were beaten and forced to fly their horsemen would overtake us and destroy us. Think it over, Muley; you are full of expedients."

"How many men do you expect to get from the other douar?"

"Their encampment is the same size as ours; they are sure to leave some of the old men to guard it, perhaps fifteen will come. That will make our force nearly equal to theirs, and we might defend this wady, though I doubt it, but I am sure that they would beat us easily in the desert. They are almost all armed with the rifles that they took at El-Obeid from Hicks Pasha's men, and will have found an abundance of arms at Khartoum; besides, these dervishes fight desperately. The faith they have in the Mahdi gives them strength and courage; they do not care whether they die or live, and doubtless picked men have been sent on the expedition. I fear there is nought before us but flight, unless you with your knowledge of the Frank method of war can hit upon some plan."

"I will think it over, sheik, but at present I see no way in which we can withstand them. We might, of course, cut down trees and make so strong a fort here that we might beat them off; but in that case they might return in much greater numbers, therefore it seems to me that if we fight we must fight at the other wady."

"Then we cannot fight at all," the sheik said decisively. "There are two to one against us, and it would be madness to attack them when they could with their horsemen cut off all retreat."

"I will think, sheik," Edgar said, rising and walking away.

In half an hour he returned. "I have thought of a plan, sheik, but it is not without great danger."

"I care not for danger," the sheik said, "so that it be but possible."

"My idea is this: that we should load up all your camels with closely-pressed bundles of forage; then that we should advance a day's march across the desert; and there that we should form a zareba. With the forage we should, of course, take water-skins with us, with sufficient to last for at least a week. I should send the camels back again as soon as they are unloaded, and should order those who remained behind to load all their goods upon them and to set out either for the other douar of your tribe or for the villages to the south. I should send a messenger to the other douar to say that we are going to defend the zareba to the last and praying them to come at once to our rescue, promising the moment they appear to sally out and fall upon the dervishes while they attack them in rear. Your messenger should point out that before they arrive a number of the enemy will certainly have fallen in their attack upon us, and we shall, therefore, be decidedly superior to them in point of numbers."

"The plan is a bold one," the sheik said; "but do you think that it would be possible for us to defend the zareba?"

"I think so, sheik. It need be but a small one some twelve feet square inside. They will have to cross the open to attack us, and outside we can protect it by a facing of prickly shrubs."

"We will do it!" the sheik said in a tone of determination, springing to his feet. "One can but die once, and if we succeed it will be a tale for the women of our tribe to tell for all time."

CHAPTER XVIII. THE ZAREBA.

No sooner had the sheik decided to carry out Edgar's plan than he rapidly issued his orders. In five minutes the whole of the inhabitants of the douar were at work, the boys going out to fetch the camels, the men cutting down the long grass near the well and laying it in great bundles very tightly pressed together, the women cooking a large supply of flat cakes for the party. In two hours the preparations were completed and the twenty men moved off from the oasis. They travelled until ten o'clock in the evening. By the light of the moon, which was four days short of full, the sheik and Edgar selected a point for the erection of the zareba. It was a patch of rock cropping up from the summit of a sand-hill that fell away from it on all sides, and was just about the size required for the zareba. The camels were unloaded and the bundles of forage laid down side by side and formed into a square, the wall being some four feet thick and two feet high. The whole party, including the boys who were to take back the camels, then set to work to cut thorny bushes. These were piled thickly at the foot of the rock all round, being kept in their places by stakes driven into the sand and by ropes interlacing them. The work was only completed just as daylight broke.

"I don't think," Edgar said, walking round the little fort, "that any men can get through this hedge of thorns until they have pulled it away piece by piece, and that, with us lying in shelter above and firing down upon them, will be a difficult task indeed."

The Arabs, who had obeyed the chief's orders with reluctance and had been very silent upon the journey out, were now jubilant, feeling convinced that they could beat off the attack of such a force as that which they heard was advancing. The camels were now sent off, and they had scarcely disappeared among the sand-hills when an Arab was seen approaching on a camel.

"It is our scout," the sheik said; "he brings us news."

He tied a cloth to the end of a spear and waved it. A minute later the camel's course was changed and the rider soon arrived outside the fort.

"What is your news, Yussuf?"

"They are going to start this morning," the man said. "I crept in as soon as it became dark last night and made my way close up to them, and I gathered that they have decided to march this morning on to Wady El Bahr Nile. They could not stay where they were any longer as they had only brought with them sufficient food for the camels for the march to the wady, where they made sure they should find an abundant supply, and having given them a day's rest they were going to push forwards at once to the next wady, where they made certain of finding the fugitives."

"Will they be here to-night?" Edgar asked the sheik.

"I should think not, Muley. The regular halting-place is five miles away, and as that is about half-way they will probably stop there and start perhaps an hour before daybreak."

The scout was sent off to the wady with the news, and the little garrison spent the day in strengthening their fort, making another hedge of bushes three or four yards beyond the other, and gathering a large number of the heaviest stones they could find. These were laid on the grass rampart, which was thus raised in height nearly a foot, openings being left in the stones through which the defenders could thrust their guns and fire without exposing their heads to the shots of the assailants. This still further added to the confidence of the Arabs, and when all was completed they indulged in defiant gestures and wild yells signifying contempt, in the direction from which the enemy would probably advance.

At nightfall two of the men were posted as sentries, as it was possible the Mahdists might push straight forward. There was, however, no alarm during the night; but just as day broke the sentries reported that there were horsemen to be seen in the distance. As there was no object in concealment all leapt to their feet. Nine horsemen were seen on the brow of a sand-hill some two miles away. They were presently lost sight of as they descended into a dip, and a minute or two later the line of camels was seen following in their steps. The spear with the cloth was elevated as a flag; and when the horsemen appeared on the next sand-hill, it was evident by the suddenness with which they pulled up their horses that they saw it.

Half a minute later they started again, this time at a canter. When they came within half a mile the sheik asked, "Why do you not fire, Muley; your gun will carry that distance easily?"

"Double that distance if necessary, sheik. It is better not to let them know that we have such a gun here until they get close. It will be better for you to fire."

The sheik levelled his long gun and fired, and the horsemen at once drew up, and after a little consultation two or three of them rode off on each flank so as to make a circuit of this unlooked-for obstacle, while one of the others rode back at full speed to meet the camel train. As soon as it arrived the riders, of whom there were two on each animal, dismounted. The camels were led back to a hollow where they would be safe from any stray bullet, and after a short pause one of the horsemen again advanced and at a rapid pace made a circle round the fort at a distance of two or three hundred yards only. A scattered fire was opened by the defenders, but the speed at which he was riding disconcerted their aim, and having completed the circuit he rode off with a yell of defiance to rejoin the party.

For half an hour no move was made. It was evident that the strength of the position had disconcerted the dervishes, who had expected to gain an almost bloodless victory. As, however, Hamish assured them that at the very utmost the sheik could put but twenty men in the field, including several boys and old men, it was finally decided to attack, and headed by the horsemen the dervishes started forward at a run, uttering shrill yells as they did so. Edgar had persuaded the chief that it would be useless to open fire until they were within two or three hundred yards, as but few shots would tell, and the men would be discouraged by finding that their fire did not check the advance. The sheik therefore commanded his followers on no account to fire until he gave the order. The dervishes, however, were not sparing of their ammunition, and fired as they ran, the balls going for the most part wide, although a few whistled over the heads of the defenders and two or three struck the rampart.

"Now I think they are near enough, sheik," Edgar, who had levelled his rifle at one of the horsemen, said. As he spoke he pulled the trigger, and simultaneously with the sharp crack of the piece the Arab threw up his arms and fell from his horse. The sheik and five of his men fired almost at the same moment. Kneeling as closely as they could, there was room for but seven along the face of the fort fronting the enemy, and at Edgar's suggestion the chief had divided the men into three parties, each of which after firing was to fall to the rear and reload, their places being taken by the others in succession. Thus there would always be a reserve and the fire could be kept up without interruption. Volley after volley was fired, Edgar loading quickly enough to repeat his fire with each squad.

So rapidly did the Arabs pass over the intervening ground that they reached the outside hedge of thorns just as the party who had first fired had again taken their places in front. Five of the dervishes had fallen and several were wounded, but this had not checked their speed for a moment, and under the orders of their leaders they at once fell to work with their swords and knives to destroy the hedge. The work was done far more rapidly than Edgar had thought possible, and they then fell upon the more formidable obstacle piled up against the rocks, attacking it on three sides simultaneously. The defenders now fired independently, each as fast as he could load, Edgar shouting continuously "Steady! steady! take a good aim each time," and the sheik re-echoing his words.

The Arabs, however, were too excited to obey, and the greater part of their shots were thrown away. Several of the dervishes had fallen, but the process of clearing away the hedge proceeded with alarming rapidity. The work was, however, speedily abandoned at the face where Edgar was stationed, for at each crack of his rifle a dervish fell. Leaving three of the men to defend that face the rest joined the defenders at the sides, the sheik taking the command on one side, Edgar on the other. The fire now became more steady, the sheik enforcing his orders by vigorous blows with the staff of his spear, while Edgar's rifle on his side more than made up for his want of influence with the men.

In their fury several of the dervishes sprang boldly into the midst of the thorns and strove to climb up, but they were met by the spears of the defenders, and not one gained an entrance. It was less than ten minutes after the first shot had been fired when the leader of the dervishes, seeing how fast his men were falling and that they would soon be no stronger than the defenders of the fort, called them off from the attack. As they turned and ran the defenders leapt to their feet with yells of triumph; but the dervishes, turning round, fired several shots. The sheik received a ball in his shoulder and two of his companions fell dead. The others at once took to their shelter again, and kept up their fire until long after the last of the dervishes was out of range. The moment the retreat began Edgar looked out for his man, of whom he had not hitherto caught a glimpse in the heat of the conflict. He soon caught sight of him, and taking a steady and careful aim with his rifle on a stone, fired, and Hamish fell headlong forward, the ball having struck him fair between the shoulders.

A yell of triumph rose from the Arabs. The traitor who had brought the Mahdists down upon them was punished; the one man who could guide the foe to the wady was killed. As soon as the enemy got out of reach of shot they gathered in consultation. The defenders could see that the discussion was excited and violent; they waved their arms, stamped, and seemed on the point of coming to blows with each other. While they were so engaged the garrison looked out at the field of battle round the fort. No less than fifteen of the assailants had been killed, while of the defenders but two, the one an old man and the other a boy, had fallen. The sheik begged Edgar to bandage his shoulder; he seemed to feel the pain but little, so delighted was he with the issue of the contest. Edgar soaked a pad of the cotton cloth and laid it on the wound, and then with long strips of the same material bandaged the arm tightly to the side, and with other strips fastened as well as he could the pad in its place.

"They are scattering over the sand-hills," one of the Arabs said just as he had finished, and in a short time a dropping fire was opened at the fort.

The Arabs would have replied, but the sheik said that it was a waste of powder, for their guns would not carry as far as the rifles in the hands of the dervishes, and it was better that they should lie quiet behind their shelter and allow the enemy to throw away their fire.

"What will they do next, do you think, sheik?"

"I do not think they will make another attack, Muley; at any rate not in the daytime. They must know they are not greatly superior to us in force, being now but twenty-five to our eighteen, and no doubt many of them are wounded. They may try to besiege us. They will know that we have a supply of water—we should never have shut ourselves up here without it—but that will fail in time."

"But their own supply will fail," Edgar said. "Probably they have only brought enough with them for what they supposed would be a two days' march to the wady."

"I should think, Muley, they will send all their camels back to the wells, perhaps with one of their wounded men and another. The wounded man will remain there in charge of them, the other will bring two or three of them out with full water-skins; he can make the journey there and back every two days and can bring enough water for the men and horses. I don't think they will send the horses away. They will do with a small portion of water, and if greatly needed they could start from here at sunset, keeping among the sand-hills until out of sight, reach the wells, drink their fill, and be back in the morning. If they attack at night it will be between the setting of the moon and daybreak."

"I should hardly think they would do that," Edgar said. "We shall soon restore the thorn hedge, and they would scarcely be mad enough to attack us when they know that we have that protection and are almost as strong as they are. If it were not that we do not want them to know the way to the wady I should say that we could venture to sally out and march back, but that would cost us a good many lives, for the horsemen could ride on ahead, dismount, open fire on us from the sand-hills, and be off again on their horses when we went up to attack them. No, I think we cannot do better than follow our original plan. Our water will hold out for a week, and by putting ourselves on short allowance at the end of a day or two if we find that they are determined to wait, we can make it last for nearly a fortnight, and long before that your tribesmen ought to be here, and in that case only the mounted men will escape us. Three of their horses lie dead outside, so there are but five left."

"Ah! if we could but cut them all off," the sheik said in a tone of fury, "then we might be safe for a long time. If any of them get back to tell the tale the Mahdi will send a force next time that there will be no resisting."

Edgar sat thinking for a minute or two.

"I have an idea, sheik," he said at last. "Send off one of your boys as soon as the moon sets, let him go to El Bahr Nile. When your friends arrive he will tell them of the repulse we have given the dervishes, and that there are now but twenty-five of them, several of whom are doubtless wounded. Tell them that if but ten men come to aid us we can defeat them; let the other ten, that is if twenty arrive, start first, and turning off the track make a detour and come down at night upon the wady. There they will find but one man with the camels; but they must not show themselves, but must hide close at hand. Then when the horsemen arrive they must make an ambush, and either shoot them down as they pass or let them go through to the wells. They are sure to wait there for a few hours, and they can fall upon them there. Let the men be ordered to fire only at the horses; they can deal with the men after they have dismounted. The great thing is to prevent the horsemen getting away."

"Mashallah, Muley, your plan is a grand one. Had you been bred in the desert you could not have better understood our warfare. What a pity it is that you are a Kaffir! You would have been a great sheik had you been a true believer."

"Gordon Pasha was a Kaffir," Edgar replied, "but he was greater than any sheik."

"He was a great man indeed," the sheik said; "he was a very father to the people; there was no withstanding him. We fought against him, for our interest lay with the slave-dealing, but he scattered us like sheep. Yes, Gordon was a great man though, as you say, he was a Kaffir;" and the sheik sat in silence, meditating upon what seemed to him an inscrutable problem.

While the conversation had been going on, the bullets of the enemy continued to whistle round the zareba.

"I will try and put a stop to that," Edgar said; "we have a rifle here as much better than theirs, as theirs are superior to the guns of your tribesmen."

The nearest hill was some four or five hundred yards away, and on this several of the Arabs could be seen. Sure that they were nearly out of gun-shot, they took but little pains to conceal themselves. Edgar rested his rifle on a stone and took a steady aim at three of them who were sitting together. He fired. A yell of dismay came across the air; two of the figures leapt to their feet and ran back. A moment later four or five others who had been firing from among the bushes also dashed away, while a triumphant yell rose from the zareba.

"That is one enemy the less," Edgar said, "and I don't think the others will trouble us much in future. They must know that they can be doing us no harm, and now they discover they are not going to have it all their own way we shall not hear much more of them."

Shots were indeed fired occasionally from the bushes and eminences, but the discharges were far apart, and seemed to be intended rather to show the defenders of the zareba that they were surrounded than for any other purpose. The day passed without any further event. As soon as the sun had fairly set the defenders sallied out and repaired the hedge. The enemy probably guessed that they were so employed, and kept up a much heavier fire than they had done during the day. Edgar, lying in the zareba, replied, steadily firing at the flashes, and after a time the firing of the enemy slackened, and the defenders, when they had completed the hedge, re-entered the zareba through a very narrow gap that had been left for the purpose, carrying with them one of their number whose leg had been broken just above the ankle by one of the enemy's bullets. Under the sheik's instructions some rough splints were made to keep the bone in its proper position, and bandages were then applied.

Four sentries were posted, one at each corner of the fort, and the rest of the garrison lay down to sleep. Twice during the night they sprang to their feet at the discharge of the gun of one of the sentries, but as no movement of the enemy followed they soon lay down again, supposing that either the alarm had been a false one, and that the sentry had fired at some low bush, or that, if he had really seen a man, the latter had made off as soon as he had discovered that the garrison were awake and vigilant. As soon as the moon set the sheik despatched one of the young men to the wady. His instructions were to crawl carefully, taking advantage of every bush until he deemed himself well beyond any of the enemy who might be watching, and then to start at full speed. If he were fired at, he was, if the enemy were still in front of him, to run back to the zareba; if they were behind him, to press forward at full speed.

For an hour after he had left the garrison listened anxiously. They were all under arms now, lest the enemy should try and attack during the darkness. No sounds, however, broke the stillness of the plain, and they were at last assured that their messenger had got safely through. For four days the blockade continued, an occasional exchange of shots being kept up. The dervishes, however, since they had learnt the range of Edgar's rifle, seldom showed themselves, but crept among the rocks and bushes, fired a shot, and then crawled off again to repeat the operation fifty or a hundred yards away. When the hedge had been repaired on the night after the fight the defenders buried their own dead in the sand a short distance off, and had dragged the bodies of their fallen enemies fifty yards away, as, had the siege lasted many days, the fort would have otherwise become uninhabitable.

In the morning one of the Arabs had yelled to the besiegers that the bodies were lying fifty yards away in front of the fort, and that four of them were free to come and carry them away or bury them as they chose. The invitation passed unregarded, but during the next night the bodies were all removed. The sentries were ordered not to fire if they heard any noise in that direction, for, as Edgar pointed out to the sheik, it was important that the bodies should be carried away. The next day several of the Arabs went out and raised heaps of sand over the horses that still lay just outside the hedge.

The fourth night after his departure the messenger returned with the news that the tribesmen, eighteen in number, had arrived in the afternoon. They would carry out the sheik's orders. They were mounting fresh camels just as he started. Nine of them would hide among the sand-hills two or three miles away, and would there remain for twenty-four hours so as to give time for the others to get up to the wells. The sheik commanding the party had suggested that soon after daybreak the defenders of the fort should sally out and advance in the direction where the dervishes' camp was situated, as if intending to make an attack. This would bring in all the enemy who might be scattered among the sand-hills near the zareba. As soon as the engagement began he, with his men, would fall upon the rear of the dervishes.

"Do you think that that is a good plan, Muley?"

"I think so, sheik. You see, if we merely wanted to defeat them one would not wish them to rally into one body; but as our great object is to prevent any from returning, it is much better to do as the sheik suggests and let them get all together."

The day passed as usual, and the next morning shortly before sunrise the defenders of the fort issued out. The assailants were on the watch, and from four or five different points round the zareba shots were fired. Taking advantage of every bush the Arabs advanced slowly under the direction of their sheik. The dervishes, believing that the garrison must have been driven from their defences by thirst, and that they were now in their power, rapidly gathered their force and advanced to meet their opponents. At first they did so carelessly, but they were checked by the fall of one of their leaders by a ball from Edgar's rifle. They then advanced a little more cautiously. Edgar kept close to the sheik.

"They will make a rush soon," he said; "tell the men not to fire till they rise to their feet."

"Where are the others?" the sheik growled; "if they do not come we shall be outnumbered."

"Not by much, sheik; one or two of their men are certainly away with the camels, and we shall drop two or three more of them at least when they make their rush; the others are sure to be up directly. There, look! There they are on the top of the sand-hills the dervishes have been firing from."

The enemy had now approached to within a hundred yards, and were just preparing for a rush when a shout of welcome broke from the party in front of them and was at once echoed from the rear. The dervishes sprang to their feet in surprise and alarm, but one of their leaders exclaimed, "There are but a few of them! Slay these in front first, then we will destroy those in our rear!"

With a yell of defiance the dervishes dashed forward. The sheik's party poured in a volley as they did so, and then grasping their spears sprang to their feet, Edgar alone remaining prone, and firing four more shots as the dervishes traversed the intervening space. There was little disparity of numbers when the parties met. The sheik had, at Edgar's suggestion, ordered his men to form in a compact group with their spears pointing outward, as the great point was to withstand the rush until their friends came up. But the dervishes recklessly threw themselves upon the spears, and in a moment all were engaged in a hand-to-hand fight. Edgar, feeling that with a clubbed rifle he should have no chance against the spears and swords of the Arabs, kept between the sheik and two of his most trusted followers, and loading as quickly as he could throw out and drop in the cartridges, brought down four men who rushed one after another upon them.

It seemed an age to him, but it was scarce more than a minute after the combatants had closed that, with a shout, the ten new-comers arrived on the scene. Edgar dropped a fresh cartridge into his rifle and stood quiet; he had no wish to join in the slaughter. The dervishes fought desperately, and none asked for quarter, and in two or three minutes the combat was over and all had fallen, save three or four men who had extricated themselves from the fight and dashed off at the top of their speed, quickly pursued by the exultant victors. To Edgar's surprise they did not run in the direction of the sand-hill behind which he had thought their camp was made, but bore away to the south.

Pursuers and pursued were soon out of sight, and Edgar turned to see how his companions had fared. Three of them had been killed and six of the others had received spear-thrusts or sword-cuts more or less severe.

"It would have gone hard with us, sheik, if our friends had not come up."

"We should have beaten them," the sheik said. "That gun of yours would have turned the scale. Had it not been for that they would have been too strong for us, for they were all fighting men in their prime, and five or six of my men were no match for them in a hand-to-hand fight. Mashallah! it has been a great day; it will be talked of long in our tribe, how, with but twenty men, and many of these not at their best, we withstood forty dervishes, and so beat them that when a reinforcement of eight men came to us we destroyed them altogether."

"Four may have got away," Edgar said; "they must have left their horses in the direction in which they fled. I suppose they feared that some of us might crawl out and hamstring them did they picket them near their camp. When I first saw our friends on the hill my first thought was that we had done wrong not to bid them secure the horses before they attacked. Now I see that they could not have found them; and it was well you sent no such orders, for had you done so they might have lost time looking for them and have arrived late."

For half an hour those unwounded of the party were occupied in bandaging up the wounds of the others. At the end of that time the men who had pursued the fugitives had arrived.

"Have you caught them?" the sheik asked as they approached.

"We overtook two and killed them, but the others reached the horses. A man was waiting there in charge of them, and the three rode off leading the fourth horse; but never fear, our men will catch them at the next wells."

The bodies of the fallen dervishes had been examined, and it was found that among the fallen were all the leaders, these being distinguishable by their gay garments from the others, who simply wore the long white shirt that formed, with a coloured straw skull-cap, the uniform of the Mahdi's men. The two men who had escaped belonged to the rank and file. The joy of the Arabs was extreme. They loaded and fired off their muskets, yelled, danced, and gesticulated. They did not believe in the Mahdi, but his followers had come to be considered among them as invincible. It was therefore a triumph indeed for the tribe that this invading party had been annihilated.

The new-comers were surprised at finding a white man among the defenders of the fort; and the sheik was so proud of his possession that he did not hesitate to say that their successful defence was chiefly due to the advice of this slave, whom he described as being, although so young, a great captain. Preparations were now made for a start. The camels of the new-comers were brought up from the spot where they had left them on advancing to take part in the fight. The six wounded men each mounted a camel behind its rider. The sheik and three of his principal followers mounted behind the riders of the other four camels. The rest proceeded on foot, two men being left behind at the fort with instructions that when the eight men who had gone on to the other wady returned with their own camels and the seventeen camels of the dervishes, all were to be loaded up to the extent of their power with the bundles of forage that had done such good service as the basis of the fort, for the supply at the wady had been very nearly all cut down, and food would be required for the camels until a fresh supply sprang up.

The wady was reached at sunset, and a messenger was at once sent off to the spot where, in accordance with the sheik's orders, the women and children with the camels were halted until news should arrive of the result of the fight. It was six miles away, and it was midnight when the party arrived. Great fires had been lighted, and there was a scene of the liveliest rejoicing as the women and children arrived. There was no thought of sleep that night. The story of the battle was told over and over again, every incident being rehearsed with appropriate gesture, and even the friends of the six who had fallen restrained their grief for the time, partly from pride that they had died so honourably, partly because any show of grief would have been out of place amid the rejoicings for so great an exploit.

With the exception of the children Edgar was the only occupant of the douar who closed an eye that night. He had waited up until the return of the camels and women, had assisted to unload the animals with the sheik's tent and baggage, and to put things into something like order, and had then withdrawn himself from the groups of excited talkers by the fire, and thrown himself down among the bushes some distance away.

He had had but little sleep from the time the party had marched to meet the dervishes. It was upon his advice that they had gone, and he felt himself to some extent responsible for the result. During the time the siege had lasted scarce half an hour had passed without his rising to see that the sentries were vigilant, and to assure himself that the silence of the desert was unbroken. The night before he had not thought of sleep. He had no doubt that the Arabs who were coming to their assistance would do their best to arrive at the right moment; still, something might occur to detain them a little, and although the Arabs had behaved with great bravery hitherto, he felt sure that in a fight in the open they would be no match against the fanatical dervishes, who always fought with a full assurance of victory, and were absolutely indifferent as to their own lives. He had seen them three times at work, and held their courage in the deepest respect.

The next day there was a grand feast, several kids being slaughtered for the purpose. The following morning a caravan was seen approaching, and the whole encampment turned out to meet it, the men discharging their guns and shouting cries of triumph and welcome, to which the new-comers replied with many shouts. In front of the caravan two horses were led; then followed the camels of the dervishes, behind which came those of their captors.

The sheik pressed forward to the leader of the party.

"There were four horses and three men," he said; "have you them all?"

"Two of the horses and the men were killed," he replied. "The others, as you see, we captured."

"Allah be praised!" the sheik said fervently; "then not one of the dervishes has escaped, and the secret of our place of refuge here is preserved."

Some more kids were killed and another grand feast was held. The captured camels were divided between the two parties. The sheik took one of the horses and the leader of the other party the second, and on the following morning the rescuing party started on their return journey to the wady they had left a week before, greatly satisfied with their journey. They had lost three men in the fight with the dervishes, but were the richer by eight camels, a horse, and the arms and ammunition of ten of the dervishes, that being the number they had accounted for, while thirty had been killed by the defenders of the zareba.

Edgar had been fully occupied during those days assisting the negro slave who had remained with the party left behind in looking after the camels, drawing water, and fetching wood for the fire. The sheik had spoken little to him since his return, being busied with the duties of entertaining his guests; but it was evident that he had highly commended him to his wife, who bestowed upon him night and morning a bowl of camel's milk in addition to his ordinary rations. After the caravan had started the sheik called him into his tent.

"Muley," he said, "you have done us great service. I acted upon your advice and it has turned out well; and you have shown that you are a brave fighter as well as one strong in counsel. I have no son, and if you are willing to accept the true faith I will adopt you as my son, and you will be no longer a slave but one of the tribe."

Edgar was silent for a minute or two, thinking over how he had best couch his refusal in terms that would not anger the sheik. Then he said, "I am indeed grateful for your offer, sheik, which does me great honour, but were I to accept it I know that even in your eyes I should be viewed with contempt. Had our people captured Metemmeh when you were there, and carried you off a prisoner, I know well that you would have treated with scorn any offer my people might have made you of a post of honour and wealth among us if you would have abjured Mohammed and become a Christian. You would have died first."

"That would I indeed!" the sheik exclaimed hotly.

"Honourable men do not change their religion for profit, sheik. You were born a follower of the Prophet, I was born a Christian. We both believe what we were taught as children; it is in our blood and cannot be changed. Were I to say the words that would make me a Mohammedan, you know well that I should say them with my lips and not with my heart, that I should be a false Mohammedan as well as a false Christian. I could as easily change the colour of my skin as my religion, and you in your heart would be the first to condemn and despise me did I do so."

The sheik sat for some time stroking his chin in silence. "You are right, Muley," he said at last; "a man cannot change his religion as he can his coat. I did not think of it when I made the offer; but as you say, I would rather die a thousand deaths than abjure Mohammed; and though I now think you worthy to be my son, and to become a sheik after me, I might not think you worthy did you become a renegade."

"Believe me, sheik," Edgar said, rising, "I feel deeply the kindness of your offer, and so long as I remain with you I shall take as much interest in the tribe as if I were a member of it, and I shall do my best to prove myself your faithful slave. You saved my life by refusing to hand me over to the Mahdi. I shall never forget it, and shall be ready at all times to risk it for you, for my kind mistress, and for the tribe."

"You have spoken well, Muley, and although I am sorry, I cannot feel angered at your decision."

Edgar saw that the interview was over, and left the tent, well content that he had been able to refuse the offer without exciting the anger of the sheik. For another two months the tribe remained in the wady. By that time forage was running short, and the sheik announced his intention of leaving it for a time and of going to El-Obeid, where he might obtain employment for his camels by some trader. Edgar was pleased at the news. His chances of escape from their present position in the desert were small indeed, but opportunities might present themselves during a trading journey.

He knew that some time must yet elapse before he could speak the language sufficiently well to hope to pass as a native, although he could make himself understood fairly and comprehend the purport of all that was said to him; still he would gain an acquaintance with the country and learn more of its peoples. He saw that he could not hope to pass as one of the Arab tribesmen, but that if his escape was to be made at all it must be in the disguise of a trader in one of the towns. Four days later the tents were levelled, the belongings of the tribes packed on the camels, and the caravan left the wady on its march across the desert.

CHAPTER XIX. A LONG SEARCH.

It was with mixed feelings that Rupert turned on his camel to take a last view of the camp at Korti. When should he see his countrymen again? Should he ever see them? His journey was sure to be a long one, and there would be the constant danger of discovery. He had to trust entirely in the fidelity of the three men riding ahead of him. It was true that their love of gain was also enlisted on his side, but it might well be that they would in time conclude it would be as well to be contented with the goods they had already received in part payment and with the two valuable camels, instead of continuing to run the risk of a prolonged journey in his company in order to earn the sum promised upon his arrival in Egypt or at a port on the Red Sea. However the die was cast, and he had no wish to withdraw from the task he had undertaken; and, with a wave of his hand towards the distant camp, he turned and set his face forwards to the desert.

The sheik was seated upon one of the heiries, two laden camels followed, each tied with his head-rope to the tail of the one in front. Then followed one of the tribesmen on the other heirie with two laden camels; three more were led by the other Arab. Rupert himself and Ibrahim brought up the rear of the procession, each with three loaded camels following that upon which he was riding. He wore a cotton cloth which passed over one shoulder and was wrapped round the waist, while a second formed a sort of petticoat. The sheik would have preferred that he should have dispensed with the cloth over his shoulder, but Rupert pointed out that this was really essential to him, as he could while travelling wrap it round both shoulders and so protect his skin from the rays of the sun, which, were he naked from the waist, would in a very short time raise blisters over the whole of his body. His wig, with its wild tangle of long hair, acted as a capital protection to his head.

On the saddle was fastened a long Arab gun, a sword and knife were stuck into his girdle, and he carried a long spear in his hand. One of the baggage camels was laden with stores for his personal use on the journey, consisting of a number of jars of Liebig, cocoa, and milk, some tins of tea, a box or two of biscuits, some tins of preserved vegetables, a case or two of arrow-root, and a store of medicine, chiefly saline draughts, quinine, and ipecacuanha. The eatables he calculated would afford him a morning meal for many months—for the main articles of his diet, he depended of course upon such food as the Arabs would obtain—by the end of which time he hoped to have fallen completely into native habits, and to be able to content himself with such food as his guides might subsist upon.

At nightfall they halted at some wells. These were farther to the east than those which the desert column had used in its march to Metemmeh. Rupert had observed that a short time after they had got fairly into the desert the sheik had altered the line on which he was proceeding. He had had but little talk with him since the bargain had been concluded, as the Arab had considered it better that they should not be seen together, as some of the other natives in camp might notice it, and should they meet afterwards the circumstance might lead to his detection.

To Rupert the course taken was absolutely indifferent. He knew that the journey must be a very long one, and as he had only to trust to chance and the sagacity of his companions, there had been no discussion whatever as to the route to be taken. After a time Ibrahim, weary of the silence, urged his camel on until he came up level with that of Rupert.

"Well, Ibrahim, we are fairly on our way."

"Yes, my lord, we have cut our stick and no mistake."

Rupert smiled. Ibrahim had picked up his knowledge of English at Alexandria, and his conversation abounded with slang phrases which he used in perfect seriousness.

"There is no objection to your calling me my lord when we speak in English, Ibrahim, but when we are talking in Arabic be sure you always call me Hamza; that is what I am now. What do you think of this journey, Ibrahim?"

Ibrahim shrugged his shoulders. "It is all the same to me; better here than in boat. Soldier man good to fight, but very rough in tongue; call Ibrahim all sorts of names, sometimes Darkie, sometimes Mate, sometimes call him Nigger, that very bad, sah. One man call him Cockalorham. What is Cockalorham, sah?"

Rupert laughed. "Cockalorum means nothing in particular, Ibrahim; it is rather a friendly sort of address: it means good sort of fellow. That wasn't so bad."

"No. That not so bad. Then one soldier call him Jocko; that name for a monkey, sah; these things very unpleasant."

"But they don't mean anything, Ibrahim. They call each other all sorts of names too."

"That so," Ibrahim said, nodding his head, "very funny names; often call each other blooming something or other. Ibrahim always carry a dictionary; he look out blooming; blooming same as blossoming, means plants out in flower. Ibrahim could not make head or tail of them. Lots of other words, bad words, Ibrahim could not understand."

"They do not mean anything, Ibrahim; it is just an ugly way of talking. They all mean the same, 'very much' or 'very great,' nothing more or less. Now we had better go on talking Arabic."

"No words like those in Arabic," Ibrahim said. "Arab man say what he wants to say, proper words."

"I don't know, Ibrahim. When I have seen Arabs quarrelling they shout and scream at each other, and though I don't know what they say I should think they were using pretty strong expressions whatever they may be."

"Yes, when angry call bad names, one understand that, my lord; but white soldier and sailor use bad words when not angry at all."

"It is habit, Ibrahim, and a very bad habit; but, as I tell you, it doesn't really mean anything. You see we have turned east," he went on in Arabic.

Ibrahim nodded. "Not go straight to Metemmeh," he said. "I expect the sheik is going round by Berber."

Such proved to be the case, for when they halted for the night the sheik explained to Rupert, by means of Ibrahim, that he intended to follow the course of the river for the present. He should keep on the edge of the desert until they had passed the point at which the boat expedition had arrived. There would be no chance of the prisoner having been brought down anywhere in the neighbourhood of the British, but as most of the tribes had sent contingents to fight the whites as they advanced against Metemmeh, the captive might be anywhere beyond the point reached by the expedition, and it would be better to search regularly on their way up, as they might otherwise leave him behind them.

Another advantage was that the regular caravan track left the Nile a hundred miles below Dongola, and struck across the desert to the elbow of the river below Berber, and that when he got upon that route it would be supposed that he had travelled all along by it, and he would thereby avoid the suspicion of having been trading with the British camp. Rupert quite agreed with the justice of this reasoning. The sheik selected a route that led them through a desolate country, and they reached the elbow of the Nile without encountering any natives, save two or three small parties at wells, from the time they left camp. This course was dictated not only by the reason that he had given Rupert, but by a fear for the safety of the caravan.

The tribes along the main routes of travel respected the traders that passed along them; free passage was essential to all the towns and peoples lying further in the interior, and any interference with the caravan routes would have been resented and punished; but the tribes lying within the great loop formed by the bend of the river were true Ishmaelites, whose hand was against every one, and who regarded all passing through their territory as lawful prey. The sheik therefore conducted the march by routes but little traversed even by the natives, avoiding all localities where they were likely to be met with, and he was greatly pleased when, after ten days' travel, they encamped on the banks of the river just above the elbow. The main caravan track lay upon the opposite side, but at this season of the year, when the Nile was very low, it was fordable at several points, and caravans often selected the western bank of the river for their passage. They were now again in a comparatively populous country; villages surrounded by belts of cultivated land occurred at short intervals, and at these they were received with a hearty welcome, for since the war had begun trade had come almost to a stand-still.

Two or three of the camels were loaded with merchandise specially fitted for the wants of the natives: cheap cottons, tinware, trinkets, iron heads of tools, knives, cheap silk handkerchiefs and scarves for the women. These had been bought from some enterprising traders who had set up a store at Korti. A few of the bales were unpacked at the first village at which they arrived; small presents were given as usual to the chief man of the place, and a brisk trade at once commenced. As the camels were fully loaded, Rupert wondered what the sheik would do with the goods he obtained in exchange, which consisted chiefly of native cottons and other articles considerably more bulky than those which he gave for them; but he found that he had entered into an arrangement with the head of the village by which the latter agreed to take charge of all the merchandise until his return.

"It will be perfectly safe," the sheik said, "if I do not return for a couple of years. If I never return it will be no great loss, since I have purchased the goods with the monies I have received from you. If I return this way my camels will be unloaded, and I shall pick up the goods at the various villages through which I pass and bring them all down here, and then sell them to some trader who has boats in which he will take them down the river."

Rupert was now called upon to play his part in earnest. He and Ibrahim were treated by the sheik when in the villages as two slaves, and while he and his companions exhibited their goods and drove bargains with the villagers, Rupert and Ibrahim unloaded the camels, drove them out to pasture, and took them down to the river to drink, taking their meals as they could apart from the rest. On these occasions the stores were untouched, and Rupert and his companion made their meals on dry dates and cakes of coarse flour baked in the ashes of their fire. Ibrahim was fortunately a light-hearted fellow and made the best of matters, joking at the idea of the Arabs feasting upon their stew of kid or mutton while they had to content themselves with coarse fare.

Rupert cared nothing about the food one way or the other. He was now really engaged in the search for Edgar. There was, moreover, the excitement caused by the risk of discovery. When in the villages he seldom opened his lips except to reply briefly to his companion's talk, for a chance word might be overheard. When he spoke it was in a guttural voice, as if he suffered from some affection of the tongue or malformation of the mouth which prevented him speaking clearly; and thus, had any villager overheard the conversation between him and Ibrahim, his defective Arabic would pass unnoticed. Each day after getting away from their halting-place he learned from the sheik what he had gathered in the village. The natives were all heartily sick of the present state of affairs. They had no market for their goods, and were deprived of the trade upon which they had hitherto relied. A few restless spirits had joined the Mahdi's people and had gone to the war; but the cultivators in general sighed for a return of the old state of things, and of the peaceful days they enjoyed while under the rule of Egypt.

Even the tribesmen of the interior were highly dissatisfied. None had gained anything from the war except those who had taken an actual part in the capture of Berber, Khartoum, or other cities. These had obtained a considerable amount of plunder. But beyond this all were worse off than before. There was no longer any profitable employment for their camels for trade purposes, and the promises of the Mahdi had been altogether falsified. Many of the tribes on the other side of the river had gone down to fight under Osman Digma at Suakim, but instead of the promises of victory being fulfilled they had suffered terribly, had lost vast numbers of men, and Suakim was as far off being taken as ever. Berber itself, the great market and centre of trade of that part of the country, was, all said, like a dead city. The shops were closed, the traders had been either killed or fled, the markets were empty; the Mahdi's soldiers treated the inhabitants as slaves. The sheik satisfied himself that there was no rumour current of there being any white prisoners in the hands of the tribesmen.

"There are white prisoners at Khartoum," the people said. "Gordon was killed, and great numbers with him; but others of the Egyptian officers and traders with their wives and families were made slaves and divided among the Mahdi's officers. But of the white soldiers who had come across the desert, they had heard of no prisoners being taken."

"Why should there be?" they asked. "They beat the Arabs in two battles, they carried off their wounded on their camels, and had any been left behind them they would have been killed at once. Why do you ask?"

The sheik had replied that the merchant far down the river from whom he had purchased his goods had told him that the whites were always ready to pay a good ransom to recover any of their colour who might have been taken captive, and had advised him if he should hear of any prisoners in the hands of the Arabs to ask what they would sell them for, so that on his next journey he might bring money or goods to redeem them.

The villagers had told him that this could not be, for that the Mahdi required all captives to be sent to him, and that all who refused to acknowledge him as the Prophet were at once put to death. He had always appeared perfectly satisfied with this explanation, and had turned the conversation to other topics.

"This does not show," he said to Rupert, "that there are no captives in the hands of the tribesmen in the interior. If they had them they would keep it secret, at any rate as long as the white troops are on the river. They can only be holding them for the sake of obtaining a ransom, but I do not think that there would be much chance that your brother is in these parts, for had he been his captors would before now have sent in a messenger to one of your camps saying that he was in their hands and asking what ransom would be given for him. It is far to the south that we must look for him; but at the same time it is wise to make every inquiry as we go along, so that we shall be always looking before us and not wondering whether we have left him behind."

When they reached a village a few miles below Berber they stopped for three or four days. The sheik's two followers went alone into the city to make inquiries. They returned after being absent for three days, saying that it was certain that there was no white captive in the hands of the Mahdi's people there. They had talked to several tribesmen who had fought at Metemmeh. These knew that a white prisoner had been taken by a party of Arabs of the Jahrin tribe. Trouble had arisen owing to the sheik refusing to give him up, and he had fled in the night with his party, taking the prisoner with him; but beyond the fact that he had crossed the river none had heard anything of him.

As there was now no motive for going to Berber, and permission to trade could only be obtained by a large present to the Mahdi's governor, the party started early the next morning, struck out into the desert, and made a long detour before, two days later, they came down again upon the river bank above the city. Then they continued their journey, and some days later crossed the river at a ford some miles below Metemmeh. It was certain, wherever Edgar might be, it would not be in the neighbourhood of that town.

For some weeks the journey continued. At times they left the river bank and journeyed considerable distances to visit tribes or villages situated in the interior. Sometimes the caravan was divided in two, a portion remaining in charge of one of the sheik's followers with Ibrahim and Rupert with the bulk of the camels and baggage, while the sheik with his other follower and two or three camels made excursions to villages at a distance. In that case he took but few goods with him, so as not to tempt the cupidity of the tribesmen or of any parties of the Mahdi's men he might come across.

By this time Rupert had made considerable progress in Arabic, thanks to his continually conversing in that language, and his risk of detection had greatly decreased. Once or twice a week fresh dye was applied to him from head to foot. He was now accustomed to the scantiness of his clothing, and had completely caught the manners and gestures of the natives. The colour of his eyes was the sole point that even a close observer would detect as being peculiar in his appearance, and he had fallen into the habit of keeping them partly closed and the darkened eye-lashes greatly lessened the chance of their colour being noticed. He had, moreover, by the advice of one of the doctors before leaving, taken with him a bottle of belladonna, and a small dose of this prior to entering any populous village had the effect of enlarging the pupils and thus of darkening the general effect of the eyes. The sheik frequently crossed the river with one of his followers and made excursions among the tribes on the opposite bank, but with all their inquiries no news whatever was obtained of any white captive.

It was not until three months after leaving Korti that the caravan approached Khartoum. It was more likely that news would be obtained here than elsewhere, but the sheik had been unwilling to enter the town until Rupert's Arabic would fairly pass muster; but even he now agreed that there was little chance of his detection in any sort of casual conversation. In Khartoum there would be people from all parts of the Soudan, and any slight peculiarity of accent would be little likely to be noticed; besides, in a city there would be less chance of any one closely questioning the slave of a passing merchant than would be the case in a village. Before going into the town one of the sheik's followers was sent on ahead with a camel with presents for some of the Mahdi's officials, and upon his return with a document authorizing the sheik to enter the city and dispose of his merchandise the caravan set forward.

It was with mingled emotions that Rupert entered the town. Here perhaps Edgar was a captive, or had possibly been put to death for refusing to acknowledge the Mahdi. Here Gordon had fallen a victim to fanatical zeal, the hesitation of the English government, and the treachery of some of the troops he had led to victory. Here hundreds of Egyptian men, women, and children had been slain. Here were the head-quarters of the false Prophet who had brought such ruin and destruction over fertile provinces.

Upon showing the pass to the officials at the ferry leading across to the city a soldier had been told off to accompany them, and he conducted them to an empty caravansary in the city. One of the Arabs was despatched with two unladen camels to the market-place, where he bought a store of provender brought in by the country people. On his return Rupert and Ibrahim fed the animals, which were fastened by ropes from their head-stalls to rings in the wall of the court-yard, and then sallied out with one of the Arabs into the town.

It was still a busy place, although its aspect had greatly changed since its capture. There were no Egyptian soldiers in their gray cotton uniforms and fezes, no officials or traders in European costume in the streets, and the shops which had formerly held large assortments of goods brought up from Egypt were occupied by natives vending the absolute necessaries of life. The Mahdi's soldiers in their cotton shirts, decorated with rags of coloured cloth, and carrying guns, lounged about the streets, and the poorer part of the native population went about with a cowed and dejected air. Food was scarce and dear, for although the Mahdi by promising protection to all coming in to trade had endeavoured to induce the agricultural population to bring in their produce for sale, the invitation was very partially accepted. The country round, indeed, had been swept clean of its grain during the progress of the siege, and the fear of the Mahdi's followers was so great that the peasants contented themselves with tilling only sufficient for their needs. The Arab muttered curses beneath his breath as he walked along, while Rupert and Ibrahim followed in silence, seemingly paying no attention to what was going on around them.

When they returned to the caravansary they found the sheik with several of the native shop-keepers engaged with him in conversation. At his orders Rupert and Ibrahim at once began to undo some of the bales and held up the goods for inspection. The sheik named the prices he required. These were at once declared by the natives to be impossible. The sheik simply ordered his assistants to fasten up the bales again. "I have brought them all the way from Egypt and I am not going to give them away. It is not every one in times like this who will risk his beasts and his goods on such an adventure. The traders have all gone down the river with the white men. It may be months or years before a caravan route is open again. Who is going to bring up goods to sell when there is nothing for his camels to carry down again and when the whole country is disturbed? There is neither law nor order in the land. I shall journey on to El-Obeid or Kassala; I shall get what price I like to ask there."

The traders poured out a torrent of expostulation. They would see the goods again; doubtless they were of a better quality than they supposed; and so the bargain was recommenced, and after some hours a considerable portion of the goods that had been brought up were disposed of. In each case the traders arranged to come late in the evening with their servants to fetch away the goods they had bought.

"It would never do," one said, "to let it be known that we had money sufficient to make such purchases. It is only by assuming the greatest poverty that we can carry on our business unmolested, and only a few of the cheapest goods can be displayed to the eyes of the public, the rest being hidden away to be brought out privately for the benefit of some special customer."

The sheik was well pleased with the result of his traffic. The prices he had charged were five or six fold more than those that the goods had cost, and he sent out one of his followers to purchase a kid, which was presently converted into a stew. After this was eaten he went out with one of his followers, leaving the other to deliver the goods to their purchasers. When it became quite dark the traders arrived one by one, each with one or two porters to carry away the goods. These were paid for in cash drawn from buried hoards.

The sheik was late before he returned. He told Rupert that he had met a kinsman of his who was now an officer of the Mahdi, and had had a long conversation with him. "He believes in the Mahdi," he said, "and has faith that he is going to conquer the world. I told him that finding no traders would hire my camels I had this time brought up a load on my own account, and that it seemed to me there was money to be made if one could purchase some of the people who had been enslaved when the city was taken. He said that this could not be, that the greater part of the traders had been killed, and that all who remained were now zealous followers of the Mahdi. Lupton Bey was held as a slave by the Mahdi himself, and had to run before him when he rode. There would be no possibility of releasing him or the others in the Mahdi's hands.

"I inquired whether any of the Kaffirs who had come to Metemmeh had been taken prisoners. He said they had heard of but one, who was reported by a black slave to be in the hands of a petty sheik who was living at an oasis in the desert some nine days' journey from here. It had already been reported to the Mahdi that this man had taken a Kaffir prisoner at Metemmeh and had refused to give him up, and had escaped with the Kaffir in the night; and strict orders had been issued for his arrest, but nothing had been heard of him until the slave brought the news. The Mahdi sent off three officers and forty men on camels with orders to destroy everything, and to kill all they found with the exception of the sheik himself and his white captive, who were to be brought here to await his pleasure. They went, but though this is two months ago they have never returned.

"Another party was sent three weeks later to the place to order them to return instantly, but when they arrived there they found the oasis deserted. Two skeletons were found, but the sun and the vultures had done their work, and whether they had belonged to the troop that went or to the Arabs there none could say. It may be they found that this sheik and his party had travelled to El-Obeid or elsewhere and had pursued them, but so far no news has been heard of them and the whole matter is a mystery."

"What do you think has happened, sheik?"

"I know not what to think. My kinsman said that the black slave reported there were but twenty men in all with the sheik, and not more than half of these could be considered as fighting men, therefore they could not have resisted for a moment the force against them. It is possible they may have fled into the desert. The tribes know of wells whose existence is kept a secret from all, and it may be that such a well was known to the sheik and that he has made for it. It may be that the negro guide led the party in pursuit. Misfortune may have happened; they may have lost their way and all perished from thirst, though it would be strange indeed were none able to make their way back to the oasis."

"What think you we had better do, sheik? This gives us some indication at least of a direction in which my brother was taken."

The sheik sat for some minutes without answering. "It is difficult," he said at last; "this sheik El Bakhat is, as I have told you, a wanderer. I have heard of him though I have never met him. His father was a powerful sheik, but as a young man El Bakhat killed the son of another sheik of the same tribe and fled. Later on he gathered a few followers and was in the service of the slave-dealers who go down to the great lakes. Of late years, since Gordon broke up the slave-trade, he has returned at times and remained for weeks and sometimes for months in the part of the country occupied by his tribe, for it is so many years now since he killed his man that vengeance is no longer hot against him. He has the name of being a headstrong man, and indeed he must be so or he would never have embroiled himself with the Mahdi's people, for if he had been driven out of his oasis he would know that there is no safety for him anywhere near here; but where he has gone to no man could say. One might as well try to follow the flight of a vulture. He may have gone down near the coast; he may have made his way to the confines of Abyssinia; he may have journeyed away towards the lakes where Emin Pasha still rules in the name of Egypt. There is just one chance, he may be hiding in the desert, and before he starts on a long journey he may return to the oasis or may send a messenger to see if it is still occupied by the Mahdi's men. I think that our best chance is to proceed thither at once, and to wait there for a while to see if any come from him. If at the end of a fortnight or three weeks none come we can then decide in which direction to set out upon the search again."

This proposal seemed to Rupert to offer more prospect of success than any other, and on the following morning the caravan started, the camels now carrying scarce half the weight with which they had left Korti. As the sheik had learned from his kinsman the name of the oasis to which the troop had been sent, he had no difficulty in obtaining from some of the tribesmen in the city precise directions as to the route to be pursued, and ten days after leaving Khartoum they arrived there. The place was absolutely deserted, but they established themselves near the well, and the camels found abundant grazing, as the crops had shot up again with great vigour during the time that had elapsed since they had been cut.

The sheik at once pointed out to Rupert that although El Bakhat and some of his followers were down at Metemmeh, the probability was that his people had occupied the place for some time, as cultivation had been carried on to a considerable extent. "Here are where the tents stood," he said; "and see, he evidently brought back a good deal of plunder, for here are some empty tins and jars scattered about."

They remained for three weeks in camp. One of the party had been always on the watch, but no human being had been seen to approach. During that time the sheik and Rupert had many discussions as to the direction in which the fugitives had probably travelled, and finally decided that the probabilities were in favour of his having taken the southern route and made for the country ruled over by Emin. In the first place he was familiar with this line, and in the second he would be safe from the Mahdi when he reached Emin's country.

"It is rich and fertile" he said; "and probably Emin when he finds he is altogether cut off from the north will try to open a way down to Zanzibar, and El Bakhat may find good employment for his camels." As, at any rate, there were reasons why the fugitives should have chosen this route more than any other, it was decided to follow it.

CHAPTER XX. FOUND!

Before starting upon their journey the sheik said to Edgar, "On our journey here we travelled by unfrequented tracks, and it was sufficient to cover you up so that none who passed us should notice you; but it will be different now, therefore we must dress you in our own fashion. Your hair can never be made to look like ours and must be bound in a turban. With that and a burnoose your face and hands only will be visible. These are now so darkened by the sun that their fairness will scarce be noticed, but the women will prepare a dye which will darken you to our shade. I wish you to dress like us for another reason. You have done us great service, and though you will not change your religion I regard you almost as one of the tribe, and do not wish you henceforth to consider yourself as a slave. You are improving fast in our language, and if you speak but little you will pass unnoticed. Some men are more silent than others, and you need speak but little when strangers are with us. As one of ourselves you will attract less notice than as a slave. None will say, 'Where did you get that fellow? To what part did he belong? Was he brought from the Great Lakes? Are you inclined to sell him? He is a likely youth. What will you take for him?'"

"I am ready to do what you think best, sheik," Edgar said, "and indeed there can be no doubt that I am far less likely to be noticed if wrapped up in your fashion than if I went half clothed as a slave."

Accordingly a low close-fitting turban was wound round Edgar's head, and he was wrapped up in loose cotton garments covered with a burnoose, the hood of which came over his head. His face, hands, and neck were slightly stained, and when this was done the Arabs admitted that they would not for a moment have suspected him of being other than he seemed. Most of the women, children, and old men were left behind at the wady; the goats and sheep would supply them with milk and cheese; there was a sufficient supply of grain for their use until the crops that had been sown as soon as they arrived should come into bearing; and when all preparations were complete the party started on its way.

It consisted of twelve men mounted on camels, while two other animals followed behind each of these. The sheik rode at the head of the party upon the horse that had been captured from the Mahdists. Amina also had a camel to herself, while the four other women who accompanied the party rode two on a camel. Yussuf and five or six lads of from fifteen to seventeen years old walked by the side of the camels. The led camels were but lightly loaded, carrying only the tents, cooking utensils, provender for the journey, and food and water for the party; and Edgar could see no reason why Yussuf and the boys should not have ridden, except that it was the custom for slaves and lads to walk.

It was a six days' journey to the point they aimed at, and the marches were long ones. The supply of water carried was ample for the wants of the party, and the camels were given a good drink before starting on the fourth day's journey. They were turned loose each evening on arriving at a halting-place, and left to pick up what subsistence they could from the bushes, a good feed being given to them each morning from the provender they carried. As they could have carried much more, Edgar inquired why enough had not been brought to give them a feed at night as well; but the Arab of whom he had asked the question said that it was better for them to browse at night, as the moisture in the herbage enabled them to do with much less water than if they had been fed entirely upon grain.

Edgar was very glad when the desert journey was over. The glare of the sun from the sand and the rocks was almost blinding, and the wraps in which he was muffled up greatly added to his discomfort. On arriving at the cultivated land the same picture presented itself that he had seen near Khartoum. Everywhere the villages were almost entirely deserted and the fields lay waste; the blighting influence of the Mahdi seemed to weigh upon the whole country. The few natives that remained fled in fear at the sight of the strangers, and the old people they met with in the villages were crushed with grief and despondency. Of what use to cultivate the land when the Mahdists might at any moment sweep off the crops? Even should they gather the grain, where could they sell it? There were markets indeed still open, but the Mahdi's tax-gatherers would demand a proportion of the proceeds, which would sweep away all their profits. What was to become of them Allah alone knew.

Edgar was filled with pity for these poor creatures, and over and over again thought with astonishment of the policy which, after sending a force to within a short distance of Khartoum amply sufficient to have crushed the Mahdi and to have restored peace and comfort to the population of the Soudan, had withdrawn them when the goal was all but reached, and left the unhappy people to their fate.

After journeying for some days they passed a plain strewn with skeletons.

"You see these," the sheik said; "they are the remains of the army of Hicks Pasha. Here they were attacked by the Mahdi's army. They defended themselves bravely, but they could neither advance nor retreat, and at last they were vanquished by thirst and fatigue. They were slaughtered as they stood. Hicks Pasha and a band of officers rode right into the midst of the Mahdists, and died fighting there. There were, I heard, two or three Kaffirs with him, besides many Egyptian officers. The black troops fought splendidly, but the Egyptians made a poor stand; but it came to the same in the end. What could they do against the followers of Allah!"

"But the Egyptians are followers of Allah too," Edgar said, "and yet, as you say, they are but poor fighters. No, no, sheik; I admit the extraordinary bravery of the tribesmen. I fought against them at Suakim and saw them charge down upon our square at Abu Klea. They had no fear of death, and no men ever fought more bravely. But it was a matter of race rather than religion. Your people have always been free, for the rule of Egypt was after all a nominal one. The Egyptians have been slaves for centuries and have lost their fighting power. In the old, old days, thousands of years ago, of which we have records in our sacred book, and which we have learned from other sources, the Egyptians were among the most war-like of people and carried their arms far and wide, but for many hundreds of years now they have been ruled by strangers. It was not very long ago that our people fought a great tribe in the south of Africa—a tribe who knew nothing of Allah, who had in fact no religion at all, and yet they fought as stoutly and as well as your people have done here. It is a matter of race. They were just as ready to die as were your tribesmen, and that not because they believed, as you do, that death in battle would open the gates of paradise to them, but simply because it was the will of their king."

"Mashallah!" the sheik said, stroking his beard, "they must have been brave indeed to throw away their lives if they knew nothing of paradise, merely at the will of one man. That was folly indeed. A man has but one life, it is his all; why should he part with it? Did they love this king of theirs?"

"I do not know that they loved him," Edgar said, "but they feared him. Their laws were very cruel ones, and it was death to turn back in battle."

"They had better have cut his throat and have gone about their own business," the sheik said. "Why should one man be master of the lives of all his people. Is this so among the whites?"

"It is so in some countries, but not in others," Edgar said. "Some countries are ruled over by men chosen by the people themselves, and the power of peace and war and of making laws of all kinds is in the hands of these men, and the king has very little power. In other countries the king is absolute; if he says it is war, it is war."

The sheik was silent.

"But why should people fight and die because one man tells them?" he said after a pause; "it is astonishing."

"But it is just the same thing with the people here and the Mahdi," Edgar said; "he tells them to fight, and they fight; if he told them to scatter to their homes they would do so."

The sheik made no further remark, but it was evident to Edgar that he was thinking out the problems that had presented themselves to him, for some hours afterwards he suddenly remarked, "We who live in tents and wander where we will are the only free men; it is more clear to me than ever."

When they were within a day's journey of El-Obeid they met one of the sheik's followers who had left the wady four days before the rest with instructions to go to the city and find out whether it would be safe to enter. He halted his camel when he reached that of the sheik.

"You must go no nearer the city, my father," he said. "I have learned that orders have been received by the Mahdi's governor to arrest you and all with you should you present yourselves there. There is much talk about a party of soldiers who went into the desert to arrest you having disappeared altogether; others have been sent to find them, but have discovered no traces of them, so there are orders that any of our tribe from the desert are to be closely questioned. Any who admit a knowledge of you are to be sent to Khartoum. I was questioned at the gates, but as I said that I had come straight from Khartoum and knew nought of what was passing in the desert I was passed in without further inquiry. I took up my abode with the people you told me of, and they have found out for me what I have told you. It is but three days since the orders concerning you were received."

"I thought there might be danger at El Obeid," the sheik said calmly. "We will turn off so as to avoid the city, and will make south to join the white pasha. For a while it would not be safe anywhere here."

Without further words he turned his camel from the track they had been following, and bore away more to the south.

"Think you that the white pasha will be able to maintain his position?"

The sheik shook his head.

"For a time he may, but in the end he must either surrender or try to strike down to the sea. His troops will weary at last even if they are not beaten by the army the Mahdi will send against them. They will say, 'Why should we go on fighting? What good can come of our holding out when no aid can possibly reach us from Egypt?' The Mahdi will be glad to come to terms with them and allow them to live there in quiet with their wives and families and their possessions, if they will acknowledge him and hand over the white pasha with the two or three white officers he has with him. But that will make no difference to me. I know all the country by the Great Lakes. There are Arab traders there in plenty who buy slaves and ivory and take them down to the coast. I can find employment with them for my camels, and can stay with them until it is safe to return. This cannot go on for ever. Besides, in times of trouble events pass quickly out of men's minds, and in a year the Mahdists will have forgotten my name. As to the loss of their forty men, what is it? They have lost thousands since the war began."

"When we get to the white pasha, sheik, would you hand me over to him if he offered you a ransom for me?"

"No," the sheik said decidedly, "I should not take you near him. Why should I part with you? You have brought us good fortune. Thanks to you we defeated the Mahdists and captured their camels and all that they had. Besides, I like you. Why should I part with you? What good would it do you? With me you are no longer treated as a slave, but as one of my own people. What would you be with the white pasha? An officer of his troops, getting no pay, and running the risk of being one day seized and sent with the others a prisoner to Khartoum."

"I have no desire to stay with the white pasha," Edgar said; "I would rather be with you than in so hopeless a position as he is; but I might make my way down to the coast?"

"Never," the sheik said; "at least never alone. There are fierce tribes between the lakes and the sea. No white man could get through alone. He could only do it by going with a great band of fighting men and carriers, and by buying his way by presents through the great tribes and fighting his way through the small ones. You may travel down to the sea some day with me if I join the caravans of the Arabs, and then if there are countrymen of yours on the coast, as I have heard, and they would pay me a good ransom for you, we may see about it. You are ungrateful to wish to leave me."

"Not ungrateful, sheik, for you and your wife have treated me with great kindness; but it is natural that one should wish to go to one's own people. Had you been taken a prisoner and carried to England, however well you were treated you would sigh for your free life in the desert, for your people and friends, and would escape if you saw a chance. It is human nature to love the land where one was born, whatever that land may be."

"That is true," El Bakhat admitted; "but you cannot escape now; there is nowhere for you to go to."

"That is true, sheik; and I should be well content did I know that you were travelling straight either for Suakim or Zanzibar, for at either place I know that I could obtain from my countrymen money to pay any ransom you might set upon me, even a sum that would buy you fast camels and much goods, and make you a wealthy man in your tribe; but I am not content to wait for years."

"You are not thinking of making your escape now?" El Bakhat asked, looking scrutinizingly at Edgar under his heavy eyebrows.

"No, sheik," Edgar answered. "From the day that you captured me I made up my mind that I would escape sooner or later, whatever the risk; but I knew well that I could never traverse the country until I could speak the language like a native. I have made great progress, and can now understand all that is said and can talk freely and easily, but not so that I could travel alone as a native. It will be months yet before I can do that. Nor, after the kindness with which you have treated me, would I leave you suddenly without warning. When I feel that I can safely travel alone I shall give you fair warning. I shall say to you, Sheik, if you will now travel with me to Suakim or some other port where I can obtain money for paying you a fair ransom I will remain with you until such ransom is paid into your hands; if you will not do so I shall consider myself free to escape when I can. Of course it will be open to you to treat me again as a slave, and to use all vigilance to prevent my leaving you, but I shall consider that by giving you fair warning I shall be free to use my best endeavours to get away."

"You speak boldly," the sheik said, "but you speak fairly. Do you give me your promise not to attempt to escape until after warning me?"

"Yes, I give you that promise, sheik."

"It is well," El Bakhat said gravely. "I know that you would not lie to me. After you have given me warning I shall know what to do." So saying he got up and walked away to his tent.

Three days later, as the caravan was halting at a well, Yussuf, who had gone out with the camels, ran in.

"There is a large body of men, some on foot and some on horses, approaching from the south."

"How far are they off?" the sheik asked as he leapt to his feet.

"Scarce half a mile," the negro replied.

"Then it is too late for flight," the sheik said, reseating himself; "they would be here long before we could saddle our camels. It is doubtless a body of the Mahdi's troops, but if they come from the south they will have heard nothing against us."

When the Mahdists rode up the sheik rose and saluted their commander.

"Who are you?" the officer asked.

"I am an humble person, one El Bakhat of the Jahrin tribe, travelling with my camels and some little merchandise."

"Have you the permit of one of the Mahdi's officers to trade?"

"No, my lord, I did not know that it was needful."

"Assuredly it is needful," the officer said. "Your camels and goods are forfeited, and you yourself and your people must travel with us to El-Obeid, where inquiries will be made about you."

"My lord," the sheik said, "I am a poor man and have done no harm. After fighting against the infidels I went back to my people with such spoil as we had taken and have dwelt there quietly, and was ignorant that it needed a permission for me to journey with my camels."

"Well, if you can prove that when you get to the city," the officer said, "the governor may take a lenient view of the case, and may content himself by taking a portion only of your camels as a fine; but if you are lying it will be worse for you. Remember now that you are prisoners, and will be shot down if one of you attempts to escape."

The sheik bowed submissively. The officer ordered some of his men to keep a rigid watch over the prisoners, and then paid no further attention to them.

The sheik re-entered his tent and sat down stern and silent without speaking. Amina, who had heard what had passed, was in the greatest state of alarm, but saw that her husband was not to be spoken to at present. She went to the door of her tent and beckoned to Edgar, in whom she felt the most implicit confidence.

"You heard what has passed, Muley?"

"I heard, lady; the position is full of danger."

"You are fertile in expedients. Can you not suggest some thing? You see if we are taken to El-Obeid, where they have had news of the expedition sent from Khartoum, and its disappearance in the desert, my husband would be sent in chains to the Mahdi, and you know what his fate would then be, while the least that will befall us all will be to be sold into slavery. What then do you advise?"

"With your permission I will think it over," Edgar replied. "The position is a difficult one; the danger is, as you say, great."

"Go, then, and think it over, Muley."

Edgar went out of the tent and squatted down (a position which had at first been very fatiguing, but to which he was now accustomed) by the embers of the fire before it, and thought over what had best be done. For himself, he felt sure that he could make his escape, for though a general watch might be kept, one man could doubtless crawl away in the darkness; but he felt that he could not abandon the sheik in a moment of danger. It was, in fact, owing to himself that the sheik was now in his present position. It was true that the Arab had refused to give him up to the Mahdi's people at Metemmeh, not from any love towards him, but of his own obstinate and headstrong disposition. However, that refusal, whatever its motive, had undoubtedly saved his life; and, moreover, the sheik had behaved with great kindness to him since, and he felt that it was clearly his duty to do all in his power to assist him now; but how?

It was upwards of an hour before he rose from the fire and again entered the sheik's tent. The sheik was sitting smoking gravely. Amina was baking some bread over the embers in the middle of the tent.

"What is your counsel, Muley?" she asked.

"I see no plan," he said, "by which my lord can get away with all his followers and camels. One or two might steal out from the camp, and I thought at first that if Yussuf and myself—who would not be so closely watched as he will be, for there are two sentries outside the tent—could manage to steal out with our guns and to open fire in the darkness upon the camp, the Mahdists, thinking they were attacked, would seize their arms and run out, and in the confusion my lord and you and some of the others might make their escape. But this plan is full of danger, and it might not succeed, for they might suspect that those who attacked them were of your party, and a portion would remain to keep guard over you. This, then, should be the last resource, for if the attempt was made and failed, escape would be more difficult than ever.

"It appears to me that the first thing to do is to try and bribe the chief. At present he only suspects you of trading without a license, and were my lord to see him and to offer him half the camels and the burdens, to let him go free with the remainder, he might accept it. If that failed, we can still try my plan. I would take my gun and crawl out with Yussuf. I would go two or three hundred yards away to the right, and would then fire as quickly as I could, moving while I did so; so that they might think that there were many attacking them. Then, my lord, in the confusion you and your wife with the child should try to make your escape. As soon as the camp is aroused and they are advancing against us we would move round to the left of the camp, and you would join us there and make straight across the country and be far away by daylight."

"But how could we travel without camels?" the sheik broke in impatiently; "they would surely overtake us before long."

"There are deserted villages in which we might hide until the pursuit is over," Edgar said. "As they would gain all the camels and goods it would matter little to them that three or four persons had escaped."

"Not until they reached El-Obeid," the sheik said. "Then they would learn who we were, and would scour the country for us. Camels we must have if we are to escape. Besides, I should be a ruined man, and might as well be killed at once."

"Not altogether ruined, sheik," Edgar said. "You remember that we buried many of your valuables and arms at the wady."

"We could never get there without camels," the sheik said gloomily.

"It might be done, sheik. Several men accompanied the camels on foot, and we could perform the journey so on our way back; but I should not counsel that. My idea was that we should get as far away from here as possible, and should then leave your wife and child in some village. We could take with us goods which would be quite sufficient to ensure a welcome for her until you return. Then I should propose that you and I with Yussuf, who is certainly faithful, should make our way down on foot as Arab fighting men to Berber, and then on to Osman Digma, who is, we know, close to Suakim. Thence we might readily find means of escaping him and entering the town, and then, as I told you, I can promise you a ransom that would enable you to buy more camels and goods than you have lost here, to return to your wife and child and take them with you to your wady. As to camels, I do not altogether despair of getting some. They are, as usual, grazing outside the camp, they know Yussuf's voice and mine, and when we first escape we might lead four of them away and take them to the left of the camp, where you are afterwards to meet us. Before morning we could be very many miles away."

"Ah! if you could do that!" the chief said, showing for the first time a lively interest in the matter, "it might be possible. However, I will try first of all if the officer will accept a bribe. If he will do so it will give us two days' start, and we can then arrange matters as you say."

Without another word he rose and went to the door of the tent. The two sentries placed there stepped forward and told him that their orders were that he was not to leave it.

"I wish not to leave it," he said; "I desire only to speak to your commander. I have something of importance to say to him. Will you pray him to come to me?"

One of the sentries at once went across to the commander's tent and shortly returned with him.

"Master," the sheik said, "I have done wrong in journeying without a license, but I came from the desert and did not know the law. I must pay for my fault, though I cannot think that the commander at El-Obeid would be hard upon one who has erred from ignorance. However, as it is urgent for me to press on my journey, I will relinquish to you one-third of my camels and their burdens if you will let us travel on with the others, and give us a permit from yourself so that none may molest us in future."

As the officer had no suspicion that the Arab's first story was untrue he hesitated; then he said, "Not so; all your camels are forfeited for breaking the laws of the Mahdi."

"But those who err in ignorance are surely not punished like those who err wilfully," the sheik urged. "But I am pressed for time. I am journeying south to the tents of my wife's father, who has sent to say that he is sick unto death and wishes to see her before he dies. Be content, my lord, and take half the camels." The officer thought that the offer was a good one. It was probable that the governor of El-Obeid would not fine the Arab more than half his camels, seeing that he had broken the law inadvertently, and in that case he himself would have but a small share in the spoil; whereas if he consented to the proposal, the camels would all fall to himself, saving one or two he might give to his officers to induce them to keep silence as to the affair.

"I will be more merciful than you deserve, Arab," he said; "I will take half your camels with their loads; but see that you cheat me not; if you do, it will be worse for you. Divide the animals and goods to-morrow morning in two equal parts. I will take that which pleases me most. I have spoken;" and turning upon his heel he went back to his tent.

Edgar, standing within, heard the conversation. "You have heard," the sheik said when he had entered; "half my property is gone, but I have freedom and the other half. I have had worse misfortunes than this. So far your counsel has turned out well, Muley. Now about the future. We shall have but four days' start. He will reach El-Obeid by evening the day after to-morrow. There he will hear that he has let slip through his fingers the man for whom all the country is in search, and horsemen will be despatched instantly in pursuit; probably they will be here the next evening; it is but a reprieve. Journey as fast as we will they will soon overtake us."

"Yes, if we pursue our course in the same direction, sheik, but this we must not do. I should say that as soon as the division is made we should start south; it is as well that they should see the direction in which we are travelling. Then as soon as we are well out of sight of the camp I should say let us break up the party into six or eight parts and bid them travel in different directions east and west, and then make to the point where we arrived from the desert, and strike across to the wady. A party like ours would be noticed at once, but two or three persons each with a camel carrying their belongings would be scarce observed; and the Mahdi's horsemen, asking if a caravan of ten camels had passed, would be told that no such party had been seen. At any rate most of your men would be able to regain the wady and there to await your return. Then I should propose that you on one camel and your wife and child on another, with such goods as you require to pay your way, with myself on foot dressed as formerly as a slave, should strike in the direction of Khartoum, but keeping this side of the river until we reach Berber. Of course you could take Yussuf with you or not as you might choose; but I think that you would find him useful."

"You would like him to go?" the sheik asked in a tone of suspicion, for it flashed across him that if Edgar and Yussuf made common cause he would be at their mercy.

"I should like him to go, sheik. The negro has always been civil and obliging to me from the day when I thrashed his companion, and if when we arrive at a port on the Red Sea you are willing to part with him I will gladly arrange to buy him of you at any reasonable price that you might name."

"So be it," the sheik said; "the matter is settled."

Next morning the sheik and his followers were on foot early. They divided the camels with the greatest care into two portions, debating earnestly on the merits of each animal; then the goods, which were of but trifling value, were also divided. When all was done the Mahdi's officer came down and closely inspected both lots of animals.

"There is nothing to choose between them," he said; "you have made a just division. I will take the right-hand lot, and the horse is of course mine;" and to the disgust of the sheik he ordered one of the followers to take it to his tent. "Here is a permit for you to journey and trade as you will." The soldiers were already under arms, the Arabs hastily packed their tents and cooking-pots on the camels that remained to them, and the two parties set off almost at the same instant in two opposite directions. When they had travelled for an hour the sheik halted his caravan and explained the situation to his followers.

"As soon as the Mahdists reach the town they will hear of us, and hot pursuit will be instantly set on foot; therefore it is necessary for the present to abandon our plans and for you to return at once to the wady from which we started. But if our pursuers obtain news of a caravan of our size they will be sure to overtake us; therefore it is also necessary that we should separate at once. Let each man, therefore, take his camel, his wife, and his belongings, and journey singly. Let some go east and some west, and making a circuit to avoid El-Obeid reach the edge of the desert as best you may. Do not wait there for each other, but let each as he reaches it strike across to the wells. When you reach the wady wait there for me. I go with my wife and Muley and Yussuf. We shall take two camels and journey north. There I hope to obtain a sum for the surrender of Muley, which will more than repay us the loss we have suffered to-day."

The Arabs at once obeyed the orders of the sheik and in a few minutes were speeding across the country.

"We will go on for another three or four hours' march," the sheik said, "before we turn to the east. Our pursuers will be sure to inquire for us at every place they pass, and if they hear that solitary camel men have been seen making their way across the country they will turn off at once in pursuit. It is therefore better that they should move off some distance before we turn off." The sheik had chosen two camels which, though not remarkable for their looks, were of better blood than the rest, and more capable of performing long journeys. He and his wife and child rode on one of the animals, Edgar with Yussuf behind him on the other. At noon they turned off from the southern course they had before been pursuing. They continued their journey until long after sunset, and then halted for a few hours to rest the camels.

The moon rose at eight o'clock, and as soon as it was up they started again, travelling now in a north-easterly direction in order to throw their pursuers off their track. At daybreak they halted again, this time in a grove. A fire was lit and Yussuf cooked some meal cakes, and a bountiful feed of grain was given to each animal. As speed was less an object than secrecy no move was made until nightfall, in order that they might pass through the villages unobserved. The journey was continued until the following morning, when they again halted. They were now following a track which would, the sheik said, lead them after a few miles into the main road between El-Obeid and Khartoum.

This time the halt was of but a few hours' duration, as they hoped that they had baffled their pursuers and could now travel without attracting any special attention. They had reached the road and were proceeding along it when Yussuf saw dust rising in the distance. He called the attention of the sheik to it, and the camels were pressed forward to their utmost speed. But camels will seldom go far beyond their accustomed walk; and it soon became apparent that they were being rapidly overtaken by the strangers who were pressing on behind. By this time it could be seen that the party following them were also mounted on camels. Two riders had detached themselves from the main body and were coming on at a rapid pace.

"They must be mounted on heiries," the sheik said; "see how they come along! There is no avoiding them."

"They are not the Mahdi's men," Yussuf said presently; "I can see by their dress that they are in Arab robes."

"They are riding for a purpose," the sheik said, "or they would not travel so fast, and yet if their purpose were hostile they would hardly leave their followers so far behind. If they know aught of El Bakhat they will know that he is not a man to surrender without resistance. Prepare your gun, Muley. Methinks there are but two men with the four camels behind, and if we slay these first we shall have no difficulty with them."

The strangers came rapidly up, and as they approached the sheik saw that they were an Arab trader and a wild-looking native. As they came up they reined in their camels and the trader gave the usual Arab salutation, which was responded to by the sheik. Two or three of the usual ceremonial sentences were repeated on both sides.

"My brother's name is El Bakhat?" the new-comer said.

"My name is my own," the sheik replied, "and is no concern of strangers."

"I come as a friend," the Arab said. "I arrived at El-Obeid yesterday and heard that a body of horsemen had set out in pursuit of you. Yesterday evening some returned with a prisoner, who said that your party had separated and that you were travelling north. Two parties of horsemen were ordered to start at daybreak. Thinking that you might make for Khartoum, I set out at once to warn you."

By this time the wild-looking young native had slipped from his camel and walked up to Edgar, staring fixedly at him. Edgar, not knowing what to make of the movement, shifted his rifle forward, when the native gave a wild cry, "Edgar!"

Edgar gazed at him with stupefaction. It was Rupert's voice; but how could this wild figure be Rupert? how could he be here?

"Edgar, do you not know me? I am Rupert!"

Edgar could doubt no longer. He flung himself from his camel and rushed into his brother's arms.

"Am I mad or dreaming?" he exclaimed, as he still failed altogether to recognize Rupert in his disguise. "It is Rupert's voice surely, but it cannot be Rupert."

"It is me, sure enough, Edgar; and you are neither mad nor dreaming."

"But this hair?" Edgar said, still bewildered, gazing at the wild, unkempt locks.

"It is a wig, neither more nor less, Edgar, made for me at Cairo; and a first-rate job too."

Edgar could doubt no longer, but with the certainty and joy a strange weakness seemed to come over him, and he would have fallen had not Rupert seized him.

"Stand up, old boy; it is all right, and natural enough. We heard at Metemmeh of your having been carried away, and as of course I wasn't going to let you remain a slave among these fellows, I got leave of absence from Wolseley, got a disguise and a first-rate guide, and, thank God, I have come to you at last."

The surprise of El Bakhat at seeing this meeting between Muley and this young native was much greater than that of the other Arab, who had heard at El-Obeid the evening before that the white slave was journeying in disguise with his captor.

"This is my brother, sheik," Edgar said to him. "He has come all this way in disguise to look for and rescue me."

"He has done well," the sheik said warmly, while Amina clapped her hands in pleasure.

"Is the story about the pursuit after us true?" Edgar asked.

"Yes, quite true. The horsemen will not be many hours before they overtake us."

A hurried consultation was held between the two sheiks, and it was decided to strike off to the south-east again, and as soon as the followers arrived with the camels the united parties left the road and made across the country, Edgar taking his place on the camel behind Rupert. He still felt like one in a dream, and even now could scarce believe that it was really Rupert who was riding before him. The latter, who had been looking forward to the meeting, was yet scarcely less surprised at what had taken place. It had seemed such a hopeless task looking for Edgar over so wide an expanse of country that he could scarcely credit that he had succeeded in finding him, and for a time the feelings were so deep on both sides that hardly a word was spoken. It was not, indeed, until the camels came to a halt late in the evening that they began to talk naturally.

CHAPTER XXI. HOME!

"You are a nice fellow, ain't you, Edgar, to give us all this trouble," Rupert said, as he held him at arm's-length and gazed at him in the light of the fire that Yussuf had lighted.

"I see now that I made an awful ass of myself," Edgar said; "but I think you would have done the same if you had been in my place, Rupert, and had heard what I heard."

"I have no doubt I should," Rupert agreed; "it must have been an awful thing to hear. Still you must have seen by the advertisements that father did not believe the woman's story."

"I did not see the advertisements," Edgar said. "I would not look at a paper, because I thought he would advertise for me to come back, and I felt I could not do so, and it would have been harder to keep away if I had seen them. You told me they were all well at home."

This was the first question he had asked after he had mounted Rupert's camel.

"Quite well when I last heard. I wrote and told them all about you."

"Then the sergeant was found, and did not die?"

"He died the first day after we found him," Rupert said gravely. "He was insensible when we discovered him; and I should have known nothing about him if they hadn't found two letters upon him, one to me and one to father, saying that his wife's story was a lie, and that he could swear that neither of them could in any way identify either of us from the other. He recovered consciousness before he died, and signed in the presence of witnesses a deposition to the same effect. So you saw me at Korti, Edgar, and would not make yourself known? I would not have believed it of you."

"Well, you see, Rupert, I did not know at the time that the sergeant was who he was, and still believed the woman's story to be true. Besides, I had gone my own way, and did not mean to see any of you again until I had got on and could do without assistance. It seemed to me to be like asking for help, and after all that I had had under false pretences I would have rather died than do that."

"But you see it wasn't under false pretences, Edgar, and you had as much right to consider yourself father's son as I had. You must have known that from the sergeant afterwards."

"Yes, I did learn that," Edgar allowed, "but I think that made me even more disinclined than before to show myself; it would have looked as if I had come back only to put in a claim."

"You are the most pig-headed fellow I ever saw, Edgar. However, I hope you have got out of all that feeling now."

"Quite, Rupert; I am quite ready to go back with you and beg their pardon at home for all the trouble I have given them. And to think that you have run all this awful risk to find me!"

"Stuff and nonsense, Edgar! When I found that you had been carried away as a slave, as a matter of course I determined to get you out as soon as possible, just as you would have done had I been caught by them; but I could have done nothing if it hadn't been for this Arab I am travelling with. Of course he will be well paid; but still men are often tempted to be unfaithful however well they are paid;" and then he went on to tell Edgar of the arrangement that had been made with the sheik. Edgar in return gave him a short sketch of his life since they had parted at Cheltenham, and told him of the promises he had made to El Bakhat if he would take him down to one of the Red Sea ports.

"I suppose they are discussing the matter together," he said, glancing at the two Arabs, who were deep in conversation on the other side of the fire. "Well, sheik, what plan have you determined upon?"

"We both think that it will be impossible for us to travel north either to Egypt, or to Berber and thence to Suakim. They will be on the watch for us everywhere. Our best plan will be to make for Massowah."

"Well, sheik, you have heard that Ben Ibyn has agreed to deliver us at one of the ports for a handsome reward. He knows that Englishmen's words can be relied upon, and that there is no fear of his not getting the amount promised him. My brother and I agree to give you an equal sum to that which he will receive there."

"He has not told me the sum," El Bakhat said.

"Tell him the terms, Ben Ibyn," Rupert put in. "Not of course those you have already received for your expenses, but the sum that is to be paid you when you arrive at a port."

The sheik repeated the terms to El Bakhat, who at once expressed himself as perfectly satisfied with them.

"The English are rich and generous," he said. "El Bakhat will do his best to take them where they wish to go."

"Are you thinking of travelling with all this train?" Rupert asked Ben Ibyn.

"No, there is no occasion to do so. I have friends at a village on the Nile, and there my followers and their camels will remain, and El Bakhat's wife and child will remain with them also. We four will then travel on alone, taking with us Yussuf to cook for us and look after the camels. We shall separate from the others at once, as it will be much safer to travel in two small parties. There will be no fear as to their safety, as they will take my regular permit to trade, and no one will connect them in any way with El Bakhat. You and your brother will ride the heiries. I have a half-bred camel that will carry me well, although it will not compare in speed with yours. El Bakhat's camel is also a good one. If we are pursued, we have agreed that our best plan will be to turn off and find a hiding-place, and for you to push on alone. On those camels you may defy pursuit. If pushed they will travel a hundred and fifty miles a day. When you get to Massowah you will wait until we join you there. We are content to trust to your word. Still we hope that we may keep together; for although your brother now speaks Arabic so well that he could pass as a native in casual conversation, it is better that we should be together, in which case it will be we who will do the talking."

"Have you two heiries?" Edgar asked Rupert.

"They are not quite full bred. It is very rare to meet with them, and the price is extremely high; but these are nearly full bred, and can swing along as fast as a horse can trot, and keep it up for twelve hours at a stretch."

The march was resumed at midnight. The two sheiks rode ahead, Edgar and Rupert followed on the heiries, while Yussuf was mounted on one of the spare camels, and rode with the other Arab in the rear. The two brothers talked by turns, and both were surprised when the first streak of daylight appeared. The party now separated, the sheik's wife and child taking their seats on one of the camels. She took a warm farewell of Edgar.

"Amina will never forget the young white man who has lived in her tents," she said. "He is brave in war, and is a wise counsellor; he will be a great man among his own people."

"And I shall never forget you," Edgar replied, "and your kindness to the white slave. When the sheik returns from Massowah he shall bring with him tokens of my remembrance."

As soon as the party had separated the sheiks put their camels to their best speed. Yussuf had been taken up by Edgar and rode behind him, the heiries carrying the double weight with ease. At sunset they halted.

"We are now," El Bakhat said to Edgar, "beyond the reach of pursuit. We may be stopped and arrested by others, but those from El-Obeid will never see the tails of our camels."

"I wish," Edgar said as they were riding along the next morning, "that you could get rid of that wig and your dye for five minutes, Rupert, so that I could see what you really look like. You are such an awful object with that bush of hair that I do not seem to recognize you at all. It is different with me. I am only brown, while you are a sort of dirty black, and when this cloth round my head is off you really see me as I am."

"We should not have known each other by our figures. It is nearly three years since you left Cheltenham, and of course we have both widened out a lot since then. You have widened more than I have, but I have grown most."

"Yes, you are quite two inches taller than I am, Rupert. What are you—six feet?"

"About half an inch under."

"Ah! then you are just the two inches taller. I am forty, chest measurement."

"I am not more than thirty-seven, Edgar."

"Ah! I expect you will be forty before you have done, Rupert; you see neither of us is anything like his full width yet. I have had harder work than you have."

"Ah! Edgar, if we could both play in the house team now it would make a difference, wouldn't it? You remember how Skinner was always lamenting our want of weight."

"I don't think," Edgar said with a laugh, "that he has gained much in weight. He was about our size before, but he looked to me quite a little chap when I saw him on the march."

"He is tough," Rupert said; "he is like whip-cord all over; he is a capital fellow, not a bit changed. Easton has turned out first-rate; he was awfully good to me after you went away, and took no end of pains to cheer me up, had me down to his place in the holidays, and was a real friend. He is a big fellow now, and in another two or three years will make a splendid man. They will be delighted when we both turn up again. I don't think either of them thought, when they said good-bye to me, that I should ever get back. They thought the language would floor me, I think. You have got on wonderfully that way. I thought I had picked it up pretty quickly, but you jaw away as if you had been years at it."

"I have been more with them, Rupert; besides, I had picked up a little in the year I was at Cairo. You see I had nearly four months start of you, and in the life I led among them of course I had a lot more occasion to talk than you have had, always on camel back and only talking in the encampment at night. El Bakhat says that in a casual conversation now no one would notice that I was not a native. So if we do get into any mess and have to ride for it by ourselves, we shall have no difficulty in making our way across the country; but I do not see much chance of that. If we should fall in with the Mahdists your sheik can give his name and appear to be the head of the party, and as there is nothing against him I don't see why we should have any trouble."

"I daresay we shall fall in with some Mahdists," Rupert said. "I got up the maps thoroughly before I started, and specially studied the routes leading to the coast. I fancy the line we shall travel will take us down by Kassala. The Mahdists were besieging it, but I don't know whether it has fallen or not. The safest route would certainly be to go through Abyssinia, but the Arabs wouldn't like to travel that way if they could help it. There have been troubles for years between Abyssinia and the Soudan, and it is by no means certain what sort of treatment we should meet if we got there. Massowah is certainly the best place to strike for. Suakim would have been the best place in some respects, because there are lots of English there and we should have no difficulty in getting money to pay the sheiks; but after all it is only a question of a week or two's delay at the most. I have letters from my father authorizing me to draw upon him for any amount, and if we cannot get it at Massowah we shall only have to send up to the officer in command at Suakim; he would cash a draft out of the pay-chest; or if he could not do it that way, would get some merchant there to do it."

They no longer hurried, but made moderate marches, stopping only at small villages. There was no difficulty in obtaining food and shelter, as Rupert's conductor had brought on with him a sufficient store of merchandise to pay their way down to the coast. On these occasions Edgar and Rupert kept in the background looking after the camels, while Yussuf waited upon the sheiks, and afterwards cooked a meal for the two Englishmen. He did most of the talking with the poorer villagers, gossiped with them about the state of the country, the chance of peace being re-established, and retailed all sorts of wonderful stories of the doings of the Mahdists.

Both branches of the Nile were crossed in their journey, but no incident of any kind occurred until they had passed the eastern arm. They were now getting into a more dangerous country. Bodies of the Mahdi's troops going to and from Kassala, which had, they learned, at last surrendered, were encountered, and questions were asked as to where they were going and what was the object of their journey.

Upon these occasions Ben Ibyn acted as spokesman and represented that they had friends among the Hadendowah tribesmen, and wished to learn whether any trade could be opened with the coast. When within a day's march of Kassala they met a number of camels laden with spoil from that town on their way to Khartoum, accompanied by a number of foot soldiers and ten or twelve horsemen. Riding twenty or thirty yards behind the sheiks Edgar saw one of the horsemen look earnestly at El Bakhat, and then spur forward to speak to the others who were a short distance ahead.

"That fellow has recognized El Bakhat!" he exclaimed; "ride on, Rupert!"

They both shook the halters and the heiries broke into a trot.

"Ride, sheiks!" Edgar exclaimed as he came up to the others; "one of the horsemen has recognized El Bakhat."

A minute or two later they heard a shout behind them, but paid no attention.

"We have got four or five hundred yards start," Rupert said, looking back, "but the horsemen will overtake us; they can go faster than the camels for a burst. Ride, sheik," he said; "push on to the utmost. If we can get a mile away from the footmen before they come up to us we can thrash the horsemen."

The start they had obtained while the man who had recognized El Bakhat was explaining to the others who he was and how much his capture was desired at Khartoum, was invaluable to the fugitives, and the horsemen started in a body, shouting and yelling and firing their guns. The bullets whistled harmlessly round the fugitives.

"Make for that clump of trees on rising ground," Edgar said; "then spring off the camels and fight them on foot. What arms have you, Rupert?"

"I have two revolvers besides this rifle. You take one of them; we shall beat them off easily enough, they are only about two to one."

When they reached the trees they were but a hundred yards ahead and less than a mile from the caravan, which had halted when the horsemen commenced the pursuit. They leapt from their camels.

"Do you hold their bridles, Yussuf," Edgar said; "we will beat them off," and steadying his rifle against the trunk of a tree he fired at the nearest horseman, who fell instantly from the saddle.

Rupert's rifle cracked a moment later, and the two sheiks added their fire. Had the horsemen been coming up in a close body they would have gained the wood, for the leader was but fifty yards away when Edgar fired; but they were scattered, and the leaders being shot down the others wheeled their horses and galloped back towards the caravan at full speed.

"Now we will be off again," Rupert said, and in a minute they had mounted and continued their flight.

"There is no fear of the footmen overtaking us," Ben Ibyn remarked. "Our camels are not like yours, but they can trot at a good pace for forty miles. It is fortunate we had them, for they would soon have been up to them had we only had common camels. Of course we must strike off straight for Massowah now. The danger is not over; some of the horsemen will bear the news to Kassala and a troop will be sent out in pursuit of us. It is well that we have journeyed quietly and that the beasts are in good condition."

Hour after hour passed. The camels kept on with unswerving gait until long after nightfall.

"My beast smells water," Ben Ibyn said as his camel, after waving his head backwards and forwards, suddenly quickened its pace.

Another quarter of an hour they stopped at a small pool in what during the rainy season was the bed of a river, and here they halted. The camels having drunk their fill were given an ample allowance of corn from the saddle-bags, and were then picketed close at hand, while Yussuf prepared a meal for their masters.

"What is the country like that we have to traverse?" Edgar asked.

"By to-morrow night," Ben Ibyn said, "we shall have reached the mountains. We are on very high land now, and have a great descent to make to reach the coast. We must inquire the way to the pass by which the road from Kassala descends to Massowah. If we strike it without failure we shall be safe; but if we miss our way, and the horsemen from Kassala get there first, we shall be in a bad position. They will have heard of our arms and strength, and are sure to have too strong a force for us to attack. If we fail to find the road at once, our best plan would be to turn and travel north until we reach a road going down to Suakim."

"Would that one of us had travelled here before!" El Bakhat said. "If we could but have continued our journey to-night we should be safe. Upon the desert one can travel by the stars, but the ground is getting far too broken to cross at night; we should only weary our camels in vain."

"How far is it to the gorge you speak of, El Bakhat?"

"I know not for certain. Those who travel the road have told me that it is three or four days' journey with laden camels from Kassala. Our camels can easily do three days' march in one, and if we have the good fortune to strike the road near the mouth of the pass we may pass through it before dark to-morrow; but by that time they may be there from Kassala."

"Well, I suppose we must take our chances," Rupert said.

He and Edgar soon lay down and were fast asleep, but the two Arabs talked together for a long time before they followed their example. At daybreak the party were on their feet.

"We talked it over last night," Ben Ibyn said; "and we both think that it were best not to proceed. The horsemen would have reached the town with the news three hours after noon, and had they sent off at once horsemen and fast camelmen down the road to Massowah, we think that they would be at the pass before we could possibly reach it. Had we known the country and could have travelled all night, we should have been there long before them. As it is, the risk would be too great. We are already some distance north of the Massowah road, and it will not be so many days longer a journey to Suakim than to Massowah. Osman Digma is lying at Handoub and Tamai, so we cannot come down by the Berber road; but there are passes by which we can descend to the low country near Tokar. Once down there we can cross from the foot of the hills to the sea by night, and then follow the coast until we arrive at Suakim."

"I think that is the best plan, sheik," Edgar said. "A few days will make no difference, and it would be as well to avoid all risks."

Accordingly, on mounting, the camels' heads were turned to the north-east. Yussuf rode behind Rupert and Edgar by turns, so as to divide the labour between the two heiries. A few villages were passed, but the inhabitants fled into their houses or into the fields on seeing the approach of the party, the arrival of strangers meaning extortion and demands for tribute. So they journeyed for several days, until one afternoon they came to a large village, which was evidently inhabited. They alighted and knocked at the door of the principal house. No answer was at first returned, but on El Bakhat shouting that he would break down the door if it was not opened, bolts were heard to unfasten. The door opened, and an old man presented himself.

"Why did you not reply to our knocking?" El Bakhat asked angrily. "Is this your hospitality to strangers?"

"My lord must pardon me," he said submissively; "but it was but last week that a party of the Mahdi's soldiers came along here and stripped the village of all it possessed, and drove off its bullocks and sheep. Save our grain, we have nought that we can call our own."

"We do not belong to the Mahdi," Ben Ibyn said, "but are peaceful travellers. We desire only to fill our bags with grain for the animals, for which we will pay you the full value. For ourselves we need nothing, although, if you have peradventure a kid or a sheep left among you we will gladly purchase it."

"Enter, my lord," the old man replied briskly, evidently much relieved at the announcement; "all that the village still possesses is at your service."

He gave an order, and a boy brought out a basket of grain, which he emptied before the camels, while the two Arabs, Edgar, and Rupert entered the house. Ten minutes later a villager brought in a freshly-killed kid, which Yussuf, after lighting a fire in the court-yard, proceeded to cut up and cook. In the meantime the Arabs had entered into a conversation with the peasant as to the routes down to the sea. They learned that so far they had been coming in the right direction, and that some thirty miles farther they would come upon a track leading down to Tokar.

"You must look well for it," he said; "it is never greatly traversed, and since the troubles all trade has ceased, and you may well cross the track without noticing it."

"Have you any in the village who know the track?" Edgar asked.

"There are several here who have been down to Tokar, my lord."

"We will give ten yards of good cloth to one who will go and set us on the road. We will take him behind one of our camels, and as we shall start at daybreak he can be back here before nightfall. I suppose when we once find the track it will not be difficult to follow it."

"I can doubtless find a guide," the peasant said; "he can give you instructions as to the path, or he could go with you, if you choose, still further, to show you the way. I will go and find you such a man."

An active-looking young native presently arrived, and said that he was willing to be their guide to the point where the track left the high lands and entered the gorges leading down towards the sea. It was, he said, four days camels' march beyond the point where they would strike the track, and he would accompany them this distance for forty yards of cotton cloth. The bargain was struck at once, and the following morning they started, the guide riding behind Edgar.

As there was no occasion for haste, and the camels might be required to exert their utmost speed when they reached the low country, the journey was performed by three easy stages, the distances being about forty miles each day. It was well that they had a guide with them, for the track was in most places entirely obliterated.

"You cannot miss your way now," the native said at their last halting-place by some shallow wells. "This depression leads straight down to the pass. It is two days' march hence to the lower plains. When the valley at last opens on them you will be about ten miles west of Tokar."

The next morning the guide started on his return journey. The cloth had been given to him before starting, and he now carried a few pounds of grain and a small bag full of dried dates for his five days' journey back to his village.

The journey down the gorges was an arduous one. The path had been swept away by the last season's rains, and in some places where the valley narrowed to a gorge but a few yards wide, with the rocks rising sheer up hundreds of feet on either side, the bottom was filled with large blocks of stone brought down by the floods, whose highest level could be seen forty or fifty feet above them on the rocks. Occasionally it was necessary to build a sloping platform with small boulders of stones to enable the camels to get over the vast blocks that filled the space between the walls.

It took them three days of arduous labour; but the valley at last opened out, and they saw a broad expanse of country stretching before them. No one had either met or passed them on the way down; but here in the lower valley there were several flocks of sheep and goats watched over by Arab boys. These, at the sight of strangers, hastily collected their animals and drove them up the hillside, but at a shout from Ben Ibyn, saying that they were friends and would do them no harm, two of them presently came down.

On hearing that the travellers intended to camp for the night they led the way to the wells, and for three yards of cotton killed and brought in a sheep. Presently the rest of the lads came down and squatted near the fire that Yussuf had kindled, and after the party had dined were rejoiced by the present of some wheaten cakes and a portion of the cooked meat. They now became very communicative. They belonged to the Hadendowah tribe. There were three or four hundred of the dervishes at Tokar. Osman Digma had in all four or five thousand men at Handoub, and was soon going to drive the Kaffirs into the sea. Many of their tribe were with him, but others were disheartened at the long delay to carry his promise into effect. They had lost, too, a great many of their best fighting men in the battles with the Kaffirs, but no doubt when Osman Digma announced that the favourable time had arrived, all would again join him in order to have their share of the plunder of Suakim.

The next day they stopped at the wells, telling the boys that the camels were sorely wearied by their journey down the gorge, and that they needed a day's rest. In the evening as soon as the meal was over they mounted their camels, much to the surprise of the native boys, and started. Edgar could judge of the general position, for though he had not been as far as Tokar he could tell pretty well the line they should take to come down upon Trinkitat. As soon as they were fairly out of the valley the camels were put to their full speed, and in four hours the sea shining in the bright moonlight lay before them. Crossing a shallow lagoon they were upon the sandy beach.

The pace of the camels was now slackened, as it was useless to arrive at Suakim before daybreak, as they would have been liable to be shot by the sentries in the forts if they approached in the darkness. When day broke Edgar and Rupert gave a shout of joy, for three or four miles away could be seen the masts of shipping. Again the camels broke into a trot, and in half an hour they approached the forts raised to defend the town on the land side from the attacks by Osman Digma's followers. No questions were asked them, for natives belonging to friendly tribes frequently entered or left the town.

As they crossed the ground between the forts and the town they saw a party of marines marching out to relieve those who had occupied the fort at night. They reined in their camels, and Rupert addressed the officer marching at the head of the party.

"Can you tell me, sir, if Lieutenant Skinner is at Suakim at present?"

The officer was astounded at being thus addressed in pure English by a wild-looking native, and the men following him were no less astonished.

"Is it possible," the officer exclaimed, "that you are Mr. Clinton?"

"That is my name," Rupert replied.

The officer advanced and grasped his hand warmly. "I am glad indeed to see you," he said; "Skinner is my subaltern, and has often spoken to me of what he considered your hopeless journey to try to find your brother, and said that if you did get through it alive you were as likely as not to turn up here. I congratulate you indeed. Have you been successful?" and he looked doubtfully at Rupert's companions.

"Yes, thank God, I have succeeded. This is my brother Edgar."

The officer shook hands warmly with Edgar, and even the men who had heard what was said raised a shout of welcome.

"I forgot; Skinner is in the rear," the officer said; and raising his voice shouted his name.

Skinner came running up. He had been wondering what the halt was for. Edgar and Rupert had dismounted by this time and ran forward to meet him. He stopped in surprise and then recognized Rupert, whom he had already seen in his present disguise.

"Clinton!" he exclaimed with a joyous shout; "is it really you? Thank God, you have got back again, and—and—"

"And this is Edgar," Rupert put in.

For a minute or two the three stood shaking each other's hands, too excited and joyous to speak, while the soldiers cheered lustily. The captain in command came up.

"Look here, Skinner; it would be too bad to take you away from your friends now, so I will take it upon myself to give you leave off duty. I will get Thomson to stay out until to-morrow morning in your place. He won't mind when I tell him why, and you can take his turn on duty on shore next time."

Talking excitedly together they entered the town, the Arabs following on their camels and Yussuf leading the two heiries.

"The first thing to do," Skinner said, "is to get you rigged out decently. I suppose it will be some time before you can get rid of your dye, but at any rate you can get dressed like Christians; and you can get rid of that fearful wig, Rupert. I will send off a boat to my ship with a note, and they will soon send you on shore a couple of suits of clothes. Mine would be of no use; you could not get into them. This is the only hotel in the place."

"First of all we must see about these Arabs being made comfortable. Where can they put up their camels?"

"Oh! that will be all right," Skinner said; "one of the fellows here will take them under his charge."

Skinner entered and came out with a servant.

"You can put your camels in the court-yard here, El Bakhat," Edgar said after speaking to the men. "Yussuf will look after them. You had better find a lodging for yourselves. You will be more at home there than you would here. Get everything you want; you will have no difficulty in finding everything in the Arab quarter. Skinner, lend me a sovereign, will you? We have been living on barter for a long time, but they will want money here."

"This is worth five dollars," he said as he handed the money to El Bakhat; "but, ah! I forgot, Ben Ibyn knows about the value of English money. If you will come here at noon I may be able to tell you something about the money."

They then entered the hotel with Skinner.

"Get breakfast, the best you can get," Skinner ordered; "and show me to a room where there is plenty of water and towels. These are Englishmen, though you would not think so from their appearance."

The young fellows enjoyed a thorough wash, and Rupert got rid of his wig, but they had to attire themselves in their former garments for breakfast. After existing for months upon native fare the breakfast was a luxury indeed. By the time they had finished, the messenger Skinner sent off returned with two suits of clothes sent ashore by the officers of his ship, and having attired themselves in these they went with Skinner to the political officer. When he understood who they were he received them with much warmth.

"I have had letters from Captain Clinton," he said, "respecting you; saying that it was possible that you might turn up here, and requesting me to assist you in getting any bills you might draw on him cashed. I will go with you to the principal merchant here. No doubt he will do it, but if not I can manage the affair with one of the ships' paymasters."

The merchant, however, was perfectly willing to honour their draft upon their father for a thousand pounds upon the statement of the officer that he would himself guarantee its payment, and he told them that his servants should bring the money in silver to the hotel. Four hundred pounds was the amount that Ben Ibyn had been promised on delivering Rupert in safety at one of the ports, and an equal sum was to be given to El Bakhat. This left them two hundred pounds for getting to England, for Edgar had learned that his regiment had a month previously sailed for India, and he considered that under the circumstances he was perfectly justified in reporting himself at the depot at home.

The sheiks on their arrival at the hotel received with great satisfaction the bags of money containing the stipulated amount. To these were added a brace of revolvers each, being the two Rupert had carried and two they had purchased in Suakim, together with ten boxes of ammunition. Edgar also gave to El Bakhat a set of jewellery and several silk scarves for Amina.

"Now, sheik," he said, "I should like to purchase the freedom of Yussuf. What do you value him at?"

"I will give him to you," the sheik said. "You have treated me well and honourably."

"No, I will not have that, sheik; he is your property, and is a very useful slave. I will give you two hundred dollars for him."

"It is well," El Bakhat said; "he is yours."

"Now," Rupert said, "there are the two heiries; they are yours by right, Ben Ibyn, but I would fain give one to El Bakhat. I will give you three hundred dollars to forego your claim to it. I know the beast is worth more; but if you possess one of them it will suffice for your needs, and you will oblige me if you will part with the other."

"I can refuse my lord nothing," Ben Ibyn said, "and the possession of two such heiries might well draw envy and enmity upon me. I will accept his offer."

"Then the other heirie is yours, El Bakhat," Rupert said, "as a special present from me for the kindness you have shown my brother. What do you both mean to do now?"

"We have agreed to journey up the coast together and then to travel across the mountains to Assouan, and there buy camels and goods, or we may buy them here if we see bargains to suit us. Then we shall turn south. I shall go on alone to Khartoum; I know many of the Mahdi's officers, and shall by presents to them obtain a pardon for El Bakhat, and permission for him to return to his tribe. Money will do as much among the Mahdi's people as elsewhere."

"We shall see you again to-morrow, sheiks. A steamer sails in the afternoon for Suez, and we shall go in her. Come here to say good-bye to us in the morning."

When the sheiks had left Yussuf was called in, and Edgar told him that he had purchased his freedom from El Bakhat. The negro threw himself on his knees in an ecstasy of delight and poured out his thanks.

"Now, what would you like to do, Yussuf?" Edgar went on when the negro had quieted down. "I can recommend you here to some merchant as a faithful man whom he can trust, or if you would like to set up a shop here I will give you two hundred dollars with which to trade. Or I can take you up with us to Suez and give you strong letters of recommendation with which you can obtain employment there."

"No, my lord," Yussuf cried, "none of these things. I would go with you and be your servant; I will never leave you."

"But I don't want a servant, Yussuf," Edgar said. "As I have told you, I am a soldier, and soldiers do not have servants."

"Oh, that is nonsense!" Rupert put in. "You are not going on as a private soldier. You know you need not reckon upon that, Edgar. You like the fellow, and there is no doubt he would make you a faithful servant; and anyhow they could find something to do for him at home."

Edgar pointed out to Yussuf that the life would be strange to him, the climate altogether different to that to which he was accustomed, and that he would find no one who could speak his language. But Yussuf was unmoved, and entreated so earnestly to be taken that Edgar gave in, saying that after all, if he repented afterwards, he could be sent back to Egypt.

Just as this was settled a messenger entered with a telegram from Captain Clinton in answer to that they had despatched before they had sat down to breakfast announcing their safe arrival. It contained simply the words, "Thank God! Come home at once."

They went off to dinner with Skinner on board ship, and the story of their adventures excited immense interest among the officers. Skinner returned with them on shore, and remained with them until the steamer left in the afternoon. Yussuf, who had been rigged out in white trousers and jacket, a checked shirt, and straw hat, accompanying them. The two sheiks saw them off, and stood looking after them with grave regret until the steamer was far from land. At Suez Edgar and Rupert provided themselves with a stock of linen and clothing; two days later they took passage to Brindisi in a P. and O. steamer, and travelled rapidly across Europe. Their colour excited much surprise among the passengers on board the steamer, but as they had no wish to keep on telling their story they kept themselves apart, and made no acquaintances during the short voyage. Yussuf was astounded at everything he saw: the ship and her machinery, the trains, the fertile country through which they travelled, the frequent villages, and great towns. There was no stay in London. They drove across from Charing Cross to Paddington, and went down by the first train. A telegram had been despatched from Dover, and a carriage was at the station to meet them, and the servant handed Rupert a note. It contained a few words from his father, saying that he had not come to meet them, as he thought it better that they should all meet together at home. It was Edgar who received the first greeting from father, mother, and sister, while Rupert stood by, well content that his brother should on this occasion come first. It was little over a year since he had said good-bye to them, while it was more than three since Edgar had seen them, and his own greeting, though delayed for a moment, was no less warm than that of Edgar.

"Father and mother," Edgar began as soon as they turned again from Rupert, "I want to say that I feel how wrong I was—"

"Then don't say it," Captain Clinton broke in. "We won't talk about that time at all. You suffered, and we have all suffered; but good has come out of it. Thank God the matter is settled now for ever, and we know there is nothing more to be found out about it, and that there is no fear of our ever having to look at one or other of you in a different light to that with which we regard you, as our two sons, of both of whom we have every reason to be proud. There now, let us talk of other things. You have both gone through wonderful adventures, which we are burning to hear about."

"You have changed a great deal, Edgar," Mrs. Clinton said. "Of course we have seen Rupert comparatively lately; but I think that you have changed more than he has from what you both were three years ago. You look older than he does, and your figure is more set."

"He has gone through so much more," Rupert said; "he has been doing man's work for three years. I have only had a year and a half of it."

"You need not be in a hurry to look old, Rupert," Captain Clinton laughed; "that will come soon enough, and you have widened out a good deal in this last year. You had got very weedy, and I am glad to see that you are filling up.

"I have some news for you, Edgar. I saw Lord Wolseley on his return to England, and he spoke very kindly of you both, and when I got your telegram from Suakim I wrote to him again and received a very warm letter of congratulation from him in reply. He told me that he had received a most favourable report of you from your colonel, who said that your conduct had been most exemplary since you had entered the regiment, and that as you had been recommended for the Victoria Cross he had intended to recommend you for a commission as soon as you had served a qualifying time as a sergeant. But Lord Wolseley said that he thought it would be a great pity for you to lose four or five years' seniority by waiting to get your commission from the ranks, and that he had that morning spoken to the Duke of Cambridge about you, and that the latter had put your name down for a Queen's Cadetship, so that if you could pass the mere qualifying examination you could have a commission at once. There will be an examination in two months' time, and if you go up to a crammer and work hard you will be able to brush up your school work and get through; if not, of course you can go in again six months later. I am afraid you will hardly get ready in time for the first."

"I don't know, father," Rupert said; while Edgar expressed his lively satisfaction. "Edgar speaks Arabic like a native, and if he takes that up as a subject he is sure to get full marks for it, and that will help him tremendously. Of course he would have no chance of getting through if he had to go in for the competition; but something like half the number of marks are enough for the qualifying examination."

"Well, we mustn't be too sanguine," Captain Clinton said; "and eight months' quiet study won't hurt him after campaigning in Egypt for two years. By the way, Edgar, I paid in the money for you to buy out, and sent in an application in your name. These things take some little time before they are carried out, but no doubt we shall soon hear. But in the meantime you had better write at once to the officer commanding your depôt, saying that you have returned home, and asking for a month's leave of absence. You are sure to get your discharge before that is over."

Edgar remained at home for a week, spending much of his time, however, over his old school-books. Then he went up to town and worked at a crammer's until the examination came off, when, thanks in no small degree to the number of marks he obtained for his Arabic, he just managed to get the number necessary to qualify him. To his great satisfaction he was at once gazetted to a regiment as if he had been promoted from the ranks, instead of having to go through the course at Sandhurst, and thus gained several months' seniority. Three months' leave was granted him, and at the end of that time he joined his regiment, which was stationed at Malta.

No question as to which of the Clintons is the legitimate son of the captain and his wife has ever again troubled them. Edgar and Rupert know that they are equally dear to those at home, and all are happy in the knowledge that nothing henceforth can break the closeness of their tie, and that it can never be known which is the lawful heir of the estates. What is much more important to them both, neither of them can say which has the first claim on the love and affection of Captain and Mrs. Clinton, and of their sister.

THE END.

Table of Contents

By Sheer Pluck

CHAPTER I: A FISHING EXCURSION

CHAPTER II: A MAD DOG

CHAPTER III: A TOUGH YARN

CHAPTER IV: A RISING TIDE

CHAPTER V: ALONE IN THE WORLD

CHAPTER VI: THE FIRST STEP

CHAPTER VII: AN OLD FRIEND

CHAPTER VIII: TO THE DARK CONTINENT

CHAPTER IX: THE START INLAND

CHAPTER X: LOST IN THE FOREST

CHAPTER XI: A HOSTILE TRIBE

CHAPTER XII: A NEGRO'S STORY

CHAPTER XIII: A FUGITIVE SLAVE

CHAPTER XIV: A CHRISTIAN TOWN

CHAPTER XV: THE AMAZONS OF DAHOMET

CHAPTER XVI: CAPTIVES IN COOMASSIE

CHAPTER XVII: THE INVASION OF FANTI LAND

CHAPTER XVIII: THE ATTACK ON ELMINA

CHAPTER XIX: THE TIDE TURNED

CHAPTER XX: THE WHITE TROOPS

CHAPTER XXI: THE ADVANCE TO THE PRAH

CHAPTER XXII: THE BATTLE OF AMOAFUL

CHAPTER XXIII: THE CAPTURE OF COOMASSIE

By Sheer Pluck

CHAPTER I: A FISHING EXCURSION

"Now, Hargate, what a fellow you are! I've been looking for you everywhere. Don't you know it's the House against the Town boys. It's lucky that the Town have got the first innings; they began a quarter of an hour ago."

"How tiresome!" Frank Hargate said. "I was watching a most interesting thing here. Don't you see this little chaffinch nest in the bush, with a newly hatched brood. There was a small black snake threatening the nest, and the mother was defending it with quivering wings and open beak. I never saw a prettier thing. I sat quite still and neither of them seemed to notice me. Of course I should have interfered if I had seen the snake getting the best of it. When you came running up like a cart horse, the snake glided away in the grass, and the bird flew off. Oh, dear! I am sorry. I had forgotten all about the match."

"I never saw such a fellow as you are, Hargate. Here's the opening match of the season, and you, who are one of our best bats, poking about after birds and snakes. Come along; Thompson sent me and two or three other fellows off in all directions to find you. We shall be half out before you're back. Wilson took James's wicket the first ball."

Frank Hargate leaped to his feet, and, laying aside for the present all thoughts of his favorite pursuit, started off at a run to the playing field. His arrival there was greeted with a mingled chorus of welcome and indignation. Frank Hargate was, next to Thompson the captain of the Town eleven, the best bat among the home boarders. He played a steady rather than a brilliant game, and was noted as a good sturdy sticker. Had he been there, Thompson would have put him in at first, in order to break the bowling of the House team. As it was, misfortunes had come rapidly. Ruthven and Handcock were bowling splendidly, and none of the Town boys were making any stand against them. Thompson himself had gone in when the fourth wicket fell, and was still in, although two wickets had since fallen, for only four runs, and the seventh wicket fell just as Frank arrived, panting, on the ground.

"Confound you, Hargate!" Thompson shouted, "where have you been? And not even in flannels yet."

"I'm very sorry," Frank shouted back cheerfully, "and never mind the flannels, for once. Shall I come in now?"

"No," Thompson said. "You'd better get your wind first. Let Fenner come in next."

Fenner stayed in four overs, adding two singles as his share, while Thompson put on a three and a two. Then Fenner was caught. Thirty-one runs for eight wickets! Then Frank took the bat, and walked to the ground. Thompson came across to him.

"Look here, Hargate, you have made a nice mess of it, and the game looks as bad as can be. Whatever you do, play carefully. Don't let out at anything that comes straight. The great thing is to bother their bowling a bit. They're so cocky now, that pretty near every ball is straight on the wickets. Be content with blocking for a bit, and Handcock will soon go off. He always gets savage if his bowling is collared."

Frank obeyed orders. In the next twenty minutes he only scored six runs, all in singles, while Thompson, who was also playing very carefully, put on thirteen. The game looked more hopeful for the Town boys. Then there was a shout from the House, as Thompson's middle wicket was sent flying. Childers, who was the last of the team, walked out.

"Now, Childers," Thompson said, "don't you hit at a ball. You're safe to be bowled or caught if you do. Just lift your bat, and block them each time. Now, Frank, it's your turn to score. Put them on as fast as you can. It's no use playing carefully any longer."

Frank set to to hit in earnest. He had now got his eye well in, and the stand which he and Thompson had made together, had taken the sting out of the bowling. The ball which had taken Thompson's wicket was the last of the over. Consequently the next came to him. It was a little wide, and Frank, stepping out, drove it for four. A loud shout rose from the Town boys. There had only been one four scored before, during the innings. Off the next ball Frank scored a couple, blocked the next, and drove the last of the over past long leg for four. The next over Childers strictly obeyed orders, blocking each ball. Then it was Frank's turn again, and seven more went up on the board. They remained together for just fifteen minutes, but during that time thirty-one had been added to the score. Frank was caught at cover point, having added twenty-eight since Thompson left him, the other three being credited to Childers. The total was eighty-one—not a bad score in a school match.

"Well, you've redeemed yourself," Thompson said, as Frank walked to the tent. "You played splendidly, old fellow, when you did come. If we do as well next innings we are safe. They're not likely to average eighty. Now get on your wicket-keeping gloves. Green and I will bowl."

The House scored rapidly at first, and fifty runs were put on with the loss of four wickets. Then misfortune fell upon them, and the remaining six fell for nineteen. The next innings Frank went in first, but was caught when the score stood at fifteen. Thompson made fourteen, but the rest scored but badly, and the whole were out for forty-eight.

The House had sixty-one to get to win. Six wickets had fallen for fifty-one runs, when Thompson put Childers on to bowl. The change was a fortunate one. Ruthven's stumps were lowered at the first ball. Handcock was caught off the second. The spirits of the Town boys rose. There were but two wickets more, and still ten runs to get to win. The House played cautiously now, and overs were sent down without a run. Then off a ball from Childers a four was scored, but the next ball leveled the outside stump. Then by singles the score mounted up until a tremendous shout from the House announced that the game was saved, sixty runs being marked by the scorers. The next ball, the Town boys replied even more lustily, for Childers ball removed the bails, and the game ended in a tie. Both parties were equally well satisfied, and declared that a better game had never been played at Dr. Parker's. As soon as the game was over Frank, without waiting to join in the general talk over the game, put on his coat and waistcoat and started at a run for home.

Frank Hargate was an only son. His mother lived in a tiny cottage on the outskirts of Deal. She was a widow, her husband, Captain Hargate, having died a year before. She had only her pension as an officer's widow, a pittance that scarce sufficed even for the modest wants of herself, Frank, and her little daughter Lucy, now six years old.

"I hope I have not kept tea waiting, mother," Frank said as he ran in. "It is not my beetles and butterflies this time. We have been playing a cricket match, and a first rate one it was. Town boys against the House. It ended in a tie."

"You are only a quarter of an hour late," his mother said, smiling, "which is a great deal nearer being punctual than is usually the case when you are out with your net. We were just going to begin, for I know your habits too well to give you more than a quarter of an hour's law."

"I'm afraid I am horridly unpunctual," Frank said, "and yet, mother, I never go out without making up my mind that I will be in sharp to time. But somehow there is always something which draws me away."

"It makes no matter, Frank. If you are happy and amused I am content, and if the tea is cold it is your loss, not ours. Now, my boy, as soon as you have washed your hands we will have tea."

It was a simple meal, thick slices of bread and butter and tea, for Mrs. Hargate could only afford to put meat upon the table once a day, and even for that several times in the week fish was substituted, when the weather was fine and the fishing boats returned, when well laden. Frank fortunately cared very little what he ate, and what was good enough for his mother was good enough for him. In his father's lifetime things had been different, but Captain Hargate had fallen in battle in New Zealand. He had nothing besides his pay, and his wife and children had lived with him in barracks until his regiment was ordered out to New Zealand, when he had placed his wife in the little cottage she now occupied. He had fallen in an attack on a Maori pah, a fortnight after landing in New Zealand. He had always intended Frank to enter the military profession, and had himself directed his education so long as he was at home.

The loss of his father had been a terrible blow for the boy, who had been his constant companion when off duty. Captain Hargate had been devoted to field sports and was an excellent naturalist. The latter taste Frank had inherited from him. His father had brought home from India—where the regiment had been stationed until it returned for its turn of home service four years before he left New Zealand—a very large quantity of skins of birds which he had shot there. These he had stuffed and mounted, and so dexterous was he at the work, so natural and artistic were the groups of birds, that he was enabled to add considerably to his income by sending these up to the shop of a London naturalist. He had instructed Frank in his methods, and had given him one of the long blowguns used by some of the hill tribes in India. The boy had attained such dexterity in its use that he was able with his clay pellets to bring down sitting birds, however small, with almost unerring accuracy.

These he stuffed and mounted, arranging them with a taste and skill which delighted the few visitors at his mother's cottage.

Frank was ready to join in a game of football or cricket when wanted, and could hold his own in either. But he vastly preferred to go out for long walks with his blowgun, his net, and his collecting boxes. At home every moment not required for the preparation of his lessons was spent in mounting and arranging his captures. He was quite ready to follow the course his father proposed for him, and to enter the army. Captain Hargate had been a very gallant officer, and the despatches had spoken most highly of the bravery with which he led his company into action in the fight in which he lost his life. Therefore Mrs. Hargate hoped that Frank would have little difficulty in obtaining a commission without purchase when the time for his entering the army arrived.

Frank's desire for a military life was based chiefly upon the fact that it would enable him to travel to many parts of the world, and to indulge his taste for natural history to the fullest. He was but ten years old when he left India with the regiment, but he had still a vivid recollection of the lovely butterflies and bright birds of that country.

His father had been at pains to teach him that a student of natural history must be more than a mere collector, and that like other sciences it must be methodically studied. He possessed an excellent library of books upon the subject, and although Frank might be ignorant of the name of any bird or insect shown to him he could at once name the family and species.

In the year which Frank had been at school at Dr. Parker's he had made few intimate friends. His habits of solitary wandering and studious indoor work had hindered his becoming the chum of any of his schoolfellows, and this absence of intimacy had been increased by the fact that the straitness of his mother's means prevented his inviting any of his schoolfellows to his home. He had, indeed, brought one or two of the boys, whose tastes lay in the direction of his own, to the house, to show them his collections of birds and insects. But he declined their invitations to visit them, as he was unable to return their hospitality, and was too proud to eat and drink at other fellows' houses when he could not ask them to do the same at his own. It was understood at Dr. Parker's that Frank Hargate's people were poor, but it was known that his father had been killed in battle. There are writers who depict boys as worshipers of wealth, and many pictures have been drawn of the slights and indignities to which boys, whose means are inferior to those of their schoolfellows, are subject. I am happy to believe that this is a libel. There are, it is true, toadies and tuft hunters among boys as among men. That odious creature, the parasite of the Greek and Latin plays, exists still, but I do not believe that a boy is one whit the less liked, or is ever taunted with his poverty, provided he is a good fellow. Most of the miseries endured by boys whose pocket money is less abundant than that of their fellows are purely self inflicted. Boys and men who are always on the lookout for slights will, of course, find what they seek. But the lad who is not ashamed of what is no fault of his own, who frankly and manfully says, "I can't afford it," will not find that he is in any way looked down upon by those of his schoolfellows whose good opinion is in the smallest degree worth having.

Certainly this was so in the case of Frank Hargate. He was never in the slightest degree ashamed of saying, "I can't afford it;" and the fact that he was the son of an officer killed in battle gave him a standing among the best in the school in spite of his want of pocket money.

Frank was friends with many of the fishermen, and these would often bring him strange fish and sea creatures brought up in their nets, instead of throwing them back into the sea.

During the holidays he would sometimes go out with them for twenty-four hours in their fishing-boats. His mother made no objection to this, as she thought that the exercise and sea air were good for his health, and that the change did him good. Frank himself was so fond of the sea that he was half disposed to adopt it instead of the army as a profession. But his mother was strongly opposed to the idea, and won him to her way of thinking by pointing out that although a sailor visits many ports he stays long at none of them, and that in the few hours' leave he might occasionally obtain he would be unable to carry out his favorite pursuits.

"Hargate," Ruthven, who was one of the oldest of the House boys, and was about Frank's age, that is about fifteen years old, said a few days after the match, "the Doctor has given Handcock and Jones and myself leave to take a boat and go out this afternoon. We mean to start soon after dinner, and shall take some lines and bait with us. We have got leave till lockup, so we shall have a long afternoon of it. Will you come with us?"

"Thank you, Ruthven," Frank said; "I should like it very much, but you know I'm short of pocket money, and I can't pay my share of the boat, so I would rather leave it alone."

"Oh, nonsense, Hargate!" Ruthven answered; "we know money is not your strong point, but we really want you to go with us. You can manage a boat better than any of us, and you will really oblige us if you will go with us."

"Oh, if you put it in that way," Frank said, "I shall be glad to go with you; but I do not think," he went on, looking at the sky, "that the weather looks very settled. However, if you do not mind the chance of a ducking, I don't."

"That's agreed then," Ruthven said; "will you meet us near the pier at three o'clock?"

"All right. I'll be punctual."

At the appointed hour the four lads met on the beach. Ruthven and his companions wanted to choose a light rowing boat, but Frank strongly urged them to take a much larger and heavier one. "In the first place," he said, "the wind is blowing off shore, and although it's calm here it will be rougher farther out; and, unless I'm mistaken, the wind is getting up fast. Besides this it will be much more comfortable to fish from a good sized boat."

His comrades grumbled at the extra labor which the large boat would entail in rowing. However, they finally gave in and the boat was launched.

"Look out, Master Hargate," the boatman said as they started; "you'd best not go out too far, for the wind is freshening fast, and we shall have, I think, a nasty night."

The boys thought little of the warning, for the sky was bright and blue, broken only by a few gauzy white clouds which streaked it here and there. They rowed out about a mile, and then laying in their oars, lowered their grapnel and began to fish. The sport was good. The fish bit freely and were rapidly hauled on board. Even Frank was so absorbed in the pursuit that he paid no attention to the changing aspect of the sky, the increasing roughness of the sea, or the rapidly rising wind.

Suddenly a heavy drop or two of rain fell in the boat. All looked up.

"We are in for a squall," Frank exclaimed, "and no mistake. I told you you would get a ducking, Ruthven."

He had scarcely spoken when the squall was upon them. A deluge of rain swept down, driven by a strong squall of wind.

"Sit in the bottom of the boat," Frank said; "this is a snorter."

Not a word was said for ten minutes, long before which all were drenched to the skin. With the rain a sudden darkness had fallen, and the land was entirely invisible. Frank looked anxiously towards the shore. The sea was getting up fast, and the boat tugging and straining at the cord of the grapnel. He shook his head. "It looks very bad," he said to himself. "If this squall does not abate we are going to have a bad time of it."

A quarter of an hour after it commenced the heavy downpour of rain ceased, or rather changed into a driving sleet. It was still extremely dark, a thick lead colored cloud overspread the sky. Already the white horses showed how fast the sea was rising, and the wind showed no signs of falling with the cessation of the rain storm. The boat was laboring at her head rope and dipping her nose heavily into the waves.

"Look here, you fellows," Frank shouted, "we must take to the oars. If the rope were a long one we might ride here, but you know it little more than reached the ground when we threw it out. I believe she's dragging already, and even if she isn't she would pull her head under water with so short a rope when the sea gets up. We'd better get out the oars and row to shore, if we can, before the sea gets worse."

The lads got up and looked round, and their faces grew pale and somewhat anxious as they saw how threatening was the aspect of the sea. They had four oars on board, and these were soon in the water and the grapnel hauled up. A few strokes sufficed to show them that with all four rowing the boat's head could not be kept towards the shore, the wind taking it and turning the boat broadside on.

"This will never do," Frank said. "I will steer and you row, two oars on one side and one on the other. I will take a spell presently.

"Row steadily, Ruthven," he shouted; "don't spurt. We have a long row before us and must not knock ourselves up at the beginning."

For half an hour not a word was spoken beyond an occasional cheery exhortation from Frank. The shore could be dimly seen at times through the driving mist, and Frank's heart sank as he recognized the fact that it was further off than it had been when they first began to row. The wind was blowing a gale now, and, although but two miles from shore, the sea was already rough for an open boat.

"Here, Ruthven, you take a spell now," he said.

Although the rowers had from time to time glanced over their shoulders, they could not, through the mist, form any idea of their position. When Ruthven took the helm he exclaimed, "Good gracious, Frank! the shore is hardly visible. We are being blown out to sea."

"I am afraid we are," Frank said; "but there is nothing to do but to keep on rowing. The wind may lull or it may shift and give us a chance of making for Ramsgate. The boat is a good sea boat, and may keep afloat even if we are driven out to sea. Or if we are missed from shore they may send the lifeboat out after us. That is our best chance."

In another quarter of an hour Ruthven was ready to take another spell at the oar. "I fear," Frank shouted to him as he climbed over the seat, "there is no chance whatever of making shore. All we've got to do is to row steadily and keep her head dead to wind. Two of us will do for that. You and I will row now, and let Handcock and Jones steer and rest by turns. Then when we are done up they can take our places."

In another hour it was quite dark, save for the gray light from the foaming water around. The wind was blowing stronger than ever, and it required the greatest care on the part of the steersman to keep her dead in the eye of the wind. Handcock was steering now, and Jones lying at the bottom of the boat, where he was sheltered, at least from the wind. All the lads were plucky fellows and kept up a semblance of good spirits, but all in their hearts knew that their position was a desperate one.

CHAPTER II: A MAD DOG

"Don't you think, Hargate," Ruthven shouted in his ear, "we had better run before it? It's as much as Handcock can do to keep her head straight."

"Yes," Frank shouted back, "if it were not for the Goodwins. They lie right across ahead of us."

Ruthven said no more, and for another hour he and Frank rowed their hardest. Then Handcock and Jones took the oars. Ruthven lay down in the bottom of the boat and Frank steered. After rowing for another hour Frank found that he could no longer keep the boat head to wind. Indeed, he could not have done so for so long had he not shipped the rudder and steered the boat with an oar, through a notch cut in the stern for the purpose. Already the boat shipped several heavy seas, and Ruthven was kept hard at work baling with a tin can in which they had brought out bait.

"Ruthven, we must let her run. Put out the other oar, we must watch our time. Row hard when I give the word."

The maneuver was safely accomplished, and in a minute the boat was flying before the gale.

"Keep on rowing," Frank said, "but take it easily. We must try and make for the tail of the sands. I can see the lightship."

Frank soon found that the wind was blowing too directly upon the long line of sands to enable him to make the lightship. Already, far ahead, a gray light seemed to gleam up, marking where the sea was breaking over the dreaded shoal.

"I am afraid it is no use," he said. "Now, boys, we had best, each of us, say our prayers to God, and prepare to die bravely, for I fear that there is no hope for us."

There was silence in the boat for the next five minutes, as the boys sat with their heads bent down. More than one choking sob might have been heard, had the wind lulled, as they thought of the dear ones at home. Suddenly there was a flash of light ahead, and the boom of a gun directly afterwards came upon their ears. Then a rocket soared up into the air.

"There is a vessel on the sands," Frank exclaimed. "Let us make for her. If we can get on board we shall have a better chance than here."

The boys again bent to their oars, and Frank tried to steer exactly for the spot whence the rocket had gone up. Presently another gun flashed out.

"There she is," he said. "I can see her now against the line of breakers. Take the oar again, Ruthven. We must bring up under shelter of her lee."

In another minute or two they were within a hundred yards of the ship. She was a large vessel, and lay just at the edge of the broken water. The waves, as they struck her, flew high above her deck. As the boat neared her a bright light suddenly sprang up. The ship was burning a blue light. Then a faint cheer was heard.

"They see us," Frank said. "They must think we are the lifeboat. What a disappointment for them! Now, steady, lads, and prepare to pull her round the instant we are under her stern. I will go as near as I dare."

Frank could see the people on deck watching the boat. They must have seen now that she was not the lifeboat; but even in their own danger they must have watched with intense interest the efforts of the tiny boat, adrift in the raging sea, to reach them. Frank steered the boat within a few yards of the stern. Then Jones and Ruthven, who were both rowing the same side, exerted themselves to the utmost, while Frank pushed with the steering oar. A minute later, and they lay in comparatively still water, under the lee of the ship. Two or three ropes were thrown them, and they speedily climbed on board.

"We thought you were the lifeboat at first," the captain said, as they reached the deck; "but, of course, they cannot be here for a couple of hours yet."

"We were blown off shore, sir," Frank said, "and have been rowing against the wind for hours."

"Well, my lads," the captain said, "you have only prolonged your lives for a few minutes, for she will not hold together long."

The ship, indeed, presented a pitiable appearance. The masts had already gone, the bulwark to windward had been carried away, and the hull lay heeled over at a sharp angle, her deck to leeward being level with the water. The crew were huddled down near the lee bulwarks, sheltered somewhat by the sharp slope of the deck from the force of the wind. As each wave broke over the ship, tons of water rushed down upon them. No more guns were fired, for the lashing had broken and the gun run down to leeward. Already there were signs that the ship would break up ere long, and no hope existed that rescue could arrive in time.

Suddenly there was a great crash, and the vessel parted amidships.

"A few minutes will settle it now," the captain said. "God help us all."

At this moment there was a shout to leeward, which was answered by a scream of joy from those on board the wreck, for there, close alongside, lay the lifeboat, whose approach had been entirely unseen. In a few minutes the fifteen men who remained of the twenty-two, who had formed the crew of the wreck, and the four boys, were on board her. A tiny sail was set and the boat's head laid towards Ramsgate.

"I am glad to see you, Master Hargate," the sailor who rowed one of the stroke oars shouted. He was the man who had lent them the boat. "I was up in the town looking after my wife, who is sick, and clean forgot you till it was dark. Then I ran down and found the boat hadn't returned, so I got the crew together and we came out to look for you, though we had little hope of finding you. It was lucky for you we did, and for the rest of them too, for so it chanced that we were but half a mile away when the ship fired her first gun, just as we had given you up and determined to go back; so on we came straight here. Another ten minutes and we should have been too late. We are making for Ramsgate now. We could never beat back to Deal in this wind. I don't know as I ever saw it blow much harder."

These sentences were not spoken consecutively, but were shouted out in the intervals between gusts of wind. It took them two hours to beat back to Ramsgate, a signal having been made as soon as they left the wreck to inform the lifeboat there and at Broadstairs that they need not put out, as the rescue had been already effected. The lads were soon put to bed at the sailors' home, a man being at once despatched on horseback to Deal, to inform those there of the arrival of the lifeboat, and of the rescue of the four boys who had been blown to sea.

Early next morning Frank and Handcock returned to Deal, the other two lads being so exhausted by their fatigue and exposure that the doctor said they had better remain in bed for another twenty-four hours.

It is impossible to describe the thankfulness and relief which Mrs. Hargate experienced, when, about two in the morning, Dr. Parker himself brought her news of the safety of her boy. She had long given up all hope, for when the evening came on and Frank had not returned, she had gone down to the shore. She learned from the fishermen there that it was deemed impossible that the boys could reach shore in face of the gale, and that although the lifeboat had just put out in search of them, the chances of their being found were, as she herself saw, faint indeed. She had passed the hours which had intervened, in prayer, and was still kneeling by her bedside, where little Lucy was unconsciously sleeping, when Dr. Parker's knock was heard at the door. Fervent, indeed, was her gratitude to God for the almost miraculous preservation of her son's life, and then, overcome by the emotions she had experienced, she sought her couch, and was still asleep when, by the earliest train in the morning, Frank returned.

For some time the four boys were the heroes of the school. A subscription was got up to pay for the lost boat, and close as were Mrs. Hargate's means, she enabled Frank to subscribe his share towards the fund. The incident raised Frank to a pinnacle of popularity among his schoolfellows, for the three others were unanimous in saying that it was his coolness and skill in the management of the boat, which alone kept up their spirits, and enabled them to keep her afloat during the gale, and to make the wreck in safety.

In the general enthusiasm excited by the event, Frank's pursuits, which had hitherto found few followers, now became quite popular in the school. A field club was formed, of which he was elected president, and long rambles in the country in search of insects and plants were frequently organized. Frank himself was obliged, in the interests of the school, to moderate the zeal of the naturalists, and to point out that cricket must not be given up, as, if so large a number withdrew themselves from the game, the school would suffer disaster in its various engagements with other schools in the neighborhood. Consequently the rule was made that members of the club were bound to be in the cricket field on at least three days in the week, including one half holiday, while they were free to ramble in the country on other days. This wise regulation prevented the "naturalists" from becoming unpopular in the school, which would assuredly have been the case had they entirely absented themselves from cricket.

One Saturday afternoon Frank started with a smaller boy, who was one of his most devoted followers, for a long country walk. Frank carried his blowgun, and a butterfly net, Charlie Goodall a net of about a foot in depth, made of canvas, mounted on a stout brass rim, and strong stick, for the capture of water beetles. Their pockets bulged with bottles and tin boxes for the carriage of their captured prey.

They had passed through Eastry, a village four miles from Deal, when Frank exclaimed, "There is a green hairstreak. The first I've seen this year. I have never caught one before."

Cautiously approaching the butterfly, who was sunning himself on the top of a thistle, Frank prepared to strike, when it suddenly mounted and flitted over a hedge. In a moment the boys had scrambled through the gap and were in full pursuit. The butterfly flitted here and there, sometimes allowing the boys to approach within a few feet and then flitting away again for fifty yards without stopping. Heedless where they were going, the boys pursued, till they were startled by a sudden shout close to them.

"You young rascals, how dare you run over my wheat?"

The boys stopped, and Frank saw what, in his excitement, he had not hitherto heeded, that he was now running in a field of wheat, which reached to his knee.

"I am very sorry, sir," he said. "I was so excited than I really did not see where I was going."

"Not see!" shouted the angry farmer. "You young rascal, I'll break every bone in your body," and he flourished a heavy stick as he spoke.

Charlie Goodall began to cry.

"I have no right to trespass on your wheat, sir," Frank said firmly; "but you have no right to strike us. My name is Frank Hargate. I belong to Dr. Parker's school at Deal, and if you will say what damage I have caused, I will pay for it."

"You shall pay for it now," shouted the farmer, as he advanced with uplifted stick.

Frank slipped three or four of his clay bullets into his mouth.

"Leave us alone or it will be worse for you," he said as he raised the blowgun to his mouth.

The farmer advanced, and Frank sent a bullet with all his force, and with so true an aim that he struck the farmer on the knuckles. It was a sharp blow, and the farmer, with a cry of pain and surprise, dropped the stick.

"Don't come a step nearer," Frank shouted. "If you do, I will aim at your eye next time," and he pointed the threatening tube at the enraged farmer's face.

"I'll have the law of you, you young villain. I'll make you smart for this."

"You can do as you like about that," Frank said. "I have only struck you in self defense, and have let you off easily. Come along, Charlie, let's get out of this."

In a few minutes they were again on the road, the farmer making no attempt to follow them, but determined in his mind to drive over the next morning to Deal to take out a summons against them for trespass and assault. The lads proceeded silently along the road. Frank was greatly vexed with himself at his carelessness in running over half grown wheat, and was meditating how he could pay the fine without having to ask his mother. He determined upon his return to carry some of his cases of stuffed birds down to a shop in the town, and he felt sure that he could get enough for these to pay for any damage which could have been inflicted, with a fine for trespassing, for he had seen stuffed birds exposed in the windows for sale, which were, he was sure, very inferior to his own both in execution and lifelike interest.

After proceeding a few hundred yards along the road they met a pretty little girl of seven or eight years old walking along alone. Frank scarcely glanced at her, for at the moment he heard a shouting in the distance and saw some men running along the road. For a moment he thought that the farmer had despatched some of his men to stop him, but instantly dismissed the idea, as they were coming from the opposite direction and could by no possibility have heard what had happened. They were lost sight of by a dip in the road, and as they disappeared, an object was seen on the road on the near side of the dip.

"It is a dog," Frank said. "What can they be shouting at?"

The dog was within fifty yards of them when the men again appeared from the dip and recommenced shouting. Frank could now hear what they said.

"Mad dog! mad dog!"

"Get through the hedge, Charlie, quick," Frank cried. "Here, I will help you over, never mind the thorns."

The hedge was low and closely kept, and Frank, bundling his comrade over it, threw himself across and looked round. The dog was within ten yards of them, and Frank saw that the alarm was well founded. The dog was a large crossbred animal, between a mastiff and a bulldog. Its hair was rough and bristling. It came along with its head down and foam churning from its mouth. Frank looked the other way and gave a cry. Yet twenty yards off, in the middle of the road, stood the child. She, too, had heard the shouts, and had paused to see what was the matter. She had not taken the alarm, but stood unsuspicious of danger, watching, not the dog, but the men in the distance.

Frank placed the blowgun to his mouth, and in a moment his pellet struck the animal smartly on the side of the head. It gave a short yelp and paused. Another shot struck it, and then Frank, snatching the water net from Charlie, threw himself over the hedge, and placed himself between the child and the dog just as the latter, with a savage growl, rushed at him.

Frank stood perfectly cool, and as the animal rushed forward, thrust the net over its head; the ring was but just large enough to allow its head to enter. Frank at once sprang forward, and placing himself behind the dog kept a strain upon the stick, so retaining the mouth of the net tightly on his neck. The animal at first rushed forward dragging Frank after him. Then he stopped, backed, and tried to withdraw his head from the encumbrance which blinded him. Frank, however, had no difficulty in retaining the canvas net in its place, until the men, who were armed with pitchforks, ran up and speedily despatched the unfortunate animal.

"That's bravely done, young master," one of them said; "and you have saved missy's life surely. The savage brute rushed into the yard and bit a young colt and a heifer, and then, as we came running out with forks, he took to the road again. We chased 'um along, not knowing who we might meet, and it gived us a rare turn when we saw the master's Bessy standing alone in the road, wi' nout between her and the dog. Where have you been, Miss Bessy?"

"I've been to aunt's," she said, "and she gave me some strawberries and cream, and it's wicked of you to kill the poor dog."

"Her aunt's farm lies next to master's," the man explained; "and little miss often goes over there.

"The dog was mad, missy, and if it hadn't been for young master here, it would have killed you as safe as eggs. Won't you come back to the farm, sir? Master and mistress would be main glad to thank you for having saved missy's life."

"No, thank you," Frank said; "we are late now and must be going on our way. I am very glad I happened to be here at the time;" so saying Frank and Charlie proceeded on their way to Deal.

On reaching home he at once picked out four of his best cases of stuffed birds. The cases he had constructed himself, for his father had encouraged him to depend upon himself for his amusements. He had asked Charlie to come round to help him to carry the cases, and with these he proceeded to a shop where he had seen such things offered for sale.

"And you really did these yourself?" the man said in surprise. "They are beautifully done. Quite pictures, I call them. It is a pity that they are homely birds. There is no great sale for such things here. I cannot give you more than five shillings each, but if you had them in London they would be worth a great deal more."

Frank gladly accepted the offer, and feeling sure that the pound would cover the damage done and the fine, which might be five shillings apiece for trespassing, went home in good spirits. The next morning the doctor was called out in the middle of school, and presently returned accompanied by the farmer with whom they had had the altercation on the previous day. Frank felt his cheeks flush as he anticipated a severe reprimand before the whole school.

"Mr. Gregson," the doctor said, "tells me that two of my boys were out near his place at Eastry yesterday. One of them gave him his name, which he has forgotten."

"It was I, sir," Frank said rising in his place; "I was there with Goodall. We ran on Mr. Gregson's ground after a butterfly. It was my fault, sir, for, of course, Goodall went where I did. We ran among his wheat, and I really did not notice where we were going till he called to us. I was wrong, of course, and am ready to pay for any damage we may have caused."

"You are welcome," the farmer said, "to trample on my wheat for the rest of your born days. I haven't come over here to talk about the wheat, though I tell you fairly I'd minded to do so. I've come over here, Dr. Parker, me and my missus who's outside, to thank this young gentleman for having saved the life of my little daughter Bessy. She was walking along the road when a mad dog, a big brute of a mastiff, who came, I hear, from somewhere about Canterbury, and who has bit two boys on the road, to say nothing of other dogs and horses and such like; he came along the road, he were close to my Bess, and she stood there all alone. Some of my men with pitchforks were two hundred yards or so behind; but law, they could have done nothing! when this young gentleman here jumped all of a sudden over a hedge and put himself between the dog and my Bess. The dog, he rushed at him; but what does he do but claps a bag he'd got at the end of a stick over the brute's head, and there he holds him tight till the men comes up and kills him with their forks.

"Young gentleman," he said, stepping up to Frank and holding out his hand, "I owe my child's life to you. There are not many men who would have thrown themselves in the way of a mad dog, for the sake of a child they knew nothing of. I thank you for it with all my heart. God bless you, sir. Now, boys, you give three cheers with me for your schoolmate, for you've got a right to be proud of him."

Three such thundering cheers as those which arose had never been heard within the limits of Dr. Parker's school from the day of its foundation. Seeing that farther work could not be expected from them after this excitement, Dr. Parker gave the boys a holiday for the rest of the day, and they poured out from the schoolroom, shouting and delighted, while Frank was taken off to the parlor to be thanked by Mrs. Gregson. The farmer closed his visit by inviting Frank, with as many of his schoolfellows as he liked—the whole school if they would come, the more the better—to come over to tea on the following Saturday afternoon, and he promised them as much strawberries and cream as they could eat. The invitation was largely accepted, and the boys all agreed that a jollier meal they never sat down to than that which was spread on tables in the farmer's garden. The meal was called tea, but it might have been a dinner, for the tables were laden with huge pies, cold chicken and duck, hams, and piles of cakes and tarts of all sorts. Before they started for home, late in the evening, syllabub and cake were handed round, and the boys tramped back to Deal in the highest of glee at the entertainment they had received from the hospitable farmer and his wife.

Great fun had been caused after tea by the farmer giving a humorous relation of the battle with which his acquaintance with Frank had commenced, and especially at the threat of Frank to send a bullet into his eye if he interfered with him. When they left, a most cordial invitation was given to Frank to come over, with any friend he liked to bring with him, and have tea at the Oaks Farm whenever he chose to do so.

CHAPTER III: A TOUGH YARN

"You had a close shave the other night," one of the boatmen remarked to Frank, as a few days after the adventure he strolled down with Ruthven and Handcock to talk to the boatman whose boat had been lost, "a very narrow shave. I had one out there myself when I was just about your age, nigh forty years ago. I went out for a sail with my father in his fishing boat, and I didn't come back for three years. That was the only long voyage I ever went. I've been sticking to fishing ever since."

"How was it you were away three years?" Handcock asked, "and what was the adventure? Tell us about it."

"Well, it's rather a long yarn," the boatman said.

"Well, your best plan, Jack," Ruthven said, putting his hand in his pocket and bringing out sixpence, "will be for you to go across the road and wet your whistle before you begin."

"Thank ye, young gentleman. I will take three o' grog and an ounce of 'bacca."

He went across to the public house, and soon returned with a long clay in his hand. Then he sat down on the shingle with his back against a boat, and the boys threw themselves down close to him.

"Now," he began, when he had filled his pipe with great deliberation and got it fairly alight, "this here yarn as I'm going to tell you ain't no gammon. Most of the tales which gets told on the beach to visitors as comes down here and wants to hear of sea adventures is just lies from beginning to end. Now, I ain't that sort, leastways, I shouldn't go to impose upon young gents like you as ha' had a real adventure of your own, and showed oncommon good pluck and coolness too. I don't say, mind ye, that every word is just gospel. My mates as ha' known me from a boy tells me that I've 'bellished the yarn since I first told it, and that all sorts of things have crept in which wasn't there first. That may be so. When a man tells a story a great many times, naturally he can't always tell it just the same, and he gets so mixed up atween what he told last and what he told first that he don't rightly know which was which when he wants to tell it just as it really happened. So if sometimes it appears to you that I'm steering rather wild, just you put a stopper on and bring me up all standing with a question."

There was a quiet humor about the boatman's face, and the boys winked at each other as much as to say that after such an exordium they must expect something rather staggering. The boatman took two or three hard whiffs at his pipe and then began.

"It was towards the end of September in 1832, that's just forty years ago now, that I went out with my father and three hands in the smack, the Flying Dolphin. I'd been at sea with father off and on ever since I was about nine years old, and a smarter boy wasn't to be found on the beach. The Dolphin was a good sea boat, but she wasn't, so to say, fast, and I dunno' as she was much to look at, for the old man wasn't the sort of chap to chuck away his money in paint or in new sails as long as the old ones could be pieced and patched so as to hold the wind. We sailed out pretty nigh over to the French coast, and good sport we had. We'd been out two days when we turned her head homewards. The wind was blowing pretty strong, and the old man remarked, he thought we was in for a gale. There was some talk of our running in to Calais and waiting till it had blown itself out, but the fish might have spoil before the Wind dropped, so we made up our minds to run straight into Dover and send the fish up from there. The night came on wild and squally, and as dark as pitch. It might be about eight bells, and I and one of the other hands had turned in, when father gave a sudden shout down the hatch, 'All hands on deck.' I was next to the steps and sprang up 'em. Just as I got to the top something grazed my face. I caught at it, not knowing what it was, and the next moment there was a crash, and the Dolphin went away from under my feet. I clung for bare life, scarce awake yet nor knowing what had happened. The next moment I was under water. I still held on to the rope and was soon out again. By this time I was pretty well awake to what had happened. A ship running down channel had walked clean over the poor old Dolphin, and I had got hold of the bobstay. It took me some time to climb up on to the bowsprit, for every time she pitched I went under water. However, I got up at last and swarmed along the bowsprit and got on board. There was a chap sitting down fast asleep there. I walked aft to the helmsman. Two men were pacing up and down in front of him. 'You're a nice lot, you are,' I said, 'to go running down Channel at ten knots an hour without any watch, a-walking over ships and a-drowning of seamen. I'll have the law of ye, see if I don't.'

"'Jeerusalem!' said one, 'who have we here?'

"'My name is Jack Perkins,' says I, 'and I'm the sole survivor, as far as I knows, of the smack, the Flying Dolphin, as has been run down by this craft and lost with all hands.'

"'Darn the Flying Dolphin, and you too,' says the man, and he begins to walk up and down the deck a-puffn' of a long cigar as if nothing had happened.

"'Oh, come,' says I, 'this won't do. Here you've been and run down a smack, drowned father and the other three hands, and your lookout fast asleep, and you does nothing.'

"'I suppose,' said the captain, sarcastic, 'you want me to jump over to look for 'em. You want me to heave the ship to in this gale and to invite yer father perlitely to come on board. P'raps you'd like a grapnel put out to see if I couldn't hook the smack and bring her up again. Perhaps you'd like to be chucked overboard yourself. Nobody asked you to come on board, nobody wanted your company. I reckon the wisest thing you can do is to go for'ard and turn in.' There didn't seem much for me to do else, so I went forward to the forecastle. There most of the hands were asleep, but two or three were sitting up yarning. I told 'em my story and what this captain had said.

"'He's a queer hand is the skipper,' one of 'em said, 'and hasn't got a soft place about him. Well, my lad, I'm sorry for what's happened, but talking won't do it any good. You've got a long voyage before you, and you'd best turn in and make yourself comfortable for it.'

"'I ain't going a long voyage,' says I, beginning to wipe my eye, 'I wants to be put ashore at the first port.'

"'Well, my lad, I daresay the skipper will do that, but as we're bound for the coast of Chili from Hamburg, and ain't likely to be there for about five months, you've got, as I said, a long voyage before you. If the weather had been fine the skipper might have spoken some ship in the Channel, and put you on board, but before the gale's blown out we shall be hundreds of miles at sea. Even if it had been fine I don't suppose the skipper would have parted with you, especially if you told him the watch was asleep. He would not care next time he entered an English port to have a claim fixed on his ship for the vally of the smack.'

"I saw what the sailor said was like enough, and blamed myself for having let out about the watch. However, there was no help for it, and I turned into an empty bunk and cried myself to sleep. What a voyage that was, to be sure! The ship was a Yankee and so was the master and mates. The crew were of all sorts, Dutch, and Swedes, and English, a Yank or two, and a sprinklin' of niggers. It was one of those ships they call a hell on earth, and cussing and kicking and driving went on all day. I hadn't no regular place give me, but helped the black cook, and pulled at ropes, and swabbed the decks, and got kicked and cuffed all round. The skipper did not often speak to me, but when his eye lighted on me he gave an ugly sort of look, as seemed to say, 'You'd better ha' gone down with the others. You think you're going to report the loss of the smack, and to get damages against the Potomac, do you? we shall see.' The crew were a rough lot, but the spirit seemed taken out of 'em by the treatment they met with. It was a word and a blow with the mates, and they would think no more of catching up a handspike and stretching a man senseless on the deck than I should of killing a fly. There was two or three among 'em of a better sort than the others. The best of 'em was the carpenter, an old Dutchman. 'Leetle boy,' he used to say to me, 'you keep yourself out of the sight of de skipper. Bad man dat. Me much surprise if you get to de end of dis voyage all right. You best work vera hard and give him no excuse to hit you. If he do, by gosh, he kill you, and put down in de log, Boy killed by accident.'

"I felt that this was so myself, and I did my work as well as I could. One day, however, when we were near the line I happened to upset a bucket with some tar. The captain was standing close by.

"'You young dog,' he said, 'you've done that a purpose,' and before I could speak he caught up the bucket by the handle and brought it down on my head with all his might. The next thing I remember was, I was lying in a bunk in the forecastle. Everything looked strange to me, and I couldn't raise my head. After a time I made shift to turn it round, and saw old Jans sitting on a chest mending a jacket. I called him, but my voice was so low I hardly seemed to hear it myself.

"'Ah, my leetle boy!' he said, 'I am glad to hear you speak again. Two whole weeks you say nothing except talk nonsense.'

"'Have I been ill?' I asked.

"'You haf been vera bad,' he said. 'De captain meant to kill you, I haf no doubt, and he pretty near do it. After he knock you down he said you dead. He sorry for accident, not mean to hit you so hard, but you dead and better be tossed overboard at once. De mates they come up and take your hands and feet. Den I insist dat I feel your wrist. Two or three of us dey stood by me. Captain he vera angry, say we mutinous dogs. I say not mutinous, but wasn't going to see a boy who was only stunned thrown overboard. We say if he did dat we make complaint before consul when we get to port. De skipper he cuss and swear awful. Howebber we haf our way and carry you here. You haf fever and near die. Tree days after we bring you here de captain he swear you shamming and comed to look at you hisself, but he see that it true and tink you going to die. He go away wid smile on his face. Every day he ask if you alive, and give grunt when I say yes. Now you best keep vera quiet. You no talk 'cept when no one else here but me. Other times lie wid your face to the side and your eyes shut. Best keep you here as long as we can, de longer de better. He make you come on deck and work as soon as he think you strong enough to stand. Best get pretty strong before you go out.'

"For another three weeks I lay in my bunk. I only ate a little gruel when others were there, but when the skipper was at dinner Jans would bring me strong soup and meat from the caboose. The captain came several times and shook me and swore I was shamming, but I only answered in a whisper and seemed as faint as a girl. All this time the Potomac was making good way, and was running fast down the coast of South America. The air was getting cool and fresh.

"'I tink,' Jans said one evening to me, 'dat dis not go on much much longer. De crew getting desperate. Dey talk and mutter among demselves. Me thinks we have trouble before long.'

"The next day one of the mates came in with a bucket of water. 'There! you skulking young hound,' he said as he threw it over me; 'you'd best get out, or the skipper will come and rouse you up himself.'

"I staggered on to the floor. I had made up my mind to sham weak, but I did not need to pretend at first, for having been six weeks in bed, I felt strange and giddy when I got up. I slipped on my clothes and went out on deck, staggered to the bulwarks and held on. The fresh air soon set me straight, and I felt that I was pretty strong again. However, I pretended to be able to scarce stand, and, holding on by the bulwark, made my way aft.

"'You young dog,' the skipper said, 'you've been shamming for the last six weeks. I reckon I'll sharpen you up now,' and he hit me a heavy blow with a rattan he held in his hand. There was a cry of 'Shame!' from some of the men. As quick as thought the skipper pulled a pistol from his pocket.

"'Who cried "Shame"?'" he asked looking round.

"No one answered. Still holding the pistol in his hand he gave me several more cuts, and then told me to swab the deck. I did it, pretending all the time I was scarce strong enough to keep my feet. Then I made my way forward and sat down against the bulwark, as if nigh done up, till night came. That night as I lay in my bunk I heard the men talking in whispers together. I judged from what they said that they intended to wait for another week, when they expected to enter Magellan Straits, and then to attack and throw the officers overboard. Nothing seemed settled as to what they would do afterwards. Some were in favor of continuing the voyage to port, and there giving out that the captain and officers had been washed overboard in a storm; when, if all stood true to each other, the truth could never be known, although suspicions might arise. The others, however, insisted that you never could be sure of every one, and that some one would be sure to peach. They argued in favor of sailing west and beaching the ship on one of the Pacific islands, where they could live comfortably and take wives among the native women. If they were ever found they could then say that the ship was blown out of her course and wrecked there, and that the captain and officers had been drowned or killed by the natives. It seemed to me that this party were the strongest. For the next week I was thrashed and kicked every day and had I been as weak as I pretended to be, I'm sure they would have killed me. However, thanks to the food Jans brought me, for I was put on bread and water, I held on. At last we entered the straits. The men were very quiet that day, and the captain in a worse temper than usual. I did not go to sleep, and turned out at the midnight watch, for I was made to keep watch although I was on duty all day. As the watch came in I heard them say to the others, 'In ten minutes' time.' Presently I saw them come out, and joining the watch on deck they went aft quietly in a body. They had all got handspikes in their hands. Then there was a rush. Two pistol shots were fired, and then there was a splash, and I knew that the officer on watch was done for. Then they burst into the aft cabins. There were pistol shots and shouts, and for three or four minutes the fight went on. Then all was quiet. Then they came up on deck again and I heard three splashes, that accounted for the captain and the two other mates. I thought it safe now to go aft. I found that six of the men had been killed. These were thrown overboard, and then the crew got at the spirit stores and began to drink. I looked about for Jans, and found him presently sitting on the deck by the bulwark.

"'Ah, my leetle boy!' he said, 'you have just come in time. I have been shot through the body. I was not in de fight, but was standing near when dey rushed at de officer on watch. De first pistol he fire missed de man he aim at and hit me. Well, it was shust as well. I am too old to care for living among de black peoples, and I did not want a black wife at all. So matters haf not turned out so vera bad. Get me some water.'

"I got him some, but in five minutes the poor old Dutchman was dead. There was no one on deck. All were shouting and singing in the captain's cabin, so I went and turned in forward. Morning was just breaking when I suddenly woke. There was a great light, and running on deck I saw the fire pouring out from the cabin aft. I suppose they had all drunk themselves stupid and had upset a light, and the fire had spread and suffocated them all. Anyhow, there were none of them to be seen. I got hold of a water keg and placed it in a boat which luckily hung out on its davits, as Jans had, the day before, been calking a seam in her side just above the water's edge. I made a shift to lower it, threw off the falls, and getting out the oars, rowed off. I lay by for some little time, but did not see a soul on deck. Then, as I had nowhere particular to go, I lay down and slept. On getting up I found that I had drifted two or three miles from the ship, which was now a mere smoking shell, the greater part being burnt to the Water's edge. Two miles to the north lay the land, and getting out an oar at the stern I sculled her to shore. I suppose I had been seen, or that the flames of the ship had called down the people, for there they were in the bay, and such a lot of creatures I never set eyes on. Men and women alike was pretty nigh naked, and dirt is no name for them. Though I was but a boy I was taller than most. They came round me and jabbered and jabbered till I was nigh deafened. Over and over again they pointed to the ship. I thought they wanted to know whether I belonged to it, but it couldn't have been that, because when I nodded a lot of 'em jumped into some canoes which was lying ashore, and taking me with them paddled off to the ship. I suppose they really wanted to know if they could have what they could find. That wasn't much, but it seemed a treasure to them. There was a lot of burned beams floating about alongside, and all of these which had iron or copper bolts or fastenings they took in tow and rowed ashore. We hadn't been gone many hundred yards from the vessel when she sunk. Well, young gentlemen, for upwards of two years I lived with them critturs. My clothes soon wore out, and I got to be as naked and dirty as the rest of 'em. They were good hands at fishing, and could spear a fish by the light of a torch wonderful. In other respects they didn't seem to have much sense. They lived, when I first went there, in holes scratched in the side of a hill, but I taught 'em to make huts, making a sort of ax out of the iron saved. In summer they used to live in these, but in winter, when it was awful cold, we lived in the holes, which were a sight warmer than the huts. Law, what a time that was! I had no end of adventures with wild beasts. The way the lions used to roar and the elephants—"

"I think, Jack," Ruthven interrupted, "that this must be one of the embellishments which have crept in since you first began telling the tale. I don't think I should keep it in if I were you, because the fact that there are neither lions or elephants in South America throws a doubt upon the accuracy of this portion of your story."

"It may be, sir," the sailor said, with a twinkle of his eyes, "that the elephants and lions may not have been in the first story. Now I think of it, I can't recall that they were; but, you see, people wants to know all about it. They ain't satisfied when I tell 'em that I lived two years among these chaps. They wants to know how I passed my time, and whether there were any wild beasts, and a lot of such like questions, and, in course, I must answer them. So then, you see, naturally, 'bellishments creeps in; but I did live there for two years, that's gospel truth, and I did go pretty nigh naked, and in winter was pretty near starved to death over and over again. When the ground was too hard to dig up roots, and the sea was too rough for the canoes to put out, it went hard with us, and very often we looked more like living skelingtons than human beings. Every time a ship came in sight they used to hurry me away into the woods. I suppose they found me useful, and didn't want to part with me. At last I got desperate, and made up my mind I'd make a bolt whatever came of it. They didn't watch me when there were no ships near. I suppose they thought there was nowhere for me to run to, so one night I steals down to the shore, gets into a canoe, puts in a lot of roots which I had dug up and hidden away in readiness, and so makes off. I rowed hard all night, for I knew they would be after me when they found I had gone. Them straits is sometimes miles and miles across; at other times not much more than a ship's length, and the tide runs through 'em like a mill race. I had chosen a time when I had the tide with me, and soon after morning I came to one of them narrow places. I should like to have stopped here, because it would have been handy for any ship as passed; but the tide run so strong, and the rocks were so steep on both sides, that I couldn't make a landing. Howsomdever, directly it widened out, I managed to paddle into the back water and landed there. Well, gents, would you believe me, if there wasn't two big allygaters sitting there with their mouths open ready to swallow me, canoe and all, when I came to shore."

"No, Jack, I'm afraid we can't believe that. We would if we could, you know, but alligators are not fond of such cold weather as you'd been having, nor do they frequent the seashore."

"Ah, but this, you see, was a straits, Master Ruthven, just a narrow straits, and I expect the creatures took it for a river."

"No, no, Jack, we can't swallow the alligators, any more than they could swallow you and your canoe."

"Well," the sailor said with a sigh, "I won't say no more about the allygaters. I can't rightly recall when they came into the story. Howsomdever, I landed, you can believe that, you know."

"Oh yes, we can quite believe, Jack, that, if you were there, in that canoe, in that back water, with the land close ahead, you did land."

The sailor looked searchingly at Ruthven and then continued:

"I hauled the canoe up and hid it in some bushes, and it were well I did, for a short time afterwards a great—" and he paused. "Does the hippypotybus live in them ere waters, young gents?"

"He does not, Jack," Ruthven said.

"Then it's clear," the sailor said, "that it wasn't a hippypotybus. It must have been a seal."

"Yes, it might have been a seal," Ruthven said. "What did he do?"

"Well he just took a look at me, gents, winked with one eye, as much as to say, 'I see you,' and went down again. There warn't nothing else as he could do, was there?"

"It was the best thing he could do anyhow," Ruthven said.

"Well, gents, I lived there for about three weeks, and then a ship comes along, homeward bound, and I goes out and hails her. At first they thought as I was a native as had learned to speak English, and it wasn't till they'd boiled me for three hours in the ship's copper as they got at the color of my skin, and could believe as I was English. So I came back here and found the old woman still alive, and took to fishing again; but it was weeks and weeks before I could get her or any one else to believe as I was Jack Perkins. And that's all the story, young gents. Generally I tells it a sight longer to the gents as come down from London in summer; but, you see, I can't make much out of it when ye won't let me have 'bellishments."

"And how much of it is true altogether, Jack?" Frank asked. "Really how much?"

"It's all true as I have told you, young masters," the boatman said. "It were every bit true about the running down of the smack, and me being nearly killed by the skipper, and the mutiny, and the burning of the vessel, and my living for a long time—no, I won't stick to the two years, but it might have been three weeks, with the natives before a ship picked me up. And that's good enough for a yarn, ain't it?"

"Quite good enough, Jack, and we're much obliged to you; but I should advise you to drop the embellishments in future."

"It ain't no use, Master Hargate, they will have 'bellishments, and if they will have 'em, Jack Perkins isn't the man to disappint 'em; and, Lord bless you, sir, the stiffer I pitches it in the more liberal they is with their tips. Thank ye kindly all round, gentlemen. Yes, I do feel dry after the yarn."

CHAPTER IV: A RISING TIDE

The half year was drawing to its close, and it was generally agreed at Dr. Parker's that it had been the jolliest ever known. The boating episode and that of the tea at Oak Farm had been events which had given a fillip to existence. The school had been successful in the greater part of its cricket matches, and generally every one was well satisfied with himself. On the Saturday preceding the breaking up Frank, with Ruthven, Charlie Goodall and two of the other naturalists, started along the seashore to look for anemones and other marine creatures among the rocks and pools at the foot of the South Foreland. Between Ruthven and Frank a strong feeling of affection had grown up since the date of their boating adventure. They were constantly together now; and as Ruthven was also intended for the army, and would probably obtain his commission about the same time as Frank, they often talked over their future, and indulged in hopes that they might often meet, and that in their campaigns, they might go through adventures together.

Tide was low when they started. They had nearly three miles to walk. The pools in front of Deal and Walmer had often been searched, but they hoped that once round the Foreland they might light upon specimens differing from any which they had hitherto found. For some hours they searched the pools, retiring as the tide advanced. Then they went up to the foot of the cliffs, and sat down to open their cans and compare the treasures they had collected. The spot which they had unwittingly selected was a little bay. For a long time they sat comparing their specimens. Then Frank said, "Come along, it is time to be moving."

As he rose to his feet he uttered an exclamation of dismay. Although the tide was still at some little distance from the spot where they were sitting, it had already reached the cliffs extending out at either end of the bay. A brisk wind was blowing on shore, and the waves were already splashing against the foot of the rocks.

The whole party leaped to their feet, and seizing their cans ran off at the top of their speed to the end of the bay.

"I will see how deep the water is," Frank exclaimed; "we may yet be able to wade round."

The water soon reached Frank's waist. He waded on until it was up to his shoulders, and he had to leap as each wave approached him. Then he returned to his friends.

"I could see round," he said, "and I think I could have got round without getting into deeper water. The worst of it is the bottom is all rocky, and I stumbled several times, and should have gone under water if I could not have swam. You can't swim, Ruthven, I know; can you other fellows?"

Goodall could swim, as could one of the others.

"Now, Ruthven," Frank said, "if you will put your hand on my shoulder and keep quiet, I think I could carry you around. Goodall and Jackson can take Childers."

But neither of the other boys had much confidence in their swimming. They could get thirty or forty yards, but felt sure that they would be able to render but little assistance to Childers, and in fact scarcely liked to round the point alone. For some time they debated the question, the sea every minute rising and pushing them farther and farther from the point. "Look here, Frank," Ruthven said at last; "you are not sure you can carry me. The others are quite certain that they cannot take Childers. We must give up that idea. The best thing, old boy, is for you three who can swim to start together. Then if either of the others fail you can help them a bit. Childers and I must take our chance here. When you get round you must send a boat as soon as possible."

"I certainly shall not desert you, Ruthven," Frank said. "You know as well as I do that I'm not likely to find a boat on the shore till I get pretty near Walmer Castle, and long before we could get back it would be settled here. No, no, old fellow, we will see the matter out together. Jackson and Goodall can swim round if they like."

These lads, however, would not venture to take the risk alone, but said they would go if Frank would go with them.

"Chuck off your boots and coats and waistcoats," Frank said suddenly, proceeding to strip rapidly to the skin. "I will take them round, Ruthven, and come back to you. Run round the bay you and Childers, and see if you can find any sort of ledge or projection that we can take refuge upon. Now, then, come on you two as quick as you can."

The sea had already reached within a few feet of the foot of the cliff all round the bay.

"Now, mind," Frank said sharply, "no struggling and nonsense, you fellows. I will keep quite close to you and stick to you, so you needn't be afraid. If you get tired just put one hand on my back and swim with the other and your legs; and above all things keep your heads as low as possible in the water so as just to be able to breathe."

The three lads soon waded out as far as they could go and then struck out. Jackson and Goodall were both poor swimmers and would have fared very badly alone. The confidence, however, which they entertained in Frank gave them courage, and they were well abreast of the point when first Jackson and then Goodall put their hands on his shoulders. Thanks to the instructions he had given them, and to their confidence in him, they placed no great weight upon him. But every ounce tells heavily on a swimmer, and Frank gave a gasp of relief as at last his feet touched the ground. Bidding his companions at once set off at a run he sat down for two or three minutes to recover his breath.

"It is lucky," he said to himself, "that I did not try with Ruthven. It's a very different thing carrying fellows who can swim and fellows who can't. What fools we've been to let ourselves he caught here! I had no idea the tide came so high, or that it was so dangerous, and none of us have ever been round here before. Now I must go back to Ruthven."

Frank found it even harder work to get back than it had been to come out from the bay, for the tide was against him now. At last he stood beside Ruthven and Childers.

"We can only find one place, Frank, where there is any projection a fellow could stand upon, and that is only large enough for one. See!" he said, pointing to a projecting block of chalk, whose upper surface, some eight inches wide, was tolerably flat. "There is a cave here, too, which may go beyond the tide. It is not deep but it slopes up a bit."

"That will never do," Frank said; "as the waves come in they will rush up and fill it to the top. Don't you see it is all rounded by the water? Now, Childers, we will put you on that stone. You will be perfectly safe there, for you see it is two feet above this greenish line, which shows where the water generally comes to. The tides are not at spring at present, so though you may get a splashing there is no fear of your being washed off."

The water was already knee deep at the foot of the rocks, and the waves took them nearly up to the shoulders. Ruthven did not attempt to dispute Frank's allotment of the one place of safety to Childers. Frank and he placed themselves below the block of chalk, which was somewhat over six feet from the ground. Then Childers scrambled up on to their shoulders, and from these stepped onto the ledge.

"I am all right," he said; "I wish to Heaven that you were too."

"We shall do," Frank said. "Mind you hold tight, Childers! You had better turn round with your face to the cliff, so as to be able to grip hold and steady yourself in case the waves come up high. The tide will turn in three quarters of an hour at the outside. Now, then, Ruthven, let's make a fight for it, old man."

"What are you going to do, Frank?"

"We will wade along here as far as we can towards the corner, and than we must swim for it."

"Don't you think it's possible to stay here," Ruthven said, "if the tide will turn so soon?"

"Quite impossible!" Frank said. "I have been nearly taken off my feet twice already, and the water will rise a yard yet, at least. We should be smashed against the rocks, even if we weren't drowned. It must be tried, Ruthven. There is no other way for it. The distance is a good deal farther than it would have been if we had started at first; but it isn't the distance that makes much matter. We've only got to go out a little way, and the tide will soon take us around the point. Everything depends on you. I can take you round the point, and land you safely enough, if you will lie quiet. If you don't, you will drown both of us. So it's entirely in your hands.

"Look out!"

At this moment a larger wave than usual took both boys off their legs, and dashed them with considerable force against the cliff. Frank seized Ruthven, and assisted him to regain his feet.

"Now, old fellow, let me put you on your back. I will lie on mine and tow you along. Don't struggle; don't move; above all, don't try and lift your head, and don't mind if a little water gets in your mouth. Now!"

For a moment Ruthven felt himself under water, and had to make a great effort to restrain himself from struggling to come to the surface. Then he felt himself lying on his back in the water, supported by Frank. The motion was not unpleasant as he rose and fell on the waves, although now and then a splash of water came over his face, and made him cough and splutter for breath. He could see nothing but the blue sky overhead, could feel nothing except that occasionally he received a blow from one or other of Frank's knees, as the latter swam beneath him, with Ruthven's head on his chest. It was a dreamy sensation, and looking back upon it afterwards Ruthven could never recall anything that he had thought of. It seemed simply a drowsy pleasant time, except when occasionally a wave covered his face. His first sensation was that of surprise when he felt the motion change, and Frank lifted his head from the water and said, "Stand up, old fellow. Thank God, here we are, safe!"

Frank had indeed found the journey easier than that which he had before undertaken with the others. He had scarcely tried to progress, but had, after getting sufficiently far out to allow the tide to take him round the point, drifted quietly.

"I owe my life to you, Frank. I shall never forget it, old fellow."

"It's been a close thing," Frank answered; "but you owe your life as much to your own coolness as to me, and above all, Ruthven, don't let us forget that we both owe our lives to God."

"I sha'n't forget it," Ruthven said quietly, and they stood for a few minutes without speaking. "Now, what had we better do? Shall we start to run home?"

"I can't," Frank laughed, for he had nothing on but his trousers. These he had slipped on after the return from his first trip, pushing the rest of his things into a crevice in the rocks as high up as he could reach.

"You had better take off your things, Ruthven, and lay them out to dry in the sun. The boat will be here in half an hour. I wonder how Childers is getting on!"

"I think he will be safe," Ruthven said. "The tide will not rise high enough for there to be much danger of his being washed off."

"I don't think so either," Frank agreed, "or I would try and swim back again; but I really don't think I could get round the point against the tide again."

In half an hour a boat rowing four oars was seen approaching.

"They are laying out well," Ruthven said. "They couldn't row harder if they were rowing a race. But had it not been for you, old fellow, they would have been too late, as far as I am concerned."

As the boat approached, the coxswain waved his hat to the boys. Frank motioned with his arm for them to row on round the point. The boat swept along at a short distance from the shore. The boys watched them breathlessly. Presently as it reached the point they saw the coxswain stand up and say something to the men, who glanced over their shoulders as they rowed. Then the coxswain gave a loud shout. "Hold on! We'll be with you directly."

"Thank God!" Frank exclaimed, "Childers is all right."

It was well, however, that the boat arrived when it did, for Childers was utterly exhausted when it reached him. The sea had risen so high that the waves broke against his feet, throwing the spray far above his head, and often nearly washing him from the ledge on which he stood. Had it not been, indeed, for the hold which he obtained of the cliff, it would several times have swept him away. About eighteen inches above his head he had found a ledge sufficiently wide to give a grip for his hands, and hanging by these he managed to retain his place when three times his feet were swept off the rock by the rush of water. The tide was just on the turn when the boat arrived, and so exhausted was he that he certainly would not have been able to hold out for the half hour's buffeting to which he would have been exposed before the water fell sufficiently to leave him. After helping him into the boat the men gathered the clothes jammed in fissures of the cliffs. These were, of course, drenched with water, but had for the most part remained firm in their places. They now pulled round to the spot where Frank and Ruthven were awaiting them.

"Childers must have been pretty nearly done," Frank said. "He must be lying in the bottom of the boat."

Childers gave a smile of pleasure as his schoolfellows jumped on board. He had, glancing over his shoulder, seen them drift out of sight round the point, and had felt certain that they had reached shore. It was, however, a great pleasure to be assured of the fact.

"You have made quite a stir upon the beach, young gentlemen," the coxswain of the boat said. "When they two came running up without their shoes or coats and said there were three of you cut off in the bay under the Foreland, there didn't seem much chance for you. It didn't take us two minutes to launch the boat, for there were a score of hands helping to run her down; and my mates bent to it well, I can tell you, though we didn't think it would be of any use. We were glad when we made you two out on this side of the point. Look, there's half Deal and Walmer coming along the shore."

It was as the boatman said. Numbers of persons were streaming along the beach, and loud were the cheers which rose as the coxswain stood up and shouted in a stentorian voice, "All saved!"

Frank put on his things as they approached Walmer. His shoes were lost, as were those of Ruthven, and he had difficulty in getting his arms into his wet and shrunken jacket. Quite a crowd were gathered near the castle as the boat rowed to shore, and a hearty cheer arose as it was run up on the shingle and the boys were helped out. Frank and Ruthven, indeed, required no assistance. They were in no way the worse for the adventure, but Childers was so weak that he was unable to stand. He was carried up and laid on a fly, the others sitting opposite, the driver having first taken the precaution of removing the cushions.

There were among the crowd most of the boys from Dr. Parker's. Goodall and Jackson had arrived nearly an hour and a half before, and the news had spread like wildfire. Bats and balls had been thrown down and every one had hurried to the beach. Goodall and his companion had already related the circumstance of their being cut off by the water and taken round the point by Frank; and as Ruthven on jumping out had explained to his comrades who flocked round to shake his hand, "I owe my life to Hargate," the enthusiasm reached boiling point, and Frank had difficulty in taking his place in the fly, so anxious were all to shake his hand and pat him on the shoulder. Had it not been for his anxiety to get home as soon as possible, and his urgent entreaties, they would have carried him on their shoulders in triumph through the town. They drove first to the school, where Childers was at once carried up to a bed, which had been prepared with warm blankets in readiness; Ruthven needed only to change his clothes.

The moment they had left the fly Frank drove straight home, and was delighted at finding, from his mother's exclamation of surprise as he alighted from the cab, that she had not been suffering any anxiety, no one, in the general excitement, having thought of taking the news to her. In answer to her anxious inquiries he made light of the affair, saying only that they had stupidly allowed themselves to be cut off by the sea and had got a ducking. It was not, indeed, till the next morning, when the other four boys came around to tell Mrs. Hargate that they were indebted to Frank for their lives, that she had any notion that he had been in danger.

Frank was quite oppressed by what he called the fuss which was made over the affair. A thrilling description of it appeared in the local papers. A subscription was got up in the school, and a gold watch with an inscription was presented to him; and he received letters of heart felt thanks from the parents of his four schoolfellows, for Childers maintained that it was entirely to Frank's coolness and thoughtfulness that his preservation was also due.

On the following Wednesday the school broke up. Frank had several invitations from the boys to spend his holidays with them; but he knew how lonely his mother would feel in his absence, and he declined all the invitations. Mrs. Hargate was far from strong, and had had several fits of fainting. These, however, had taken place at times when Frank was at school, and she had strictly charged her little servant to say nothing about it.

One day on returning from a long walk he saw the doctor's carriage standing at the door. Just as he arrived the door opened and the doctor came out. Upon seeing Frank he turned.

"Come in here, my boy," he said.

Frank followed him, and seeing that the blinds were down, went to draw them up. The doctor laid his hand on his arm.

"Never mind that," he said gently.

"My boy," he said, "do you know that your mother has been for some time ailing?"

"No, indeed," Frank said with a gasp of pain and surprise.

"It is so, my boy. I have been attending her for some time. She has been suffering from fainting fits brought on by weakness of the heart's action. Two hours since I was sent for and found her unconscious. My poor boy, you must compose yourself. God is good and merciful, though his decrees are hard to bear. Your mother passed away quietly half an hour since, without recovering consciousness."

Frank gave a short cry, and then sat stunned by the suddenness of the blow. The doctor drew out a small case from his pocket and poured a few drops from the phial into a glass, added some water, and held it to Frank's lips.

"Drink this, my boy," he said.

Frank turned his head from the offered glass. He could not speak.

"Drink this, my boy," the doctor said again; "it will do you good. Try and be strong for the sake of your little sister, who has only you in the world now."

The thought of Lucy touched the right chord in the boy's heart, and he burst into a passionate fit of crying. The doctor allowed his tears to flow unchecked.

"You will be better now," he said presently. "Now drink this, then lie down on the sofa. We must not be having you ill, you know."

Frank gulped down the contents of the glass, and, passive as a child, allowed the doctor to place him upon the sofa.

"God help and strengthen you, my poor boy," he said; "ask help from Him."

For an hour Frank lay sobbing on the sofa, and then, remembering the doctor's last words, he knelt beside it and prayed for strength.

A week had passed. The blinds were up again. Mrs. Hargate had been laid in her last home, and Frank was sitting alone again in the little parlor thinking over what had best be done. The outlook was a dark one, enough to shake the courage of one much older than Frank. His mother's pension, he knew, died with her. He had, on the doctor's advice, written to the War Office on the day following his mother's death, to inform the authorities of the circumstances, and to ask if any pension could be granted to his sister. The reply had arrived that morning and had relieved him of the greatest of his cares. It stated that as he was now just fifteen years old he was not eligible for a pension, but that twenty-five pounds a year would be paid to his sister until she married or attained the age of twenty-one.

He had spoken to the doctor that morning, and the latter said that he knew a lady who kept a small school, and who would, he doubted not, be willing to receive Lucy and to board and clothe her for that sum. She was a very kind and motherly person, and he was sure that Lucy would be most kindly treated and cared for by her. It was then of his own future only that Frank had to think. There were but a few pounds in the house, but the letter from the War Office inclosed a check for twenty pounds, as his mother's quarterly pension was just due. The furniture of the little house would fetch but a small sum, not more, Frank thought, than thirty or forty pounds. There were a few debts to pay, and after all was settled up there would remain about fifty pounds. Of this he determined to place half in the doctor's hands for the use of Lucy.

"She will want," he said to himself, "a little pocket money. It is hard on a girl having no money to spend of her own. Then, as she gets on, she may need lessons in something or other. Besides, half the money rightly belongs to her, The question is, What am I to do?"

CHAPTER V: ALONE IN THE WORLD

"What am I to do?"

A difficult question indeed, for a boy of fifteen, with but twenty-five pounds, and without a friend in the world. Was he, indeed, without a friend? he asked himself. There was Dr. Parker. Should he apply to him? But the doctor had started for a trip on the Continent the day after the school had broken up, and would not return for six weeks. It was possible that, had he been at home, he might have offered to keep Frank for a while; but the boys seldom stayed at his school past the age of fifteen, going elsewhere to have their education completed. What possible claim had he to quarter himself upon the doctor for the next four years, even were the offer made? No, Frank felt; he could not live upon the doctor's charity. Then there were the parents of the boys he had saved from drowning. But even as he sat alone Frank's face flushed at the thought of trading upon services so rendered. The boy's chief fault was pride. It was no petty feeling, and he had felt no shame at being poorer than the rest of his schoolfellows. It was rather a pride which led him unduly to rely upon himself, and to shrink from accepting favors from any one. Frank might well, without any derogation, have written to his friends, telling them of the loss he had suffered and the necessity there was for him to earn his living, and asking them to beg their fathers to use their interest to procure him a situation as a boy clerk, or any other position in which he could earn his livelihood.

Frank, however, shrunk from making any such appeal, and determined to fight his battle without asking for help. He knew nothing of his parents' relations. His father was an only son, who had been left early an orphan. His mother, too, had, he was aware, lost both her parents, and he had never heard her speak of other relations. There was no one, therefore, so far as he knew, to whom he could appeal on the ground of ties of blood. It must be said for him that he had no idea how hard was the task which he was undertaking. It seemed to him that it must be easy for a strong, active lad to find employment of some sort in London. What the employment might be he cared little for. He had no pride of that kind, and so that he could earn his bread he cared not much in what capacity he might do it.

Already preparations had been made for the sale of the furniture, which was to take place next day. Everything was to be sold except the scientific books which had belonged to his father. These had been packed in a great box until the time when he might place them in a library of his own, and the doctor kindly offered to keep it for him until such time should arrive. Frank wrote a long letter to Ruthven, telling him of his loss, and his reasons for leaving Deal, and promising to write some day and tell him how he was getting on in London. This letter he did not intend to post until the last thing before leaving Deal. Lucy had already gone to her new home, and Frank felt confident that she would be happy there. His friend, the doctor, who had tried strongly, but without avail, to dissuade Frank from going up to London to seek his fortune there, had promised that if the lad referred any inquiries to him he would answer for his character.

He went down to the beach the last evening and said goodbye to his friends among the fishermen, and he walked over in the afternoon and took his last meal with Farmer Gregson.

"Look ye here, my lad," the farmer said as they parted. "I tell ye, from what I've heerd, this London be a hard nut to crack. There be plenty of kernel, no doubt, when you can get at it, but it be hard work to open the shell. Now, if so be as at any time you run short of money, just drop me a line, and there's ten pound at your service whenever you like. Don't you think it's an obligation. Quite the other way. It would be a real pleasure to me to lend you a helping hand."

Two days after the sale Frank started for London. On getting out of the train he felt strange and lonely amid the bustle and confusion which was going on on the platform. The doctor had advised him to ask one of the porters, or a policeman, if he could recommend him to a quiet and respectable lodging, as expenses at an hotel would soon make a deep hole in his money. He, therefore, as soon as the crowd cleared away, addressed himself to one of the porters.

"What sort of lodgings do you want, sir?" the man said, looking at him rather suspiciously, with, as Frank saw, a strong idea in his mind that he was a runaway schoolboy.

"I only want one room," he said, "and I don't care how small it is, so that it is clean and quiet. I shall be out all day, and should not give much trouble."

The porter went away and spoke to some of his mates, and presently returned with one of them.

"You're wanting a room I hear, sir," the man said. "I have a little house down the Old Kent Road, and my missus lets a room or two. It's quiet and clean, I'll warrant you. We have one room vacant at present."

"I'm sure that would suit me very well," Frank said. "How much do you charge a week?"

"Three and sixpence, sir, if you don't want any cooking done."

Frank took the address, and leaving his portmanteau in charge of the porter, who promised, unless he heard to the contrary, that he would bring it home with him when he had done his work, he set off from the station.

Deal is one of the quietest and most dreary places on the coast of England, and Frank was perfectly astounded at the crowd and bustle which filled the street, when he issued from the railway approach, at the foot of London Bridge. The porter had told him that he was to turn to his left, and keep straight along until he reached the "Elephant and Castle." He had, therefore, no trouble about his road, and was able to give his whole attention to the sights which met his eye. For a time the stream of omnibuses, cabs, heavy wagons, and light carts, completely bewildered him, as did the throng of people who hastened along the footway. He was depressed rather than exhilarated at the sight of this busy multitude. He seemed such a solitary atom in the midst of this great moving crowd. Presently, however, the thought that where so many millions gained their living there must be room for one boy more, somewhat cheered him. He was a long time making his way to his place of destination, for he stared into every shop window, and being, although he was perfectly ignorant of the fact, on the wrong side of the pavement, he was bumped and bustled continually, and was not long in arriving at the conclusion that the people of London must be the roughest and rudest in the world. It was not until he ran against a gentleman, and was greeted with the angry, "now then, boy. Where are you going? Why the deuce don't you keep on your own side of the pavement?" that he perceived that the moving throng was divided into two currents, that on the inside meeting him, while the outside stream was proceeding in the same direction as himself. After this he got on better, and arrived without adventure at the house of the porter, in the Old Kent Road.

It was a small house, but was clean and respectable, and Frank found that the room would suit him well.

"I do not wait upon the lodgers," the landlady said, "except to make the beds and tidy the rooms in the morning. So if you want breakfast and tea at home you will have to get them yourself. There is a separate place downstairs for your coals. There are some tea things, plates and dishes, in this cupboard. You will want to buy a small tea kettle, and a gridiron, and a frying pan, in case you want a chop or a rasher. Do you think you can cook them yourself?"

"Frank, amused at the thought of cooking and catering for himself, said boldly that he should soon learn.

"You are a very young gentleman," the landlady said, eyeing him doubtfully, "to be setting up on your own hook. I mean," she said, seeing Frank look puzzled, "setting up housekeeping on your own account. You will have to be particular careful with the frying pan, because if you were to upset the fat in the fire you might have the house in a blaze in a jiffey."

Frank said that he would certainly be careful with the frying pan.

"Well," she went on, "as you're a stranger to the place I don't know as you could do better than get your tea, and sugar, and things at the grocer's at the next corner. I deals there myself, and he gives every satisfaction. My baker will be round in a few minutes, and, if you likes, I can take in your bread for you. The same with milk."

These matters being arranged, and Frank agreeing at once to the proposition that as he was a stranger it would make things more comfortable were he to pay his rent in advance, found himself alone in his new apartment. It was a room about ten feet square. The bed occupied one corner, with the washstand at its foot. There was a small table in front of the fireplace, and two chairs; a piece of carpet half covered the floor, and these with the addition of the articles in the cupboard constituted the furniture of the room. Feeling hungry after his journey Frank resolved to go out at once and get something to eat, and then to lay in a stock of provisions. After some hesitation regarding the character of the meal he decided upon two Bath buns, determining to make a substantial tea. He laid in a supply of tea, sugar, butter, and salt, bought a little kettle, a frying pan, and a gridiron. Then he hesitated as to whether he should venture upon a mutton chop or some bacon, deciding finally in favor of the latter, upon the reflection that any fellow could see whether bacon were properly frizzled up, while as to a chop there was no seeing anything about it till one cut it. He, therefore, invested in a pound of prime streaky Wiltshire bacon, the very best, as the shopman informed him, that could be bought. He returned carrying all his purchases, with the exception of the hardware. Then he inquired of his landlady where he could get coal.

"The green grocer's round the corner," the landlady said. "Tell him to send in a hundredweight of the best, that's a shilling, and you'll want some firewood too."

The coal arrived in the course of the afternoon, and at half past six the porter came in with Frank's trunk. He had by this time lit a fire, and while the water was boiling got some of his things out of the box, and by hanging some clothes on the pegs on the back of the door, and by putting the two or three favorite books he had brought with him on to the mantelpiece, he gave the room a more homelike appearance. He enjoyed his tea all the more from the novelty of having to prepare it himself, and succeeded very fairly for a first attempt with his bacon.

When tea was over he first washed up the things and then started for a ramble. He followed the broad straight road to Waterloo Bridge, stood for a long time looking at the river, and then crossed into the Strand. The lamps were now alight and the brightness and bustle of the scene greatly interested him. At nine o'clock he returned to his lodgings, but was again obliged to sally out, as he found he had forgotten candles.

After breakfast next morning he went out and bought a newspaper, and set himself to work to study the advertisements. He was dismayed to find how many more applicants there were for places than places requiring to be filled. All the persons advertising were older than himself, and seemed to possess various accomplishments in the way of languages; many too could be strongly recommended from their last situation. The prospect did not look hopeful. In the first place he had looked to see if any required boy clerks, but this species of assistant appeared little in demand; and then, although he hoped that it would not come to that, he ran his eye down the columns to see if any required errand boys or lads in manufacturing businesses. He found, however, no such advertisements. However, as he said to himself, it could not be expected that he should find a place waiting for him on the very day after his arrival, and that he ought to be able to live for a year on his five and twenty pounds; at this reflection his spirits rose and he went out again for a walk.

For the first week, indeed, of his arrival in London Frank did not set himself very earnestly to work to look for a situation. In his walks about the streets he several times observed cards in the window indicating that an errand boy was wanted. He resolved, however, that this should be the last resource which he would adopt, as he would much prefer to go to work as a common lad in a factory to serving in a shop. After the first week he answered many advertisements, but in no case received a reply. In one case, in which it was stated that a lad who could write a good fast hand was required in an office, wages to begin with eight shillings a week, he called two days after writing. It was a small office with a solitary clerk sitting in it. The latter, upon learning Frank's business, replied with some exasperation that his mind was being worried out by boys.

"We have had four hundred and thirty letters," he said; "and I should think that a hundred boys must have called. We took the first who applied, and all the other letters were chucked into the fire as soon as we saw what they were about."

Frank returned to the street greatly disheartened.

"Four hundred and thirty letters!" he said. "Four hundred and thirty other fellows on the lookout, just as I am, for a place as a boy clerk, and lots of them, no doubt, with friends and relations to recommend them! The lookout seems to be a bad one."

Two days later, when Frank was walking along the strand he noticed the placards in front of a theater.

"Gallery one shilling!" he said to himself; "I will go. I have never seen a theater yet."

The play was The Merchant of Venice, and Frank sat in rapt attention and interest through it. When the performance was over he walked briskly homewards. When he had proceeded some distance he saw a glare in the sky ahead, and presently a steam engine dashed past him at full speed.

"That must be a house on fire," he said. "I have never seen a fire;" and he broke into a run.

Others were running in the same direction, and as he passed the "Elephant and Castle" the crowd became thicker, and when within fifty yards of the house he could no longer advance. He could see the flames now rising high in the air. A horrible fear seized him.

"It must be," he exclaimed to himself, "either our house or the one next door."

It was in vain that he pressed forward to see more nearly. A line of policemen was drawn up across the road to keep a large space clear for the firemen. Behind the policemen the crowd were thickly packed. Frank inquired of many who stood near him if they could tell him the number of the house which was on fire; but none could inform him.

Presently the flames began to die away, and the crowd to disperse. At length Frank reached the first line of spectators.

"Can you tell me the number of the houses which are burned?" Frank said to a policeman.

"There are two of them," the policeman said "a hundred and four and a hundred and five. A hundred and four caught first, and they say that a woman and two children have been burned to death."

"That is where I live!" Frank cried. "Oh, please let me pass!"

"I'll pass you in," the policeman said good naturedly, and he led him forward to the spot where the engines were playing upon the burning houses. "Is it true, mate," he asked a fireman, "that a woman and two children have been burned?"

"It's true enough," the fireman said. "The landlady and her children. Her husband was a porter at the railway station, and had been detained on overtime. He only came back a quarter of an hour ago, and he's been going on like a madman;" and he pointed to the porter, who was sitting down on the doorsteps of a house facing his own, with his face hidden in his hands.

Frank went and sat down beside him.

"My poor fellow," he said, "I am sorry for you."

Frank had had many chats with his landlord of an evening, and had become quite friendly with him and his wife.

"I can't believe it," the man said huskily. "Just to think! When I went out this morning there was Jane and the kids, as well and as happy as ever, and there, where are they now?"

"Happier still," Frank said gently. "I lost my mother just as suddenly only five weeks ago. I went out for a walk, leaving her as well as usual, and when I came back she was dead; so I can feel for you with all my heart."

"I would have given my life for them," the man said, wiping his eyes, "willing."

"I'm sure you would," Frank answered.

"There's the home gone," the man said, "with all the things that it took ten years' savings of Jane and me to buy; not that that matters one way or the other now. And your traps are gone, too, I suppose, sir."

"Yes," Frank replied quietly, "I have lost my clothes and twenty-three pounds in money; every penny I've got in the world except half a crown in my pocket."

"And you don't say nothing about it!" the man said, roused into animation. "But, there, perhaps you've friends as will make it up to you."

"I have no one in the world," Frank answered, "whom I could ask to give me a helping hand."

"Well, you are a plucky chap," the man said. "That would be a knock down blow to a man, let alone a boy like you. What are you going to do now?" he asked, forgetting for the moment his own loss, in his interest in his companion.

"I don't know," Frank replied. "Perhaps," he added, seeing that the interest in his condition roused the poor fellow from the thought of his own deep sorrow, "you might give me some advice. I was thinking of getting a place in an office, but of course I must give that up now, and should be thankful to get anything by which I can earn my bread."

"You come along with me," the man said rising. "You've done me a heap of good. It's no use sitting here. I shall go back to the station, and turn in on some sacks. If you've nothing better to do, and nowhere to go to, you come along with me. We will talk it all over."

Pleased to have some one to talk to, and glad that he should not have to look for a place to sleep, Frank accompanied the porter to the station. With a word or two to the nightmen on duty, the porter led the way to a shed near the station, where a number of sacks were heaped in a corner.

"Now," the man said, "I will light a pipe. It's against the regulations, but that's neither here nor there now. Now, if you're not sleepy, would you mind talking to me? Tell me something about yourself, and how you come to be alone here in London. It does me good to talk. It prevents me from thinking."

"There is very little to tell," Frank said; and he related to him the circumstances of the deaths of his father and mother, and how it came that he was alone in London in search of a place.

"You're in a fix," the porter said.

"Yes, I can see that."

"You see you're young for most work, and you never had no practice with horses, or you might have got a place to drive a light cart. Then, again, your knowing nothing of London is against you as an errand boy; and what's worse than all this, anyone can see with half an eye that you're a gentleman, and not accustomed to hard work. However, we will think it over. The daylight's breaking now, and I has to be at work at six. But look ye here, young fellow, tomorrow I've got to look for a room, and when I gets it there's half of it for you, if you're not too proud to accept it. It will be doing me a real kindness, I can tell you, for what I am to do alone of an evening without Jane and the kids, God knows. I can't believe they're gone yet."

Then the man threw himself down upon the sacks, and broke into sobs. Frank listened for half an hour till these gradually died away, and he knew by the regular breathing that his companion was asleep. It was long after this before he himself closed his eyes. The position did, indeed, appear a dark one. Thanks to the offer of his companion, which he at once resolved to accept for a time, he would have a roof to sleep under. But this could not last; and what was he to do? Perhaps he had been wrong in not writing at once to Ruthven and his schoolfellows. He even felt sure he had been wrong; but it would be ten times as hard to write now. He would rather starve than do this. How was he to earn his living? He would, he determined, at any rate try for a few days to procure a place as an errand boy. If that failed, he would sell his clothes, and get a rough working suit. He was sure that he should have more chance of obtaining work in such a dress than in his present attire.

Musing thus, Frank at last dropped off to sleep. When he woke he found himself alone, his companion having left without disturbing him. From the noises around him of trains coming in and out, Frank judged that the hour was late.

"I have done one wise thing," he said, "anyhow, and as far as I can see it's the only one, in leaving my watch with the doctor to keep. He pointed out that I might have it stolen if I carried it, and that there was no use in keeping it shut up in a box. Very possibly it might be stolen by the dishonesty of a servant. That's safe anyhow, and it is my only worldly possession, except the books, and I would rather go into the workhouse than part with either of them."

Rising, he made his way into the station, where he found the porter at his usual work.

"I would not wake you," the man said; "you were sleeping so quiet, and I knew 'twas no use your getting up early. I shall go out and settle for a room at dinner time. If you will come here at six o'clock we'll go off together. The mates have all been very kind, and have been making a collection to bury my poor girl and the kids. They've found 'em, and the inquest is tomorrow, so I shall be off work. The governor has offered me a week; but there, I'd rather be here where there's no time for thinking, than hanging about with nothing to do but to drink."

CHAPTER VI: THE FIRST STEP

All that day Frank tramped the streets. He went into many shops where he saw notices that an errand boy was required, but everywhere without success. He perceived at once that his appearance was against him, and he either received the abrupt answer of, "You're not the sort of chap for my place," or an equally decided refusal upon the grounds that he did not know the neighborhood, or that they preferred one who had parents who lived close by and could speak for him.

At six o'clock he rejoined the porter. He brought with him some bread and butter and a piece of bacon. When, on arriving at the lodging of his new friend, a neat room with two small beds in it, he produced and opened his parcel, the porter said angrily, "Don't you do that again, young fellow, or we shall have words. You're just coming to stop with me for a bit till you see your way, and I'm not going to have you bring things in here. My money is good for two months, and your living here with me won't cost three shillings a week. So don't you hurt my feelings by bringing things home again. There, don't say no more about it."

Frank, seeing that his companion was really in earnest, said no more, and was the less reluctant to accept the other's kindness as he saw that his society was really a great relief to him in his trouble. After the meal they sallied out to a second hand clothes shop. Here Frank disposed of his things, and received in return a good suit of clothes fit for a working lad.

"I don't know how it is," the porter said as they sat together afterwards, "but a gentleman looks like a gentleman put him in what clothes you will. I could have sworn to your being that if I'd never seen you before. I can't make it out, I don't know what it is, but there's certainly something in gentle blood, whatever you may say about it. Some of my mates are forever saying that one man's as good as another. Now I don't mean to say they ain't as good; but what I say is, as they ain't the same. One man ain't the same as another any more than a race horse is the same as a cart horse. They both sprang from the same stock, at least so they says; but breeding and feeding and care has made one into a slim boned creature as can run like the wind, while the other has got big bones and weight and can drag his two ton after him without turning a hair. Now, I take it, it's the same thing with gentlefolks and working men. It isn't that one's bigger than the other, for I don't see much difference that way; but a gentleman's lighter in the bone, and his hands and his feet are smaller, and he carries himself altogether different. His voice gets a different tone. Why, Lord bless you, when I hears two men coming along the platform at night, even when I can't see 'em, and can't hear what they says, only the tone of their voices, I knows just as well whether it's a first class or a third door as I've got to open as if I saw 'em in the daylight. Rum, ain't it?"

Frank had never thought the matter out, and could only give his general assent to his companion's proposition.

"Now," the porter went on, "if you go into a factory or workshop, I'll bet a crown to a penny that before you've been there a week you'll get called Gentleman Jack, or some such name. You see if you ain't."

"I don't care what they call me," Frank laughed, "so that they'll take me into the factory."

"All in good time," the porter said; "don't you hurry yourself. As long as you can stay here you'll be heartily welcome. Just look what a comfort it is to have you sitting here sociable and comfortable. You don't suppose I could have sat here alone in this room if you hadn't been here? I should have been in a public house making a beast of myself, and spending as much money as would keep the pair of us."

Day after day Frank went out in search of work. In his tramps he visited scores of workshops and factories, but without success. Either they did not want boys, or they declined altogether to take one who had no experience in work, and had no references in the neighborhood. Frank took his breakfast and tea with the porter, and was glad that the latter had his dinner at the station, as a penny loaf served his purposes. One day in his walks Frank entered Covent Garden and stood looking on at the bustle and flow of business, for it happened to be market day. He leaned against one of the columns of the piazza, eating the bread he had just bought. Presently a sharp faced lad, a year or two younger than himself, came up to him.

"Give us a hit," he said, "I ain't tasted nothing today."

Frank broke the bread in half and gave a portion to him.

"What a lot there is going on here!" Frank said.

"Law!" the boy answered, "that ain't nothing to what it is of a morning. That's the time, 'special on the mornings of the flower market. It's hard lines if a chap can't pick up a tanner or even a bob then."

"How?" Frank asked eagerly.

"Why, by holding horses, helping to carry out plants, and such like. You seems a green 'un, you do. Up from the country, eh? Don't seem like one of our sort."

"Yes," Frank said, "I'm just up from the country. I thought it would be easy to get a place in London, but I don't find it so."

"A place!" the boy repeated scornfully. "I should like any one to see me in a place. It's better a hundred times to be your own master."

"Even if you do want a piece of bread sometimes?" Frank put in.

"Yes," the boy said. "When it ain't market day and ye haven't saved enough to buy a few papers or boxes of matches it does come hard. In winter the times is bad, but in summer we gets on fairish, and there ain't nothing to grumble about. Are you out of work yourself?"

"Yes," Frank answered, "I'm on the lookout for a job."

"You'd have a chance here in the morning," said the boy, looking at him. "You look decent, and might get a job unloading. They won't have us at no price, if they can help it."

"I will come and try anyhow," Frank said.

That evening Frank told his friend, the porter, that he thought of going out early next morning to try and pick up odd jobs at Covent Garden.

"Don't you think of it," the porter said. "There's nothing worse for a lad than taking to odd jobs. It gets him into bad ways and bad company. Don't you hurry. I have spoken to lots of my mates, and they're all on the lookout for you. We on the platform can't do much. It ain't in our line, you see; but in the goods department, where they are constant with vans and wagons and such like, they are likely enough to hear of something before long."

That night, thinking matters over in bed, Frank determined to go down to the docks and see if he could get a place as cabin boy. He had had this idea in his mind ever since he lost his money, and had only put it aside in order that he might, if possible, get some berth on shore which might seem likely in the end to afford him a means of making his way up again. It was not that he was afraid of the roughness of a cabin boy's life; it was only because he knew that it would be so very long before, working his way up from boy to able bodied seaman, he could obtain a mate's certificate, and so make a first step up the ladder. However, he thought that even this would be better than going as a wagoner's boy, and he accordingly crossed London Bridge, turned down Eastcheap, and presently found himself in Ratcliff Highway. He was amused here at the nautical character of the shops, and presently found himself staring into a window full of foreign birds, for the most part alive in cages, among which, however, were a few cases of stuffed birds.

"How stupid I have been!" he thought to himself. "I wonder I never thought of it before! I can stuff birds and beasts at any rate a deal better than those wooden looking things. I might have a chance of getting work at some naturalist's shop. I will get a directory and take down all the addresses in London, and then go around."

He now became conscious of a conversation going on between a little old man with a pair of thick horn rimmed spectacles and a sailor who had a dead parrot and a cat in his hand.

"I really cannot undertake them," the old man said. "Since the death of my daughter I have had but little time to attend to that branch. What with buying and selling, and feeding and attending to the live ones, I have no time for stuffing. Besides, if the things were poisoned, they would not be worth stuffing."

"It isn't the question of worth, skipper," the sailor said; "and I don't say, mind ye, that these here critturs was pisoned, only if you looks at it that this was the noisiest bird and the worst tempered thievingest cat in the neighborhood—though, Lord bless you, my missus wouldn't allow it for worlds—why, you know, when they were both found stiff and cold this morning people does have a sort of a suspicion as how they've been pisoned;" and he winked one eye in a portentous manner, and grinned hugely. "The missus she's in a nice taking, screeching, and yelling as you might hear her two cables' length away, and she turns round on me and will have it as I'd a hand in the matter. Well, just to show my innocence, I offers to get a glass case for 'em and have 'em stuffed, if it cost me a couple of pounds. I wouldn't care if they fell all to pieces a week afterwards, so that it pacified the old woman just at present. If I can't get 'em done I shall ship at once, for the place will be too hot to hold me. So you can't do it nohow?"

The old man shook his head, and the sailor was just turning off when Frank went up to him:

"Will you please wait a moment? Can I speak to you, sir, a minute?" he asked the old man.

The naturalist went into his shop, and Frank followed him.

"I can stuff birds and animals, sir," he said. "I think I really stuff them well, for some which I did for amusement were sold at ten shillings a case, and the man who bought them of me told me they would be worth four times as much in London. I am out of work, sir, and very very anxious to get my living. You will find me hard working and honest. Do give me a chance. Let me stuff that cat and parrot for the sailor. If you are not satisfied then, I will go away and charge nothing for it."

The man looked at him keenly.

"I will at any rate give you a trial," he said. Then he went to the door and called in the sailor. "This lad tells me he can stuff birds. I know nothing about him, but I believe he is speaking truthfully. If you like to intrust them to him he will do his best. If you're not satisfied he will make no charge."

Much pleased at seeing a way out of his dilemma, the sailor placed the dead animals on the counter.

"Now," the old man said to Frank, "you can take these out into the back yard and skin them. Then you can go to work in that back room. You will find arsenical soap, cotton wool, wires, and everything else you require there. This has been a fine cat," he said, looking at the animal.

"Yes, it has been a splendid creature," Frank answered. "It is a magnificent macaw also."

"Ah! you know it is a macaw!" the old man said.

"Of course," Frank said simply; "it has a tail."

The old man then furnished Frank with two or three sharp knives and scissors. Taking the bird and cat, he went out into the yard and in the course of an hour had skinned them both. Then he returned to the shop and set to work in the room behind.

"May I make a group of them?" he asked.

"Do them just as you like," the old man said.

After settling upon his subject, Frank set to work, and, except that he went out for five minutes to buy and eat a penny loaf, continued his work till nightfall. The old man came in several times to look at him, but each time went out again without making a remark. At six o'clock Frank laid down his tools.

"I will come again tomorrow, sir," he said.

The old man nodded, and Frank went home in high spirits. There was a prospect at last of getting something to do, and that in a line most congenial to his own tastes.

The old man looked up when he entered next morning.

"I shall not come in today," he remarked. "I will wait to see them finished."

Working without interruption till the evening, Frank finished them to his satisfaction, and enveloped them with many wrappings of thread to keep them in precisely the attitudes in which he had placed them.

"They are ready for drying now, sir," he said. "If I might place them in an oven they would be dried by morning."

The old man led the way to the kitchen, where a small fire was burning.

"I shall put no more coals on the fire," he said, "and it will be out in a quarter of an hour. Put them in there and leave the door open. I will close it in an hour when the oven cools."

The next day Frank was again at work. It took him all day to get fur and feather to lie exactly as he wished them. In the afternoon he asked the naturalist for a piece of flat board, three feet long, and a perch, but said that instead of the piece of board he should prefer mounting them in a case at once. The old man had not one in the shop large enough, and therefore Frank arranged his group temporarily on the table. On the board lay the cat. At first sight she seemed asleep, but it was clearly only seeming. Her eyes were half open, the upper lip was curled up, and the sharp teeth showed. The hind feet were drawn somewhat under her as in readiness for an instant spring. Her front paws were before her, the talons were somewhat stretched, and one paw was curved. Her ears lay slightly back. She was evidently on the point of springing. The macaw perch, which had been cut down to a height of two feet, stood behind her. The bird hung by its feet, and, head downwards, stretched with open beak towards the tip of the cat's tail, which was slightly uplifted. On a piece of paper Frank wrote, "Dangerous Play."

It was evening before he had finished perfectly to his satisfaction. Then he called the naturalist in. The old man stopped at the door, surveying the group. Then he entered and examined it carefully.

"Wonderful!" he said. "Wonderful! I should have thought them alive. There is not a shop in the West End where it could have been turned out better, if so well.

"Lad, you are a wonder! Tell me now who and what are you? I saw when you first addressed me that you were not what you seemed to be, a working lad."

"I have been well educated," Frank said, "and was taught to preserve and stuff by my father, who was a great naturalist. My parents died suddenly, and I was left on my own resources, which," he said, smiling faintly, "have hitherto proved of very small avail. I am glad you are pleased. If you will take me into your service I will work hard and make myself useful in every way. If you require references I can refer you to the doctor who attended us in the country; but I have not a single friend in London except a railway porter, who has most kindly and generously taken me in and sheltered me for the last two months."

"I need no references," the old man said; "your work speaks for itself as to your skill, and your face for your character. But I can offer you nothing fit for you. With such a genius as you have for setting up animals, you ought to be able to earn a good income. Not one man in a thousand can make a dead animal look like a live one. You have the knack or the art."

"I shall be very content with anything you can give me," Frank said; "for the present I only ask to earn my living. If later on I can, as you say, do more, all the better."

The old man stood for some time thinking, and presently said, "I do but little except in live stock. When I had my daughter with me I did a good deal of stuffing, for there is a considerable trade hereabout. The sailors bring home skins of foreign birds, and want them stuffed and put in cases, as presents for their wives and sweethearts. You work fast as well as skillfully. I have known men who would take a fortnight to do such a group as that, and then it would be a failure. It will be quite a new branch for my trade. I do not know how it will act yet, but to begin with I will give you twelve shillings a week, and a room upstairs. If it succeeds we will make other arrangements. I am an old man, and a very lonely one. I shall be glad to have such a companion."

Frank joyfully embraced the offer, and ran all the way home to tell his friend, the porter, of the engagement.

"I am very glad," the man said; "heartily glad. I shall miss you sorely. I do not know what I should have done without you when I first lost poor Jane and the kids. But now I can go back to my old ways again."

"Perhaps," Frank suggested, "you might arrange to have a room also in the house. It would not be a very long walk, not above twenty or five and twenty minutes, and I should be so glad to have you with me."

The man sat silent for a time. "No," he said at last, "I thank you all the same. I should like it too, but I don't think it would be best in the end. Here all my mates live near, and I shall get on in time. The Christmas holiday season will soon be coming on and we shall be up working late. If you were always going to stop at the place you are going to, it would be different; but you will rise, never fear. I shall be seeing you in gentleman's clothes again some of these days. I've heard you say you were longing to get your books and to be studying again, and you'll soon fall into your own ways; but if you will let me, I'll come over sometimes and have a cup of tea and a chat with you. Now, look here, I'm going out with you now, and I'm going to buy you a suit of clothes, something like what you had on when I first saw you. They won't be altogether unsuitable in a shop. This is a loan, mind, and you may pay me off as you get flush."

Frank saw he should hurt the good fellow's feelings by refusing, and accordingly went out with him, and next morning presented himself at the shop in a quiet suit of dark gray tweed, and with his other clothes in a bundle.

"Aha!" said the old man; "you look more as you ought to do now, though you're a cut above an assistant in a naturalist's shop in Ratcliff Highway. Now, let me tell you the names of some of these birds. They are, every one of them, foreigners; some of them I don't know myself."

"I can tell all the family names," Frank said quietly, "and the species, but I do not know the varieties."

"Can you!" the old man said in surprise. "What is this now?"

"That is a mockingbird, the great black capped mockingbird, I think. The one next to it is a golden lory."

So Frank went round all the cages and perches in the shop.

"Right in every case," the old man said enthusiastically; "I shall have nothing to teach you. The sailor has been here this morning. I offered him two pounds for the cat and bird to put in my front window, but he would not take it, and has paid me that sum for your work. Here it is. This is yours, you know. You were not in my employment then, and you will want some things to start with, no doubt. Now come upstairs, I will show you your room. I had intended at first to give you the one at the back, but I have decided now on giving you my daughter's. I think you will like it."

Frank did like it greatly. It was the front room on the second floor. The old man's daughter had evidently been a woman of taste and refinement. The room was prettily papered, a quiet carpet covered the floor, and the furniture was neat and in good keeping. Two pairs of spotless muslin curtains hung across the windows.

"I put them up this morning," the old man said, nodding. "I have got the sheets and bedding airing in the kitchen. They have not been out of the press for the last three years. You can cook in the kitchen. There is always a fire there.

"Now, the first thing to do," he went on when they returned to the shop, "will be for you to mount a dozen cases for the windows. These drawers are full of skins of birds and small animals. I get them for next to nothing from the sailors, and sell them to furriers and feather preparers, who supply ladies' hat and bonnet makers. In future, I propose that you shall mount them and sell them direct. We shall get far higher prices than we do now. I seem to be putting most of the work on your shoulders, but do not want you to help me in the shop. I will look after the birds and buy and sell as I used to do; you will have the back room private to yourself for stuffing and mounting."

Frank was delighted at this allotment of labor, and was soon at work rummaging the drawers and picking out specimens for mounting, and made a selection sufficient to keep him employed for weeks. That evening he sallied out and expended his two pounds in underlinen, of which he was sorely in need. As he required them his employer ordered showcases for the window, of various sizes, getting the backgrounds painted and fitted up as Frank suggested.

Frank did not get on so fast with his work as he had hoped, for the fame of the sailor's cat and macaw spread rapidly in the neighborhood, and there was a perfect rush of sailors and their wives anxious to have birds and skins, which had been brought from abroad, mounted. The sailor himself looked in one day.

"If you like another two pounds for that 'ere cat, governor, I'm game to pay you. It's the best thing that ever happened to me. Every one's wanting to see 'em, and there's the old woman dressed up in her Sunday clothes a-sitting in the parlor as proud as a peacock a showing of 'em off. The house ain't been so quiet since I married. Them animals would be cheap to me at a ten pound note. They'll get you no end of orders, I can tell you."

The orders, indeed, came in much faster than Frank could fulfill them, although he worked twelve hours a day; laying aside all other work, however, for three hours in order to devote himself to the shop cases, which were to be chef d'oeuvres.

CHAPTER VII: AN OLD FRIEND

For three months Frank passed a quiet and not unpleasant life with the old naturalist in Ratcliff Highway. The latter took a great liking to him, and treated him like a son rather than an assistant. The two took their meals together now, and Frank's salary had been raised from twelve to eighteen shillings a week. So attractive had the cases in the windows proved that quite a little crowd was generally collected round them, and the business had greatly augmented. The old naturalist was less pleased at this change than most men would have been in his position. He had got into a groove and did not care to get out of it. He had no relatives or any one dependent on him, and he had been well content to go on in a jog trot way, just paying his expenses of shop and living. The extra bustle and push worried rather than pleased him.

"I am an old man," he said to Frank one day, as after the shop was closed they sat over their tea. "I have no motive in laying by money, and had enough for my wants. I was influenced more by my liking for your face and my appreciation of your talent, than by any desire of increasing my business. I am taking now three times as much as I did before. Now I should not mind, indeed, I should be glad, if I thought that you would succeed me here as a son would do. I would gladly take you into partnership with me, and you would have the whole business after my death. But I know, my boy, that it wouldn't do. I know that the time will come when you will not be content with so dull a life here. You will either get an offer from some West End house which would open higher prospects to you, or you will be wandering away as a collector. In any case you would not stop here, of that I am quite sure, and therefore do not care, as I should have done, had you been my son, for the increase of the business. As it is, lad, I could not even wish to see you waste your life here."

Frank, after he was once fairly settled at his new work, had written to his friend the doctor, at Deal, telling him of the position he had taken, and that he was in a fair way to make at least a comfortable living, and that at a pursuit of which he was passionately fond. He asked him, however, while writing to him from time to time to give him news of his sister, not to tell any one his address, as although he was not ashamed of his berth, still he would rather that, until he had made another step up in life, his old schoolfellows should not know of his whereabouts. He had also written to his friend Ruthven a bright chatty letter, telling him somewhat of his adventures in London and the loss of his money, and saying that he had now got employment at a naturalist's, with every chance of making his way.

"When I mount a bit higher," he concluded, "I shall be awfully glad to see you again, and will let you know what my address may then be. For the present I had rather keep it dark. If you will write to me, addressed to the General Post Office, telling me all about yourself and the fellows at school, I shall be very, very glad to get your letter. I suppose you will be breaking up for Christmas in a few days."

Christmas came and went. It was signalized to Frank only by the despatch of a pretty present to Lucy, and the receipt of a letter from her written in a round childish hand. A week afterwards he heard somebody come into the shop. His employer was out, and he therefore went into the shop.

"I knew it was!" shouted a voice. "My dear old Frank, how are you?" and his hand was warmly clasped in that of Ruthven.

"My dear Ruthven," was all Frank could say.

"I had intended," Ruthven exclaimed, "to punch your head directly I found you; but I am too glad to do it, though you deserve it fifty times over. What a fellow you are! I wouldn't have believed it of you, running away in that secret sort of way and letting none of us know anything about you. Wasn't I angry, and sorry too, when I got the letter you wrote me from Deal! When I went back to school and found that not even Dr. Parker, not even your sister, knew where you were, I was mad. So were all the other fellows. However, I said I would find you wherever you had hidden yourself."

"But how did you find me?" Frank asked greatly moved at the warmth of his schoolfellow's greeting.

"Oh! it wasn't so very difficult to find you when once I got your letter saying what you were doing. The very day I came up to town I began to hunt about. I found from the Directory there were not such a great number of shops where they stuffed birds and that sort of thing. I tried the places in Bond Street, and Piccadilly, and Wigmore Street, and so on to begin with. Then I began to work east, and directly I saw the things in the window here I felt sure I had found you at last. You tiresome fellow! Here I have wasted nearly half my holidays looking for you."

"I am so sorry, Ruthven."

"Sorry! you ought to be more than sorry. You ought to be ashamed of yourself, downright ashamed. But, there, I won't say any more now. Now, can't you come out with me?"

"No, I can't come out now, Ruthven; but come into this room with me."

There for the next hour they chatted, Frank giving a full account of all he had gone through since he came up to town, while Ruthven gave him the gossip of the half year at school.

"Well," Ruthven said at last, "this old Horton of yours must be a brick. Still, you know, you can't stop here all your life. You must come and talk it over with my governor."

"Oh, no, indeed, Ruthven! I am getting on very well here, and am very contented with my lot, and I could not think of troubling your father in the matter."

"Well, you will trouble him a great deal," Ruthven said, "if you don't come, for you will trouble him to come all the way down here. He was quite worried when he first heard of your disappearance, and has been almost as excited as I have over the search for you.

"You are really a foolish fellow, Frank," he went on more seriously; "I really didn't think it of you. Here you save the lives of four or five fellows and put all their friends under a tremendous obligation, and then you run away and hide yourself as if you were ashamed. I tell you you can't do it. A fellow has no more right to get rid of obligations than he has to run away without paying his debts. It would be a burden on your mind if you had a heavy debt you couldn't pay, and you would have a right to be angry if, when you were perfectly able to pay, your creditor refused to take the money. That's just the position in which you've placed my father. Well, anyhow, you've got to come and see him, or he's got to come and see you. I know he has something in his mind's eye which will just suit you, though he did not tell me what it was. For the last day or two he has been particularly anxious about finding you. Only yesterday when I came back and reported that I had been to half a dozen places without success, he said, 'Confound the young rascal, where can he be hiding? Here are the days slipping by and it will be too late. If you don't find him in a day or two, Dick, I will set the police after him—say he has committed a murder or broken into a bank and offer a reward for his apprehension.' So you must either come home with me this afternoon, or you will be having my father down here tonight."

"Of course, Ruthven," Frank said, "I would not put your father to such trouble. He is very kind to have taken so much interest in me, only I hate—"

"Oh, nonsense! I hate to see such beastly stuck up pride, putting your own dignity above the affection of your friends; for that's really what it comes to, old boy, if you look it fairly in the face."

Frank flushed a little and was silent for a minute or two.

"I suppose you are right, Ruthven; but it is a little hard for a fellow—"

"Oh, no, it isn't," Ruthven said. "If you'd got into a scrape from some fault of your own one could understand it, although even then there would be no reason for you to cut your old friends till they cut you. Young Goodall, who lives over at Bayswater, has been over four or five times to ask me if I have succeeded in finding you, and I have had letters from Handcock, and Childers, and Jackson. Just as if a fellow had got nothing to do but to write letters. How long will you be before you can come out?"

"There is Mr. Horton just come in," Frank said. "I have no doubt he will let me go at once."

The old naturalist at once assented upon Frank's telling him that a friend had come who wished him to go out.

"Certainly, my dear boy. Why, working the hours and hours of overtime that you do, of course you can take a holiday whenever you're disposed."

"He will not be back till late," Ruthven said as they went out. "I shall keep him all the evening."

"Oh, indeed, Ruthven, I have no clothes!"

"Clothes be bothered," Ruthven said. "I certainly shall end by punching your head, Frank, before the day's out."

Frank remonstrated no more, but committed himself entirely to his friend's guidance. At the Mansion House they mounted on the roof of an omnibus going west, and at Knightsbridge got off and walked to Eaton Square, where Ruthven's father resided. The latter was out, so Frank accompanied his friend to what he called his sanctum, a small room littered up with books, bats, insect boxes, and a great variety of rubbish of all kinds. Here they chatted until the servant came up and said that Sir James had returned.

"Come on, Frank," Ruthven said, running downstairs. "There's nothing of the ogre about the governor."

They entered the study, and Ruthven introduced his friend.

"I've caught him, father, at last. This is the culprit."

Sir James Ruthven was a pleasant looking man, with a kindly face.

"Well, you troublesome boy," he said, holding out his hand, "where have you been hiding all this time?"

"I don't know that I've been hiding, sir," Frank said.

"Not exactly hiding," Sir James smiled, "only keeping away from those who wanted to find you. Well, and how are you getting on?"

"I am getting on very well, sir. I am earning eighteen shillings a week and my board and lodging, and my employer says he will take me into partnership as soon as I come of age."

"Ah, indeed!" Sir James said. "I am glad to hear that, as it shows you must be clever and industrious."

"Yes, father, and the place was full of the most lovely cases of things Frank had stuffed. There was quite a crowd looking in at the window."

"That is very satisfactory. Now, Frank, do you sit down and write a note to your employer, asking him to send down half a dozen of the best cases. I want to show them to a gentleman who will dine with me here today, and who is greatly interested in such matters. When you have written the note I will send a servant off at once in a cab to fetch them."

"And, father," Dick continued, "if you don't mind, might Frank and I have our dinner quietly together in my room? You've got a dinner party on, and Frank won't enjoy it half as much as he would dining quietly with me."

"By all means," Sir James said. "But mind he is not to run away without seeing me.

"You are a foolish lad," he went on in a kind voice to Frank; "and it was wrong as well as foolish to hide yourself from your friends. However independent we may be in this world, all must, to a certain extent, rely upon others. There is scarcely a man who can stand aloof from the rest and say, 'I want nothing of you.' I can understand your feeling in shrinking from asking a favor of me, or of the fathers of the other boys who are, like myself, deeply indebted to you for the great service you have rendered their sons. I can admire the feeling if not carried too far; but you should have let your schoolfellows know exactly how you were placed, and so have given us the opportunity of repaying the obligation if we were disposed, not to have run away and hidden yourself from us."

"I am sorry, sir," Frank said simply. "I did not like to seem to trade upon the slight service I rendered some of my schoolfellows. Dr. Bateman told me I was wrong, but I did not see it then. Now I think, perhaps he was right, although I am afraid that if it happened again I should do the same."

Sir James smiled.

"I fear you are a stiff necked one, Master Frank. However, I will not scold you any further. Now, what will you do with yourselves till dinner time?"

"Oh, we'll just sit and chat, father. We have got lots more things to tell each other."

The afternoon passed in pleasant talk. Frank learned that Ruthven had now left Dr. Parker's for good, and that he was going down after the holidays to a clergyman who prepared six or eight boys for the army. Before dinner the footman returned with half a dozen of the best cases from the shop, which were brought up to Dick's room, and the latter was delighted with them. They greatly enjoyed their dinner together. At nine o'clock a servant came up and took down the cases. Five minutes later he returned again with a message, saying that Sir James wished Mr. Richard and his friend to go down into the dining room. Frank was not shy, but he felt it rather a trial when he entered the room, where seven or eight gentlemen were sitting round the table, the ladies having already withdrawn. The gentlemen were engaged in examining and admiring the cases of stuffed birds and animals.

"This is my young friend," Sir James said, "of whom I have been speaking to you, and whose work you are all admiring. This, Frank, is Mr. Goodenough, the traveler and naturalist, of whom you may have heard."

"Yes, indeed," Frank said, looking at the gentleman indicated. "I have Mr. Goodenough's book on The Passerine Family at home."

"It is rather an expensive book too," the gentleman said.

"Yes, sir. My father bought it, not I. He was very fond of natural history and taught me all I know. He had a capital library of books on the subject, which Dr. Bateman is keeping for me, at Deal, till I have some place where I can put them. I was thinking of getting them up soon."

Mr. Goodenough asked him a few questions as to the books in the library, and then put him through what Frank felt was a sort of examination, as to his knowledge of their contents.

"Very good indeed!" Mr. Goodenough said. "I can see from your work here that you are not only a very clever preparer, but a close student of the habits and ways of wild creatures. But I was hardly prepared to find your scientific knowledge so accurate and extensive. I was at first rather inclined to hesitate when Sir James Ruthven made me a proposal just now. I do so no longer. I am on the point of starting on an expedition into the center of Africa in search of specimens of natural history. He has proposed that you should accompany me, and has offered to defray the cost of your outfit, and of your passage out and home. I may be away for two years. Of course you would act as my assistant, and have every opportunity of acquiring such knowledge as I possess. It will be no pleasure trip, you know, but hard work, with all sorts of hardships and, perhaps, some dangers. At the same time it would be a fine opening in a career as a naturalist. Well, what do you say?"

"Oh, sir!" Frank exclaimed, clasping his hands, "it is of all things in the world what I should like most. How can I thank you enough? And you, Sir James, it is indeed kind and thoughtful of you."

"We are not quits yet by any means, Frank," Sir James said kindly. "I am glad indeed to be able to forward your wishes; and now you must go upstairs and be introduced to my wife. She is most anxious to see you. She only returned home just before dinner."

Frank was taken upstairs, where he and his cases of birds were made much of by Lady Ruthven and the ladies assembled in the drawing room. He himself was so filled with delight at the prospect opened to him that all thought of his dark tweed suit being out of place among the evening dresses of the ladies and gentlemen, which had troubled him while he was awaiting the summons to the dining room, quite passed out of his mind, and he was able to do the honors of his cases naturally and without embarrassment. At eleven o'clock he took his leave, promising to call upon Mr. Goodenough, who was in lodgings in Jermyn Street, upon the following morning, that gentleman having at Sir James' request undertaken to procure all the necessary outfit.

"I feel really obliged to you, Sir James," Mr. Goodenough said when Frank had left. "The lad has a genius for natural history, and he is modest and self possessed. From what you tell me he has done rather than apply for assistance to anyone, he must have plenty of pluck and resolution, and will make a capital traveling companion. I feel quite relieved, for it is so difficult to procure a companion who will exactly suit. Clever naturalists are rare, and one can never tell how one will get on with a man when you are thrown together. He may want to have his own way, may be irritable and bad tempered, may in many respects be a disagreeable companion. With that lad I feel sure of my ground. We shall get on capitally together."

On his return to the shop Frank told his employer, whom he found sitting up for him, the change which had taken place in his life, and the opening which presented itself.

Mr. Horton expressed himself as sincerely glad.

"I shall miss you sadly," he said, "shall feel very dull for a time in my solitary house here; but it is better for you that you should go, and I never expected to keep you long. You were made for better things than this shop, and I have no doubt that a brilliant career will be open before you. You may not become a rich man, for natural history is scarcely a lucrative profession, but you may become a famous one. Now, my lad, go off to bed and dream of your future."

The next morning Frank went over, the first thing after breakfast, to see his friend the porter. He, too, was very pleased to hear of Frank's good fortune, but he was too busy to talk much to him, and promised that he would come over that evening and hear all about it. Then Frank took his way to Jermyn Street, and went with Mr. Goodenough to Silver's, where an outfit suited for the climate of Central Africa was ordered. The clothes were simple. Shirts made of thin soft flannel, knickerbockers and Norfolk jackets of tough New Zealand flax, with gaiters of the same material.

"There is nothing like it," Mr. Goodenough said; "it is the only stuff which has a chance with the thorns of an African forest. Now you will want a revolver, a Winchester repeating carbine, and a shotgun. My outfit of boxes and cases is ready, so beyond two or three extra nets and collecting boxes there is nothing farther to do in that way. For your head you'd better have a very soft felt hat with a wide brim; with a leaf or two inside they are as cool as anything, and are far lighter and more comfortable than the helmets which many people use in the tropics."

"As far as shooting goes," Frank said, "I think that I shall do much better with my blowgun than with a regular one. I can hit a small bird sitting nineteen times out of twenty."

"That is a good thing," Mr. Goodenough answered. "For shooting sitting there is nothing better than a blowgun in skillful hands. They have the advantage too of not breaking the skin; but for flying a shotgun is infinitely more accurate. You will have little difficulty in learning to shoot well, as your eye is already trained by the use of your blowpipe. Will you want any knives for skinning?"

"No, sir. I have a plentiful stock of them."

"Are you going back to Eaton Square? I heard Sir James ask you to stop there until we start."

"No," Frank replied; "I asked his permission to stay where I am till tomorrow. I did not like to seem in a hurry to run away from Mr. Horton, who has been extremely kind to me."

"Mind, you must come here in three days to have your things tried on," Mr. Goodenough said. "I particularly ordered that they are to be made easy and comfortable, larger, indeed, than you absolutely require, but we must allow for growing, and two years may make a difference of some inches to you. Now, we have only to go to a bootmaker's and then we have done."

When the orders were completed they separated, as Mr. Goodenough was going down that afternoon to the country, and was not to return until the day preceding that on which they were to sail. That evening Frank had a long chat with his two friends, and was much pleased when the old naturalist, who had taken a great fancy to the honest porter, offered him the use of a room at his house, saying that he should be more than paid by the pleasure of his company of an evening. The offer was accepted, and Frank was glad to think that his two friends would be sitting smoking their pipes together of an evening instead of being in their solitary rooms. The next day he took up his residence in Eaton square.

CHAPTER VIII: TO THE DARK CONTINENT

After spending two or three days going about London and enjoying himself with his friend Dick, Frank started for Deal, where he was pleased to find his sister well and happy. He bade goodbye to her, to the doctor, and such of his schoolfellows as lived in Deal, to whom his start for Central Africa was quite an event. Dr. Bateman handed over to him his watch and chain and his blowgun, which he had taken care of for him, also his skinning knives and instruments. The same evening he returned to town, and spent the days very pleasantly until the afternoon came when he was to depart. Then he bade farewell to his kind friends Sir James and Lady Ruthven. Dick accompanied him in the cab to Euston station, where a minute or two later Mr. Goodenough arrived. The luggage was placed in a carriage, and Frank stood chatting with Dick at the door, until the guard's cry, "Take your places!" caused him to jump into the carriage. There was one more hearty handshake with his friend, and then the train steamed out of the station.

It was midnight when they arrived at Liverpool, and at once went to bed at the Station Hotel. On coming down in the morning Frank was astonished at the huge heap of baggage piled up in the hall, but he was told that this was of daily occurrence, as six or eight large steamers went out from Liverpool every week for America alone, and that the great proportion of the passengers came down, as they had done, on the previous night, and slept at the Station hotel. Their own share of the baggage was not large, consisting only of a portmanteau each, Mr. Goodenough having sent down all his boxes two days previously. At twelve o'clock they went on board the Niger, bound for the west coast of Africa. This would carry them as far as Sierra Leone, whence Mr. Goodenough intended to take passage in a sailing ship to his starting point for the interior.

Frank enjoyed the voyage out intensely, and three days after sailing they had left winter behind; four days later they were lying in the harbor of Funchal.

"What a glorious place that would be to ramble about!" he said to Mr. Goodenough.

"Yes, indeed. It would be difficult to imagine a greater contrast than between this mountainous island of Madeira and the country which we are about to penetrate. This is one of the most delightful climates in the world, the west coast of Africa one of the worst. Once well in the interior, the swamp fevers, which are the curse of the shores, disappear, but African travelers are seldom long free from attacks of fever of one kind or the other. However, quinine does wonders, and we shall be far in the interior before the bad season comes on."

"You have been there before, you said, Mr. Goodenough?"

"Yes, I have been there twice, and have made excursions for short distances from the coast. But this time we are going into a country which may be said to be altogether unknown. One or two explorers have made their way there, but these have done little towards examining the natural productions of the country, and have been rather led by inducements of sport than by those of research."

"Did you have fever, sir?"

"Two or three little attacks. A touch of African fever, during what is called the good season, is of little more importance than a feverish cold at home. It lasts two or three days, and then there is an end of it. In the bad season the attacks are extremely violent, sometimes carrying men off in a few hours. I consider, however, that dysentery is a more formidable enemy than fever. However, even that, when properly treated, should be combated successfully."

"Do you mean to hire the men to go with you at Sierra Leone?"

"Certainly not, Frank. The negroes of Sierra Leone are the most indolent, the most worthless, and the most insolent in all Africa. It is the last place in the world at which to hire followers. We must get them at the Gaboon itself, and at each place we arrive at afterwards we take on others, merely retaining one of the old lot to act as interpreter. The natives, although they may allow white men to pass safely, are exceedingly jealous of men of other tribes. I shall, however, take with me, if possible, a body of, say six Houssas, who are the best fighting negroes on the coast. These I shall take as a bodyguard; the carriers we shall obtain from the different tribes we visit. The Kroomen, whom you will see at Cape Palmas, are a magnificent set of men. They furnish sailors and boatmen to all the ships trading on these shores. They are strong, willing, and faithful, but they do not like going up into the interior. Now we will land here and get a few hours' run on shore. There are one or two peculiarities about Madeira which distinguish it from other places. To begin with we will go for a ride in a bullock cart without wheels."

"But surely it must jolt about terribly," Frank said.

"Not at all. The roads are paved with round, knubbly stones, such as you see sometimes in narrow lanes and courts in seaside places at home. These would not make smooth roads for wheeled vehicles; but here, as you will see, the carts are placed on long runners like those of sledges. These are greased, and the driver always has a pound of candles or so hanging to the cart. When he thinks that the runners want greasing he takes a candle, lays it down on the road in front of one of the runners, and lets this pass over it. This greases it sufficiently, and it glides along over the stones almost as smoothly as if passing over ice."

Frank thoroughly enjoyed his run on shore, but was surprised at the air of listlessness which pervaded the inhabitants. Every one moved about in the most dawdling fashion. The shopkeepers looked out from their doors as if it were a matter of perfect indifference to them whether customers called or not. The few soldiers in Portuguese uniform looked as if they had never done a day's drill since they left home. Groups sat in chairs under the trees and sipped cooling drinks or coffee. The very bullocks which drew the gliding wagons seemed to move more slowly than bullocks in other places. Frank and his friend drove in a wagon to the monastery, high up on the mountain, and then took their places on a little hand sledge, which was drawn by two men with ropes, who took them down the sharp descent at a run, dashing round corners at a pace which made Frank hold his breath. It took them but a quarter of an hour to regain the town, while an hour and a half had been occupied in the journey out.

"I shall buy a couple of hammocks here," Mr. Goodenough said. "They are made of knotted string, and are lighter and more comfortable than those to be met with on the coast. I will get a couple of their cane chairs, too, they are very light and comfortable."

In the afternoon they again embarked, and then steamed away for Sierra Leone. After several days' passage, they arrived there at daylight, and Frank was soon on deck.

"What a beautiful place!" he exclaimed. "It is not a bit what I expected."

"No," Mr. Goodenough said; "no one looking at it could suppose that bright pretty town had earned for itself the name of the white man's grave."

Sierra Leone is built on a somewhat steep ascent about a mile up the river. Freetown, as the capital is properly called, stands some fifty feet or so above the sea, and the barracks upon a green hill three hundred feet above it, a quarter of a mile back. The town, as seen from the sea, consists entirely of the houses of the merchants and shopkeepers, the government buildings, churches, and other public and European buildings. The houses are all large and bright with yellow tinged whitewash, and the place is completely embowered in palms and other tropical trees. The native town lies hidden from sight among trees on low ground to the left of the town. Everywhere around the town the hills rise steep and high, wooded to the summit. Altogether there are few more prettily situated towns than the capital of Sierra Leone.

"It is wonderful," Mr. Goodenough said, "that generations and generations of Europeans have been content to live and die in that wretchedly unhealthy place, when they might have established themselves on those lofty hills but a mile away. There they would be far above the malarious mists which rise from the low ground. The walk up and down to their warehouses and offices here would be good for them, and there is no reason why Sierra Leone should be an unhealthy residence. Unfortunately the European in Africa speedily loses his vigor and enterprise. When he first lands he exclaims, 'I certainly shall have a bungalow built upon those hills;' but in a short time his energy leaves him. He falls into the ways of the place, drinks a great deal more spirits than is good for him, stops down near the water, and at the end of a year or so, if he lives so long, is obliged to go back to Europe to recruit.

"Look at the boats coming out."

A score of boats, each containing from ten to twelve men, approached the ship. They remained at a short distance until the harbor master came on board and pronounced the ship free from quarantine. Then the boats made a rush to the side, and with shouts, yells, and screams of laughter scrambled on board. Frank was at once astonished and amused at the noise and confusion.

"What on earth do they all want?" he asked Mr. Goodenough.

"The great proportion of them don't want anything at all," Mr. Goodenough answered, "but have merely come off for amusement. Some of them come to be hired, some to carry luggage, others to tout for the boatmen below. Look at those respectable negresses coming up the gangway now. They are washerwomen, and will take our clothes ashore and bring them on board again this afternoon before we start."

"It seems running rather a risk," Frank said.

"No, you will see they all have testimonials, and I believe it is perfectly safe to intrust things to them."

Mr. Goodenough and Frank now prepared to go on shore, but this was not easily accomplished, for there was a battle royal among the boatmen whose craft thronged at the foot of the ladder. Each boat had about four hands, three of whom remained on board her, while the fourth stood upon the ladder and hauled at the painter to keep the boat to which he belonged alongside. As out of the twenty boats lying there not more than two could be at the foot of the ladder together, the conflict was a desperate one. All the boatmen shouted, "Here, sar. This good boat, sar. You come wid me, sar," at the top of their voices, while at the same time they were hard at work pulling each other's boats back and pushing their own forward. So great was the struggle as Frank and Mr. Goodenough approached the gangway, so great the crowd upon the ladder, that one side of the iron bar from which the ladder chains depend broke in two, causing the ladder to drop some inches and giving a ducking to those on the lower step, causing shouts of laughter and confusion. These rose into perfect yells of amusement when one of the sailors suddenly loosed the ladder rope, letting five or six of the negroes into the water up to their necks. So intense was the appreciation by the sable mind of this joke that the boatmen rolled about with laughter, and even the victims, when they had once scrambled into their boats, yelled like people possessed.

"They are just like children," Mr. Goodenough said. "They are always either laughing or quarreling. They are good natured and passionate, indolent, but will work hard for a time; clever up to a certain point, densely stupid beyond. The intelligence of an average negro is about equal to that of a European child of ten years old. A few, a very few, go beyond this, but these are exceptions, just as Shakespeare was an exception to the ordinary intellect of an Englishman. They are fluent talkers, but their ideas are borrowed. They are absolutely without originality, absolutely without inventive power. Living among white men, their imitative faculties enable them to attain a considerable amount of civilization. Left alone to their own devices they retrograde into a state little above their native savagery."

This was said as, after having fixed upon a boat and literally fought their way into it, they were rowed towards the shore. On landing Frank was delighted with the greenness of everything. The trees were heavy with luxuriant foliage, the streets were green with grass as long and bright as that in a country lane in England. The hill on which the barracks stand was as bright a green as you would see on English slopes after a wet April, while down the streets clear streams were running. The town was alive with a chattering, laughing, good natured, excitable population, all black, but with some slight variation in the dinginess of the hue.

Never was there such a place for fun as Sierra Leone. Every one was brimful of it. Every one laughed when he or she spoke, and every one standing near joined freely in the conversation and laughed too. Frank was delighted with the display of fruit in the market, which is probably unequaled in the world. Great piles there were of delicious big oranges, green but perfectly sweet, and of equally refreshing little green limes; pineapples and bananas, green, yellow, and red, guava, and custard apples, alligator pears, melons, and sour sops, and many other native fruits.

Mr. Goodenough purchased a large basket of fruit, which they took with them on board the ship. The next morning they started down the coast. They passed Liberia, the republic formed of liberated slaves, and of negroes from America, and brought up a mile or two off Monrovia, its capital. The next day they anchored off Cape Palmas, the headquarters of the Kroomen. A number of these men came off in their canoes, and caused great amusement to Frank and the other passengers by their fun and dexterity in the management of their little craft. These boats are extremely light, being hollowed out until little thicker than pasteboard, and even with two Kroomen paddling it is difficult for a European to sit in them, so extremely crank are they. Light as they are the Krooboy can stand up and dive from his boat without upsetting it if he take time; but in the hurry and excitement of diving for coppers, when half a dozen men would leap overboard together, the canoes were frequently capsized. The divers, however, thought nothing of these mishaps, righting the boats and getting in again without difficulty. Splendidly muscular fellows they were. Indeed, except among the Turkish hamals it is doubtful whether such powerful figures could be found elsewhere.

"They would be grand fellows to take with us, Mr. Goodenough," Frank said.

"Yes, if they were as plucky as they are strong, one could wish for nothing better; but they are notorious cowards, and no offer would tempt them to penetrate into such a country as that into which we are going."

Stopping a few hours at Cape Coast Castle, Accra, and other ports they at last arrived at Bonny.

"It is not tempting in appearance," Frank said, "certainly."

"No," Mr. Goodenough replied, "this is one of the most horribly unhealthy spots in Africa. As you see, the white traders do not dare to live on shore, but take up their residence in those old floating hulks which are thatched over, and serve as residences and storehouses. I have a letter from one of the African merchants in London, and we shall take up our abode on board his hulk until we get one of the coasting steamers to carry us down. I hope it will not be many days."

The very bulky luggage was soon transferred to the hulk, where Frank and Mr. Goodenough took up their residence. The agent in charge was very glad to receive them, as any break in the terrible monotony of such a life is eagerly welcomed. He was a pale, unhealthy looking man, and had just recovered from an unusually bad attack of fever. Like most of the traders on the coast he had an immense faith in the power of spirits.

"It is the ruin of them," Mr. Goodenough said to Frank when they were alone. "Five out of six of the men here ruin their constitutions with spirits, and then fall an easy prey to the fever."

"But you have brought spirits with you, Mr. Goodenough. I saw some of the cases were labeled Brandy.'"

"Brandy is useful when taken as a medicine, and in moderation. A little mixed with water at the end of a long day of exhausting work acts as a restorative, and frequently enables a worn out man to sleep. But I have brought the brandy you see for the use of others rather than myself. One case is of the very best spirits for our own use. The rest is common stuff and is intended as presents. Our main drink will be tea and chocolate. These are invaluable for the traveler. I have, besides, large quantities of calico, brass stair rods, beads, and powder. These are the money of Africa, and pass current everywhere. With these we shall pay our carriers and boatmen, with these purchase the right of way through the various tribes we shall meet. Moreover it is almost necessary in Africa to pass as traders. The people perfectly understand that white men come here to trade; but if we said that our object was to shoot birds and beasts, and to catch butterflies and insects, they would not believe us in the slightest degree, but would suspect us of all sorts of hidden designs. Now we will go ashore and pay our respects to the king."

"Do you mean to say that there is a king in that wretched looking village?" Frank asked in surprise.

"Kings are as plentiful as peas in Africa," Mr. Goodenough said, "but you will not see much royal state."

Frank was disappointed indeed upon landing. Sierra Leone had given him an exalted idea of African civilization, but this was at once dispelled by the appearance of Bonny. The houses were constructed entirely of black mud, and the streets were narrow and filthy beyond description. The palace was composed of two or three hovels, surrounded by a mud wall. In one of these huts the king was seated. Mr. Goodenough and Frank were introduced by the agent, who had gone ashore with them, and His Majesty, who was an almost naked negro, at once invited them to join him in the meal of which he was partaking. As a matter of courtesy they consented, and plates were placed before them, heaped with a stew consisting of meat, vegetables, and hot peppers. While the meal went on the king asked Mr. Goodenough what he had come to the coast for, and was disappointed to find that he was not going to set up as a trader at Bonny, as it was the custom for each newcomer to make a handsome present to him. When the meal was over they took their leave.

"Do you know what you have been eating?" the agent asked Frank.

"Not in the least," Frank said. "It was not bad; what was it?"

"It was dog flesh," the agent answered.

"Not really!" Frank exclaimed with an uncomfortable sensation of sickness.

"Yes, indeed," the agent replied. "Dog's meat is considered a luxury in Bonny, and dogs are bred specially for the table."

"You'll eat stranger things than that before you've done, Frank," Mr. Goodenough continued, "and will find them just as good, and in many cases better, than those to which you are accustomed. It is a strange thing why in Europe certain animals should be considered fit to eat and certain animals altogether rejected, and this without the slightest reason. Horses and donkeys are as clean feeders as oxen and sheep. Dogs, cats, and rats are far cleaner than pigs and ducks. The flesh of the one set is every bit as good as that of the other, and yet the poorest peasant would turn up his nose at them. Here sheep and oxen, horses and donkeys, will not live, and the natives very wisely make the most of the animals which can do so."

Frank was soon tired of Bonny, and was glad to hear that they would start the next day for Fernando Po in a little steamer called the Retriever. The island of Fernando Po is a very beautiful one, the peak rising ten thousand feet above the sea, and wooded to the very summit. Were the trees to some extent cleared away the island might be very healthy. As it is, it is little better than the mainland.

There was not much to see in the town of Clarence, whose population consists entirely of traders from Sierra Leone, Kroomen, etc. The natives, whose tribal name is Adiza, live in little villages in the interior. They are an extremely primitive people, and for the most part dispense altogether with clothing. The island belongs to Spain, and is used as a prison, the convicts being kept in guard ships in the harbor. After a stay of three days there Mr. Goodenough and Frank took passage in a sailing ship for the Gaboon.

CHAPTER IX: THE START INLAND

After the comforts of a fine steamer the accommodation on board the little trader was poor indeed. The vessel smelt horribly of palm oil and was alive with cockroaches. These, however, Mr. Goodenough and Frank cared little for, as they brought up their mattresses and slept on deck. Upon their voyage out from England Frank, as well as several of the other passengers, had amused himself by practicing with his rifle at empty bottles thrown overboard, and other objects, and having nothing else to do now, he resumed the practice, accustoming himself also to the use of his revolver, the mark being a small log of wood swung from the end of a yard.

"I told you," Mr. Goodenough said, "that your skill with the blowgun would prove useful to you in shooting. You are as good a shot as I am, and I am considered a fair one. I have no doubt that with a little practice you will succeed as well with your double barrel. The shooting of birds on the wing is a knack which seems to come naturally to some people, while others, practice as they will, never become good shots."

The ship touched twice upon its way down to the Gaboon. Once at the Malimba river, the second time at Botauga, the latter being the principal ivory port in equatorial Africa.

"Shall we meet with any elephants, do you think?" Frank asked his friend.

"In all probability," Mr. Goodenough said. "Elephant shooting, of course, does not come within our line of action, and I should not go at all out of my way for them. Still, if we meet them we will shoot them. The ivory is valuable and will help to pay our expenses, while the meat is much prized by the natives, who will gladly assist us in consideration of the flesh."

On the sixteenth day after leaving Fernando Po they entered the Gaboon. On the right hand bank were the fort and dwellings of the French. A little farther up stood the English factories; and upon a green hill behind, the church, school, and houses of an American mission. On the left bank was the wattle town of King William, the sable monarch of the Gaboon. Mr. Goodenough at once landed and made inquiries for a house. He succeeded in finding one, consisting of three rooms, built on piles, an important point in a country in which disease rises from the soil. At Bonny Mr. Goodenough had, with the assistance of the agent, enlisted six Houssas. These people live much higher up on the coast, but they wander a good deal and may be met with in most of the ports. The men had formed a guard in one of the hulks, but trade having been bad the agent had gone home, and they were glad to take service with Mr. Goodenough. They spoke a few words of English, and, like the Kroomen, rejoiced in names which had been given them by sailors. They were called Moses, Firewater, Ugly Tom, Bacon, Tatters, and King John. They were now for the first time set to work, and the goods were soon transported from the brig to the house.

"Is anything the matter with you, Frank?" Mr. Goodenough asked that evening.

"I don't know, sir. My head feels heavy, somehow, and I am giddy."

Mr. Goodenough felt his pulse.

"You have got your first touch of fever," he said. "I wonder you've been so long without it. You had better lie down at once."

A quarter of an hour afterwards Frank was seized with an overpowering heat, every vein appearing to be filled with liquid fire; but his skin, instead of being, as usual, in a state of perspiration, was dry and hard.

"Now, Frank, sit up and drink this. It's only some mustard and salt and water. I have immense faith in an emetic."

The draught soon took its effect. Frank was violently sick, and the perspiration broke in streams from him.

"Here is a cup of tea," Mr. Goodenough said; "drink that and you will find that there will be little the matter with you in the morning."

Frank awoke feeling weak, but otherwise perfectly well. Mr. Goodenough administered a strong dose of quinine, and after he had had his breakfast he felt quite himself again.

"Now," Mr. Goodenough said, "we will go up to the factories and mission and try and find a really good servant. Everything depends upon that."

In a short time an engagement was made with a negro of the name of Ostik. He was a Mpongwe man, that being the name of the tribe on the coast. He spoke English fairly, as well as two or three of the native languages. He had before made a journey some distance into the interior with a white traveler. He was a tall and powerfully built negro, very ugly, but with a pleasant and honest face. Frank felt at once that he should like him.

"You quite understand," Mr. Goodenough explained, "we are going through the Fan country, far into the interior. We may be away from the coast for many months."

"Me ready, sar," the man answered with a grin. "Mak no odds to Ostik. He got no wife, no piccanniny. Ostik very good cook. Master find good grub; he catch plenty of beasts."

"You're not afraid, Ostik, because it is possible we may have trouble on the way?"

"Me not very much afraid, massa. You good massa to Ostik he no run away if fightee come; but no good fight whole tribe."

"I hope not to have any fighting at all, Ostik; but as I have got six Houssas with me who will all carry breech loading guns, I think we should be a match for a good sized tribe, if necessary."

Ostik looked thoughtful. "More easy, massa, go without Houssas," he said. "Black man not often touch white traveler."

"No, Ostik, that is true; but I must take with me trade goods for paying my way and hiring carriers, and if alone I should be at the mercy of every petty chief who chose to plunder and delay me. I am going as a peaceful traveler, ready to pay my way, and to make presents to the different kings through whose territories I may pass. But I do not choose to put myself at the mercy of any of them. I do not say that eight men armed with breech loaders could defeat a whole tribe; but they would be so formidable, that any of these negro kings would probably prefer taking presents and letting us pass peacefully to trying to rob us. The first thing to do, will be to hire one large canoe, or two if necessary. The men must agree to take us up into the Fan country, as far as the rapids on the Gaboon. Then we shall take carriers there, and the boat can return by itself. These are the things which will have to go."

The baggage consisted of ten large tin cases, each weighing about eighty pounds. These contained cotton cloths, powder, beads, tea, chocolate, sugar, and biscuits. There were in addition three bundles of stair rods, each about the same weight as the boxes. These were done up in canvas. There was also a tent made of double canvas weighing fifty pounds, and two light folding tressel beds weighing fifteen pounds apiece. Thus fourteen men would be required as carriers, besides some for plantains and other provisions, together with the portmanteaus, rugs, and waterproof sheets of the travelers. There were besides six great chests made of light iron. Four of these were fitted with trays with cork bottoms, for insects. The other two were for the skins of birds. All the boxes and cases had strips of India rubber where the lids fitted down, in order to keep out both damp and the tiny ants which are the plague of naturalists in Africa.

Four or five days were occupied in getting together a crew, for the natives had an abject fear of entering the country of the cannibal Fans. Mr. Goodenough promised that they should not be obliged to proceed unless a safe conduct for their return was obtained from the King of the Fans. A large canoe was procured, sufficient to convey the whole party. Twelve paddlers were hired, and the goods taken down and arranged in the boat. The Houssas had been, on landing, furnished with their guns, which were Snider rifles, had been instructed in the breech loading arrangement, and had been set to work to practice at a mark at a hundred and fifty yards distance—the stump of an old tree, some five feet in height, serving for the purpose. The men were delighted with the accuracy of their pieces and the rapidity at which they could be fired. Mr. Goodenough impressed upon them that unless attacked at close quarters, and specially ordered to fire fast, they must aim just as slowly and deliberately as if using their old guns, for that in so long a journey ammunition would be precious, and must, therefore, on no account whatever, be wasted. In the boxes were six thousand rounds of ammunition, a thousand for each gun, besides the ammunition for the rifles and fowling pieces of Mr. Goodenough and Frank.

In order to render the appearance of his followers as imposing as possible, Mr. Goodenough furnished each of the Houssas with a pair of trousers made of New Zealand flax, reaching to their knees. These he had brought from England with him. They were all found to be too large, but the men soon set to work with rough needles and thread and took them in. In addition to these, each man was furnished with a red sash, which went several times round the waist, and served to keep the trousers up and to give a gay aspect to the dress. The Houssas were much pleased with their appearance. All of them carried swords in addition to the guns, as in their own country they are accustomed to fight with these weapons.

They started early in the morning, and after four hours' paddling passed Konig Island, an abandoned Dutch settlement. Here they stopped for an hour or two, and then the sea breeze sprang up, a sail was hoisted, and late at night they passed a French guardship placed to mark the boundary of that settlement at a point where a large tributary called the Boqui runs into it. Here is a little island called Nenge Nenge, formerly a missionary station, where the natives are still Christians. At this place the canoe was hauled ashore. The Houssas had already been instructed in the method of pitching the tent, and in a very few minutes this was erected. It was a double poled tent, some ten feet square, and there was a waterproof sheet large enough to cover the whole of the interior, thus preventing the miasma from arising from the ground within it. The beds were soon opened and fixed, two of the large cases formed a table and two smaller ones did service as chairs. A lamp was lit, and Frank was charmed with the comfort and snugness of the abode.

The men's weapons were fastened round one of the poles to keep them from the damp night air. Ostik had at once set to work on landing, leaving the Houssas to pitch the tent. A fire was soon blazing and a kettle and saucepans suspended over it. Rice was served out to the men, with the addition of some salt meat, of which sufficient had been purchased from the captain of the brig to last throughout the journey in the canoe. The men were all in high spirits at this addition to their fare, which was more than had been bargained for, and their songs rose merrily round the fire in the night air.

In the morning, after breakfast, they again took their places in the canoe. For twelve miles they paddled, the tide at first assisting them, but after this the water from the mountains ahead overpowered it. Presently they arrived at the first Fan village, called Olenga, which they reached six hours after starting. The natives crowded round as the canoe approached, full of curiosity and excitement, for never but once had a white man passed up the river. These Fans differed widely from the coast negroes. Their hair was longer and thicker, their figures were slight, their complexion coffee colored, and their projecting upper jaws gave them a rabbit mouthed appearance. They wore coronets on their heads adorned with the red tail feathers of the common gray parrot. Most of the men had beards, which were divided in the middle, red and white beads being strung up the tips. Some wore only a strip of goatskin hanging from the waist, or the skin of a tigercat, while others had short petticoats made of cloth woven from the inner bark of a tree. The travelers were led to the hut of the chief, where they were surrounded by a mob of the cannibals. The Houssas had been strictly enjoined to leave their guns in the bottom of the canoe, as Mr. Goodenough desired to avoid all appearance of armed force. The chief demanded of Ostik what these two white men wanted here, and whether they had come to trade. Ostik replied that the white men were going up the river into the country beyond to shoot elephants and buy ivory, that they did not want to trade for logwood or oil, but that they would give presents to the chiefs of the Fan villages. A score of cheap Birmingham muskets had been brought from England by Mr. Goodenough for this purpose. One of these was now bestowed upon the chief, together with some powder and ball, three bright cotton handkerchiefs, some gaudy glass beads, and two looking glasses for his wives. This was considered perfectly satisfactory.

The crowd was very great, and at Mr. Goodenough's dictation Ostik informed the chief that if the white men were left quiet until the evening they would show his people many strange things. On the receipt of this information the crowd dispersed. But when at sunset the two travelers took a turn through the village, the excitement was again very great. The men stood their ground and stared at them, but the women and children ran screaming away to hide themselves. The idea of the people of Central Africa of the whites is that they are few in number, that they live at the bottom of the sea, and are possessed of great wealth, but that they have no palm oil or logwood, and are, therefore, compelled to come to land to trade for these articles. They believe that the strange clothes they wear are manufactured from the skins of sea beasts.

When night fell Mr. Goodenough fastened a sheet against the outside of the chief's hut, and then placed a magic lantern in position ten paces from it. The Fans were then invited to gather round and take their seats upon the ground. A cry of astonishment greeted the appearance of the bright disk. This was followed by a wilder yell when this was darkened, and an elephant bearing some men sitting on his back was seen to cross the house. The men leaped to their feet and seized their spears. The women screamed, and Ostik, who was himself somewhat alarmed, had great difficulty in calming their fears and persuading them to sit down again, assuring them that they would see many wonderful things, but that nothing would hurt them.

The next view was at first incomprehensible to many of them. It was a ship tossing in a stormy sea; but some of those present had been down to the mouth of the river, and these explained to the others the nature of the phenomenon. In all there were twenty slides, all of which were provided with movable figures; the last two being chromatropes, whose dancing colors elicited screams of delight from the astonished natives. This concluded the performance, but for hours after it was over the village rang with a perfect Babel of shouts, screams, and chatter. The whole thing was to the Fans absolutely incomprehensible, and their astonishment was equalled by their awe at the powers of the white men.

The next two days they remained at Olenga, as word was sent up to Itchongue, the next town, asking the chief there for leave to come forward. The people had now begun to get over their first timidity, and when Frank went out for a walk after breakfast he was somewhat embarrassed by the women and girls crowding round him, feeling his clothes and touching his hands and face to assure themselves that these felt like those of human beings. He afforded them huge delight by taking off his Norfolk jacket and pulling up the sleeves of his shirt to show them that his arms were the same color as his hands, and so elated were they with this exhibition that it was with great difficulty that he withstood their entreaties that he would disrobe entirely. Indeed, Ostik had at last to come to his rescue and carry him off from the laughing crowd by which he was surrounded.

After dinner Mr. Goodenough invited the people to sit down in a vast circle holding each other's hands. He then told them that he should at a word make them all jump to their feet. Then taking out a small but powerful galvanic battery, he arranged it and placed wires into the hands of the two men nearest to him in the great circle.

"Now," he said, "when I clap my hands you will find that you are all obliged to jump up."

He gave the signal. Frank turned on the battery, and in an instant the two hundred men and women, with a wild shriek, either leapt to their feet or rolled backward on the ground. In another minute not a native was to be seen, with the exception of the chief, who had not been included in the circle. The latter, at Mr. Goodenough's request, shouted loudly to his subjects to return, for that the white men would do them no harm; but it was a long time before, slowly and cautiously, they crept back again. When they had reassembled Mr. Goodenough showed them several simple but astonishing chemical experiments, which stupefied them with wonder; and concluded with three or four conjuring tricks, which completed their amazement. A long day's paddling took them to Itchongue, where they were as well received as at Olenga. Here they stopped for two days, and the magic lantern was again brought out, and the other tricks repeated with a success equal to that which they had before obtained. As another day's paddling would take them to the rapids Mr. Goodenough now set up a negotiation for obtaining a sufficient number of carriers. After great palaver, and the presentation of three guns to the chief to obtain his assistance, thirty men were engaged. These were each to receive a yard of calico or one brass stair rod a day, and were to proceed with the party until such time as they could procure carriers from another tribe.

The new recruits were taken up in another canoe. Several villages were passed on the way. The river became a mere rapid, against which the canoes with difficulty made their way. They had now entered the mountains which rose steeply above them, embowered in wood. Two days of severe work took them to the foot of the falls. Here the canoes were unloaded. The men hired on the coast received their pay, and turned the boat's head down stream. The other canoe accompanied it, and the travelers remained with their bodyguard of Houssas and their carriers.

"Now," Mr. Goodenough said, "we are fairly embarked on our journey, and we will commence operations at once. I have heard the cries of a great many birds which are strange to me today, and I expect that we shall have a good harvest. We may remain here for some time. The first thing to do is to find food for our followers. We have got six sacks of rice, but it will never do to let our men depend solely upon these. They would soon come to an end."

"But how are we to feed forty people?" Frank asked in astonishment.

"I pointed out to you today," Mr. Goodenough said, "the tracks of hippopotami in various places. One of these beasts will feed the men for nearly a week. There were, too, numbers of alligators' eggs on the banks, and these creatures make by no means bad eating. Your rifle will be of no use against such animals as these. You had better take one of the Sniders. I have some explosive shells which will fit them. My own double barrelled rifle is of the same bore."

After dinner Mr. Goodenough told two of the Houssas to accompany them with their rifles, together with three or four of the Fans. He made his way down the stream to a point where the hills receded, and where he had observed a great many marks of the river horses. As they approached the spot they heard several loud snorts, and making their way along as quietly as possible they saw two of the great beasts standing in the stream. At this point it widened a good deal and was shallow and quite near the bank. The Fans had been told to stay behind directly the snorting was heard, and Mr. Goodenough and Frank, rifle in hand, crept forward, with the Houssas as still and noiseless as cats close behind them.

CHAPTER X: LOST IN THE FOREST

The hippopotami were playing together, floundering in the shallow water, and the noise they made prevented their hearing the stealthy approach of their enemies.

"You take the one nearest shore, Frank, I will take the other. Aim at the forehead between the eyes. I will make a slight sound to attract their attention."

Frank knelt on one knee and took steady aim. Mr. Goodenough then gave a shout, and the two animals turning their heads stood staring at the foliage, scarce a dozen yards away, in which the travelers were concealed. The guns flashed at the same moment, and as if struck by lightning the hippopotami fell in the stream. The explosive balls had both flown true to the mark, invariably a fatal one in the case of the river horse. Frank as he fired had taken another rifle which the Houssas held in readiness for him, but there was no occasion for its use. The Fans came running up, and on seeing the great beasts lying in the stream, gave a shout of joy.

"That will do for this evening," Mr. Goodenough said. "They are large beasts, and will give food enough for a week or ten days."

They then returned to the camp which, at the news brought by one of the Fans, had already been deserted. Before the natives retired to sleep the hippopotami had been cut up and carried to the camp. Portions were already frizzling over the fires, other parts set aside for the consumption of the next two days, and the rest cut up in strips to be dried in the sun. The tongue of one was cut up and fried as a great luxury for the white men's supper by Ostik. It is not often that the natives of equatorial Africa are able to indulge in meat, and the joy of the Fans at this abundant supply, and the prospect afforded them of further good eating, raised their spirits to the highest extent.

Next morning at daybreak Mr. Goodenough and Frank set out from the camp. Each carried a double barreled gun, and was accompanied by one of the Houssas carrying his rifle and a butterfly net, and when three hours later they returned to the camp for breakfast and compared their spoils they found that an excellent beginning had been made. Nearly a score of birds, of which several were very rare, and five were pronounced by Mr. Goodenough to be entirely new, had been shot, and many butterflies captured. Frank had been most successful in this respect, as he had come across a small clearing in which were several deserted huts. This was just the place in which butterflies delight, for, although many kinds prefer the deep shades of the forest, by far the greater portion love the bright sunlight.

After breakfast they again set out, Frank this time keeping along the edge of the stream, where he had observed many butterflies as he came up, and where many birds of the kingfisher family had also been seen. He had been very successful, and was walking along by the edge of the water with his eyes fixed upon the trees above, where he had a minute before heard the call of a bird, when he was startled by a shout from the Houssa behind him. He involuntarily sprang back, and it was well he did so; for on the instant something swept by within an inch or two of his head. Looking round he saw, at the edge of the stream below him, a huge alligator. This had struck at him with its tail—the usual manner in which the alligator supplies itself with food—and had it not been for the warning cry of the Houssa, would have knocked him into the stream. Its mouth was open and Frank, as if by instinct, fired the contents of both barrels into its throat. The animal rolled over on to its back in the water and then turned as if to struggle to regain the bank. The Houssa, however, had run up, and, placing the muzzle of his gun within a foot of its eye, fired, and the creature rolled over dead, and was swept away by the stream.

The Houssa gave a loud shout which was answered in the distance. He then shouted two or three words, and turning to Frank said: "Men get alligator," and proceeded on his way without concerning himself further in the matter.

On his return to camp in the evening Frank found that the alligator had been discovered and fished out, and that its steaks were by no means bad eating. Frank told Mr. Goodenough of the narrow escape he had had, and the latter pointed out to him the necessity of always keeping his eyes on the watch.

"Alligators frequently carry off the native women when engaged in washing," he said, "and almost invariably strike them, in the first place, into the river with a blow of their tails. Once in the water they are carried off, drowned, and eaten at leisure. Sometimes, indeed, a woman may escape with the loss of a foot or arm, but this is the exception."

"What is the best thing to do when so attacked?" Frank asked. "I don't mean to be caught napping again, still it is as well to know what to do if I am."

"Men when so attacked have been known frequently to escape by thrusting their thumbs or fingers into the creature's eyes. If it can be done the alligator is sure to lose his hold, but it demands quickness and great presence of mind. When a reptile is tearing at one's leg, and hurrying one along under water, you can see that the nerve required to keep perfectly cool, to feel for the creature's eyes, and to thrust your finger into them is very great. The best plan, Frank, distinctly is to keep out of their reach altogether."

After remaining for a fortnight at their camp they prepared for a move. Another hippopotamus was killed, cut up and dried, and the flesh added to the burdens. Then the tent was struck and they proceeded farther into the mountains. Two days later they halted again, the site being chosen beside a little mountain rivulet. They were now very high up in the hills, Mr. Goodenough expecting to meet with new varieties of butterflies and insects at this elevation. They had scarcely pitched their camp when Frank exclaimed:

"Surely, Mr. Goodenough, I can hear some dogs barking! I did not know that the native dogs barked."

"Nor do they. They may yelp and howl, but they never bark like European dogs. What you hear is the bark of some sort of monkey or baboon."

This opinion was at once confirmed by the Fans.

"We will sally out with our guns at once," Mr. Goodenough said.

"I don't like the thought of shooting monkeys," Frank muttered, as he took up his Winchester carbine.

"They are very excellent eating," Mr. Goodenough continued, "superior in my opinion, and, indeed, in that of most travelers, to any other meat. We shall meet with no other kind of creature fit for food up here. The birds, indeed, supply us amply, but for the men it is desirable that we should obtain fresh meat when we have the chance. These baboons are very mischievous creatures, and are not to be attacked with impunity. Let four of the Houssas with their guns come with us."

Following the direction of the sounds they had heard, the travelers came upon a troupe of great baboons. It was a curious sight. The males were as big as large dogs, some were sitting sunning themselves on rocks, others were being scratched by the females. Many of these had a baby monkey clinging on their necks, while others were playing about in all directions.

"I'd rather not shoot at them, Mr. Goodenough," Frank said.

"You will be glad enough to eat them," Mr. Goodenough answered, and selecting a big male he fired. The creature fell dead. The others all sprang to their feet. The females and little ones scampered off. The males, with angry gestures, rushed upon their assailants, barking, showing their teeth, and making menacing gestures. Mr. Goodenough fired again, and Frank now, seeing that they were likely to be attacked, also opened fire. Six of the baboons were killed before the others abstained from the attack and went screaming after the females. The dead baboons were brought down, skinned, and two were at once roasted, the others hung up to trees. It required a great effort on Frank's part to overcome his repugnance to tasting these creatures, but, when he did so, he admitted that the meat was excellent.

That night they were disturbed by a cry of terror from the men. Seizing their rifles they ran out.

"There are two leopards, sar," Ostik said; "they have smelt the monkeys."

The shouts scared the creatures away, and the natives kept up a great fire till morning.

"We must get the skins if we can," Mr. Goodenough said. "The skins of the equatorial leopard are rare. If we can get them both they will make a fine group for you to stuff when you get back, Frank."

"Are you thinking of following their trail?" Frank asked.

"That would be useless," Mr. Goodenough answered. "In soft swampy ground we might do so, but up here it would be out of the question. We must set a bait for them tonight, but be careful while you are out today. They have probably not gone far from the camp, and they are very formidable beasts. They not unfrequently attack and kill the natives."

The Fans were much alarmed at the neighborhood of the leopards, and none would leave the camp during the day. Two of the Houssas were left on guard, although Mr. Goodenough felt sure that the animals would not attempt to carry off any meat in the daylight, and two Houssas accompanied each of the travelers while out in search of butterflies.

Nothing was heard of the leopards during the day. At nightfall a portion of one of the monkeys was roasted and hung up, so as to swing within four feet of the ground from the arm of a tree, a hundred yards from the camp. Mr. Goodenough and Frank took their seats in another tree a short distance off. The night was fine and the stars clear and bright. The tree on which the meat hung stood somewhat alone, so that sufficient light penetrated from above to enable any creatures approaching the bait to be seen. Instead of his little Winchester, Frank had one of the Sniders with explosive bullets. The Houssas were told to keep a sharp watch in camp, in case the leopards, approaching from the other side, might be attracted by the smell of meat there, rather than by the bait. The Fans needed no telling to induce them to keep up great fires all night.

Soon after dark the watchers heard a roaring in the forest. It came from the other side of the camp.

"That is unlucky," Mr. Goodenough said. "We have pitched on the wrong side. However, they will probably be deterred by the fire from approaching the camp, and will wander round and round: so we may hope to hear of them before long."

In answer to the roar of the leopards the natives kept up a continued shouting. For some hours the roaring continued at intervals, sometimes close at hand, sometimes at a considerable distance. Frank had some difficulty in keeping awake, and was beginning to wish that the leopards would move off altogether. Two or three times he had nearly dozed off, and his rifle had almost slipped from his hold. All at once he was aroused by a sharp nudge from his companion. Fixing his eyes on the bait he made out something immediately below it. Directly afterwards another creature stole forward. They were far less distinct than he had expected.

"You take the one to the left," Mr. Goodenough whispered; "Now!"

They fired together. Two tremendous roars were heard. One of the leopards immediately bounded away. The other rolled over and over, and then, recovering its feet, followed its companion, Mr. Goodenough firing his second barrel after him.

"I'm afraid you missed altogether, Frank," he said.

"I don't think so, sir. I fancied I saw the flash of the shell as it struck him, but where, I have not the remotest idea. I could not make him out clear enough. It was merely a dim shape, and I fired as well as I could at the middle of it.

"Shall we go back to the camp now?" Frank asked.

"Yes, we can safely do so. You can tell by the sound of the roars that they are already some distance away. There is little chance of their returning tonight. In the morning we will follow them. There is sure to be blood, and the natives will have no difficulty in tracking them."

The rest of the night passed quietly, although roars and howling could be heard from time to time in the distance.

Early in the morning they started with the Houssas.

"We must be careful today," Mr. Goodenough said, "for a wounded leopard is a really formidable beast."

There was no difficulty in taking up the traces.

"One of them at least must be hard hit," Mr. Goodenough remarked; "there are traces of blood every yard."

They had gone but a short distance when one of the Houssas gave a sudden exclamation, and pointed to something lying at the edge of a clump of bushes.

"Leopard," he said.

"Yes, there is one of them, sure enough. I think it's dead, but we cannot be too cautious. Advance very carefully, Frank, keeping ready to fire instantly."

They moved forward slowly in a body, but their precaution was unnecessary. There was no movement in the spotted, tawny skin as they advanced, and when they came close they could see that the leopard was really dead. He had been hit by two bullets. The first had struck his shoulder and exploded there, inflicting so terrible a wound that it was wonderful he had been able to move afterwards. The other had struck him on the back, near the tail, and had burst inside him. Frank on seeing the nature of the wounds was astonished at the tenacity of life shown by the animal.

"I wonder whether I hit the other," he said.

"I have no doubt at all about it," Mr. Goodenough answered, "although I did not think so before. It seemed to me that I only heard the howls of one animal in the night, and thought it was the one I had hit. But as this fellow must have died at once, it is clear that the cries were made by the other."

A sharp search was now set up for the tracks of the other leopard, the Houssas going back to the tree and taking it up anew. They soon found traces of blood in a line diverging from that followed by the other animal. For an hour they followed this, great care being required, as at times no spots of blood could be seen for a considerable distance. At last they seemed to lose it altogether. Mr. Goodenough and Frank stood together, while the Houssas, scattered round, were hunting like well trained dogs for a sign. Suddenly there was a sharp roar, and from the bough of a tree close by a great body sprang through the air and alighted within a yard of Frank. The latter, in his surprise, sprang back, stumbled and fell, but in an instant the report of the two barrels of Mr. Goodenough's rifle rang out. In a moment Frank was on his feet again ready to fire. The leopard, however, lay dead, its skull almost blown off.

"You have had another narrow escape," Mr. Goodenough said. "I see that your ball last night broke one of his hind legs. That spoilt his spring. Had it not been for that he would undoubtedly have reached you, and a blow with his paw, given with all his weight and impetus, would probably have killed you on the spot. We ought not to have stood near a tree strong enough to bear him when in pursuit of a wounded leopard. They will always take to trees if they can, and you see this was a very suitable one for him. This bough on which he was lying starts from the trunk only about four feet from the ground, so that even with his broken leg he was able to get upon it without difficulty. Well, thank God, you've not been hurt, my boy. It will teach us both to be more careful in future."

That afternoon Frank was down with his second attack of fever, a much more severe one than the first had been. Mr. Goodenough's favorite remedy had its effect of producing profuse perspiration, but two or three hours afterwards the hot fit again came on, and for the next four days Frank lay half delirious, at one time consumed with heat, and the next shivering as if plunged into ice water. Copious doses of quinine, however, gradually overcame the fever, and on the fifth day he was convalescent. It was, nevertheless, another week before he was sufficiently recovered to be able to resume his hunting expeditions. They again shifted their camp, and this time traveled for three weeks, making short journeys, and halting early so as to give half a day from each camping place for their work.

Frank was one day out as usual with one of the Houssas. He had killed several birds when he saw a butterfly, of a species which he had not before met with, flitting across a gleam of sunshine which streamed in through a rift in the trees. He told his Houssa to wait where he was in charge of the two guns and birds, and started off with his net in pursuit of the butterfly. The creature fluttered away with Frank in full pursuit. Hither and thither it flitted, seemingly taking an impish delight in tantalizing Frank, settling on a spot where a gleam of sunlight streamed upon the bark of a tree, till Frank had stolen up within a couple of paces of it, and then darting away again at a pace which defied Frank's best attempts to keep up with it until it chose to play with him again. Intent only upon his chase Frank thought of nothing else. At last, with a shout of triumph, he inclosed the creature in his net, shook it into the wide pickle bottle, containing a sponge soaked with chloroform, and then, after tightly fitting in the stopper, he looked around. He uttered an exclamation of dismay as he did so. He saw by the bands of light the sun was already setting, and knew that he must have been for upwards of an hour in chase of the butterfly. He had not the slightest idea of the direction in which he had come. He had, he knew, run up hill and down, but whether he had been traveling in a circle or going straight in one direction, he had not the least idea. He might be within a hundred yards of the spot where he had left the Houssa. He might be three or four miles away.

He at once drew out his revolver, which he always carried strapped to his belt, and discharged the six chambers, waiting for half a minute between each shot, and listening intently for an answer to his signal. None came. The stillness of the wood was unbroken, and Frank felt that he must have wandered far indeed from his starting place, and that he was completely lost. His first impulse was to start off instantly at the top of his speed, but a moment's thought convinced him that this would be useless. He had not an idea of the direction which he should pursue. Besides the sun was sinking, twilight is short in the tropics, and in half an hour it would be as dark as midnight in the forest. Remembering his adventure with the leopard he determined to climb into a tree and pass the night there. He knew that an active search would be set on foot by his friends next morning, and that, as every step he took was as likely to lead him from as towards the camp, it was better to stay where he was.

He soon found a tree with a branch which would suit his purpose, and, climbing up into it, lit his pipe and prepared for an uncomfortable night. Frank had never smoked until he reached Africa, but he had then taken to it on the advice of Mr. Goodenough, who told him that smoking was certainly a preventive, to some extent, of fever in malarious countries, and, although he had not liked it at first, he had now taken kindly to his pipe, and smoked from the time when the evening mists began to rise until he went to bed.

The time passed very slowly. The cries of wild creatures could be heard in the woods, and although Frank did not expect to be attacked, it was impossible to sleep with these calls of leopards, with which the forest seemed to abound, in his ears. He had reloaded his revolver immediately after discharging it, and had replaced it in his pouch, and felt confident that nothing could climb the tree. Besides, he had heard that leopards seldom attack men unless themselves attacked. Sleep, however, was out of the question, for when he slept he might have fallen from his seat in the crotch of the tree. Occasionally, however, he dozed off, waking up always with an uncomfortable start, and a feeling that he had just saved himself from falling. With the earliest dawn of morn he descended, stiff and weary, from the tree. Directly the sun rose he set off walking. He knew at least that he was to the south of the camp, and that by keeping the sun on his right hand till it reached the zenith he must get in time to the little stream on which it was pitched. As he walked he listened intently for the sound of guns. Once or twice he fancied that he heard them, but he was quite unable to judge of the direction. He had been out with the Houssa about six hours before he strayed from him in the pursuit of the butterfly, and they had for some time been walking towards the camp, in order to reach it by nightfall. Thus he thought, that at that time, he could only have been some three or four miles distant from it. Supposing that he had run due south, he could still be but eight miles from the stream, and he thought that in three hours' walking he might arrive there. In point of fact, after leaving the Houssa the butterfly had led him towards the southeast, and as the stream took a sharp bend to the north a little distance above the camp, he was many miles farther from it than he expected. This stream was one of the upper tributaries of the Gaboon.

After walking for two hours the character of the forest changed. The high trees were farther apart, and a thick undergrowth began to make its appearance, frequently causing him to make long detours and preventing his following the line he had marked out for himself. This caused him much uneasiness, for he knew that he had passed across no such country on his way from the camp, and the thought that he might experience great difficulties in recovering it, now began to press upon him.

CHAPTER XI: A HOSTILE TRIBE

Every step that he went the ground grew softer and more swampy, and he at length determined to push on no farther in this direction, but turning to his left to try and gain higher ground, and then to continue on the line he had marked out for himself.

His progress was now very slow. The bush was thick and close, thorny plants and innumerable creepers continually barred his way, and the necessity for constantly looking up through the trees to catch a glimpse of the sun, which was his only guide, added to his difficulty. At length, when his watch told him it was eleven o'clock, he came to a standstill, the sun being too high overhead to serve him as a reliable guide. He had now been walking for nearly six hours, and he was utterly worn out and exhausted, having had no food since his midday meal on the previous day. He was devoured with thirst, having merely rinsed his mouth in the black and poisonous water of the swamps he had crossed. His sleepless night, too, had told on him. He was bathed in perspiration, and for the last hour had scarcely been able to drag his feet along.

He now lay down at the foot of a great tree, and for three or four hours slept heavily. When he awoke he pursued his journey, the sun serving as a guide again. In two hours' time he had got upon higher ground. The brushwood was less dense, and he again turned his face to the north, and stepped forward with renewed hopes.

It was late in the afternoon when he came upon a native path. Here he sat down to think. He did not remember having crossed such a path on the day before. Probably it crossed the stream at some point above the encampment. Therefore it would serve as a guide, and he might, too, come upon some native village where he could procure food. By following it far enough he must arrive somewhere. He sat for a quarter of an hour to rest himself, and then proceeded along the path, whose direction seemed to be the northwest.

For an hour he proceeded and then paused, hearing a sudden outcry ahead. Scampering along the path came a number of great baboons, and Frank at once stepped aside into the bush to avoid them, as these are formidable creatures when disturbed. They were of a very large species, and several of the females had little ones clinging around their necks. In the distance Frank could hear the shouts of some natives, and supposed that the monkeys had been plundering their plantations, and that they were driving them away. The baboons passed without paying any attention to him, but Frank observed that the last of the troop was carrying a little one in one of its forearms.

Frank glanced at the baby monkey and saw that it had round its waist a string of blue beads. As a string of beads is the only attire which a negro child wears until it reaches the age of ten or eleven years old, the truth at once flashed upon Frank that the baboons were carrying off a native baby, which had probably been set down by its mother while she worked in the plantation. Instantly he drew his pistol, leaped into the road, and fired at the retreating ape. It gave a cry, dropped the baby and turned to attack its aggressor.

Frank waited till it was within six feet, and then shot it through the head. He sprang forward and seized the baby, but in a moment he was attacked by the whole party of baboons, who, barking like dogs, and uttering angry cries, rushed at him. Frank stood his ground, and discharged the four remaining barrels of his revolver at the foremost animals. Two of these dropped, but the others who were only wounded sprang upon him. Frank struck out with the butt end of his pistol, but in a minute he was overpowered.

One monkey seized him by the leg with his teeth, while another bit his arm. Others struck and scratched at him, and he was at once thrown down. He tried to defend his face with his arms, kicking and struggling to the best of his power. With one hand he drew the long knife for skinning animals, which he wore at his belt, and struck out fiercely, but a baboon seized his wrist in its teeth, and Frank felt that all was over, when suddenly his assailants left him, and the instant afterwards he was lifted to his feet by some negroes.

He had, when attacked by the apes, thrown the baby into a clump of ferns close by, in order to have the use of both his hands, and when he looked round he found that a negress had already picked it up, and was crying and fondling it. The negroes appeared intensely astonished at Frank's color, and he judged by their exclamations of surprise that, not only had they not seen a white man before, but that they had not heard of one being in the neighborhood.

Frank had been too severely bitten and mauled by the baboons to be able to walk, and the negroes, seeing this, raised him, and four of them carried him to their village, which was but a quarter of a mile distant. Here he was taken to the principal hut, and laid on a bed. His wounds were dressed with poultices formed of bruised leaves of some plant, the natives evincing the utmost astonishment as Frank removed his clothes to enable these operations to be performed.

By pointing to his lips he indicated that he was hungry and thirsty. Water was brought to him, and cakes made from pounded yams pressed and baked. Having eaten and drank he closed his eyes and lay back, and the natives, who had before been all noisily chattering together, now became suddenly silent, and stealing away left the strange white visitor to sleep.

When Frank woke he could see by the light that it was early morning. A woman with a child in her lap, whom Frank recognized as the negress who had picked up the baby, was sitting on a low stool by his side. On seeing him open his eyes she came to the bed, took his hand and put it to her lips, and then raised the baby triumphantly and turned it round and round to show that it had escaped without damage. Then when Frank pointed again to his lips she brought him a pineapple, roughly cut off the skin, and sliced it. Frank ate the juicy fruit, and felt immensely refreshed, for the West Coast pineapple is even more delicious than that found in the West Indies. Then the woman removed the bandages and applied fresh poultices to his wounds, talking in low soft tones, and, as Frank had no doubt, expressing sorrow at their cause.

Frank now endeavored to explain to her that he had a white companion in the woods, but the woman, not understanding, brought in two or three other natives, who stood round the couch and endeavored to gather what he wished to say.

Frank held up two fingers. Then he pointed to himself and shut down one finger, keeping the other erect, and then pointed all round to signify that he had a friend somewhere in the wood. A grin of comprehension stole over the faces of the negroes, and Frank saw that he was understood.

Then he again held up his two fingers, and taking the hands of the negress raised all her fingers by the side of the white ones to signify that there were many natives with them. Then he took aim, with an imaginary gun, up at the roof of the hut, and said "Bang" very loud, and a chorus of approving laughter from the negroes showed that he was understood. Then one of them pointed towards the various points of the compass, and looked interrogatively at Frank. The sun was streaming in through the doorway, and he was thus able to judge of the direction in which the camp must lie. He made a sweep with his hand towards the northwest, signifying that they were somewhere in that direction.

That afternoon fever set in, and for the two next days Frank was delirious. When he recovered consciousness he found Mr. Goodenough sitting beside him. The latter would not suffer him to talk, but gave him a strong dose of quinine and told him to lie quiet and go to sleep.

It was not till the next day that Frank learned what had happened in his absence. The Houssa had not returned until long after nightfall. He reported that Frank had told him to wait with the guns, and that he had waited until it grew nearly dark. Then he had fired several times and had walked about, firing his gun at intervals. Obtaining no responses he had made his way back to the camp, where his arrival alone caused great consternation.

It was impossible to do anything that night, and the next morning Mr. Goodenough, accompanied by five of the Houssas, one only remaining to keep guard over the camp, had gone to the place where Frank had last been seen. Then they scattered in various directions, shouting and firing their guns. The search had been continued all day without success, and at nightfall, disheartened and worn out, they had returned to the camp. The next day the search had been continued with an equal want of success, and the fears that a leopard had attacked and killed Frank became stronger and stronger. On the third day the whole of the carriers were sent out with instructions to search the woods for native paths, to follow these to villages, and to enlist the natives in the search. One of these men had met one of the villagers on the search for the party of the white man.

It was another ten days before Frank was sufficiently recovered from his fever and wounds to march back to the camp. After a stay there of two or three more days, to enable him completely to regain his strength, the party started again on their journey.

In another three weeks they had descended the hills, and the Fans announced their unwillingness to travel farther. Mr. Goodenough, however, told them quietly that they had promised to go on until he could obtain other carriers, and that if they deserted him he should pay them nothing. They might now expect every day to meet people of another tribe, and as soon as they should do so they would be allowed to depart. Finding that he was firm, and having no desire to forfeit the wages they had earned, the Fans agreed to go forward, although they were now in a country entirely unknown to them, where the people would presumably be hostile. They had, however, such faith in the arms carried by the white men and Houssas, that they felt comparatively easy as to the result of any attack which might be made upon them.

The very day after this little mutiny, smoke was seen curling up from the woods. Mr. Goodenough deemed it inexpedient to show himself at once with so large a number of men. He, therefore, sent forward Ostik with two of the Fans, each of whom could speak several native dialects, to announce his coming. They returned in an hour saying that the village was a very large one, and that the news of the coming of two white men had created great excitement. The people spoke of sending at once to their king, whom they called Malembe, whose place, it seemed, was a day's march off.

They now prepared to enter the village. Ostik went first carrying himself with the dignity of a beadle at the head of a school procession. Two of the Houssas walked next. Mr. Goodenough and Frank followed, their guns being carried by two Fans behind them. Then came the long line of bearers, two of the Houssas walking on each side as a baggage guard. The villagers assembled in great numbers as they entered. The head man conducted the whites to his hut. No women or children were to be seen, and the expression of the men was that of fear rather than curiosity.

"They are afraid of the Fans," Mr. Goodenough said. "The other tribes all have a species of terror of these cannibals. We must reassure them as soon as possible."

A long palaver then took place with the chief, with whose language one of the Fans was sufficiently acquainted to make himself understood. It was rather a tedious business, as each speech had to be translated twice, through Ostik and the Fan.

Mr. Goodenough informed the chief that the white men were friends of his people, that they had come to see the country and give presents to the chiefs, that they only wished to pass quietly through and to journey unmolested, and that they would pay handsomely for food and all that they required. They wished to obtain bearers for their baggage, and these they would pay in cloth and brass rods, and as soon as they procured carriers the Fans would return to their own country.

The chief answered expressing his gratification at seeing white men in his village, saying that the king would, no doubt, carry out all their wishes. One of the boxes was opened and he was presented with five yards of bright colored calico, a gaudy silk handkerchief, and several strings of bright beads. In return a large number of plantains were presented to the white men. These were soon distributed among the Fans.

"Me no like dat nigger," Ostik said. "Me think we hab trouble. You see all women and children gone, dat bad. Wait till see what do when king come."

That day and the next passed quietly. The baggage had been piled in a circle, as usual, in an open space outside the village; the tent being pitched in the center, and Ostik advised Mr. Goodenough to sleep here instead of in the village. The day after their arrival passed but heavily. The natives showed but little curiosity as to the newcomers, although these must have been far more strange to them than to the people nearer the coast. Still no women or children made their appearance. Towards evening a great drumming was heard in the distance.

"Here is his majesty at last," Mr. Goodenough said, "we shall soon see what is his disposition."

In a short time the village was filled with a crowd of men all carrying spears and bows and arrows. The drumming came nearer and nearer, and then, carried in a chair on the shoulders of four strong negroes, while ten others armed with guns marched beside him, the king made his appearance.

Mr. Goodenough and Frank advanced to meet him. The king was a tall man with a savage expression of countenance. Behind Mr. Goodenough, Ostik and the Fan who spoke the language advanced. The king's chair was lowered under the shade of a tree, and two attendants with palm leaf fans at once began to fan his majesty.

"Tell the king," Mr. Goodenough said, "that we are white men who have come to see his country, and to pass through to the countries beyond. We have many presents for him, and wish to buy food and to hire carriers in place of those who have brought our things thus far."

The king listened in silence.

"Why do the white men bring our enemies into our land?" he asked angrily.

"We have come up from the coast," Mr. Goodenough said; "and as we passed through the Fan country we hired men there to carry our goods, just as we wish to hire men here to go on into the country beyond. There were none of the king's men in that country or we would have hired them."

"Let me see the white men's presents," the king said.

A box was opened, a bright scarlet shirt and a smoking cap of the same color, worked with beads, a blue silk handkerchief and twenty yards of bright calico, were taken out. To these were added twelve stair rods, five pounds of powder, and two pounds of shot.

The king's eye sparkled greedily as he looked at the treasures.

"The white men must be very rich," he said, pointing to the pile of baggage.

"Most of the boxes are empty," Mr. Goodenough said. "We have brought them to take home the things of the country and show them to the white men beyond the sea;" and to prove the truth of his words, Mr. Goodenough had two of the empty cases opened, as also one already half filled with bird skins, and another with trays of butterflies and beetles.

The king looked at them with surprise.

"And the others?" he asked, pointing to them.

"The others," Mr. Goodenough said, "contain, some of them, food such as white men are accustomed to eat in their own country, the others, presents for the other kings and chiefs I shall meet when we have passed on.

"The fellow is not satisfied," he said to Ostik, "give him two of the trade guns and a bottle of brandy."

The king appeared mollified by these additional presents, and saying that he would talk to the white men in the morning, he retired into the village.

"I don't like the looks of things," Mr. Goodenough said. "I fear that the presents we have given the king will only stimulate his desire for more. However, we shall see in the morning."

When night fell, two of the Houssas were placed on guard. The Fans slept inside the circle formed by the baggage. Several times in the night the Houssas challenged bodies of men whom they heard approaching, but these at once retired.

In the morning a messenger presented himself from the king, saying that he required many more presents, that the things which had been given were only fit for the chief of a village, and not for a great king. Mr. Goodenough answered, that he had given the best he had, that the presents were fit for a great king, and that he should give no more.

"If we are to have trouble," he said to Frank, "it is far better to have it at once while the Fans are with us, than when we are alone with no one but the Houssas and the subjects of this man. The Fans will fight, and we could hold this encampment against any number of savages."

A quarter of an hour later the drums began beating furiously again. Loud shouts and yells arose in the village, and the natives could be seen moving excitedly about. Presently these all disappeared.

"Fight come now," Ostik said.

"You'd better lower the tent at once, Ostik. It will only be in our way."

The tent was speedily lowered. The Fans grasped their spears and lay down behind the circle of boxes and bales, and the six Houssas, the two white men and Ostik, to whom a trade musket had been entrusted, took their places at regular intervals round the circle, which was some eight yards in diameter. Presently the beat of the drums again broke the silence, and a shower of arrows, coming apparently from all points of the compass, fell in and around the circle.

"Open fire steadily and quietly," Mr. Goodenough said, "among the bushes, but don't fire fast. We must tempt them to show themselves."

A dropping fire commenced against the invisible foe, the fire being no more frequent than it would have been had they been armed with muzzle loading weapons. Presently musketry was heard on the enemy's side, the king's bodyguard having opened fire. This was disastrous to them, for, whereas the arrows had afforded but slight index as to the position of those who shot them, the puffs of smoke from the muskets at once showed the lurking places of those who used them, and Mr. Goodenough and Frank replied so truly that in a very short time the musketry fire of the enemy ceased altogether. The rain of arrows continued, the yells of the natives rose louder and louder, and the drums beat more furiously.

"They will be out directly," Mr. Goodenough said. "Fire as quickly as you can when they show, but be sure and take good aim."

Presently the sound of a war horn was heard, and from the wood all round a crowd of dark figures dashed forward, uttering appalling yells. On the instant the dropping fire of the defenders changed into an almost continuous fusillade, as the Sniders of the Houssas, the breech loading rifle of Mr. Goodenough, and the repeating Winchester of Frank were brought into play at their full speed. Yells of astonishment broke from the natives, and a minute later, leaving nearly a score of their comrades on the ground, the rest dashed back into the forest.

There was silence for a time and then the war drums began again.

"Dey try again hard dis time, massa," Ostik said. "King tell 'em he cut off deir heads dey not win battle."

This time the natives rushed forward with reckless bravery, in spite of the execution made among them by the rapid fire of the defenders, and rushed up to the circle of boxes. Then the Fans leaped to their feet, and, spear in hand, dashed over the defenses and fell upon the enemy.

The attack was decisive. Uttering yells of terror the natives fled, and two minutes later not a sound was to be heard in the forest.

"I tink dey run away for good dis time, sar," Ostik said. "Dey hav' 'nuf of him. Dey fight very brave, much more brave than people down near coast. Dere in great battle only three, four men killed. Here as many men killed as we got altogether."

This was so, nearly fifty of the natives having fallen between the trees and the encampment. When an hour passed and all was still, it became nearly certain that the enemy had retreated, and the Houssas, who are splendid scouts, divested themselves of their clothing and crawled away into the wood to reconnoiter. They returned in half an hour in high glee, bearing the king's chair.

"Dey all run away, sar, ebery one, de king an' all, and leab his chair behind. Dat great disgrace for him."

A council was now held. The Fans were so delighted with the victory they had won, that they expressed their readiness to remain with their white companions as long as they chose, providing these would guarantee that they should be sent home on the expiration of their service. This Mr. Goodenough readily promised. After discussing the question with Frank, he determined to abstain from pushing farther into the interior, but to keep along northward, and then turning west with the sweep of the coast to travel slowly along, keeping at about the same distance as at present from the sea, and finally to come down either upon Cape Coast or Sierra Leone.

This journey would occupy a considerable time. They would cross countries but little known, and would have an ample opportunity for the collection of specimens, which they might, from time to time, send down by the various rivers they would cross, to the trading stations at their mouths.

It was felt that after this encounter with the natives it would be imprudent in the extreme to push further into the interior. They would have continual battles to fight, large numbers of the natives would be killed, and their collecting operations would be greatly interfered with. As a lesson to the natives the village was burnt to the ground; the presents, which the king in the hurry of his flight had left behind him, being recovered.

A liberal allowance of tobacco was served out as a "dash" or present to the Fans, and a bright silk handkerchief given to each. Then they turned off at right angles to the line they had before been pursuing and continued their journey.

Two days later Mr. Goodenough was prostrated by fever, and for several days lay between life and death. When he became convalescent he recovered strength very slowly. The heat was prodigious and the mosquitos rendered sleep almost impossible at night. The country at this place was low and swampy, and, weak as he was, Mr. Goodenough determined to push forward. He was, however, unable to walk, and, for the first time, a hammock was got out and mounted.

There is no more comfortable conveyance in the world than a hammock in Africa. It is slung from a long bamboo pole, overhead a thick awning keeps the sun from the hammock. Across the ends of the pole boards of some three feet long are fastened. The natives wrap a piece of cloth into the shape of a muffin and place it on their heads, and then take their places, two at each end of the pole, with the ends of the board on their heads. They can trot along at the rate of six miles an hour, for great distances, often keeping up a monotonous song. Their action is perfectly smooth and easy, and the traveler in the hammock, by shutting his eyes, might imagine himself swinging in a cot on board ship on an almost waveless sea.

After two days traveling they got on to higher ground, and here they camped for some time, Mr. Goodenough slowly recovering strength, and Frank busy in adding to their collections. In this he was in no slight degree assisted by the Fans, who, having nothing else to do, had now come to enter into the occupation of their employers. A good supply of muslin had been brought, and nets having been made, the Fans captured large quantities of butterflies, the great difficulty being in convincing them that only a few of each species were required. They were still more valuable in grubbing about in the decaying trunks of fallen trees, under loose bark, and in broken ground, for beetles and larvae, a task which suited them better than running about after butterflies, which, moreover, they often spoilt irreparably by their rough handling. Thus Frank was able to devote himself entirely to the pursuit of birds, and although all the varieties more usually met with had been obtained, the collection steadily increased in size.

Frank himself had severe attacks of fever, but none of these were so severe as that which he had had on the day of the death of the leopards.

At the end of a month Mr. Goodenough had recovered his strength, and they again moved forward.

CHAPTER XII: A NEGRO'S STORY

On arriving at a large village one day, they were struck as they approached by the far greater appearance of comfort and neatness than generally distinguish African villages. The plots of plantations were neatly fenced, the street was clean and well kept. As they entered the village they were met by the principal people, headed by an old white haired negro.

"Me berry glad to see you, white men," he said. "Long time me no see white men."

"And it is a long time," said Mr. Goodenough, shaking hands with him, "since I have heard the sound of my own tongue outside my party."

"Me berry glad to see you," repeated the negro. "Me chief of dis village. Make you berry comfortable, sar. Great honor for dis village dat you come here. Plenty eberyting for you, fowl, and eggs, and plantain, and sometime a sheep."

"We have, indeed, fallen into the lap of luxury," Mr. Goodenough said to Frank; and they followed the negro to his hut. "I suppose the old man has been employed in one of the factories upon the coast."

The interior of the hut was comfortably furnished and very clean. A sort of divan covered with neatly woven mats extended round three sides. In the center was an attempt at a table. A doubled barreled gun and a rifle hung over the hearth. A small looking glass and several colored prints in cheap frames were suspended from the walls. A great chest stood at one end of the room, while on a shelf were a number of plates and dishes of English manufacture.

The negro begged his guests to be seated, and presently a girl entered, bringing in a large calabash full of water for them to wash their hands and faces. In the meantime the old negro had gone to his chest, and, to the immense surprise of the travelers, brought out a snow white tablecloth, which he proceeded to lay on the table, and then to place knives, forks, and plates upon it.

"You must 'scuse deficiencies, sar," he said. "We berry long way from coast, and dese stupid niggers dey break tings most ebery day."

"Don't talk about deficiencies," Mr. Goodenough answered smiling. "All this is, indeed, astonishing to us here."

"You berry good to say dat, sar, but dis chile know how tings ought to be done. Me libed in good Melican family. He know berry well how tings ought to be done."

"Ah, you have traveled a good deal!" Mr. Goodenough said.

"Yes, sar, me trabel great deal. Me lib in Cuba long time. Den me lib slave states, what you call Confederate. Den me lib Northern state, also Canada under Queen Victoria. Me trabel bery much. Now, sar, dinner come. Time to eat not to talk. After dinner white gentlemen tell me what they came here for. Me tell dem if they like about my trabels, but dat berry long story."

The dinner consisted of two fowls cut in half and grilled over a fire, fried plantains, and, to the astonishment of the travelers, green peas, followed by cold boiled rice over which honey had been poured. Their host had placed plates only for two, but they would not sit down until he had consented to join them.

Two girls waited, both neatly dressed in cotton, in a fashion which was a compromise between European and negro notions.

After dinner the negro presented them with two large and excellent cigars, made, as he said, from tobacco grown in his own garden, and the astonishment of the travelers was heightened by the reappearance of one of the girls bearing a tray with three small cups of excellent black coffee.

Their host now asked them for the story of their journey from the coast, and the object with which they had penetrated Africa. Mr. Goodenough related their adventures, and said that they were naturalists in search of objects of natural history. When he had finished Ostik, in obedience to a whisper from him, brought in a bottle of brandy, at the sight of which the negro broke into a chuckle.

"Me tree months widout taste dat. Once ebery year me send down to coast, get coffee, tea, sugar, calico, beads, and rum. Dis time de rum am finish too soon. One of de cases get broke and half de bottles smash. Dat berry bad job. Dis chile calculate dat six dozen last for a year, dat give him one bottle each week and twenty bottles for presents to oder chiefs. Eighteen bottles go smash, and as de oder chiefs expec' deir present all de same, Sam hab ta go widout. De men start three weeks ago for coast. Me hope dey come back in six weeks more."

"Well," Mr. Goodenough said, "you need not go without it till they come back, for I can give you eight bottles which will last you for two months. I have got a good supply, and as I never use it for trade unless a chief particularly wants it, I can very well spare it."

The old negro was greatly pleased, and when he had drank his glass of brandy and water he responded to Mr. Goodenough's request, and, lighting a fresh cigar, he began the story of his adventures.

"I was born in dis berry village somewhere about seventy years ago. I not know for sure widin two or three year, for when I young man I no keep account. My fader was de chief of dis village, just as I am now, but de village was not like dis. It was not so big, and was berry dirty and berry poor, just like the oder nigger villages. Well, sar, dere am nothing perticlar to tell about de first years of my life. I jus' dirty little naked nigger like de rest. Dose were berry bad times. Ebery one fight against ebery one else. Ebery one take slabes and send dem down de river, and sell to white men dere to carry ober sea. When I grow up to seventeen, I s'pose, I take spear and go out wid de people of dis village and de oder villages of dis part ob country under king, and fight against oder villages and carry the people away as slabes. All berry bad business dat. But Sam he tink nothing, and just do the same as oder people. Sometimes oder tribes come and fight against our villages and carry our people away. So it happened to Sam.

"Jus' when he about twenty years old we had come back from a long 'spedition. Dis village got its share ob slabes, and we drink and sing and make merry wid de palm tree wine and tink ourselves berry grand fellows. Well, sar, dat night great hullyballoo in de village. De dogs bark, de men shout and seize deir arms and run out to fight, but it no good. Anoder tribe fall on us ten times as many as we. We fight hard but no use. All de ole men and de ole women and de little babies dat no good to sell dey killed, and de rest of us, de men and de women and de boys and girls, we tied together and march away wid de people dat had taken us.

"Berry bad time dat, sar. De season was dry and de water scarce. We make long march ebery day, and berry little food given. Dey beat us wid sticks and prod us wid spear to make us go. A good many ob de weak ones dey die, but de most ob us arribe at mouth ob riber; me neber know what riber dat was, but we were berry nigh two months in getting dere. By dis time Sam arribe at the conclusion berry strong, dat de burning ob villages and carrying off ob slabes berry bad affair altogether. Sam hab changed his mind about a great many things, but about dat he am fixed right up to dis time.

"Well, at de mouth ob dat riber Sam saw de white man for de first time; and me tell you fair, sar, Sam not like him no way. Dey were Spanish men, and de way dey treat us poor niggers was someting awful. We huddle up night and day in a big shed dey call a barracoon. Dey gabe us berry little food, berry little water. Dey flog us if we grumble. Dese men belong to ships, and had bought us from dose who brought us down from up country. Deir ship not come yet, and for a long time we wait in the barracoon wishing dat we could die. At last de ship came, and we were taken on board and huddled down below. Law, what a place dat was to be sure! Not more than tree feet high, just high enough to sit up, and dere we chained to deck. De heat, sar, was someting terrible. Some ob us yell out and scream for air, but dey only come down and beat us wid whips.

"De day after we got on board de ship set sail. Tree hours after dat we hear a great running about on deck, and a shouting by the white men. Den we hear big gun fire ober head, almost make us jump out of skin wid de noise. Den more guns. Den dere was a crash, and before we knew what was de matter dere was a big hole in de side, and six niggers was killed dead. Ebery one yelled berry loud. We tink for sure that de last day come. For a long time de guns keep firing, and den everyting quiet again. At de time no one could tink what de matter, but I s'pose dat British cruiser chase us and dat de slaber sail away.

"Dat was an awful voyage, sar. At first de sea smoove, and de ship go along straight. Den de ship begin to toss about jus' as nigger does when he has taken too much palm wine, and we all feel berry bad. Ebery one groan and cry and tink dat dey must have been poisoned. For tree days it was a terrible time. De hatches were shut down and no air could come to us, and dere we was all alone in de dark, and no one could make out why de great house on de water roll and tumble so much. We cry and shout till all breaff gone, and den lie quiet and moan, till jus' when ebery one tink he dead, dey take off de hatch and come down and undo de padlocks and tell us to go up on deck. Dat berry easy to say, not at all easy to do. Most of us too weak to walk, and say dat we dead and cannot move. Den dey whip all about, and it was astonishing, sar, to see what life dat whip put into dead nigger. Somehow people feel dat dey could crawl after all, and when dey get up on deck and see de blessed sun again and de blue sky dey feel better. But not all. In spite ob de whip many hab to be carried up on deck, and dere de sailor men lay 'em down and trow cold water ober dem till dey open dere eyes and come to life. Some neber come to life. Dere were about six hundred when we start, and ob dese pretty nigh a hundred die in dose tree days.

"After dat tings not so bad. De weather was fine and no more English cruisers seen, so dey let half ob us up on deck at once for tree or four hours ebery day. Dey give us more food, too, and fatten us up. We talk dis ober among ourselves, and s'pose dat dey going to eat us when we get to land again. Some propose not to eat food, but when dey try dat on they get de whip, and conclude dat if dey must be eaten dey might as well be eaten fat as lean.

"At last we come in sight of land. Den we all sent below and stay dere till night. Den we brought on deck, and find de vessel lying in a little creek. Den we all land in boats, and march up country all night. In de morning we halt. Tree or four white men come on horses and look at us. Dey separate us into parties, and each march away into country again. Den we separate again, till at last me and twenty oders arribe at a plantation up in de hills. Here we range along in line before a white man. He speak in berry fierce tones, and a nigger by his side tell us dat dis man our master, dat he say if we work well he gib us plenty of food and treat us well, but dat if we not work wid all our might he whip us to death. After dis it was ebident that de best ting to do was to work hard.

"I was young and berry strong, sar, and soon got de name of a willing hard working nigger. De massa he keep his word. Dose who work well not bad treated, plenty ob food and a piece of ground to plant vegetables and to raise fowls for ourselves. So we passed two or tree year, plenty ob hard work, but not berry much to grumble at. Den me and a gal of my own village, who had been bought in de same batch wid me, we go to massa and say we want to marry. Massa say, berry well. I fine strong nigger and work well, so he gib de gal four yards ob bright cotton for wedding dress, and a bottle ob rum to me, and we married.

"Two or tree years pass, and my wife hab two piccanninies. Den de massa go home to Spain, and leab overseer in plantation. Berry bad man dat. Before, if nigger work well he not beaten. Now he beaten wheder he work or not. For two or tree months we 'tand it, but tings get worse and worse. De oberseer he always drunk and go on like wild beast. One day he passed by my wife hoeing de sugarcane and he gib her cut wid whip, jus' out of 'musement. She turn round and ask, 'What dat for?' He get mad, cut her wid whip, knock her down wid de handle, and den seizing de chile dat she had fastened to her back, he catch him by de leg and smash him skull against a tree. Den, sar, I seize my hoe, I rush at him, and I chop him down wid all my strength, cut his skull clean in sunder, and he drop down dead.

"Den I knew dat dat was no place for Sam, so I take my hoe and I run away as fast as I could. No one try to stop me. De oder niggers dance and sing when dey saw de oberseer fall dead. I ran all dat day up among de hills, skirting round de different plantations till I get quite into de wild part. Wheneber I came to stream I walk a long way in him till I get to tree hanging ober. Den pull myself up into de branches, climb along and drop at de farthest end, and den run again, for I knew dat dey would set de bloodhounds after me.

"At last I tink dat it am quite safe, and when de night came on lie down to sleep for a few hours. Before morning me off again, and by night get to de center of de wild country. Here I light a fire, and sit down, and, just as I 'spected, in two or tree hours five or six men come down to me. Dose were niggers who had run away from plantations. I tell dem my story, dey agree dat I did berry right in killing oberseer. Dey take me away to place where dey hab little huts and patches of yams. Two or tree days pass and no one come, so, we s'pose dat dey hab lost de scent. Me waited a month and den determined to go down and see about wife. I journey at night, and reach plantation in two days. Dere I hide till I see nigger come along close to bush. I call him and he come. I tell him to tell my wife to steal away when night come, and to meet me dere. He nod and go away. Dat night my wife come wid de oder chile. We not talk much but start away for mountains. Me berry much afraid now because my wife not berry strong, she hurt by de blow and fretting after me. Howeber, we follow the way I had gone before. I make shift to help her up into trees from the streams, and dis time after tree days' travel we got back to hut in the mountain.

"Dere we lib berry happy for a year. Sometimes some ob us go down to plantation and take down baskets and oder tings dat we had made and chop dem for cotton. We had tobacco of our own, and some fowls which we got from the plantations in de fust place. Altogether we did berry well. Sometimes band of soldiers come and march trough the country, but we hab plenty hiding places and dey never find us. More and more runway slabes come, and at last we hear dat great 'spedition going to start to search all de mountains. Dey come, two tree thousand ob dem. Dey form long skirmishing line, five or six mile long, and dey go ober mountain. Ebery nigger dey find who not surrender when dey call to him dey shoot. When I heard ob deir coming I had long talk wid wife. We agree that it better to leave de mountains altogether and go down and live in the bushes close to the old plantation. Nobody look for us dere. So we make our way down and lib there quiet. We get the yams out ob de plantations and lib very comfortable. When we tink all ober in the mountain we go back.

"Well, sar, when we tink it all safe, and we get widin a mile ob de huts whar we had libed, all at once we came upon a lot of soldiers in camp. Dey see us and make shout. I call to my wife to run, when dey fire. A bullet hit de baby, which she hab at her back, and pass through both deir bodies. I did not run any more, but jus' stood looking at my wife and chile as if my senses had gone. Dere I stood till the soldiers came up. Dey put a cord round my arms and led me away. After a time I was taken down the country. Dere I was claimed, and when it was known I had killed a white oberseer I was tried. But de new oberseer did not want me to be hung, for I was a strong slave and worth money, so he told a story about how it happen, and after dey had flogged me very hard dey sent me back to plantation. Dere I work for a long time wid a great log of wood chained to my ankle to prevent me from running away again.

"For a time I not care whether I lib or die, but at last I made up my mind to 'scape again. After six months dey took off de log, tinking dat I had had enuf of de mountains and would not try to 'scape, and de log prevented my doing so much work. De bery next night I ran away again but dis time I determined to make for de town in hopes ob getting on board an English ship, for I had heard from de oder slabes dat de English did not keep black men as slabes, but dat, on de contry, dey did what dey could to stop de Spanish from getting dem away from Africa, and I understood now dat de dreful noise we had heard on de first day we were on board ship was an attack upon our vessel by an English cruiser.

"It was four days' journey down to de town by de sea. Dere was no difficulty in finding de way, for de road was good, and I s'pose dat dey only looked for me towards de hills. Anyhow I got dar safe, walking at night and sleeping in the bushes by day. I got as near de town as I dar, and could see seberal vessels lying near de shore. I could see dat some ob dem had de Spanish flag—I knew dat flag—de oders had flags which I did not know. When it was dark I walked boldly into the town; no one asked me any question, and I make my way through de streets down to de shore. Dere I get into a boat and lay quiet till all de town was asleep. Den I get into water and swim off to a ship—one dat I had noticed had a flag which was not Spanish. Dere was a boat alongside. I climb into it and pull myself up by the rope on deck. Den some white men seize me and say someting in language which I not understand. Den dey take me into cabin and say someting to captain; me not know what it was, but de captain laugh, and me not like his laugh at all. Howeber, dey give me someting to eat, and den take me down into hold of ship and tell me to go to sleep on some sacks of sugar, and throw some empty sacks ober me to cover me. Den dey close up hatch and leab me alone.

"When I come on deck de land was gone and de vessel sailing along. I speak to no one, for I only understand little Spanish, and dese people not speak dat. We sail along for some time, and at last we come in sight of land again. Den dey hoist flag and I see dat it a flag wid lots of red stars and stripes upon him. I know now dat it was a 'Merican ship. Den I know noting. We get to port and I want to land, but dey shake deir heads.

"De next day de captain he make sign to me to come wid him. I go along to shore and he take me to a open space in town, where a man was standing on a raised platform. He had a black woman by de side ob him. Seberal men come up and look at her. De man he shout bery loud. Oder men say something short. At last he knock on de table; a man tell de woman to come after him and she walk away. Den a boy was put up, and den two more women, and ebery time just de same ting was done. Den de man call out, and de captain push his way through the crowd wid me, and tell me to climb up on platform. I get up and look round quite surprised. Eberybody laugh. Den de man began to holloa again. Den seberal men come up and feel my arms and my legs. Dey point to de marks which de whip had left on my back, and dey laugh again. Presently de man who was shouting bang his hand on the table again, and a white man in the crowd, who had seberal times called out loud, come up to me, take me by the arm, and sign to me to go wid him.

"I begin to understand now; dat rascally captain had sold me for a slabe, and dat flag I had seen was not de English flag. However, it was no use to say anyting, and I went along wid my new massa. He was a nice looking man, and I thought it might not be so bery bad after all. He took me to a high carriage wid two wheels and a fine horse. A negro, who was dressed up like a white man, was holding de horse. He showed me to climb up behind, de oders climb up in front, and we dribe away."

CHAPTER XIII: A FUGITIVE SLAVE

"Well, sar, work bery much de same on plantation in Virginia and Cuba, but de slabe much merrier in 'Merica, when de master am good. My new massa bery good man. Slabes all treat bery kind, work not too hard. At night dance and sing bery much. Den I marry again, dis time to one ob de girls in de house. She favorite ob missy, and so when we marry, missy hab me taken off de fields and put to garden. Bery fine garden dat was. Tree, four of us work dar, Sam jus' as happy as man could be. Sometime, when der am party, Sam come into the house to help at de table, dat how Sam know how to do tings proper. De little massas dey bery fond ob me, and when dey want to go out hunting de coon or fishing in de riber, dey always cry for Sam.

"So fifteen years passed by, bery happy years, sar, den do ole massa die; missy, too, soon after. De young massa not like him father. Me tink de ole gentleman make mistake wid him when him chile, let him hab too much his own way. I bery fond ob him because I had been wid him so much, but I often shake my head when I tink de time come dat he be massa ob de plantation. It was not dat his nature was bad; he get in rage sometime, but dat all ober in no time, but he lub pleasure too much; go to de races and 'top at de town weeks together, and play too much wid de cards. Dere were two boys and two girls; de second boy, he go to West Point and become officer in de army.

"After de death ob de ole people de house change bery much. Before dat time we keep good company, gib sometimes grand balls, and all de fust families ob Virginia in dat part visit dar. After dat always people in de house. De young massa, when he go to Richmond, bring back six or eight young men wid him, and dey laugh and drink and play cards half de night. I tink de young missys speak to him about his ways. Anyhow, one day dere great row, and dey off to lib wid an aunt in de city. After dat tings get worse. One day missy come back from town and she gib my wife her papers of freedom. You see, my wife was giben by de ole man to missy when her war a little girl, and fortunate it was dat he had made out de papers all right and presented dem to her. When missy gib her de papers ob freedom, she cry bery much. 'Me 'fraid bad time coming, Sally,' she said. 'Me tink dat it better for a time dat you clar out ob dis. Now you got de paper you free woman, but you wife ob slabe; might be difficulty about it. Me fear dat broder Dick ruined—de plantation and slabes to be sole;' and wid dat she bu'st out crying wus dan eber. Ob course my wife she cry too.

"'Better you go norf, Sally,' missy say presently. 'I gib you letter to friends dar, and tell dem you bery good nurse. Den if Sam get good master you can come back to him again. If not, as you tell me dat when he slabe before he run away, it jus' possible he do de same again.'

"'Don't you tink, missy,' de wife said, 'dat de young massa gib freedom to Sam too. Sam wait on him a great many years, sabe him life when he tumbled into water.'

"'I bery much afraid,' missy said, shaking her head, 'dat my broder not able to do so if he wish. He borrow money on de plantation and de slabes, and dat prevent him from making any ob dem free. De sale soon come now. You go tell Sam; tell him not to say word to nobody. Den you pack up and come right away wid me to de city. It bery much better you clar out ob dis before dey come down and seize eberybody.'

"Well, sar, you guess when Sam heard dis he in fine taking. He often grieve bery much dat he and Sally hab no children. Now he tank de Lord wid all his heart dat dere no piccanniny, for dey would hab been sold, one one way and one another, and we should neber hab seen dem again. Hows'ever, I make great effort, and tell Sally she do jus' what missy say. I tell her to go norf while she can, and promise dat some day or oder Sam join her dar. 'Better for to be parted for ten year, Sally, dan to hab de risk ob you being seize and sold to one master, me to anoder. You trus' Sam to break out some day. He do bery well here for a time. He bery good strong nigger, good gardner, good at de horses, good carpenter. Sam sure to get good place, but, howeber good, when he see a chance he run away. If no chance, he sabe up his money, and you sabe up your money, Sally, and buy him freedom.'

"Well, sar, we bofe cry bery much, and den Sally go away wid de young missy. A week after dat de bust up come. De officers dey come down and seize de place, and a little while after dey sell all de slabes. Dat was a terrible affair, to see de husbands and de wives and de children separated and sold to different masters. De young massa he not dere at sale. Dey say he pretty nigh break him heart, but he ought to hab thought ob dat before. Me sure dat de ole gentleman and de ole missy pretty nigh turn in deir grabe at de thought ob all de hands they was so kind to sold away.

"Dat de curse of slabery, sar. Me trabel a good deal, and me tink dat no working people in de world are so merry and happy as de slabe in a plantation wid a good massa and missy. Dey not work so hard as de white man. Dey have plenty to eat and drink, dey hab deir gardens and deir fowls. When dey are sick dey are taken care ob, when dey are ole they are looked after and hab nothing to do. I have heard people talk a lot of nonsense about de hard life of de plantation slabe. Dat not true, sar, wid a good massa. De slabe hab no care and he bery happy. If all massas were good, and dere were a law dat if a plantation were broken up de slabes must be sold in families together, me tell you dat de life on a plantation a thousand times happier dan de life ob a black man in his own country. But all masters are not good. Some neber look after de slabes, and leabe all to overseers, and dese bery often bad, cruel men. But worst of all is when a sale comes. Dat terrible, sar. De husban' sold to Alabama, de wife to Carolina, de children scattered trough de States. Dis too bad, sar, dis make ob slabery a curse to de black men.

"Well, sar, we all sold. Me fetch high price and sold to a planter in Missouri. Sam no like dat. Dat a long way from the frontier. Tree years Sam work dar in plantation. Den he sold again to a man who hab boats on de riber at New Orleans. Dar Sam work discharging de ships and working de barges. Dar he come to learn for sure which de British flag. De times were slack, and my massa hire me out to be waiter in a saloon. Dat place dey hab dinners, and after dinner dey gamble. Dat war a bad place, mos' ebery night quarrels, and sometimes de pistols drawn, and de bullets flying about. Sam 'top dar six months; de place near de riber, and de captains ob de ships often come to dine.

"One young fellow come bery often, and one day Sam saw tree or four men he knew to be Texas horse dealers talking wid him. Now dis young captain had been bery friendly wid Sam; always speak cibil and gib him quarter for himself, and Sam sorry to see dose chaps get hold ob him. Dis went on for two or tree days, till one ebening de captain, instead of going away after dinner, stopped talking to dese follows. De play begin at de table, and dey persuade him to join. He hab de debil's luck. Dey thought they going to cheat him, and if dey had got him by demselves dey would have cleaned him out sure. But dere were oder people playing and dey not able to cheat.

"Well, sar, he won all de money. Drinks had been flying about, and when at last de man dat kep' de table said, 'De bank will close for tonight,' de young fellow could scarce walk steady on his feet. His pockets were full ob notes. I went up to him and said, 'Will you hab a bed here, sar, bery good bed?' but he laugh and say, 'No, Sam, I may be a little fresh in de wind, but I tink I can make de boat.' I saw dose fellows scowl when I speak to him, and I make up my mind dey after no good. Well, sar, dey go out fust. Den he go out wid some oder people and stand laughing and talking at de door. Sam run up to him room, slip on his money belt, for he had had a good deal giben him while he was dar, and was sabing up to buy his freedom, and he didn't know what was going to happen. Den Sam look into de kitchen and caught up a heavy poker and a long knife, den he run down and turn out de lights ob de saloon and lock de door after him.

"He was jus' in time, for he saw at de corner, where de street go down on to the wharves, de young captain separate from de men who had gone out wid him and walk away by hisself. Sam kicked off his shoes and ran as fast as he could to de end ob de street. De wharf was bery badly lighted, jus' a lamp here and dere. Sam ran along till he got widin about thirty yards ob de sailor, and den stole quiet along in de shadow ob de houses. Sudden he see five men run out. Den Sam he leap forward like tiger and gibs a shout to warn de captain. He turn round jus' in time. Sam saw an arm lifted and de captain fall, and den at de same moment almost him poker come down wid a crunch upon de top ob one of deir head. Den they turn on Sam, but, law bless you, sar! what was de good ob dat? Bery strong negro wid heavy poker in one hand and long knife in de oder more dan match for four men. He knock dem ober like nine pin. Tree of dem, he tink he kill straight, the poker fall on de top ob deir heads, de oder man give a dig in Sam's left shoulder wid his knife, and de sudden pain shake Sam's aim a little and de blow fall on him neck. He gib a shout and tumble down. None ob do oder four had shouted or made any remark when Sam hit dem. Den Sam caught up de captain and ran along de wharf. Presently he heard a hail. 'All right,' Sam said.

"'Am dat you, captain?' some one say.

"'Me got a captain here,' Sam say; 'you come and see wheder he yours.'

"De men came up and look in de captain's face.

"'Hullo,' dey say; 'de captain am dead.'

"'Me no tink him dead,' I say. 'He had a fight, and Sam come to him aid and beat de rascals off. You had better take him straight on board de ship.'

"Dey put him in boat and Sam go wid him to ship. Dey examine de wound and find it not bery serious. De captain was turning round when dey struck, and de blow had glanced off, but it had made a ugly gash; and what wid de surprise, and de loss ob blood, and knocking him head on de wharf, and de liquor, de captain had lost his consciousness. He soon come round, and Sam tell all about it. De captain shake Sam's hand bery much and call him his preserver, and ask what he do for him.

"'You take me out ob dis country,' me said, 'and Sam be grateful.'

"'Sartain, I will,' he said; 'and now what am de best ting to do?'

"'Me not stop on board now. Dey come and search de vessel for sure in de morning. When de four white men found, me hope five, den dere great rumpus. If five dead no suspicion fall on Sam, but you're sure to be asked questions. It would be known dat dey were gambling in de saloon, and it would be known dat you had broken de bank and had gone away wid your pockets stuffed full ob notes. People would suspec' dat likely enuff dey had made an attack on you. Dis you couldn't deny, for you will be bandaged up in de morning, and if you had killed dem no one would blame you. But it a different ting wid Sam. All dose rascals friends together, and you be bery sure dat some ob dem pay him off for it. If five men dead, all well and good. Den you say you knocked down and know nufing furder. You s'pose some people came up and take your side, and kill dose men, and carry you to de boat, and gib you ober to de sailors, and den go away; but dat you know nufing at all about it. If only four men killed den do oder, who will be sure to go away and say nufing ob his share in de business, will tell all his mates dat dis nigger intrude himself into de affair, and dat bad for Sam. So, sar, propose dat I go ashore, and dat I go down de bank five or six mile, and dere hide in de bush. When your ship come down you hoist little white flag, so Sam sure ob de right ship. If Sam tink de coast am clear he swim off. If you no see Sam when you get fifteen mile down de riber, den you anchor, and at night send a boat ashore. Sam come down to it for sure.'

"So de matter was arranged. De captain say he tree more days fill up his ship, but dat no do for me come on board by daylight because dere would be a pilot on board. Also he says little white flag no do, pilot tink him strange, but would tell one ob de men to hang a red shirt, as if to dry, up in de rigging. At night would show two lights ober de bow for me to know which was de ship.

"Fust dey bind up de wound on my shoulder, den dey gib me food for four days and a bottle of rum, and den row me ashore. Den Sam start, and before morning he hid in de swampy bush ten miles down de riber. He wait dere two days, den make him way down anoder four miles and dere stop. Late dat afternoon he see a ship come down de riber wid a red shirt in de rigging. He go on and on, and jus' as it got dark he anchor two miles furder down. Sam make his way along through de bush and at last get facing de ship. At twelve o'clock boat come along bery quiet. Sam go down and get in. De men say, 'Hush, make no noise. De pilot am as watchful as a cat. Dey had tied tings round de oars dat dey should make no noise, and when dey get to de side ob de ship dey lay dem in very quiet, hook on de tackle and hoist her up. De hatchway were off, and de men beckon to Sam, and two ob dem go down wid him, and de hatchways closed down again.

"'I tink we hab tricked him,' one ob de sailors said. 'Dere great row at New Orleans about de four men found dead dar. Dey come off and inquire ob de captain ober and ober again. Dey know you missing, and dey find de kitchen poker lying by de men, and tink you must have had a hand in it. A thousand dollars reward have been offered, and dey searched de ship high and low, and turn ober all de cargo. A guard stop on board till de last ting to see no one come off. When de captain say he anchor de pilot say no, but de captain say he in no hurry and not going to risk his ship by sailing at night. Me tink pilot smell a rat, for ebery time he hear a noise on deck he come out of his cabin and look round. We greased de falls to make dem run quiet, and took off our shoes so as to make no noise while we were lowering it. De men on deck was told to get de hatchway open when dey saw us coming, and so we hoped dat de pilot heard nufing. Now we must head you up in a cask. We hab bored some holes in it for de air. Den we shall pile oder casks on de top and leabe you. Dey are as likely as not to search de ship again when she goes past de forts, for de pilot will suspect dat it am possible dat you have come on board tonight.'

"Me take my place in a big sugar cask. Dey give me some water and some food, and den shut in de head ober me. Dere I remain two days. I heard some men come below and make a great noise, moving de cargo about near de hatchway, and dey hammered in all de casks ob de top tier to see if any ob dem was empty. I felt bery glad when it was all ober, and de hold was quiet again. I slept a great deal and did not know anything about time; but at last I heard a noise again, and de moving of casks, and den de head of de hogshead was taken out, and dere were de sailors and de captain. Dey shook Sam very hearty by de hand, and told him dat de ship was safe out at sea, and dat he was a free man.

"All through dat voyage dey bery kind to Sam. He libed de life ob a gentleman; ate, and drank, and smoke plenty, and nufing at all to do. At last we got to Liberpool, and dar de captain take Sam to a vessel bound to New York, pay him passage across, and gib Sam a present ob fifty pound. Dis chile had saved fifty beside, so he felt dat he was a rich man. Nufing happen on passage, except great storm, and Sam thought dat de steamer go to de bottom, but she got through all right, and Sam land at New York. Den he journey to Philadelphia, dat the place where missy give Sam a card wid a name and address written on it, for him to go to ask where Sally was living. Well, sar, you could have knocked me down when I find a great bill in de window, saying dat de house were to let. Sam almost go out ob his mind. He ask a great many people, de servants at de doors, and de people in de shops and at last find dat de family am gone to trabel in Europe, and dat dey might be away for years.

"For two months Sam searched about Philadelphia, and looked at ebery black woman he saw in de streets. He could see no signs whatsomeber ob Sally. Den he took a place as waiter at an hotel, and he wrote to missy at Richmond, to ask if she know Sally's address, but he neber got no answer to dat letter, and s'posed that missy was either dead or gone away. After he work dere for some months de idea came to Sam dat first class hotel wasn't de best place in de world to look for black woman. Den Sam went to warehouse and bought a lot of books and started to peddle them trough de country. He walked thousands ob miles, and altogether saw thousands ob black men, but nothing like Sally. Ebery black woman he could he spoke to, and asked dem if dey knew her. It was a curious ting dat no one did. Me did not find Sally, but me made a good deal of money, and tree more years pass away at dis work. By dis time me was nigh forty-five years old, as well as me could tell. Ebery few months me go back to Philadelphia and search dere again.

"One day a woman, dressed bery plain, came up to me and said, 'I hab been tole by my nurse dat you have been asking her if she had seen your wife.' I s'pose I looked hopeful like for she said at once, 'Me know nothing ob her, but I was interested about you. You are an escaped slabe, are you not?'

"'Yes, ma'am,' me said. 'Dere is no law against me here.'

"'None at all,' she said. 'But I thought that you might, like me, be interested in freeing slabes.'

"'Dat I am,' I said, 'dough I had neber thought much about it.'

"'You hab heard, p'raps,' she said, 'ob de underground railway.'

"'Yes, ma'am,' said I. 'Dat is de blessed 'stitution which smuggles slaves across the frontier.'

"'Dat is it,' she said, 'and I belongs to it.'

"'Does you, missy?' me says. 'De Lord bless you.'

"'Now,' she said, 'we want two or three more earnest men, men not afraid to risk deir libes, or what is worse deir freedom, to help deir follow creatures. I thought that you, habing suffered so much yourself, might be inclined to devote yourself to freeing oders from de horrors of slabery.'

"'Sam is ready, ma'am,' me says, 'It may be dat de Lord neber intends me see my Sally again, but if I can be de means ob helping to get oder men to join deir wives I shall be content.'

"'Very well,' she said. 'Come into my house now and we will talk about it.'

"Den she 'splained the whole business to me. Dere were, principally in lonely places, in swamps and woods, but sometimes libing in villages and towns in de south, people who had devoted deir libes to de carrying out of de purposes ob de underground railway. For de most part dese led libes differing no way from deir neighbors; dey tilled de land, or kept stores like oders, and none of dose around dem suspected in de slightest degree deir mission in de south. To deir houses at night fugitive slabes would come, guided by dose from de next post. De fugitives would be concealed for twenty-four hours or more, and den passed on at night again to de next station. Dose formed the larger portion ob de body.

"Dere were oders who lived a life in de swamps, scattered trough the country. Deir place of residence would be known to de slabes ob de neighborhood, but de masters had no suspicion dat de emissaries ob de association were so near. To dese any negro, driben to desperation by harsh treatment, would resort, and from dem instructions would be received as to de route to be taken, and de places where aid could be obtained. Dose people held deir life in deir hands. Had any suspicion fallen upon dem ob belonging to de 'stitution dey would be lynched for sartin. De lady set before me all de dangers ob de venture. She said it war a case whar dere were no money to be earned, and only de chances of martyrdom. My mind quite made up. Me ready to undertake any work dey like to give me. My life ob no value to no one. De next day me saw some ob de oder people connected wid de affair, and tree days afterwards I started for de south."

CHAPTER XIV: A CHRISTIAN TOWN

"My share ob de business was to make my way down south and settle in de swamps ob Carolina. I war to be taken down by trading schooner, to be landed on de coast, and to make my way to a place in de center ob a big swamp whar an ole nigger, named Joe, had been carrying on de work for four years. He had sent to say dat he war bery ill wid de swamp fever and like to die, dat he should not leabe de work as long as he libed, but hoped dat dey would send anoder man out to take on his work after his death.

"Well, sar, I was landed, and I made my way to de place. It war no easy matter. De niggers all say dey know no such person, but I found de next post, and dere de man guided me to de path which led into de swamp. Dey told me dey thought de ole man dead, for dat no one had come along to dem from him for nigh two month. Well, sar, as I 'spected I found him dead, and I buried him, and took up my place in de hut. Soon it became known through de plantations round dat de hut was occupied again, and dey began to come to me to ask for assistance. My 'structions war dat only to enable a husband to join his wife, or a wife her husband, or in cases where de masters were uncommon cruel, dat I was to send 'em along by de underground railway. De risks was too great to be run often. If we had tried to help ebery one to 'scape we should mighty soon hab been hunted down.

"Well, sar, I libed dere for three year. It was a lonesome life. I planted a few yams round de hut, and de plantation hands would bring me tings dat dey got hold of. It was my duty when I found dat a case was ob de proper description to arrange for de flight, de man or de woman would come to my hut, and I would guide dem through de swamps, twenty-five mile away, to de house ob a clergyman, which was de next station. I would jus' knock in a 'ticular way at de door, and when dis was open leab de party dere and go straight away back to de swamp. More dan once de planters got up hunts and searched de swamp through and through for me wid dogs, and my hut was twice burnt to de ground, but de slabes always brought me notice in time, and I went away into de tickest part ob de swamp and lay dar till dey had gone away.

"Well, sar, one time come, I bery busy, passed tree men away in two week. One night me hear barking of dogs, and jump up jus' in time to see party ob men coming out from de little path towards de hut. I ran for de swamp. Dey fire at me and one ball hit me. Den I ran in to de swamp, de dogs dey follow, but I get farder and farder away, and de swamp get deeper, and me tink dey lose me altogether. I sit quiet on 'tump when I hear someting splashing in swamp, and all of a sudden a big hound sprang on me, and fix him teeth in my shoulder. I had no arms, for in de hurry I had not time to catch dem up. De beast he growl and bite, and hold on like death. I saw dere only one ting to do. I tumble forward into de swamp wid de dog underneath me, and dere I lay, wid my mouf sometimes above de water sometimes below, till de dog was drowned.

"Den I start for de next station. I was hit in de hip, and it took me tree days to crawl dat twenty-five miles. On de tird ebening I knock at de door ob de house, and when it was open I tumble down in faint inside. It war a long time before I come to myself, two weeks dey tell me, and den I tink I dream, for sitting by de side of de bed war dat woman Sally. Till she spoke, me couldn't believe dat it war true, but she told me dat it war her, sure enuf, and dat I war to ask no questions but to go off to sleep.

"Next day she told me all about it. She had stopped a year at Philadelphy. Den she heard ob de underground railway, and was tole dat a clergyman, who war just going down south to work a station, wanted a black nurse for his children, who would help in de work. Sally she volunteer, and dar she had been libing eber since, hoping all de time eider dat I should pass through dere or dat she should hear from Philadelphy dat I had got dere. She used to act as de guide ob de runaways to de next station, and ebery man who came along she asked if they knew me; but, law bless you, sar, de poor woman knew nufing ob places, or she would hab known dat she war hundreds ob miles south of Virginia, and though she allowed she had heard I had gone to Missouri, she s'posed dat de way from der might be by de sea coast. I hab observed, sar, dat de gography ob women am bery defective.

"I stopped thar till I was cured. The clergyman knew someting of surgery, and he managed to substract the ball from my hip. When I war quite well Sally and me started for the norf, whar we had helped so many oders to go, and, bress de Lord, we arribed dere safe. Den I told Sally dat I should like to libe under de British flag, so we went up to Canada and dere we libed bery comfortable for ten years together. Sally washed and I kep' a barber's shop, and we made plenty ob money. Den she die, sar, de tought come into my mind dat I would come back to Africa and teach dose poor niggers here de ways ob de white men, and sar," and he pointed to a Bible standing on the chest, "de ways ob de Lord. So I came across the Atlantic, and stopped a little while on de coast, for I had pretty nigh forgotten de language ob de country. When I got it back again I started up for dis place, wid plenty ob goods and presents.

"I had hard work at fust to get de people to know me. It war nigh forty year since I had gone away, but at last some ob de ole people remember me, dat I was de son ob de chief. As I had plenty goods, and dey did not like de man dat was here, dey made me chief in my fader's place. I told dem dat I no accept de place unless dey promise to behave bery well, to mind what I said to dem, and to listen to my words; but dat if they do dat I gibe dem plenty goods, I make dem comfortable and happy, and I teach dem de way ob de Lord. Dey agree to all dis.

"I find de slave trade now all at an end, and dat de people not fight often now. Still, de twenty muskets dat I bring make de people of oder villages respec' us very much. Dey come ober to see de village. Dey see dat de houses are comfortable, dat de gardens are bery well cultivated, dat de people are well dressed, not like common nigger, dat dey are happy and contented. Dey see dat dey no believe in fetish any more, but dat ebery ebening when de work is ober, dey gadder under de big tree and listen for half an hour while I read to dem and den sing a hymn. Once a year I send down to de coast and get up plenty cloth, and hoes for de gardens, and eberyting dey want. When I land here ten year ago I hab eight hundred pound. I got five hundred ob him left here still. Dat more dan enuf to last Sam if he libe to be bery, bery ole man. Dar are some good men in de village who, when I am gone, will carry on de work ob de Lord and dat's all, sar, dat I hab to tell you about Sam, and I am sure dat you must be very tired and want to go to bed."

The hour was, indeed, for Africa, extremely late, but the time had passed unheeded, so interested were the listeners in the narrative of the fine old negro. They remained at the village for a week, and were greatly pleased with the industrious habits and happy appearance of the people, and with the earnestness and fervor in which every evening, and twice on Sunday, they joined in devotions under the great tree. At the end of that time they said goodbye to their kind host, giving him a large amount of cloth for distribution among his people. He was unable to furnish them with bearers, as a considerable tract of uninhabited country extended beyond his village, and the people on the other side were on bad terms with his villagers, on account of an outstanding feud which had existed long before his return from America, and which he had in vain attempted to settle since he assumed the headship of the village.

On approaching the Niger they again came upon an inhabited country, but the tribes here being accustomed to trade with the coast were friendly, and at the first large village they came to no difficulty was experienced in obtaining a fresh relay of bearers. This was a matter of great satisfaction, for the Fans were regarded with extreme antipathy by the natives. As soon as arrangements had been made to supply their place the Fans were paid the four months' wages which they had earned. A large "dash" of beads and other presents were bestowed upon them, three of the remaining sacks of rice were given to them, and, greatly rejoicing, they started for their own country, which, by making long marches, they would regain in a fortnight's time. Although it was not probable that they would meet with any enemies, six trade muskets, with a supply of powder and ball, were given to them, as, although they would not be able to do much execution with these weapons, their possession would exercise a powerful influence over any natives they might meet.

In crossing the country to the Niger the white men were the objects of lively curiosity, and the exhibition of the magic lantern, the chemical experiments, and conjuring tricks created an effect equal to that which they had produced among the Fans. On reaching the Niger a canoe was hired with a crew of rowers. In this all the cases, filled with the objects they had collected, were placed, the whole being put in charge of the Houssas, Moses and King John, who had been seized with a fit of homesickness. These were to deliver the cases to the charge of an English agent at Lagos or Bonny, to both of whom Mr. Goodenough wrote requesting him to pay the sum agreed to the boatmen on the safe arrival of the cases, and also to pay the Houssas, who preferred taking their wages there, as it was not considered advisable to tempt the cupidity of any of the native princes along the river. Should they be overhauled the Houssas were told to open the cases and show that these contained nothing but birds' skins and insects, which would be absolutely valueless in the eyes of a native.

When the precious freight had fairly started, the party crossed the Niger in a canoe, arrangements having already been made with the potentate of a village on the opposite side for a fresh relay of carriers, twenty men being now sufficient, owing to the gaps which had been made in the provisions in the goods, by the payment of the carriers and presents, and, in the cases, by the despatch of eight of the largest of these to the coast. They had still, however, ample space for the collections they might still make. The cases of goods and provisions were utilized for this purpose as they were emptied.

For another two months they journeyed on, halting frequently and adding continually to their stores. The country was fairly populated, and there was no difficulty in buying plantains and fruit and in obtaining fresh sets of carriers through the territories of each petty chief. They were now approaching the Volta, when one day a native, covered with dust and bathed in perspiration, came up to their camp, and throwing himself on the ground before Mr. Goodenough poured out a stream of words.

"What does he say, Ostik?"

"Me not know, sar. P'r'aps Ugly Tom know. He been down near Volta country."

Ugly Tom was called, and after a conversation with the native, told Mr. Goodenough that he was a messenger from Abeokuta, that the people there were threatened by an attack by the King of Dahomey, and that they implored the white men, who they heard were in the neighborhood, to come to their aid.

"What do you say, Frank?" Mr. Goodenough asked.

"I don't know anything about it, sir," Frank said. "I have heard of Dahomey, of course, and its horrible customs, but I don't know anything about Abeokuta."

"Abeokuta is a very singular town," Mr. Goodenough said. "Its people were christianized many years ago, and have faithfully retained the religion. The town lies not very far from Dahomey, and this power, which has conquered and enslaved all its other neighbors, has been unable to conquer Abeokuta, although it has several times besieged it. The Dahomey people have every advantage, being supplied with firearms, and even cannon, by the rascally white traders at Whydah, the port of Dahomey. Nevertheless, the Abeokuta people have opposed an heroic resistance, and so far successfully. Of course they know that every soul would be put to death did they fall into the hands of the King of Dahomey; but negroes do not always fight well, even under such circumstances, and every credit must be given to the people of Abeokuta. What do you say? It will be a perilous business, mind, for if Abeokuta is taken we shall assuredly be put to death with the rest of the defenders."

"I think we ought to help them, sir," Frank said. "They must be a noble people, and with our guns and the four Houssas we might really be of material assistance. Of course there is a risk in it, but we have risked our lives from fever, and in other ways, every day since we've been in the country."

"Very well, my lad. I am glad that is your decision. Tell him, Ugly Tom, that we will at once move towards Abeokuta with all speed, and that they had better send out a party of carriers to meet us, as you may be sure that these men will not go far when they hear that the Dahomey people are on the warpath. Learn from him exactly the road we must move by, as if our carriers desert us we shall be detained till his people come up. How far is it to Abeokuta?"

Ugly Tom learned from the native that it was about forty-five miles.

"Very well," Mr. Goodenough said, "we shall march twenty this afternoon. Where we halt they will most likely have heard the rumors of the war, and I expect the carriers will go no farther, so they must send out to that point."

The Houssa translated the message, and the native, saying, "I shall be at Abeokuta tonight," kissed the hands of the white men and started at a trot.

"Wonderful stamina some of these men have," Mr. Goodenough said. "That man has come forty-five miles at full speed, and is now going off again as fresh as when he started."

"What speed will he go at?" Frank asked.

"About six miles an hour. Of course he goes faster when he is running, but he will sometimes break into a walk. Five miles an hour may be taken as the ordinary pace of a native runner, but in cases which they consider of importance, like the present, you may calculate on six."

The camp was at once broken up, the carriers loaded, and they started on their way. It was late in the evening when they reached a village about twenty miles from their starting place. They found the inhabitants in a great state of alarm. The news had come that a great army was marching to attack Abeokuta, and that the King of Dahomey had sworn on his father's skull that this time the place should be captured, and not a house or a wall left remaining. As Abeokuta was certain to make a strong resistance, and to hold out for some time, the villagers feared that the Dahomey people would be sending out parties to plunder and carry away captives all over the surrounding country. The panic at once extended to the bearers, who declared that they would not go a foot farther. As their fears were natural, and Mr. Goodenough was expecting a fresh relay from Abeokuta on the following evening, he consented to their demand to be allowed to leave immediately, and paying them their wages due, he allowed them to depart at once on the return journey. The tent was soon pitched and supper prepared, of fried plantains, rice, a tin of sardines, and tea. Later on they had a cup of chocolate, and turned in for the night.

In the morning they were awakened just at daybreak by great talking.

"Men come for baggage, sar," Ugly Tom said, putting his head in the tent door.

"They have lost no time about it, Frank," Mr. Goodenough exclaimed. "It was midday yesterday when the messenger left us. He had forty-five miles to run, and could not have been in till pretty nearly eight o'clock, and these men must have started at once."

There was no time lost. While the Houssas were pulling down and packing up the tent Ostik prepared two bowls of chocolate with biscuit soaked in it. By the time that this was eaten the carriers had taken up their loads, and two minutes later the whole party started almost at a trot. Ugly Tom soon explained the cause of the haste. The army of Dahomey was, the evening before, but eight miles from Abeokuta, and was expected to appear before the town by midday, although, of course, it might be later, for the movements of savage troops are uncertain in the extreme, depending entirely upon the whims of their leader. So anxious were the bearers to get back to the town in time, that they frequently went at a trot. They were the better able to keep up the speed as a larger number than were required had been sent. Many of the cases, too, were light, consequently the men were able to shift the heavy burdens from time to time. So great was the speed, that after an hour both Mr. Goodenough and Frank, weakened by the effect of fever and climate, could no longer keep up. The various effects carried in the hammocks were hastily taken out and lifted by men unprovided with loads. The white men entered and were soon carried along at a brisk trot by the side of the baggage. When they recovered from their exhaustion sufficiently to observe what was going on, they could not help admiring the manner in which the negroes, with perspiration streaming from every pore, hurried along with their burdens. So fast did they go, that in less than six hours they emerged from the forest into the clearing, and a shout proclaimed that Abeokuta was close at hand.

Ten minutes later the white men were carried through the gate, their arrival being hailed with shouts of joy by the inhabitants. They were carried in triumph to the principal building of the town, a large hut where the general councils of the people were held. Here they were received by the king and the leading inhabitants, who thanked them warmly for coming to their assistance in the time of their peril. The travelers were both struck with the appearance of the people. They were clad with far more decency and decorum than was usual among the negro tribes. Their bearing was quiet and dignified. An air of neatness and order pervaded everything, and it was clear that they were greatly superior to the people around.

Mr. Goodenough expressed to the king the willingness with which his friend and himself took part in the struggle of a brave people against a cruel and bloodthirsty foe, and he said, that as the four Houssas were also armed with fast firing guns he hoped that their assistance would be of avail. He said that he would at once examine the defences of the town and see if anything could be done to strengthen them.

Accompanied by the king, Mr. Goodenough and Frank made a detour of the walls. These were about a mile in circumference, were built of clay, and were of considerable height and thickness, but they were not calculated to resist an attack by artillery. As, however, it was not probable that the Dahomey people possessed much skill in the management of their cannon, Mr. Goodenough had hopes that they should succeed in repelling the assault. They learnt that a large store of provisions had been brought into the town, and that many of the women and children had been sent far away.

The spies presently came in and reported that there was no movement on the part of the enemy, and that it was improbable that they would advance before the next day. Mr. Goodenough was unable to offer any suggestions for fresh defenses until they knew upon which side the enemy would attack. He advised, however, that the whole population should be set to work throwing up an earthwork just outside each gate, in order to shelter these as far as possible from the effect of the enemy's cannonballs. Orders were at once given to this effect, and in an hour the whole population were at work carrying earth in baskets and piling it in front of the gates. In order to economize labor, and to make the sides of the mounds as steep as possible, Mr. Goodenough directed with brushwood, forming a sort of rough wattle work. Not even when night set in did the people desist from their labor, and by the following morning the gates were protected from the effect of cannon shot, by mounds of earth twenty feet high, which rose before them. The king had, when Mr. Goodenough first suggested these defenses, pointed out that much less earth would be required were it piled directly against the gates. Mr. Goodenough replied, that certainly this was so, but that it was essential to be able to open the gates to make a sortie if necessary against the enemy, and although the king shook his head, as if doubting the ability of his people to take such a desperate step as that of attacking the enemy outside their walls, he yielded to Mr. Goodenough's opinion.

CHAPTER XV: THE AMAZONS OF DAHOMET

A spacious and comfortable hut was placed at the disposal of the white men, with a small one adjoining for the Houssas. That evening Frank asked Mr. Goodenough to tell him what he knew concerning the people of Dahomey.

"The word Dahomey, or more properly Da-omi, means Da's belly. Da was, two hundred and fifty years ago, the king of the city of Abomey. It was attacked by Tacudona the chief of the Fois. It resisted bravely, and Tacudona made a vow that if he took it he would sacrifice the king to the gods. When he captured the town he carried out his vow by ripping open the king, and then called the place Daomi. Gradually the conquerors extended their power until the kingdom reached to the very foot of the Atlas range, obtaining a port by the conquest of Whydah. The King of Dahomey is a despot, and even his nobility crawl on the ground in his presence. The taxes are heavy, every article sold in the market paying about one eighteenth to the royal exchequer. There are besides many other taxes. Every slave is taxed, every article that enters the kingdom. If a cock crow it is forfeited, and, as it is the nature of cocks to crow, every bird in the kingdom is muzzled. The property of every one who dies goes to the king; and at the Annual Custom, a grand religious festival, every man has to bring a present in proportion to his rank and wealth. The royal pomp is kept up by receiving strangers who visit the country with much state, and by regaling the populace with spectacles of human sacrifices. The women stand high in Dahomey. Among other negro nations they till the soil. In Dahomey they fight as soldiers, and perform all the offices of men. Dahomey is principally celebrated for its army of women, and its human sacrifices. These last take place annually, or even more often. Sometimes as many as a thousand captives are slain on these occasions. In almost all the pagan nations of Africa human sacrifices are perpetrated, just as they were by the Druids and Egyptians of old. Nowhere, however, are they carried to such a terrible extent as in Dahomey. Even Ashanti, where matters are bad enough, is inferior in this respect. The victims are mostly captives taken in war, and it is to keep up the supply necessary for these wholesale sacrifices that Dahomey is constantly at war with her neighbors."

"But are we going to fight against women, then?" Frank asked horrified.

"Assuredly we are," Mr. Goodenough answered. "The Amazons, as white men have christened the force, are the flower of the Dahomey army, and fight with extraordinary bravery and ferocity."

"But it will seem dreadful to fire at women!" Frank said.

"That is merely an idea of civilization, Frank. In countries where women are dependent upon men, leaving to them the work of providing for the family and home, while they employ themselves in domestic duties and in brightening the lives of the men, they are treated with respect. But as their work becomes rougher, so does the position which they occupy in men's esteem fall. Among the middle and upper classes throughout Europe a man is considered a brute and a coward who lifts his hand against a woman. Among the lower classes wife and woman beating is by no means uncommon, nor is such an assault regarded with much more reprobation than an attack upon a man. When women leave their proper sphere and put themselves forward to do man's work they must expect man's treatment; and the foolish women at home who clamor for women's rights, that is to say, for an equality of work, would, if they had their way, inflict enormous damage upon their sex."

"Still," Frank said, "I shan't like having to fire at women."

"You won't see much difference between women and men when the fight begins, Frank. These female furies will slay all who fall into their hands, and therefore in self defense you will have to assist in slaying them."

The following day the sound of beating of drums and firing of guns was heard, and soon afterwards the head of the army of Dahomey was seen approaching. It moved with considerable order and regularity.

"Those must be the Amazons," Mr. Goodenough said. "They are proud of their drill and discipline. I do not think that any other African troops could march so regularly and solidly."

The main body of the army now came in view, marching as a loose and scattered mob. Then twelve objects were seen dragged by oxen. These were the cannon of the besiegers.

"How many do you think there are?" Frank asked.

"It is very difficult to judge accurately," Mr. Goodenough said. "But Dahomey is said to be able to put fifty thousand fighting men and women in the field, that is to say her whole adult population, except those too old to bear arms. I should think that there are twenty or twenty-five thousand now in sight."

The enemy approached within musket shot of the walls, and numbers of them running up, discharged their muskets. The Abeokuta people fired back; but Mr. Goodenough ordered the Houssas on no account to fire, as he did not wish the enemy to know the power of their rifles.

The first step of the besiegers was to cut down all the plantations round the town and to erect great numbers of little huts. A large central hut with several smaller ones surrounding it was erected for the king and his principal nobles. The Dahomans spread round the town and by the gesticulation and pointing at the gates it was clear that the defenses raised to cover these excited great surprise.

The wall was thick enough for men to walk along on the top, but being built of clay it would withstand but little battering. Mr. Goodenough set a large number of people to work, making sacks from the rough cloth, of which there was an abundance in the place. These were filled with earth and piled in the center of the town ready for conveyance to any point threatened. He likewise had a number of beams, used in construction of houses, sharpened at one end; stakes of five or six feet long were also prepared and sharpened at both ends. That day the enemy attempted nothing against the town. The next morning the twelve cannon were planted at a distance of about five hundred yards and opened fire on the walls. The shooting was wild in the extreme; many of the balls went over the place altogether; others topped the wall and fell in the town; some hit the wall and buried themselves in the clay.

"We will give them a lesson," Mr. Goodenough said, "in the modern rifle. Frank, you take my double barrel rifle and I will take the heavy, large bored one. Your Winchester will scarcely make accurate firing at five hundred yards."

The Houssas were already on the wall, anxious to open fire. Mr. Goodenough saw that their rifles were sighted to five hundred yards. The cannon offered an easy mark. They were ranged along side by side, surrounded by a crowd of negroes, who yelled and danced each time a shot struck the wall.

"Now," Mr. Goodenough said to the Houssas, "fire steadily, and, above all, fire straight. I want every shot to tell."

Mr. Goodenough gave the signal, and at once Frank and the Houssas opened fire. The triumphant yells of the Dahomans at once changed their character, and a cry of wrath and astonishment broke from them. Steadily Mr. Goodenough and his party kept up their fire. They could see that great execution was being done, a large proportion of the shots telling. Many wounded were carried to the rear, and black forms could be seen stretched everywhere on the ground. Still the enemy's fire continued with unabated vigor.

"They fight very pluckily," Frank said.

"They are plucky," Mr. Goodenough answered; "and as cowardice is punished with death, and human life has scarcely any value among them, they will be killed where they stand rather than retreat."

For three or four hours the fight continued. Several officers, evidently of authority, surrounded by groups of attendants, came down to the guns; but as Frank and Mr. Goodenough always selected these for their mark, and—firing with their guns resting on the parapet—were able to make very accurate shooting, most of them were killed within a few minutes of their arriving on the spot.

At the end of four hours the firing ceased, and the Dahomans retired from their guns. The Abeokuta people raised a cry of triumph.

"I imagine they have only fallen back," Mr. Goodenough said, "to give the guns time to cool."

While the cannonade had been going on a brisk attack had been kept up on several other points of the wall, the enemy advancing within fifty yards of this and firing their muskets, loaded with heavy charges of slugs, at the defenders, who replied vigorously to them. Their cannonade was not resumed that afternoon, the Dahomans contenting themselves with skirmishing round the walls.

"They are disappointed with the result of their fire," Mr. Goodenough said. "No doubt they anticipated they should knock the wall down without difficulty. You will see some change in their tactics tomorrow."

That night Mr. Goodenough had a number of barrels of palm oil carried on to the wall, with some of the great iron pots used for boiling down the oil, and a supply of fuel.

"If they try to storm," he said, "it will most likely be at the point which they have been firing at. The parapet is knocked down in several places, and the defenders there would be more exposed to their fire."

It was at this point, therefore, that the provision of oil was placed. Mr. Goodenough ordered fires to be lighted under the boilers an hour before daybreak, in order that all should be in readiness in case an attack should be made the first thing in the morning. The Abeokutans were in high spirits at the effect of the fire of their white allies, and at the comparative failure of the cannon, at whose power they had before been greatly alarmed. Soon after daylight the Dahomans were seen gathering near the guns. Their drums beat furiously, and presently they advanced in a solid mass against the wall.

"They have got ladders," Mr. Goodenough said. "I can see numbers of them carrying something."

The Houssas at once opened fire, and as the enemy approached closer, first the Abeokutans who had muskets, then the great mass with bows and arrows, began to fire upon the enemy, while these answered with their musketry. The central body, however, advanced without firing a shot, moving like the rest at a quick run.

Mr. Goodenough and Frank were not firing now, as they were devoting themselves to superintending the defence. Ostik kept close to them, carrying Frank's Winchester carbine and a double barreled shotgun.

"This is hot," Mr. Goodenough said, as the enemy's slugs and bullets whizzed in a storm over the edge of the parapet, killing many of the defenders, and rendering it difficult for the others to take accurate aim. This, however, the Abeokutans did not try to do. Stooping below the parapet, they fitted their arrows to the string, or loaded their muskets, and then, standing up, fired hastily at the approaching throng.

The walls were about twenty-five feet high inside, but the parapet gave an additional height of some four feet outside. They were about three feet thick at the top, and but a limited number of men could take post there to oppose the storming party. Strong bodies were placed farther along on the wall to make a rush to sweep the enemy off should they gain a footing. Others were posted below to attack them should they leap down into the town, while men with muskets were on the roofs of the houses near the walls, in readiness to open fire should the enemy get a footing on the wall. The din was prodigious.

The Dahomans, having access to the sea coast, were armed entirely with muskets, these being either cheap Birmingham trade guns or old converted muskets, bought by traders for a song at the sale of disused government stores. It is much to be regretted that the various governments of Europe do not insist that their old guns shall be used only as old iron. The price obtained for them is so trifling as to be immaterial, and the great proportion of them find their way to Africa to be used in the constant wars that are waged there, and to enable rich and powerful tribes to enslave and destroy their weaker neighbors. The Africans use very much heavier charges of powder than those in used in civilized nations, ramming down a handful of slugs, of half a dozen small bullets, upon the powder. This does not conduce to good shooting, but the noise made is prodigious. The Abeokutans, on the other hand, were principally armed with bows and arrows, as, having no direct access to the sea coast, it was difficult for them to procure guns.

The Dahomans poured up in a mass to the foot of the wall, and then a score of rough ladders, constructed of bamboo, and each four feet wide, were placed against the walls. Directly the point to be attacked was indicated, Mr. Goodenough had distributed his cauldrons of boiling oil along the walls, and had set men to work to pierce holes through the parapet at distances of a couple of feet apart, and at a height of six inches from the ground. A line of men with long spears wore told to lie down upon the ground, and to thrust through the holes at those climbing the ladders. Another line of holes was pierced two feet higher, through which those armed with muskets and bows were to fire, for when the enemy reached the foot of the walls their fire was so heavy that it was impossible to return it over the top of the parapet.

Immediately the ladders were placed, men with ladles began to throw the boiling oil over the parapet. Shrieks and yells from below at once testified to its effect, but it was only just where the cauldrons were placed that the besiegers were prevented by this means from mounting the ladders, and even here many, in spite of the agony of their burns, climbed desperately upward.

When they neared the top the fight began in earnest. Those without were now obliged to cease firing, and the besieged were able to stand up and with sword and spear defend their position. The breech loaders of Mr. Goodenough and the Houssas and Frank's repeating carbine now came into play. The Dahomans fought with extraordinary bravery, hundreds fell shot or cut down from above or pierced by the spears and arrows through the holes in the parapet. Fresh swarms of assailants took their places on the ladders. The drums kept up a ceaseless rattle, and the yells of the mass of negroes standing inactive were deafening. Their efforts, however, were in vain. Never did the Amazons fight with more reckless bravery; but the position was too strong for them, and at last, after upwards of a thousand of the assailants had fallen, the attack was given up, and the Dahomans retired from the wall followed by the exulting shouts of the men of Abeokuta.

The loss of the defenders was small. Some ten or twelve had been killed with slugs. Three or four times that number were more or less severely wounded about the head or shoulders with the same missiles. Frank had a nasty cut on the cheek, and Firewater and Bacon were both streaming with blood.

There was no chance of a renewal of the attack that day. Sentries were placed on the walls, and a grand thanksgiving service was held in the open space in the center of the town which the whole populace attended.

"What will be their next move, do you think?" Frank asked Mr. Goodenough.

"I cannot say," Mr. Goodenough said; "but these people know something of warfare, and finding that they cannot carry the place by assault, I think you will find that they will try some more cautious move next time."

For two days there was no renewal of the attack. At Mr. Goodenough's suggestion the Abeokutans on the wall shouted out that the Dahomans might come and carry off their dead, as he feared that a pestilence might arise from so great a number of decomposing bodies at the foot of the wall. The Dahomans paid no attention to the request, and, at Mr. Goodenough's suggestion, on the second day the whole populace set to work carrying earth in baskets to the top of the wall, and throwing this over so as to cover the mass of bodies at its foot. As to those lying farther off nothing could be done. On the third morning it was seen that during the night a large number of sacks had been piled in a line upon the ground, two hundred yards away from the wall. The pile was eight feet in height and some fifty yards long.

"I thought they were up to something," Mr. Goodenough said. "They have been sending back to Dahomey for sacks."

In a short time the enemy brought up their cannon, behind the shelter of the sacks, regardless of the execution done by the rifles of Mr. Goodenough's party during the movement. The place chosen was two or three hundred yards to the left of that on which the former attack had been made. Then a swarm of men set to work removing some of the sacks, and in a short time twelve rough embrasures were made just wide enough for the muzzles of the guns, the sacks removed being piled on the others, raising them to the height of ten feet and sheltering the men behind completely from the fire from the walls.

"They will make a breach now," Mr. Goodenough said. "We must prepare to receive them inside."

The populace were at once set to work digging holes and securely planting the beams already prepared in a semicircle a hundred feet across, behind the wall facing the battery. The beams when fixed projected eight feet above the ground, the spaces between being filled with bamboos twisted in and out between them. Earth was thrown up behind to the height of four foot for the defenders to stand upon. The space between the stockade and the wall was filled with sharp pointed bamboos and stakes stuck firmly in the ground with their points projecting outwards. All day the townspeople labored at these defenses, while the wall crumbled fast under the fire of the Dahomey artillery, every shot of which, at so short a distance, struck it heavily. By five in the afternoon a great gap, fifty feet wide, was made in the walls, and the army of Dahomey again gathered for the assault. Mr. Goodenough with two of the Houssas took his place on the wall on one side of the gap, Frank with the other two faced him across the chasm. A large number of the Abeokuta warriors also lined the walls, while the rest gathered on the stockade.

With the usual tumult of drumming and yells the Dahomans rushed to the assault. The fire from the walls did not check the onset in the slightest, and with yells of anticipated victory they swarmed over the breach. A cry of astonishment broke from them as they saw the formidable defense within, the fire of whose defenders was concentrated upon them. Then, with scarce a pause, they leaped down and strove to remove the obstructions. Regardless of the fire poured upon them they hewed away at the sharp stakes, or strove to pull them up with their hands. The riflemen on the walls directed their fire now exclusively upon the leaders of the column, the breech loaders doing immense execution, and soon the Dahomans in their efforts to advance had to climb over lines of dead in their front. For half an hour the struggle continued, and then the Dahomans lost heart and retired, leaving fifteen hundred of their number piled deep in the space between the breach and the stockade.

"This is horrible work," Frank said when he rejoined Mr. Goodenough.

"Horrible, Frank; but there is at least the consolation that by this fearful slaughter of their bravest warriors we are crippling the power of Dahomey as a curse and a scourge to its neighbors. After this crushing repulse the Abeokutans may hope that many years will elapse before they are again attacked by their savage neighbors, and the lessons which they have now learned in defense will enable them to make as good a stand on another occasion as they have done now."

"Do you think the attack will be renewed?"

"I should hardly think so. The flower of their army must have fallen, and the Amazon guard must have almost ceased to exist. I told you, Frank, you would soon get over your repugnance to firing at women."

"I did not think anything about women," Frank said. "We seemed to be fighting a body of demons with their wild screams and yells. Indeed, I could scarce distinguish the men from the women."

A strong guard was placed at night at the stockade, and Mr. Goodenough and Frank lay down close at hand in case the assault should be renewed. At daybreak the sound of a cannon caused them to start to their feet.

"They are not satisfied yet," Mr. Goodenough exclaimed, hurrying to the wall. In the night the Dahomans had either with sacks or earth raised their cannon some six feet, so that they were able to fire over the mound caused by the fallen wall at the stockade behind it, at which they were now directing their fire.

"Now for the sacks," Mr. Goodenough said. Running down, he directed the sacks laden with earth, to whose necks ropes had been attached, to be brought up. Five hundred willing hands seized them, and they were lowered in front of the center of the stockade, which was alone exposed to the enemy's fire, until they hung two deep over the whole face. As fast as one bag was injured by a shot it was drawn up and another lowered to its place. In the meantime the rifles from the walls had again opened fire, and as the gunners were now more exposed their shots did considerable execution. Seeing the uselessness of their efforts the Dahomans gradually slackened their fire.

When night came Mr. Goodenough gathered two hundred of the best troops of Abeokuta. He caused plugs to be made corresponding to the size of the various cannonballs which were picked up within the stockade, which varied from six to eighteen pounders.

About midnight the gate nearest to the breach was thrown open, and the party sallied out and made their way towards the enemy's battery. The Dahomans had placed sentries in front facing the breach, but anticipating no attack in any other direction had left the flanks unguarded. Mr. Goodenough had enjoined the strictest silence on his followers, and their approach was unobserved until they swept round into the battery. Large numbers of the enemy were lying asleep here, but these, taken by surprise, could offer no resistance, and were cut down or driven away instantly by the assailants.

Mr. Goodenough and Frank, with a party who had been told off specially for the purpose, at once set to work at the cannon. These were filled nearly to the muzzle with powder, and the plugs were driven with mallets tight into the muzzles. Slow matches, composed of strips of calico dipped in saltpetre, were placed in the touch holes. Then the word was given, and the whole party fell back to the gate just as the Dahomans in great numbers came running up. In less than a minute after leaving the battery twelve tremendous reports, following closely one upon another were heard. The cannon were blown into fragments, killing numbers of the Dahomey men who had just crowded into the battery.

CHAPTER XVI: CAPTIVES IN COOMASSIE

Upon the morning following the successful sortie not an enemy could be seen from the walls. Swift runners were sent out, and these returned in two hours with news that the enemy were in full retreat towards their capital. The people of Abeokuta were half wild with exultation and joy, and their gratitude to their white allies was unbounded. Mr. Goodenough begged them not to lose an hour in burying their slain enemies, and the entire population were engaged for the two following days upon this necessary but revolting duty. The dead were counted as they were placed in the great pits dug for their reception, and it was found that no fewer than three thousand of the enemy had fallen.

Mr. Goodenough also advised the Abeokutans to erect flanking towers at short intervals round their walls, to dig a moat twenty feet wide and eight deep at a few yards from their foot, and to turn into it the water from the river in order that any future attack might be more easily repelled.

The inhabitants were poor, but they would willingly have presented all their treasures to their white allies. Mr. Goodenough, however, would accept nothing save a few specimens of native cloth exquisitely woven from the inner barks of the trees, and some other specimens of choice native workmanship. He also begged them to send down to the coast by the first opportunity the cases of specimens which had been collected since the departure of the Fans.

A violent attack of fever, brought on by their exertions in the sun, prostrated both the white travelers a few days after the termination of the siege, and it was some weeks before they were able to renew their journey. Their intention was to ascend the river for some distance, to move westward into upper Ashanti, and then to make their way to Coomassie, whence they would journey down to Cape Coast and there take ship for England. As soon as they were able to travel they took leave of their friends at Abeokuta, who furnished them with carriers for their cases and hammock bearers for their journey as far as the Volta. This lasted for a fortnight through an open and fertile country. Then they crossed the river and entered Ashanti, the great rival empire of Dahomey. As Ashanti was at peace with England they had now no fear of molestation on their journey.

Ashanti consisted of five or six kingdoms, all of which had been conquered, and were tributary to it. The empire of Ashanti was separated by the river Prah from the country of the Fantis, who lived under British protection. The people drew their supplies from various points on the coast, principally, however, through Elmina, a Dutch settlement, five miles to the west of Cape Coast. The Ashantis could not be called peaceable neighbors. They, like the Dahomans, delighted in human sacrifices upon a grand scale, and to carry these out captives must be taken. Consequently every four or five years, on some pretext or other, they cross the Prah, destroyed the villages, dragged away the people to slavery or death, and carried fire and sword up to the very walls of the English fort at Cape Coast. Sometimes the English confined themselves to remonstrance, sometimes fought, not always successfully, as upon one occasion Sir Charles Macarthy, the governor, with a West Indian regiment was utterly defeated, the governor himself and all his white officers, except three, being killed.

In 1828 we aided the Fantis to defeat the Ashantis in a decisive battle, the consequence of which was the signature of a treaty, by which the King of Ashanti recognized the independence of all the Fanti tribes. In 1844, and again in 1852, a regular protectorate was arranged between the British and the Fantis, the former undertaking to protect them from enemies beyond the borders, and in turn exercising an authority over the Fantis, forbidding them to make war with each other, and imposing a nominal tribute upon them.

In 1853 the Ashantis again crossed the Prah, but, being met with firmness, retired again. After ten years' quiet, in 1863 they again invaded the country, burnt thirty villages, and slaughtered their inhabitants. Governor Price then urged upon the home authorities the necessity for the sending out from England of two thousand troops to aid the native army in striking a heavy blow at the Ashantis, and so putting a stop to this constant aggression. The English government, however, refused to entertain the proposal. In order to encourage the natives some companies of West Indian troops were marched up to the Prah. The wet season set in, and, after suffering terribly from sickness, the survivors returned five months later to Cape Coast.

Up to this period the Dutch trading ports and forts upon the coast were interspersed with ours, and as the tribes in their neighborhood were under Dutch protection constant troubles were arising between the Dutch tribes and our own, and in 1867 an exchange was effected, the Dutch ceding all their forts and territory east of the Sweet river, a small stream which falls into the sea midway between Cape Coast and Elmina, while we gave up all our forts to the west of this stream. Similarly the protectorate of the tribes inland up to the boundary of the Ashanti kingdom changed hands. The natives were not consulted as to this treaty, and some of those formerly under British protection, especially the natives of Commendah, refused to accept the transfer, and beat off with loss the Dutch troops who attempted to land. The Dutch men of war bombarded and destroyed Commendah.

This step was the commencement of fresh troubles between the Ashantis and the English. The Commendah people were Fantis, and as such the implacable enemies of the Elmina people, who had under Dutch protection been always allies of the Ashantis, and had been mainly instrumental in supplying them with arms and ammunition. The Fantis, regarding the Elmina natives and the Dutch as one power, retaliated for the destruction of Commendah by invading the territory of the Elmina tribe, destroying their villages and blockading the Dutch in their port. Another reason for this attack upon the Elminas was that an Ashanti general, named Atjempon, had marched with several hundred men through the Fanti country, burning, destroying, and slaying as usual, and had taken refuge with his men in Elmina. From this time the desultory war between the Elminas and their Ashanti allies, and the Fantis of the neighborhood had never ceased. Our influence over our allies was but small, for we in vain endeavored to persuade them to give up the invasion of Elmina. We even cut off the supplies of powder and arms to the Fantis, whose loyalty to our rule was thereby much shaken.

All these troubles induced the Dutch to come to the decision to withdraw altogether, and they accordingly offered to transfer all their possessions to us. The English government determined not to accept the transfer if it should lead to troubles with the natives, and as a first step required that the Ashanti force should leave Elmina. In 1870 the King of Ashanti wrote to us claiming Elmina as his, and protesting against its being handed over to us. According to native ideas the king of Ashanti's claim was a just one. The land upon which all the forts, English, Dutch, Danish, and French, were built had been originally acquired from the native chiefs at a fixed annual tribute, or as we regarded it as rent, or as an annual present in return for friendly relations. By the native customs he who conquers a chief entitled to such a payment becomes the heir of that payment, and one time the King of Ashanti upon the strength of his conquest of the Fantis set up a claim of proprietorship over Cape Coast and the other British forts.

Of a similar nature was the claim of the Ashantis upon Elmina. The Dutch had paid eighty pounds a year, as they asserted, as a present, and they proved conclusively that they had never regarded the King of Ashanti as having sovereignty over their forts, and that he had never advanced such a claim. They now arrested Atjempon, and refused to pay a further sum to the King of Ashanti until he withdrew his claim. In order to settle matters amicably they sent an envoy to Coomassie with presents for the king, and obtained from him a repudiation of his former letter, and a solemn acknowledgment that the money was not paid as a tribute. The king sent down two ambassadors to Elmina, who solemnly ratified this declaration.

The transfer was then effected. We purchased from the Dutch their forts and stores, but the people of Elmina were told that we should not take possession of the place except with their consent; but it was pointed out to them that if they refused to accept our protection they would be exposed as before to the hostility of the Fantis. They agreed to accept our offer, and on the 4th of April, 1872, a grand council was hold, the king and chiefs of Elmina announced the agreement of their people to the transfer, and we took possession of Elmina, Atjempon and the Ashantis returning to their own country.

Upon the transfer taking place, Mr. Pope Hennessey, the governor of the colony, sent to the King of Ashanti saying that the English desired peace and friendship with the natives, and would give an annual present, double that which he had received from the Dutch. At the same time negotiations were going on with the king for the free passage of Ashanti traders to the coast, and for the release of four Germans who had been carried off ten years before by Aboo Boffoo, one of the king's generals, from their mission station on British territory near the Volta. The king wrote saying that Aboo Boffoo would not give them up without a ransom of eighteen hundred ounces of gold, and protracted negotiations went on concerning the payments of these sums.

At the time when Mr. Goodenough and Frank had landed on the Gaboon, early in 1872, nothing was known of any anticipated troubles with Ashanti. The negotiations between the English and the Dutch were in progress, but they had heard that the English would not take over Elmina without the consent of the inhabitants, and that they would be willing to increase the payment made by the Dutch to the king of Ashanti. It was known too that efforts would be made to settle all points of difference with the king; and as at Abeokuta they received news that the negotiations were going on satisfactorily, and that there was no prospect whatever of trouble, they did not hesitate to carry out the plans they had formed.

Before crossing the Volta, they sent across to inquire of the chief of the town there whether two English travelers would be allowed to pass through Ashanti, and were delayed for a fortnight until a messenger was sent to Coomassie and returned with a letter, saying that the king would be glad to see white men at his capital. With this assurance they crossed the stream. They were received in state by the chief, who at once provided them with the necessary carriers, and with them a guard, which he said would prevent any trouble on their way. On the following day they started, and after arriving, at the end of a day's journey, at a village, prepared to stop as usual for a day or two to add to their collection. The officer of the guard, however, explained to them through Bacon, who spoke the Ashanti language, that his instructions were, that they were to go straight through to Coomassie. In vain Mr. Goodenough protested that this would entirely defeat the object of his journey. The officer was firm. His orders were that they were to travel straight to Coomassie, and if he failed in carrying these out, his head would assuredly be forfeited.

"This is serious, Frank," Mr. Goodenough said. "If this fellow has not blundered about his orders, it is clear that we are prisoners. However, it may be that the king merely gave a direction that we should be escorted to the capital, having no idea that we should want to loiter upon the way."

They now proceeded steadily forward, making long day's marches. The officer in command of the guard was most civil, obtaining for them an abundance of provisions at the villages at which they stopped, and as Frank and his companion were both weakened by fever he enlisted sufficient hammock bearers for them, taking fresh relays from each village. He would not hear of their paying either for provisions or bearers, saying that they were the king's guests, and it would be an insult to him were they to pay for anything.

Ten days after starting from the Volta they entered Coomassie. This town lay on rising ground, surrounded by a deep marsh of from forty to a hundred yards wide. A messenger had been sent on in front to announce their coming, and after crossing the marsh they passed under a great fetish, or spell, consisting of a dead sheep wrapped up in red silk and suspended from two poles.

Mr. Goodenough and Frank took their places at the head of the little procession. On entering the town they were met by a crowd of at least five thousand people, for the most part warriors, who fired their guns, shouted, and yelled. Horns, drums, rattles, and gongs added to the appalling noise. Men with flags performed wild dances, in which the warriors joined. The dress of the captains consisted of war caps with gilded rams' horns projecting in front, and immense plumes of eagles' feathers on each side. Their vest was of red cloth, covered with fetishes and charms in cases of gold, silver, and embroidery. These were interspersed with the horns and tails of animals, small brass bells, and shells. They wore loose cotton trousers, with great boots of dull red leather coming halfway up to the thigh, and fastened by small chains to their waist belts, also ornamented with bells, horse tails, strings of amulets, and strips of colored leather. Long leopards' tails hung down their backs.

Through this crowd the party moved forward slowly, the throng thickening at every step. They were escorted to a house which they were told was set aside for their use, and that they would be allowed to see the king on the following day. The houses differed entirely from anything which they had before seen in Africa. They were built of red clay, plastered perfectly smooth. There were no windows or openings on the exterior, but the door led into an open courtyard of some twelve feet in diameter. On each side of this was a sort of alcove, built up of clay, about three feet from the ground. This formed a couch or seat, some eight feet long by three feet high, with a thatched roof projecting so as to prevent the rain beating into the alcove. Beyond were one or more similar courts in proportion to the size of the house. A sheep and a quantity of vegetables and fruits were sent in in the course of the day, but they were told not to show themselves in the streets until they had seen the king.

"We shall be expected to make his majesty a handsome present," Mr. Goodenough said, "and, unfortunately, our stores were not intended for so great a potentate. I will give him my double barreled rifle and your Winchester, Frank. I do not suppose he has seen such an arm. We had better get them cleaned up and polished so as to look as handsome as possible."

In the morning one of the captains came and said that the king was in readiness to receive them, and they made their way through a vast crowd to the marketplace, an open area, nearly half a mile in extent. The sun was shining brightly, and the scene was a brilliant one. The king, his Caboceers or great tributaries, his captains, and officers were seated under a vast number of huge umbrellas, some of them fifteen feet across. These were of scarlet, yellow, and other showy colors in silks and cloths, with fantastically scalloped and fringed valences. They were surmounted with crescents, birds, elephants, barrels, and swords of gold, and on some were couched stuffed animals. Innumerable smaller umbrellas of striped stuff were borne by the crowd, and all these were waved up and down, while a vast number of flutes, horns and other musical instruments sounded in the air. All the principal people wore robes woven of foreign silk, which had been unraveled for working into native patterns. All had golden necklaces and bracelets, in many cases so heavy that the arms of the bearers were supported on boys' heads. The whole crowd, many thousands in number, shone with gold, silver, and bright colors.

The king received them with dignity, and expressed his satisfaction at seeing them, his speech being interpreted by one of his attendants, who spoke English. Mr. Goodenough replied that they had very great pleasure in visiting the court of his majesty, that they had already been traveling for many months in Africa, having started from the Gaboon and traveled through many tribes, but had they had any idea of visiting so great a king they would have provided themselves with presents fit for his acceptance. But they were simple travelers, catching the birds, beasts, and insects of the country, to take home with them to show to the people in England. The only things which they could offer him were a double barreled breech loading rifle of the best English construction, and a little gun, which would fire sixteen times without loading.

The king examined the pieces with great attention, and, at his request, Mr. Goodenough fired off the whole contents of the magazine of the repeating rifle, whose action caused the greatest astonishment to the assembled chiefs. The king then intimated his acceptance of the presents, and said that he would speak farther with them on a future occasion. He informed them that they were free to move about in the town where they wished, and that the greatest respect would be shown to them by the people. There was a fresh outburst of wild music, and they were then conducted back to their house.

After the assembly had dispersed the two Englishmen walked about through the town. It was not of great extent, but the streets were broad and well kept. Many of the houses were much larger than that allotted to them, but all were built on the same plan. It was evident that the great mass of the population they saw about must live in villages scattered around, the town being wholly insufficient to contain them.

Three days afterwards they were told that the king wished to see them in his palace. This was a large building situated at the extremity of the town. It was constructed of stone, and was evidently built from European designs. It was square, with a flat roof and embattled parapet. They were conducted through the gateway into a large courtyard, and then into a hall where the king sat upon a raised throne. Attendants stood round fanning him.

"Why," he asked abruptly as they took their places before him, "do the English take my town of Elmina?"

Mr. Goodenough explained that he had been nine months absent from the coast, and that having come straight out from England he was altogether unaware of what had happened at Elmina.

"Elmina is mine," the king said. "The Dutch, who were my tributaries, had no right to hand it over to the English."

"But I understood, your majesty, that the English were ready to pay an annual sum, even larger than that which the Dutch have contributed."

"I do not want money," the king said. "I have gold in plenty. There are places in my dominions where ten men in a day can wash a thousand ounces. I want Elmina, I want to trade with the coast."

"But the English will give your majesty every facility for trade."

"But suppose we quarrel," the king said, "they can stop powder and guns from coming up. If Elmina were mine I could bring up guns and powder at all times."

"Your majesty would be no better off," Mr. Goodenough said; "for the English in case of war could stop supplies from entering."

"My people will drive them into the sea," the king said. "We have been troubled with them too long. They can make guns, but they cannot fight. My people will eat them up. We fought them before; and see," he said pointing to a great drum, from the edge of which hung a dozen human skulls, "the heads of the White men serve to make a fetish for me."

He then waved his hand to signify that the audience was terminated.

"Things look bad, Frank," Mr. Goodenough said as they walked towards their home. "I fear that the king is determined upon war, and if so our lives are not worth a month's purchase."

"It can't be helped," Frank said as cheerfully as he could. "We must make the best of it. Perhaps something may occur to improve our position."

The next day the four German missionaries, who had so long been kept captive, called upon them, and they obtained a full insight into the position. This seemed more hopeful than the king's words had given them to expect. The missionaries said that negotiations were going on for their release, and that they expected very shortly to be sent down to Cape Coast. So far as they knew everything was being done by the English to satisfy the king, and they looked upon the establishment of peace as certain. They described the horrible rites and sacrifices which they had been compelled to witness, and said that at least three thousand persons were slaughtered annually in Coomassie.

"You noticed," one of them said, "the great tree in the marketplace under which the king sat. That is the great fetish tree. A great many victims are sacrificed in the palace itself, but the wholesale slaughters take place there. The high brushwood comes up to within twenty yards of it, and if you turn in there you will see thousands of dead bodies or their remains putrefying together."

"I thought I felt a horribly offensive smell as I was talking to the king," Frank said shuddering. "What monsters these people must be! Who would have thought that all that show of gold and silver and silks and bright colors covered such horrible barbarism!"

After chatting for some time longer, and offering to do anything in their power to assist the captives, the Germans took their leave.

CHAPTER XVII: THE INVASION OF FANTI LAND

The following morning Mr. Goodenough and Frank were called to the door by the noise of a passing crowd, and to their horror saw a man being taken to sacrifice. He was preceded by men beating drums, his hands were pinioned behind him. A sharp thin knife was passed through his cheeks, to which his lips were noozed like the figure 8. One ear was cut off and carried before him, the other hung to his head by a small piece of skin. There were several gashes in his back, and a knife was thrust under each shoulder blade. He was led by a cord passed through a hole bored in his nose. Frank ran horror stricken back into the house, and sat for a while with his hand over his eyes as if to shut out the ghastly spectacle.

"Mr. Goodenough," he said presently, "if we are to be killed, at least let us die fighting to the last, and blow out our own brains with the last shots we have left. I don't think I'm afraid of being killed, but to be tortured like that would be horrible."

The next day a message was brought them that their retaining private guards was an insult to the king, and that the Houssas must remove to another part of the town. Resistance was evidently useless. Mr. Goodenough called his four men together and told them what had happened.

"I am sorry I have brought you into this plight, my poor fellows," he said. "There are now but two things open to you. You can either volunteer to join the king's army and then try to make your escape as an opportunity may offer, or slip away at once. You are accustomed to the woods, and in native costume might pass without notice. You can all swim, and it matters not where you strike the Prah. If you travel at night and lie in the woods by day you should be able to get through. At any rate you know that if you try to escape and are caught you will be killed. If you stop here it is possible that no harm may happen to you, but on the other hand you may at any moment be led out to sacrifice. Do not tell me your decision; I shall be questioned, and would rather be able to say that I was ignorant that you intended to escape. There is one other thing to settle. There is a long arrear of pay due to you for your good and faithful service. It would be useless for me to pay you now, as the money might be found on you and taken away, and if you should be killed it would be lost to your friends. I have written here four orders on my banker in England, which the agents down at Cape Coast will readily cash for you. Each order is for twice the sum due to you. As you have come into such great danger in my service, and have behaved so faithfully, it is right that you should be well rewarded. Give me the names of your wives or relatives whom you wish to have the money. Should any of you fall and escape, I will, on my arrival at Cape Coast, send money, double the amount I have written here, to them."

The men expressed themselves warmly grateful for Mr. Goodenough's kindness, gave him the names and addresses of their wives, and then, with tears in their eyes, took their leave.

"Now, Ostik, what do you say?" Mr. Goodenough asked, turning to him.

"I stay here, sar," Ostik said. "Houssas fighting men, creep through wood, crawl on stomach. Dey get through sure enough. Ostik stay with massa. If dey kill massa dey kill Ostik. Ostik take chance."

"Very well, Ostik, if we get through safe together you shall not have reason to regret your fidelity. Now, Frank, I think it would be a good thing if you were to spend some hours every day in trying to pick up as much of the language here as you can. You are quick at it, and were able to make yourself understood by our bearers far better than I could do. You already know a great many words in four or five of these dialects. They are all related to each other, and with what you know you would in a couple of months be able to get along very well in Ashanti. It will help to pass your time and to occupy your mind. There will be no difficulty in finding men here who have worked down on the coast and know a little English. If we get away safely you will not regret that your time has been employed. If we have trouble your knowledge of the language may in some way or other be of real use to you. We can go round to the Germans, who will, no doubt, be able to put you in the way of getting a man."

The next day they were again sent for to the king, who was in a high state of anger at having heard that the Houssas had escaped.

"I know nothing about it," Mr. Goodenough said. "They were contented when they were with me, and had no wish to go. Your soldiers took them away yesterday afternoon, and I suppose they were frightened. It was foolish of them. They should have known that a great king does not injure travelers who come peacefully into his country. They should have known better. They were poor, ignorant men, who did not know that the hospitality of a king is sacred, and that when a king invites travelers to enter his country they are his guests, and under his protection."

When the interpreter translated this speech the king was silent for two or three minutes. Then he said, "My white friend is right, They were foolish men. They could not know these things. If my warriors overtake them no harm shall come to them."

Pleased with the impression that his words had evidently made Mr. Goodenough returned to Frank, who had not been ordered to accompany him to the palace. In the afternoon the king sent a sheep and a present of five ounces of gold, and a message that he did not wish his white friends to remain always in the town, but that they might walk to any of the villages within a circle of three or four miles, and that four of his guards would always accompany them to see that no one interfered with or insulted them. They were much pleased with this permission, as they were now enabled to renew their work of collecting. It took them, too, away from the sight of the horrible human sacrifices which went on daily. Through the German missionaries they obtained a man who had worked for three years down at Cape Coast. He accompanied them on their walks, and in the evening sat and talked with Frank, who, from the knowledge of native words which he had picked up in his nine months' residence in Africa, was able to make rapid progress in Ashanti. He had one or two slight attacks of fever, but the constant use of quinine enabled him to resist their effect, and he was now to some degree acclimatized, and thought no more of the attacks of fever than he would have done at home of a violent bilious attack.

This was not the case with Mr. Goodenough. Frank observed with concern that he lost strength rapidly, and was soon unable to accompany him in his walks. One morning he appeared very ill.

"Have you a touch of fever, sir?"

"No, Frank, it is worse than fever, it is dysentery. I had an attack last time I was on the coast, and know what to do with it. Get the medicine chest and bring me the bottle of ipecacuanha. Now, you must give me doses of this just strong enough not to act as an emetic, every three hours."

Frank nursed his friend assiduously, and for the next three days hoped that he was obtaining a mastery over the illness. On the fourth day an attack of fever set in.

"You must stop the ipecacuanha, now," Mr. Goodenough said, "and Frank, send Ostik round to the Germans, and say I wish them to come here at once."

When these arrived Mr. Goodenough asked Frank to leave him alone with them. A quarter of an hour later they went out, and Frank, returning, found two sealed envelopes on the table beside him.

"My boy," he said, "I have been making my will. I fear that it is all over with me. Fever and dysentery together are in nine cases out of ten fatal. Don't cry, Frank," he said, as the lad burst into tears. "I would gladly have lived, but if it is God's will that it should be otherwise, so be it. I have no wife or near relatives to regret my loss—none, my poor boy, who will mourn for me as sincerely as I know that you will do. In the year that we have been together I have come to look upon you as my son, and you will find that I have not forgotten you in my will. I have written it in duplicate. If you have an opportunity send one of these letters down to the coast. Keep the other yourself, and I trust that you will live to carry it to its destination. Should it not be so, should the worst come to the worst, it will be a consolation to you to know that I have not forgotten the little sister of whom you have spoken to me so often, and that in case of your death she will be provided for."

An hour later Mr. Goodenough was in a state of delirium, in which he remained all night, falling towards morning into a dull coma, gradually breathing his last, without any return of sensibility, at eight in the morning.

Frank was utterly prostrated with grief, from which he roused himself to send to the king to ask permission to bury his friend.

The king sent down to say how grieved he was to hear of the white man's death. He had ordered many of his warriors to attend his funeral. Frank had a grave dug on a rising spot of ground beyond the marsh. In the evening a great number of the warriors gathered round the house, and upon the shoulders of four of them Mr. Goodenough was conveyed to his last resting place, Frank and the German missionaries following with a great crowd of warriors. The missionaries read the service over the grave, and Frank returned heart broken to his house, with Ostik, who also felt terribly the loss of his master.

Two days later a wooden cross was erected over the grave. Upon this Frank carved the name of his friend. Hearing a week afterwards that the king was sending down a messenger to Cape Coast, Frank asked permission to send Mr. Goodenough's letter by him. The king sent for him.

"I do not wish any more troubles," he said, "or that letters should be sent to the governor. You are my guest. When the troubles are settled I will send you down to the coast; but we have many things to write about, and I do not want more subjects for talk."

Frank showed the letter and read the address, and told the king that it was only a letter to the man of business of Mr. Goodenough in England, giving directions for the disposal of his property there.

The king then consented that his messenger should take the letter.

At the end of December, when Frank had been nearly three months at Coomassie, one of the Germans said to him:

"The king speaks fairly, and seems intent upon his negotiations; but he is preparing secretly for war. An army is collecting on the Prah. I hear that twelve thousand men are ordered to assemble there."

"I have noticed," Frank said, "that there have been fewer men about than usual during the last few days. What will happen to us, do you think?"

The missionary shook his head.

"No one can say," he said. "It all depends upon the king's humor. I think, however, that he is more likely to keep us as hostages, and to obtain money for us at the end of the war, than to kill us. If all goes well with his army we are probably safe; but if the news comes of any defeat, he may in his rage order us to be executed."

"What do you think are the chances of defeat?" Frank asked.

"We know not," the missionary said; "but it seems probable that the Ashantis will turn the English out of the coast. The Fantis are of no use. They were a brave people once, and united might have made a successful resistance to the Ashantis; but you English have made women of them. You have forbidden them to fight among themselves, you have discouraged them in any attempts to raise armies, you have reduced the power of the chiefs, you have tried to turn them into a race of cultivators and traders instead of warriors, and you can expect no material aid from them now. They will melt away like snow before the Ashantis. The king's spies tell him that there are only a hundred and fifty black troops at Cape Coast. These are trained and led by Englishmen, but, after all, they are only negroes, no braver than the Ashantis. What chance have they of resisting an army nearly a hundred to one stronger than themselves?"

"Is the fort at Cape Coast strong?" Frank asked.

"Yes, against savages without cannon. Besides, the guns of the ships of war would cover it."

"Well," Frank said, "if we can hold that, they will send out troops from England."

"They may do so," the missionary asserted; "but what could white troops do in the fever haunted forests, which extend from Coomassie to the coast?"

"They will manage somehow," Frank replied confidently. "Besides, after all, as I hear that the great portion of Ashanti lying beyond this is plain and open country, the Ashantis themselves cannot be all accustomed to bush fighting, and will suffer from fever in the low, swamp land."

Three days later the king sent for Frank.

"The English are not true," he said angrily. "They promised the people of Elmina that they should be allowed to retain all their customs as under the Dutch. They have broken their word. They have forbidden the customs. The people of Elmina have written to me to ask me to deliver them. I am going to do so."

Frank afterwards learned that the king's words were true. Colonel Harley, the military commandant, having, with almost incredible fatuity, and in spite of the agreement which had been made with the Elminas, summoned their king and chiefs to a council, and abruptly told them that they would not be allowed henceforth to celebrate their customs, which consisted of firing of guns, waving of flags, dancing, and other harmless rites. The chiefs, greatly indignant at this breach of the agreement, solemnly entered into with them, at once, on leaving the council, wrote to the King of Ashanti, begging him to cross the Prah and attack the English. Frank could only say that he knew nothing of what was going on at the coast, and could only think that his majesty must have been misinformed, as the English wished to be friendly with the Ashantis.

"They do not wish it," the king said furiously; "they are liars."

A buzz of approval sounded among the cabooceers and captains standing round. Frank thought that he was about to be ordered to instant execution, and grasped a revolver, which he held in his pocket, resolving to shoot the king first, and then to blow out his own brains, rather than to be put to the horrible tortures which in Ashanti always precede death.

Presently the king said suddenly to him:

"My people tell me that you can talk to them in their own tongue."

"I have learnt a little Ashanti," Frank said in that language. "I cannot talk well, but I can make myself understood."

"Very well," the king said. "Then I shall send you down with my general. You know the ways of English fighting, and will tell him what is best to do against them. When the war is over and I have driven the English away, I will send you away also. You are my guest, and I do not wish to harm you. Tomorrow you will start. Your goods will be of no more use to you. I have ordered my treasurer to count the cloth, and the powder, and the other things which you have, and to pay you for them in gold. You may go."

Frank retired, vowing in his heart that no information as to the best way of attacking the English should be obtained from him. Upon the whole he was much pleased at the order, for he thought that some way of making his escape might present itself. Such was also the opinion of Ostik when Frank told him what had taken place at the palace.

An hour later the king's treasurer arrived. The whole of the trade goods were appraised at fair prices, and even the cases were paid for, as the treasurer said that these would be good for keeping the king's state robes. Frank only retained his own portmanteau with clothes, his bed and rugs, and the journals of the expedition, a supply of ammunition for his revolver, his medicine chest, tent, and a case with chocolate, preserved milk, tea, biscuits, rice, and a couple of bottles of brandy.

In the morning there was a great beating of drums.

Four carriers had been told off for Frank's service, and these came in, took up his baggage, and joined the line. Frank waited till the general, Ammon Quatia, whom he had several times met at the palace, came along, carried in a hammock, with a paraphernalia of attendants bearing chairs, umbrellas, and flags. Frank fell in behind these accompanied by Ostik. The whole population of Coomassie turned out and shouted their farewells.

There was a pause in the marketplace while a hundred victims were sacrificed to the success of the expedition. Frank kept in the thick of the warriors so as to avoid witnessing the horrible spectacle.

As they passed the king he said to the general, "Bring me back the head of the governor. I will place it on my drum by the side of that of Macarthy."

Then the army passed the swamp knee deep in water, and started on their way down to the Prah. Three miles further they crossed the river Dah at Agogo, where the water was up to their necks. The road was little more than a track through the forest, and many small streams had to be crossed.

It was well that Frank had not had an attack of fever for some time, for they marched without a stop to Fomanse, a distance of nearly thirty miles. Fomanse was a large town. Many of the houses were built in the same style as those at Coomassie, and the king's palace was a stone building. That night Frank slept in a native house which the general allotted to him close to the palace. The army slept on the ground.

The next morning they crossed a lofty hill, and then descending again kept along through the forest until, late in the afternoon, they arrived on the Prah. This river was about sixty yards wide, and here, in roughly made huts of boughs, were encamped the main army, who had preceded them. Here there was a pause for a week while large numbers of carriers came down with provisions. Then on the 22d of January the army crossed the Prah in great canoes of cottonwood tree, which the troops who first arrived had prepared.

Had the Ashanti army now pushed forward at full speed, Cape Coast and Elmina must have fallen into their hands, for there were no preparations whatever for their defence. The Assims, whose territory was first invaded, sent down for assistance, but Mr. Hennessey refused to believe that there was any invasion at all, and when the King of Akim, the most powerful of the Fanti potentates, sent down to ask for arms and ammunition, Mr. Hennessey refused so curtly that the King of Akim was grievously offended, and sent at once to the Ashantis to say that he should remain neutral in the war.

About this time Mr. Hennessey, whose repeated blunders had in no slight degree contributed to the invasion, was relieved by Mr. Keate, who at once wholly alienated the Fantis by telling them that they must defend themselves, as the English had nothing more to do with the affair than to defend their forts. Considering that the English had taken the natives under their protection, and that the war was caused entirely by the taking over of Elmina by the English and by their breach of faith to the natives there, this treatment of the Fantis was as unjust as it was impolitic.

Ammon Quatia, however, seemed to be impressed with a spirit of prudence as soon as he crossed the river. Parties were sent out, indeed, who attacked and plundered the Assim villages near the Prah, but the main body moved forward with the greatest caution, sometimes halting for weeks.

The Ashanti general directed Frank always to pitch his tent next to the hut occupied by himself. Four guards were appointed, nominally to do him honor, but really, as Frank saw, to prevent him from making his escape. These men kept guard, two at a time, night and day over the tent, and if he moved out all followed him. He never attempted to leave the camp. The forest was extremely dense with thick underwood and innumerable creepers, through which it would be almost impossible to make a way. The majority of the trees were of only moderate height, but above them towered the cotton trees and other giants, rising with straight stems to from two hundred and fifty to three hundred feet high. Many of the trees had shed their foliage, and some of these were completely covered with brilliant flowers of different colors. The woods resounded with the cries of various birds, but butterflies, except in the clearings, were scarce.

The army depended for food partly upon the cultivated patches around the Assim villages, partly on supplies brought up from the rear. In the forest, too, they found many edible roots and fruits. In spite of the efforts to supply them with food, Frank saw ere many weeks had passed that the Ashantis were suffering much from hunger. They fell away in flesh. Many were shaking with fever, and the enthusiasm, which was manifest at the passage of the Prah, had entirely evaporated.

The first morning after crossing the river Frank sent Ostik into the hut of the general with a cup of hot chocolate, with which Ammon Quatia expressed himself so much gratified that henceforth Frank sent in a cup every morning, having still a large supply of tins of preserved chocolate and milk, the very best food which a traveler can take with him. In return the Ashanti general showed Frank many little kindnesses, sending him in birds or animals when any were shot by his men, and keeping him as well provided with food as was possible under the circumstances.

It was not until the 8th of April that any absolute hostilities took place. Then the Fantis, supported by fifty Houssas under Lieutenant Hopkins, barred the road outside the village of Dunquah. The Ashantis attacked, but the Fantis fought bravely, having great confidence in the Houssa contingent. The battle was one of the native fashion, neither side attempting any vigorous action, but contenting themselves with a heavy fire at a distance of a hundred yards. All the combatants took shelter behind trees, and the consequence was that at the end of the day a great quantity of powder and slugs had been fired away, and a very few men hit on either side. At nightfall both parties drew off.

"Is that the way your English soldiers fight?" the general asked Frank that night.

"Yes," Frank said vaguely; "they fire away at each other."

"And then I suppose," the general said, "when one party has exhausted its ammunition it retires."

"Certainly it would retire," Frank said. "It could not resist without ammunition you know."

Frank carefully abstained from mentioning that one side or the other would advance even before the ammunition of its opponents was expended, for he did not wish the Ashantis to adopt tactics which, from their greatly superior numbers, must at once give them a victory. The Ashantis were not dissatisfied with the day's work, as they considered that they had proved themselves equal to the English troops.

CHAPTER XVIII: THE ATTACK ON ELMINA

On the 14th the Fantis took the initiative, and attacked the Ashantis. The fight was a mere repetition of that of a week before, and about midday the Fantis, having used up all their ammunition, fell back again to Cape Coast.

"Now," the general said to Frank, "that we have beaten the Fantis we shall march down to Elmina."

Leaving the main road at Dunquah the army moved slowly through the bush towards Elmina, thirty miles distant, halting in the woods some eight miles from the town, and twelve from Cape Coast.

"I am going," the general said, "to look at the English forts. My white friend will go with me."

With fifty of his warriors Ammon Quatia left the camp, and crossing a stream came down upon the sea coast, a short distance west of Elmina. With them were several of the Elmina tribe, who had come up to the camp to welcome the Ashantis. They approached to within three or four hundred yards of the fort, which was separated from them by a river.

The forts on the west coast of Africa, not being built to resist artillery, are merely barracks surrounded by high walls sufficiently thick to allow men to walk in single file along the top, to fire over the parapet. The tops of the walls being castellated, the buildings have an appearance of much strength. The fort of Elmina is of considerable size, with a barrack and officers' quarters within it. One side faces the river, and another the sea.

"It is a wonderful fort," the Ashanti general said, much impressed by its appearance.

"Yes," Frank replied. "And there are cannon on the top, those great black things you see sticking out. Those are guns, and each carries balls enough to kill a hundred men with each shot."

The general looked for some time attentively. "But you have castles in the white men's country, how do you take them?"

"We bring a great many cannon throwing balls of iron as big as my head," Frank answered, "and so knock a great hole in the wall and then rush in."

"But if there are no cannon?" the general urged.

"We never attack a castle without cannon," Frank said. "But if we had no cannon we might try to starve the people out; but you cannot do that here, because they would land food from the sea."

The general looked puzzled. "Why do the white men come here?

"They come to trade," he said presently.

"Yes, they come to trade," Frank replied.

"And they have no other reason?"

"No," Frank said. "They do not want to take land, because the white man cannot work in so hot a climate."

"Then if he could not trade he would go away?" the general asked.

"Yes," Frank agreed, "if he could do no trade it would be no use remaining here."

"We will let him do no trade," the general said, brightening up. "If we cannot take the forts we will surround them closely, and no trade can come in and out. Then the white man will have to go away. As to the Fantis we will destroy them, and the white men will have no one to fight for them."

"But there are white troops," Frank said.

"White soldiers?" the Ashanti asked surprised. "I thought it was only black soldiers that fought for the whites. The whites are few, they are traders."

"The English are many," Frank said earnestly. "For every man that the King of Ashanti could send to fight, England could send ten. There are white soldiers, numbers of them, but they are not sent here. They are kept at home to fight other white nations, the French and the Dutch and the Danes, and many others, just as the kings of Africa fight against each other. They are not sent here because the climate kills the whites, so to guard the white traders here we hire black soldiers; but, when it is known in England that the King of Ashanti is fighting against our forts, they will send white troops."

Ammon Quatia was thoughtful for some time. "If they come," he said at length, "the fevers will kill them, The white man cannot live in the swamps. Your friend, the white guest of the king, died at Coomassie."

"Yes," Frank asserted, "but he had been nearly a year in the country before he died. Three weeks will be enough for an English army to march from Cape Coast to Coomassie. A few might die, but most of them would get there."

"Coomassie!" the general exclaimed in surprise. "The white men would be mad to think of marching against the city of the great king. We should make great fetish, and they would all die when they had crossed the river."

"I don't think, General," Frank said dryly, "that the fetishes of the black man have any effect upon the white men. A fetish has power when it is believed in. A man who knows that his enemy has made a fetish against him is afraid. His blood becomes like water and he dies. But the whites do not believe in fetishes. They laugh at them, and then the fetishes cannot hurt them."

The general said no more, but turned thoughtfully and retired to his camp. It was tantalizing to Frank to see the Union Jack waving within sight, and to know that friends were so near and yet to be unable to stretch out his hand to them.

He was now dressed in all respects like a native, the king having, soon after his arrival at Coomassie, sent a present of clothes such as were worn by his nobles, saying that the people would not notice them so much if they were dressed like themselves. Consequently, had the party been seen from the castle walls the appearance of an Englishman among them would have been unobserved.

Three days later the general with a similar party crossed the Sweet river at night, and proceeded along the sea coast to within a few hundred yards of Cape Coast Castle, whose appearance pleased him no more than that of Elmina had done.

The Ashantis were now better supplied with food, as they were able to depend upon the Elmina tribes who cultivated a considerable extent of ground, and to add to the stock, the Ashanti soldiers were set to work to aid in planting a larger extent of ground than usual, a proof in Frank's mind that the general contemplated making a long stay, and blockading Elmina and Cape Coast into surrender if he could not carry them by assault.

The natives of Africa are capable of great exertion for a time, but their habitual attitude is that of extreme laziness. One week's work in the year suffices to plant a sufficient amount of ground to supply the wants of a family. The seed only requires casting into the earth, and soon the ground will be covered with melons and pumpkins. Sweet potatoes and yams demand no greater cultivation, and the bananas and plantains require simply to be cut. For fifty-one weeks in the year the negro simply sits down and watches his crops grow. To people like these time is of absolutely no value. Their wants are few. Their garden furnishes them with tobacco. They make drink from the palm or by fermenting the juice of the cocoanut. The fowls that wander about in the clearings suffice when carried down occasionally to the port, to pay for the few yards of calico and strings of beads which are all that is necessary for the clothing and decoration of a family.

Such people are never in a hurry. To wait means to do nothing. To do nothing is their highest joy. Their tomorrow means a month hence, directly, a week. If, then, the Ashanti army had been detained for one year or five before the English settlements, it would have been a matter of indifference to them, so long as they could obtain food. Their women were with them, for the wife and daughters of each warrior had carried on head, with the army, his household goods, a tiny stool, a few calabashes for cooking, a mat to sleep on, and baskets high piled with provisions. They were there to collect sticks, to cook food, draw water, bring fire for his pipe, minister to his pleasures. He could have no more if he were at home, and was contented to wait as long as the king ordered, were that time years distant.

Frank was often filled with disgust at seeing these noble savages lying indolently from morn till night while their wives went miles in the forest searching for pineapples and fruits, bent down and prematurely aged by toil and hardship. Many of the young girls among the negroes are pretty, with their soft eyes and skin like velvet, their merry laugh and graceful figures. But in a very few years all this disappears, and by middle age they are bent, and wrinkled, and old. All loads are carried by women, with the exception only of hammocks, which are exclusively carried by men.

Thus, then, the Ashantis settled down to what appeared to Frank to be an interminable business, and what rendered it more tantalizing was, that the morning and evening guns at the English forts could be plainly heard.

It was on the 7th of June that Ammon Quatia reconnoitered Elmina, and the news came next day that a hundred and ten white men in red coats had landed from a ship which had arrived that morning off the coast. Frank judged from the description that these must be marines from a ship of war. In this he was correct, as they consisted of marines and marine artillerymen under Lieutenant Colonel Festing, who had just arrived from England. Three days later the Ashanti general, with a portion of his force, moved down close to Elmina; Frank was told to accompany them. Shortly afterwards the news came that the Elminas were all ordered to lay down their arms. They replied by going over in a body to the Ashantis. Ammon Quatia determined at once to attack the town, but as he was advancing, the guns of the ships of war opened fire upon the native town of Elmina, which lay to the west of the European quarter.

The sound of such heavy cannon, differing widely from anything they had ever heard before, caused the Ashantis to pause in astonishment. Then came the howl of the shells, which exploded in rapid succession in the village, from which flames began immediately to rise. After a few minutes' hesitation the Ashantis and Elminas again advanced. The general, who was carried in a chair upon the shoulders of four men, took his post on rising ground near the burning village.

"There," he said, "the English soldiers are coming out of the fort. Now you will see."

The little body of marines and the blue jackets of the Barraconta deployed in line as they sallied from the fort. The Ashantis opened fire upon them, but they were out of range of the slugs. As soon as the line was formed the English opened fire, and the Ashantis were perfectly astonished at the incessant rattle of musketry from so small a body of men. But it was not all noise, for the Snider bullets swept among the crowded body of blacks, mowing them down in considerable numbers. In two minutes the Ashantis turned and ran. The general's bearers, in spite of his shouts, hurried away with him with the others, and Frank would have taken this opportunity to escape had not two of his guards seized him by the arms and hauled him along, while the other two kept close behind.

As soon as they had passed over the crest of the rise, and the British fire had ceased, Ammon Quatia leaped from his chair and threw himself among his flying troops, striking them right and left with his staff, and hurling imprecations upon them.

"If you do not stop and return against the whites," he said, "I will send every one of you back to Coomassie, and there you will be put to death as cowards."

The threat sufficed. The fugitives rallied, and in a few minutes were ready to march back again. It was the surprise created by the wonderful sustained fire of the breech loaders, rather than the actual loss they inflicted, which caused the panic.

In the meantime, believing that the Ashantis had retired, the naval contingent went back to their boats, when the Dutch vice consul, having ascended a hill to look round, saw that Ammon Quatia had made a detour with his troops, and was marching against the town from the east, where he would not be exposed to the fire of the fort. He instantly ran back with the news.

The marines and the thirty West Indian soldiers in the fort at once marched out, and met the Ashantis just as they were entering the town. The fight was a severe one, and for a time neither side appeared to have the advantage, and Frank, who, under the care of his guards, was a few hundred yards in the rear, was filled with dismay at observing that the Ashantis, in spite of the heavy loss they were suffering, were gaining ground and pressing forward bravely. Suddenly he gave a shout of joy, for on a rise on the flank of the Ashantis appeared the sailors of the Barraconta, who had been led round from the boats by Lieutenant Wells, R. N., who was in command. The instant these took up their position they opened a heavy fire upon the flank of the Ashantis, who, dismayed by this attack by fresh foes, lost heart and at once fled hastily. In the two engagements they had lost nearly four hundred men. Frank, of course, retired with the beaten Ashantis, and that evening Ammon Quatia told him that the arms of the white men were too good, and that he should not attack them again in the open.

"Their guns shoot farther, as well as quicker, than ours," he said. "Our slugs are no use against the heavy bullets, at a distance; but in the woods, where you cannot see twenty feet among the trees, it will be different. If I do not attack them they must attack me, or their trade will be starved out. When they come into the woods you will see that we shall eat them up."

Several weeks now passed quietly. There was news that there was great sickness among the white soldiers, and, indeed, with scarce an exception, the marines first sent out were invalided home; but a hundred and fifty more arrived to take their place. Some detachments of the 2d West Indian regiment came down to join their comrades from Sierra Leone, and the situation remained unchanged.

One night towards the end of August a messenger arrived and there was an immediate stir.

"Now," the general said to Frank, "you are going to see us fight the white men. Some of the big ships have gone to the mouth of the Prah, and we believe that they are going to land in boats. You will see. The Elmina tribes are going to attack, but I shall take some of my men to help."

Taking fifty picked warriors Ammon Quatia started at once. They marched all night towards the west, and at daybreak joined the Elminas. These took post in the brushwood lining the river. The general with a dozen men, taking Frank, went down near the mouth of the river to reconnoiter. The ships lay more than a mile off the shore. Presently a half dozen boats were lowered, filled with men, and taken in tow by a steam launch. It was seen that they were making for the mouth of the river.

"Now let us go back," Ammon Quatia said. "You will see what we shall do."

Frank felt full of excitement. He saw the English running into an ambuscade, and he determined, even if it should cost him his life, to warn them. Presently they heard the sharp puffs of the steam launch. The boats were within three hundred yards.

Frank stepped forward and was about to give a warning shout when Ammon Quatia's eye fell upon him. The expression of his face revealed his intention to the Ashanti, who in an instant sprang upon him and hurled him to the ground. Instantly a dozen hands seized him, and, in obedience to the general's order, fastened a bandage tightly across his mouth, and then bound him, standing against a tree, where he could observe what was going on. The incident had occupied but a minute, and Frank heard the pant of the steam launch coming nearer and nearer. Presently through the bushes he caught a glimpse of it, and then, as it came along, of the boats towing behind. The Elminas and Ashantis were lying upon the ground with their guns in front of them.

The boats were but fifteen yards from the bank. When they were abreast Ammon Quatia shouted the word of command, and a stream of fire shot out from the bushes. In the boats all was confusion. Several were killed and many wounded by the deadly volley, among the latter Commodore Commerell himself, and two or three of his officers. The launch now attempted to turn round, and the marines in the boats opened fire upon their invisible foes, who replied steadily. In five minutes from the first shot being fired all was over, the launch was steaming down with the boats in tow towards the mouth of the river, the exulting shouts of the natives ringing in the ears of those on board.

The position of Frank had not been a pleasant one while the fight had lasted, for the English rifle bullets sang close to him in quick succession, one striking the tree only a few inches above his head. He was doubtful, too, as to what his fate would be at the termination of the fight.

Fortunately Ammon Quatia was in the highest spirits at his victory. He ordered Frank to be at once unbound.

"There, you see," he said, "the whites are of no use. They cannot fight. They run with their eyes shut into danger. So it will be if they attack us on the land. You were foolish. Why did you wish to call out? Are you not well treated? Are you not the king's guest? Am I not your friend?"

"I am well treated, and you are my friend," Frank said, "but the English are my countrymen. I am sure that were you in the hands of the English, and you saw a party of your countrymen marching into danger, you would call out and warn them, even if you knew that you would be killed for doing so."

"I do not know," the Ashanti said candidly. "I cannot say what I should do, but you were brave to run the risk, and I'm not angry with you. Only, in future when we go to attack the English, I must gag you to prevent your giving the alarm."

"That is fair enough," Frank said, pleased that the matter had passed off so well, "only another time do not stick me upright against a tree where I may be killed by English bullets. I had a narrow escape of it this time, you see," and he pointed to the hole in the trunk of the tree.

"I am sorry," the Ashanti general said, with an air of real concern. "I did not think of your being in danger, I only wished you to have a good sight of the battle; next time I will put you in a safer place."

They then returned to the camp.

The next day a distant cannonade was heard, and at nightfall the news came that the English fleet had bombarded and burnt several Elmina villages at the mouth of the Prah.

"Ah," the general said, "the English have great ships and great guns. They can fight on the seaside and round their forts, but they cannot drag their guns through the forests and swamps."

"No," Frank agreed. "It would not be possible to drag heavy artillery."

"No," Ammon Quatia repeated exultingly. "When they are beyond the shelter of their ships they are no good whatever. We will kill them all."

The wet season had now set in, in earnest, and the suffering of the Ashantis were very great. Accustomed as many of them were to high lying lands free of trees, the miasma from the swamps was well nigh as fatal to them as it would be to Europeans. Thousands died, and many of the rest were worn by fever to mere shadows.

"Do you think," Ammon Quatia said to Frank one day, "that it is possible to blow up a whole town with powder?"

"It would be possible if there were powder enough," Frank said, wondering what could be the motive of the question.

"They say that the English have put powder in holes all over Cape Coast, and my people are afraid to go. The guns of the fort could not shoot over the whole town, and there are few white soldiers there; but my men fear to be blown up in the air."

"Yes," Frank said gravely. "The danger might be great. It is better that the Ashantis should keep away from the town. But if the fever goes on as at present the army will melt away."

"Ten thousand more men are coming down when the rains are over. The king says that something must be done. There is talk in the English forts that more white troops are coming out from England. If this is so I shall not attack the towns, but shall wait for them to come into the woods for me. Then you will see."

"Do they say there are many troops?" Frank asked anxiously.

"No; they say only some white officers, but this is foolishness. What could white officers do without soldiers? As for the Fantis they are cowards, they are only good to carry burdens and to hoe the ground. They are women and not men."

During this time, when the damp rose so thick and steaming that everything was saturated with it, Frank had a very sharp attack of fever, and was for a fortnight, just after the repulse of the attack on Elmina, completely prostrated. Such an attack would at his first landing have carried him off, but he was now getting acclimatized, and his supply of quinine was abundant. With its aid he saved a great many lives among the Ashantis, and many little presents in the way of fruit and birds did he receive from his patients.

"I wish I could let you go," the general said to him one day. "You are a good white man, and my soldiers love you for the pains you take going amongst them when they are sick, and giving them the medicine of the whites. But I dare not do it. As you know when the king is wroth the greatest tremble, and I dare not tell the king that I have let you go. Were it otherwise I would gladly do so. I have written to the king telling him that you have saved the lives of many here. It may be that he will order you to be released."

CHAPTER XIX: THE TIDE TURNED

From many of the points in the forest held by the Ashantis the sea could be seen, and on the morning of the 2d of October a steamer which had not been there on the previous evening was perceived lying off the town. The Ashantis were soon informed by spies in Elmina and Cape Coast that the ship had brought an English general with about thirty officers. The news that thirty men had come out to help to drive back twenty thousand was received with derision by the Ashantis.

"They will do more than you think," Frank said when Ammon Quatia was scoffing over the new arrival. "You will see a change in the tactics of the whites. Hitherto they have done nothing. They have simply waited. Now you will see they will begin to move. The officers will drill the natives, and even a Fanti, drilled and commanded by white officers, will learn how to fight. You acknowledge that the black troops in red coats can fight. What are these? Some of them are Fantis, some of them are black men from the West Indian Islands, where they are even more peaceful than the Fantis, for they have no enemies. Perhaps alone the Fantis would not fight, but they will have the soldiers and sailors from on board ship with them, and you saw at Elmina how they can fight."

The ship was the Ambriz, one of the African company's steamers, bringing with it thirty-five officers, of whom ten belonged to the Commissariat and Medical staff. Among the fighting men were Sir Garnet Wolseley, Colonel M'Neil, chief of his staff, Major T. D. Baker, 18th Regiment, Captain Huyshe, Rifle Brigade, Captain Buller, 60th Rifles, all of the staff; Captain Brackenbury, military secretary, and Lieutenant Maurice, R. A., private secretary, Major Home, R. E., Lieutenant Saunders, R. A., and Lieutenant Wilmot, R. A.. Lieutenant Colonel Evelyn Wood, 90th Regiment, and Major B. C. Russell, 13th Hussars, were each to form and command a native regiment, having the remainder of the officers as their assistants.

The Ambriz had left England on the 12th of September, and had touched at Madeira and at the various towns on the coast on her way down, and at the former place had received the news of the disaster to the naval expedition up the Prah.

The English government had been loath to embark upon such an expedition, but a petition which had been sent home by the English and native traders at Sierra Leone and Elmina had shown how great was the peril which threatened the colony, and it had been felt that unless an effort was made the British would be driven altogether from their hold of the coast. When the expedition was at last determined upon, the military authorities were flooded with recommendations and warnings of all kinds from persons who knew the coast. Unfortunately these gentlemen differed so widely from each other, that but little good was gained from their counsels. Some pronounced the climate to be deadly. Others said that it was really not bad. Some warmly advocated a moderate use of spirits. Others declared that stimulants were poison. One advised that all exercise should be taken between five and seven in the morning. Another insisted that on no account should anyone stir out until the sun had been up for an hour, which meant that no one should go out till half past seven. One said take exercise and excite perspiration. Another urged that any bodily exercise should be avoided. One consistent gentleman, after having written some letters to the papers strongly advocating the use of white troops upon the coast instead of West Indian regiments, when written to by Sir Garnet Wolseley for his advice as to articles of outfit, replied that the only article which he could strongly commend would be that each officer should take out his coffin.

Ten days passed after the landing. It was known in the Ashanti camp that the Fanti kings had been ordered to raise contingents, and that a white officer had been alloted to each to assist him in this work. The Ashantis, however, had no fear whatever on this score. The twenty thousand natives who occupied the country south of the Prah had all been driven from their homes by the invaders, and had scattered among the towns and villages on the seacoast, where vast numbers had died from the ravages of smallpox. The kings had little or no authority over them, and it was certain that no native force, capable in any way of competing with the army of the assailants, could be raised.

The small number of men of the 2d West Indian regiment at Elmina had been reinforced by a hundred and twenty Houssas brought down the coast. The Ashanti advanced parties remained close up to Elmina.

On the 13th of October Frank accompanied the Ashanti general to the neighborhood of this town. The Ashanti force here was not a large one, the main body being nearly twenty miles away in the neighborhood of Dunquah, which was held by a small body of Houssas and natives under Captain Gordon. At six in the morning a messenger ran in with the news that two of the English war steamers from Cape Coast were lying off Elmina, and that a number of troops had been landed in boats. The Ashanti general was furious, and poured out threats against his spies in Cape Coast for not having warned him of the movement, but in fact these were not to blame. So quietly had the arrangements been made that, until late in the previous afternoon, no one, with the exception of three or four of the principal officers, knew that an expedition was intended. Even then it was given out that the expedition was going down the coast, and it was not until the ships anchored off Elmina at three in the morning that the officers and troops were aware of their destination. All the West Indian troops at Cape Coast had been taken, Captain Peel of the Simoon landing fifty sailors to hold the fort in case the Ashantis should attack it in their absence. The expedition consisted of the Houssas, two hundred men of the 2d West India regiment, fifty sailors, and two companies of marines and marine artillery, each fifty strong, and a large number of natives carrying a small Armstrong gun, two rocket tubes, rockets, spare ammunition, and hammocks for wounded.

The few Ashantis in the village next to Elmina retired at once when the column was seen marching from the castle. Ammon Quatia had taken up his quarters at the village of Essarman, and now advanced with his troops and took post in the bush behind a small village about three miles from the town. The Houssas were skirmishing in front of the column. These entered the village which had been deserted by the Ashantis, and set it on fire, blowing up several kegs of powder which had been left there in the hurry of the flight. Then as they advanced farther the Ashantis opened fire. To their surprise the British, instead of falling back, opened fire in return, the Houssas, West Indians, and natives discharging their rifles at random in all directions. Captain Freemantle with the sailors, the gun, and rockets made for the upper corner of the wood facing them to their left. Captain Crease with a company of marine artillery took the wood on the right. The Houssas and a company of West Indians moved along the path in the center. The remainder of the force remained with the baggage in reserve. The Ashantis kept up a tremendous fire, but the marines and sailors pushed their way steadily through the wood on either side. Captain Freemantle at length gained a point where his gun and rockets could play on Essarman, which lay in the heart of the wood, and opened fire, but not until he had been struck by a slug which passed through his arm. Colonel M'Neil, who was with the Houssas, also received a severe wound in the arm, and thirty-two marines and Houssas were wounded. The Ashantis were gradually driven out of the village and wood, a great many being killed by the English fire.

Having accomplished this, the British force rested for an hour and then moved on, first setting fire to Essarman, which was a very large village. A great quantity of the Ashanti powder was stored there, and each explosion excited yells of rage among the Ashantis. Their general was especially angry that two large war drums had been lost. So great was the effect produced upon the Ashantis by the tremendous fire which the British had poured into every bush and thicket as they advanced, that their general thought it expedient to draw them off in the direction of his main body instead of further disputing the way.

The English now turned off towards the coast, marching part of the way through open country, part through a bush so dense that it was impossible to make a flank attack upon them here. In such cases as this, when the Ashantis know that an enemy is going to approach through a dense and impassable forest, they cut paths through it parallel to that by which he must advance and at a few yards' distance. Then, lying in ambush there, they suddenly open fire upon him as he comes along. As no idea of the coming of the English had been entertained they passed through the dense thickets in single file unmolested. These native paths are very difficult and unpleasant walking. The natives always walk in single file, and the action of their feet, aided by that of the rain, often wears the paths into a deep V-shaped rut, two feet in depth. Burning two or three villages by the way the column reached the coast at a spot five miles from Elmina, having marched nine miles.

As the Ashantis were known to be in force at the villages of Akimfoo and Ampene, four miles farther, a party was taken on to this point. Akimfoo was occupied without resistance, but the Ashantis fought hard in Ampene, but were driven out of the town into the bush, from which the British force was too small to drive them, and therefore returned to Elmina, having marched twenty-two miles, a prodigious journey in such a climate for heavily armed Europeans. The effect produced among the Ashantis by the day's fighting was immense. All their theories that the white men could not fight in the bush were roughly upset, and they found that his superiority was as great there as it had been in the open. His heavy bullets, even at the distance of some hundred yards, crashed through the brush wood with deadly effect, while the slugs of the Ashantis would not penetrate at a distance much exceeding fifty yards.

Ammon Quatia was profoundly depressed in spirits that evening.

"The white men who come to fight us," he said, "are not like those who come to trade. Who ever heard of their making long marches? Why, if they go the shortest distances they are carried in hammocks. These men march as well as my warriors. They have guns which shoot ten times as far as ours, and never stop firing. They carry cannon with them, and have things which fly through the air and scream, and set villages on fire and kill men. I have never heard of such things before. What do you call them?"

"They are called rockets," Frank said.

"What are they made of?"

"They are made of coarse powder mixed with other things, and rammed into an iron case."

"Could we not make some too?" the Ashanti general asked.

"No," Frank replied. "At least, not without a knowledge of the things you should mix with the powder, and of that I am ignorant. Besides, the rockets require great skill in firing, otherwise they will sometimes come back and kill the men who fire them."

"Why did you not tell me that the white men could fight in the bush?"

"I told you that there would be a change when the new general came, and that they would not any longer remain in their forts, but would come out and attack you."

A few days after this fight the Ashantis broke up their camp at Mampon, twelve miles from Elmina, and moved eastward to join the body who were encamped in the forest near Dunquah.

"I am going," Ammon Quatia said to Frank, "to eat up Dunquah and Abra Crampa. We shall do better this time. We know what the English guns can do and shall not be surprised."

With ten thousand men Ammon Quatia halted at the little village of Asianchi, where there was a large clearing, which was speedily covered with the little leafy bowers which the Ashantis run up at each halting place.

Two days later Sir Garnet Wolseley with a strong force marched out from Cape Coast to Abra Crampa, halting on the way for a night at Assaiboo, ten miles from the town. On the same day the general sent orders to Colonel Festing of the Marine Artillery, who commanded at Dunquah, to make a reconnaissance into the forest from that place. In accordance with this order Colonel Festing marched out with a gun and rocket apparatus under Captain Rait, the Annamaboe contingent of a hundred and twenty men under their king, directed by Captain Godwin, four hundred other Fantis under Captain Broomhead, and a hundred men of the 2d West India regiment. After a three mile march in perfect silence they came upon an Ashanti cutting wood, and compelled him to act as guide. The path divided into three, and the Annamaboes, who led the advance, when within a few yards of the camp, gave a sudden cheer and rushed in.

The Ashantis, panic stricken at the sudden attack, fled instantly from the camp into the bush. Sudden as was the scare Frank's guards did not forget their duty, but seizing him dragged him off with them in their flight, by the side of Ammon Quatia. The latter ordered the war drums to begin to beat, and Frank was surprised at the quickness with which the Ashantis recovered from their panic. In five minutes a tremendous fire was opened from the whole circle of bush upon the camp. This stood on rising ground, and the British force returned the fire with great rapidity and effect. The Annamaboe men stood their ground gallantly, and the West Indians fought with great coolness, keeping up a constant and heavy fire with their Sniders. The Houssas, who had been trained as artillerymen, worked their gun and rocket tube with great energy, yelling and whooping as each round of grape or canister was fired into the bush, or each rocket whizzed out.

Notwithstanding the heavy loss which they were suffering, the Ashantis stood their ground most bravely. Their wild yells and the beating of their drums never ceased, and only rose the louder as each volley of grape was poured into them. They did not, however, advance beyond the shelter of their bush, and, as the British were not strong enough to attack them there, the duel of artillery and musketry was continued without cessation for an hour and a half, and then Colonel Festing fell back unmolested to Dunquah.

The Ashantis were delighted at the result of the fighting, heavy as their loss had been. They had held their ground, and the British had not ventured to attack them in the bush.

"You see," Ammon Quatia said exultingly to Frank, "what I told you was true. The white men cannot fight us in the bush. At Essarman the wood was thin and gave but a poor cover. Here, you see, they dared not follow us."

On the British side five officers and the King of Annamaboe were wounded, and fifty-two of the men. None were killed, the distance from the bush to the ground held by the English being too far for the Ashanti slugs to inflict mortal wounds.

Ammon Quatia now began to meditate falling back upon the Prah—the sick and wounded were already sent back—but he determined before retiring to attack Abra Crampa, whose king had sided with us, and where an English garrison had been posted.

On the 2d of November, however, Colonel Festing again marched out from Dunquah with a hundred men of the 2d West India regiment, nine hundred native allies, and some Houssas with rockets, under Lieutenant Wilmot, towards the Ashanti camp. This time Ammon Quatia was not taken by surprise. His scouts informed him of the approach of the column, and moving out to meet them, he attacked them in the bush before they reached the camp. Crouching among the trees the Ashantis opened a tremendous fire. All the native allies, with the exception of a hundred, bolted at once, but the remainder, with the Houssas and West Indians, behaved with great steadiness and gallantry, and for two hours kept up a heavy Snider fire upon their invisible foes.

Early in the fight Lieutenant Wilmot, while directing the rocket tube, received a severe wound in the shoulder. He, however, continued at his work till, just as the fight was ended, he was shot through the heart with a bullet. Four officers were wounded as were thirteen men of the 2d West India regiment. One of the natives was killed, fifty severely wounded, and a great many slightly. After two hours' fighting Colonel Festing found the Ashantis were working round to cut off his retreat, and therefore fell back again on Dunquah. The conduct of the native levies here and in two or three smaller reconnaisances was so bad that it was found that no further dependence could be placed upon them, and, with the exception of the two partly disciplined regiments under Colonel Wood and Major Russell, they were in future treated as merely fit to act as carriers for the provisions.

Although the second reconnaissance from Dunquah had, like the first, been unsuccessful, its effect upon the Ashantis was very great. They had themselves suffered great loss, while they could not see that any of their enemies had been killed, for Lieutenant Wilmot's body had been carried off. The rockets especially appalled them, one rocket having killed six, four of whom were chiefs who were talking together. It was true that the English had not succeeded in forcing their way through the bush, but if every time they came out they were to kill large numbers without suffering any loss themselves, they must clearly in the long run be victorious.

What the Ashantis did not see, and what Frank carefully abstained from hinting to Ammon Quatia, was that if, instead of stopping and firing at a distance beyond that which at their slugs were effective, they were to charge down upon the English and fire their pieces when they reached within a few yards of them, they would overpower them at once by their enormous superiority of numbers. At ten paces distant a volley of slugs is as effective as a Snider bullet, and the whole of the native troops would have bolted the instant such a charge was made. In the open such tactics might not be possible, as the Sniders could be discharged twenty times before the English line was reached, but in the woods, where the two lines were not more than forty or fifty yards apart, the Sniders could be fired but once or at the utmost twice, while the assailants rushed across the short intervening space.

Had the Ashantis adopted these tactics they could have crushed with ease the little bands with which the English attacked them. But it is characteristic of all savages that they can never be got to rush down upon a foe who is prepared and well armed. A half dozen white men have been known to keep a whole tribe of Red Indians at a distance on the prairie. This, however, can be accounted for by the fact that the power of the chiefs is limited, and that each Indian values his own life highly and does not care to throw it away on a desperate enterprise. Among the Ashantis, however, where the power of the chiefs is very great and where human life is held of little account, it is singular that such tactics should not have been adopted.

The Ashantis were now becoming thoroughly dispirited. Their sufferings had been immense. Fever and hunger had made great ravages among them, and, although now the wet season was over a large quantity of food could be obtained in the forest, the losses which the white men's bullets, rockets, and guns had inflicted upon them had broken their courage. The longing for home became greater than ever, and had it not been that they knew that troops stationed at the Prah would prevent any fugitives from crossing, they would have deserted in large numbers. Already one of the divisions had fallen back.

Ammon Quatia spent hours sitting at the door of his hut smoking and talking to the other chiefs. Frank was often called into council, as Ammon Quatia had conceived a high opinion of his judgment, which had proved invariably correct so far.

"We are going," he said one day, "to take Abra Crampa and to kill its king, and then to fall back across the Prah."

"I think you had better fall back at once," Frank answered. "When you took me with you to the edge of the clearing yesterday I saw that preparations had been made for the defense, and that there were white troops there. You will never carry the village. The English have thrown up breastworks of earth, and they will lie behind these and shoot down your men as they come out of the forest."

"I must have one victory to report to the king if I can," Ammon Quatia said. "Then he can make peace if he chooses. The white men will not wish to go on fighting. The Fantis are eager for peace and to return to their villages. What do you think?"

"If it be true that white troops are coming out from England, as the Fanti prisoners say," Frank answered, "you will see that the English will not make peace till they have crossed the Prah and marched to Coomassie. Your king is always making trouble. You will see that this time the English will not be content with your retiring, but will in turn invade Ashanti."

Ammon Quatia and the chiefs laughed incredulously.

"They will not dare to cross the Prah," Ammon Quatia said. "If they enter Ashanti they will be eaten up."

"They are not so easy to eat up," Frank answered. "You have seen how a hundred or two can fight against your whole army. What will it be when they are in thousands? Your king has not been wise. It would be better for him to send down at once and to make peace at any price."

CHAPTER XX: THE WHITE TROOPS

Two days later Frank was awoke by a sudden yell. He leaped from his bed of boughs, seized his revolver, and rushing to the door, saw that a party of some twenty men were attacking Ammon Quatia's hut. The two guards stationed there had already been cut down. Frank shouted to his four guards and Ostik to follow him. The guards had been standing irresolute, not knowing what side to take, but the example of the young Englishman decided them. They fired their muskets into the knot of natives, and then charged sword in hand. Ostik drew the sword which he always carried and followed close to his master's heels. Frank did not fire until within two yards of the Ashantis. Then his revolver spoke out and six shots were discharged, each with deadly effect. Then, catching up a musket which had fallen from the hands of one of the men he had shot, he clubbed it and fell upon the surprised and already hesitating conspirators.

These, fortunately for Frank, had not loaded their muskets. They had intended to kill Ammon Quatia and then to disperse instantly before aid could arrive, believing that with his death the order for retreat across the Prah would at once be given. Several of them had been killed by the slugs from the muskets of Frank's guard, and his pistol had completed their confusion. The reports of the guns called up other troops, and these came rushing in on all sides. Scarcely did Frank and his followers fall upon the conspirators than they took to their heels and fled into the wood.

Ammon Quatia himself, sword in hand, had just sprung to the door of the hut prepared to sell his life dearly, when Frank's guard fired. The affair was so momentary that he had hardly time to realize what had happened before his assailants were in full flight.

"You have saved my life," he said to Frank. "Had it not been for you I must have been killed. You shall not find me ungrateful. When I have taken Abra Crampa I will manage that you shall return to your friends. I dare not let you go openly, for the king would not forgive me, and I shall have enough to do already to pacify him when he hears how great have been our losses. But rest content. I will manage it somehow."

An hour afterwards Ammon Quatia gave orders that the army should move to the attack of Abra Crampa. The place was held by a body of marines and sailors, a hundred West Indians, and the native troops of the king. Major Russell was in command. The village stood on rising ground, and was surrounded for a distance of a hundred and fifty yards by a clearing. Part of this consisted of patches of cultivated ground, the rest had been hastily cleared by the defenders. At the upper end stood a church, and this was converted into a stronghold. The windows were high up in the walls, and a platform had been erected inside for the sailors to fire from the windows, which were partially blocked with sandbags. The houses on the outside of the village had all been loopholed, and had been connected by breastworks of earth. Other defenses had been thrown up further back in case the outworks should be carried. The mission house in the main street and the huts which surrounded it formed, with the church, the last strongholds. For two or three days the bush round the town had swarmed with Ashantis, whose tomtoms could be heard by the garrison night and day.

Frank accompanied Ammon Quatia, and was therefore in the front, and had an opportunity of seeing how the Ashantis commence an attack. The war drums gave the signal, and when they ceased, ten thousand voices raised the war song in measured cadence. The effect was very fine, rising as it did from all parts of the forest. By this time the Ashantis had lined the whole circle of wood round the clearing. Then three regular volleys were fired, making, from the heavy charges used, a tremendous roar.

Scarcely had these ceased when the King of Abra, a splendid looking negro standing nearly six feet four in height, stepped out from behind the breastwork and shouted a taunting challenge to the Ashantis to come on. They replied with a loud yell, and with the opening of a continuous fire round the edge of the wood. On wall and roof of the village the slugs pattered thickly; but the defenders were all in shelter, and in reply, from breastwork and loophole, from the windows and roof of the church, the answering Snider bullets flew out straight and deadly. Several times Ammon Quatia tried to get his men to make a rush. The war drums beat, the great horns sounded, and the men shouted, but each time the English bullets flew so thick and deadly into the wood wherever the sound rose loudest that the Ashantis' heart failed them, and they could not be got to make the rush across the hundred yards of cleared ground.

At five o'clock the fire slackened, but shortly after dark the attack recommenced. The moon was up and full. Frank feared that the Ashantis would try and crawl a part of the distance across the clearing and then make a sudden rush; but they appeared to have no idea of a silent attack. Several times, indeed, they gathered and rushed forward in large bodies, but each time their shouting and drums gave warning to the besieged, and so tremendous a fire was opened upon them when they emerged from the shadow of the trees into the moonlight, that each time they fell back leaving the ground strewn with dead. Till midnight the attack was continued, then the Ashantis fell back to their camp.

At Accroful, a village on the main road some four miles distant, the attack had been heard, and a messenger sent off to Cape Coast to inform Sir Garnet Wolseley.

In the morning fifty men of the 2d West India regiment marched from Accroful into Abra Crampa without molestation. Later on some Abra scouts approached the Ashanti camp and shouted tauntingly to know when the Ashantis were coming into Abra Crampa.

They shouted in return, "After breakfast," and soon afterwards, a rocket fired from the roof of the church falling into the camp, they again sallied out and attacked. It was a repetition of the fight of the day before. Several times Major Russell withheld his fire altogether, but the Ashantis could not be tempted to show in force beyond the edge of the wood. So inspirited were the defenders that they now made several sorties and penetrated some distance into the wood.

At eight in the morning Sir Garnet Wolseley had marched from Cape Coast with three hundred marines and blue jackets to the relief of the position, but so tremendous was the heat that nearly half the men fell exhausted by the way, and were ordered when they recovered to march back to Cape Coast. The remainder, when they arrived at Assaibo, five miles from Abra Crampa, were so utterly exhausted that a long halt was necessary, although a faint but continuous fire could be heard from the besieged place.

Chocolate and cold preserved meat were served out to the men, and in the course of another three hours a large number of the stragglers came in. At three o'clock, a hundred of the most exhausted men being left to hold the village, the rest of the force with the fifty West Indians stationed there marched forward to Buteana, where they were jointed by fifty more men from Accroful. Just as they started from this place they met the King of Abra, who had come out with a small body of warriors; from him Sir Garnet learned that this road, which wound round and came in at the back of Abra Crampa, was still open.

The Ashantis were too busy with their own operations to watch the path, and the relieving force entered the place without firing a shot. The firing round the town continued, but Ammon Quatia, when he saw the reinforcements enter, at once began to fall back with the main body of his troops, and although the firing was kept up all night, when the besieged in the morning advanced to attack the Ashanti camp they found it altogether deserted.

"It is of no use," the Ashanti general said to Frank. "My men cannot fight in the open against the English guns. Besides, they do not know what they are fighting for here; but if your general should ever cross the Prah you will find it different. There are forests all the way to Coomassie, as you know, and the men will be fighting in defense of their own country, you will see what we shall do then. And now I will keep my promise to you. Tonight your guards will go to sleep. I shall have medicine given them which will make them sleep hard. One of the Fanti prisoners will come to your hut and will guide you through the woods to Assaiboo. Goodbye, my friend. Ammon Quatia has learnt that some of the white men are good and honest, and he will never forget that he owes his life to you. Take this in remembrance of Ammon Quatia."

And he presented Frank with a necklace composed of nuggets of gold as big as walnuts and weighing nearly twenty pounds.

Frank in return gave the general the only article of value which he now possessed, his revolver and tin box of cartridges, telling him that he hoped he would never use it against the English, but that it might be of value to him should he ever again have trouble with his own men. Frank made a parcel of the necklace and of the gold he had received from the king for his goods, and warned Ostik to hold himself in readiness for flight. The camp was silent although the roar of musketry a few hundred yards off round Abra Crampa continued unbroken. For some time Frank heard his guards pacing outside, and occasionally speaking to each other. Then these sounds ceased and all was quiet. Presently the front of the tent was opened and a voice said, "Come, all is ready."

Frank came out and looked round. The Ashanti camp was deserted. Ammon Quatia had moved away with the main body of his troops, although the musketry fire round the village was kept up. A Fanti stood at the door of the hut with Ostik. The four guards were sleeping quietly. Noiselessly the little party stole away. A quarter of an hour later they struck the path, and an hour's walking brought them to Assaiboo. Not an Ashanti was met with along the path, but Frank hardly felt that he was safe until he heard the challenge of "Who goes there?" from an English sentry. A few minutes later he was taken before Captain Bradshaw, R. N., who commanded the sailors and marines who had been left there. Very hearty was the greeting which the young Englishman received from the genial sailor, and a bowl of soup and a glass of grog were soon set before him.

His arrival created quite a sensation, and for some hours he sat talking with the officers, while Ostik was an equal subject of curiosity among the sailors. The news that the Ashanti army was in full retreat relieved the garrison of the place from all further fear of attack, and Frank went to sleep before morning, and was only roused at noon when a messenger arrived with the news that the Ashanti camp had been found deserted, and that the road in its rear was found to be strewn with chairs, clothes, pillows, muskets, and odds and ends of every description. Few Ashanti prisoners had been taken, but a considerable number of Fantis, who had been prisoners among them, had come in, having escaped in the confusion of the retreat. Among these were many women, several of whom had been captured when the Ashantis had first crossed the Prah ten months before. In the afternoon Sir Garnet Wolseley, with the greater portion of the force from Abra Crampa, marched in, and Frank was introduced by Captain Bradshaw to the general. As the latter was anxious to press on at once to Cape Coast, in order that the sailors and marines might sleep on board ship that night, he asked Frank to accompany him, and on the road heard the story of his adventures. He invited him to sleep for the night at Government House, an invitation which Frank accepted; but he slept worse than he had done for a long time. It was now nearly two years since he had landed in Africa, and during all that time he had slept, covered with a rug, on the canvas of his little camp bed. The complete change, the stillness and security, and, above all, the novelty of a bed with sheets, completely banished sleep, and it was not until morning was dawning that, wrapping himself in a rug, and lying on the ground, he was able to get a sleep. In the morning at breakfast Sir Garnet asked him what he intended to do, and said that if he were in no extreme hurry to return to England he could render great services as guide to the expedition, which would start for Coomassie as soon as the white troops arrived. Frank had already thought the matter over. He had had more than enough of Africa, but two or three months longer would make no difference, and he felt that his knowledge of the Ashanti methods of war, of the country to be traversed, the streams to be crossed, and the points at which the Ashantis would probably make a stand, would enable him to tender really valuable assistance to the army. He therefore told Sir Garnet Wolseley that he had no particular business which called him urgently back, and that he was willing to guide the army to Coomassie. He at once had quarters as an officer assigned to him in the town, with rations for himself and servant.

His first step was to procure English garments, for although he had before starting laid aside his Ashanti costume, and put on that he had before worn, his clothes were now so travel worn as to be scarce wearable. He had no difficulty in doing this. Many of the officers were already invalided home, and one who was just sailing was glad to dispose of his uniform, which consisted of a light brown Norfolk shooting jacket, knickerbockers, and helmet, as these would be of no use to him in England.

Frank's next step was to go to the agent of Messrs. Swanzy, the principal African merchants of the coast. This gentleman readily cashed one of the orders on the African bank which Mr. Goodenough had, before his death, handed over to Frank, and the latter proceeded to discharge the long arrears of wages owing to Ostik, adding, besides, a handsome present. He offered to allow his faithful servant to depart to join his family on the Gaboon at once, should he wish to do so, but Ostik declared that he would remain with him as long as he stopped in Africa. On Frank's advice, however, he deposited his money, for safe keeping, with Messrs. Swanzy's agent, with orders to transmit it to his family should anything happen to him during the expedition.

Three days later Frank was attacked by fever, the result of the reaction after so many dangers. He was at once sent on board the Simoon, which had been established as a hospital ship; but the attack was a mild one, and in a few days, thanks to the sea air, and the attention and nursing which he received, he was convalescent. As soon as the fever passed away, and he was able to sit on deck and enjoy the sea breezes, he had many visits from the officers of the ships of war. Among these was the captain of the Decoy gunboat.

After chatting with Frank for some time the officer said: "I am going down the coast as far as the mouth of the Volta, where Captain Glover is organizing another expedition. You will not be wanted on shore just at present, and a week's rest will do you good; what do you say to coming down with me—it will give you a little change and variety?"

Frank accepted the invitation with pleasure. An hour later the Decoy's boat came alongside, and Frank took his place on board it, Ostik following with his clothes. An hour later the Decoy got up her anchor and steamed down the coast. It was delightful to Frank, sitting in a large wicker work chair in the shade of the awning, watching the distant shore and chatting with the officers. He had much to hear of what had taken place in England since he left, and they on their part were equally eager to learn about the road along which they would have to march—at least those of them who were fortunate enough to be appointed to the naval brigade—and the wonders of the barbarian capital. The Decoy was not fast, about six knots being her average pace of steaming; however, no one was in a hurry; there would be nothing to do until the troops arrived from England; and to all, a trip down the coast was a pleasant change after the long monotony of rolling at anchor. For some distance from Cape Coast the shore was flat, but further on the country became hilly. Some of the undulations reached a considerable height, the highest, Mamquady, being over two thousand feet.

"That ought to be a very healthy place," Frank said. "I should think that a sanatorium established there would be an immense boon to the whites all along the coasts."

"One would think so," an officer replied "but I'm told that those hills are particularly unhealthy. That fellow you see jutting out is said to be extremely rich in gold. Over and over again parties have been formed to dig there, but they have always suffered so terribly from fever that they have had to relinquish the attempt. The natives suffer as well as the whites. I believe that the formation is granite, the surface of which is much decomposed; and it is always found here that the turning up of ground that has not been disturbed for many years is extremely unhealthy, and decomposing granite possesses some element particularly obnoxious to health. The natives, of course, look upon the mountain as a fetish, and believe that an evil spirit guards it. The superstition of the negroes is wonderful, and at Accra they are, if possible, more superstitious than anywhere else. Every one believes that every malady under the sun is produced by fetish, and that some enemy is casting spells upon them."

"There is more in it than you think," the doctor joined in; "although it is not spells, but poison, which they use against each other. The use of poison is carried to an incredible extent here. I have not been much on shore; but the medical men, both civilian and military, who have been here any time are convinced that a vast number of the deaths that take place are due to poison. The fetish men and women who are the vendors of these drugs keep as a profound secret their origin and nature, but it is certain that many of them are in point of secrecy and celerity equal to those of the middle ages."

"I wonder that the doctors have never discovered what plants they get them from," Frank said.

"Some of them have tried to do so," the doctor replied; "but have invariably died shortly after commencing their experiments; it is believed they have been poisoned by the fetish men in order to prevent their secrets being discovered."

The hours passed pleasurably. The beautiful neatness and order prevailing on board a man of war were specially delightful to Frank after the rough life he had so long led, and the silence and discipline of the men presented an equally strong contrast to the incessant chattering and noise kept up by the niggers.

The next morning the ship was off Accra. Here the scenery had entirely changed. The hills had receded, and a wide and slightly undulating plain extended to their feet, some twelve miles back. The captain was going to land, as he had some despatches for the colony, and he invited Frank to accompany him. They did not, as Frank expected, land in a man of war's boat, but in a surf boat, which, upon their hoisting a signal, came out to them. These surf boats are large and very wide and flat. They are paddled by ten or twelve negroes, who sit upon the gunwale. These men work vigorously, and the boats travel at a considerable pace. Each boat has a stroke peculiar to itself. Some paddle hard for six strokes and then easy for an equal number. Some will take two or three hard and then one easy. The steersman stands in the stern and steers with an oar. He or one of the crew keeps up a monotonous song, to which the crew reply in chorus, always in time with their paddling.

The surf is heavy at Accra and Frank held his breath, as, after waiting for a favorable moment, the steersman gave the sign and the boat darted in at lightning speed on the top of a great wave, and ran up on the beach in the midst of a whirl of white foam.

While the captain went up to Government House, Frank, accompanied by one of the young officers who had also come ashore, took a stroll through the town. The first thing that struck him was the extraordinary number of pigs. These animals pervaded the whole place. They fed in threes and fours in the middle of the streets. They lay everywhere in the road, across the doors, and against the walls. They quarreled energetically inside lanes and courtyards, and when worsted in their disputes galloped away grunting, careless whom they might upset. The principal street of Accra was an amusing sight. Some effort had been made to keep it free of the filth and rubbish which everywhere else abounded. Both sides were lined by salesmen and women sitting on little mats upon the low wooden stools used as seats in Africa. The goods were contained in wooden trays. Here were dozens of women offering beads for sale of an unlimited variety of form and hue. They varied from the tiny opaque beads of all colors used by English children for their dolls, to great cylindrical beads of variegated hues as long and as thick as the joint of a finger. The love of the Africans for beads is surprising. The women wear them round the wrists, the neck, and the ankles. The occupation of threading the little beads is one of their greatest pleasures. The threads used are narrow fibers of palm leaves, which are very strong. The beads, however, are of unequal sizes, and no African girl who has any respect for her personal appearance will put on a string of beads until she has, with great pains and a good deal of skill, rubbed them with sand and water until all the projecting beads are ground down, and the whole are perfectly smooth and even.

Next in number to the dealers in beads were those who sold calico, or, as it is called in Africa, cloth, and gaudily colored kerchiefs for the head. These three articles—beads, cotton cloth, and colored handkerchiefs—complete the list of articles required for the attire and adornment of males and females in Africa. Besides these goods, tobacco, in dried leaves, short clay pipes, knives, small looking glasses, and matches were offered for sale. The majority of the saleswomen, however, were dealers in eatables, dried fish, smoked fish, canki—which is a preparation of ground corn wrapped up in palm leaves in the shape of paste—eggs, fowls, kids, cooked meats in various forms, stews, boiled pork, fried knobs of meat, and other native delicacies, besides an abundance of seeds, nuts, and other vegetable productions.

After walking for some time through the streets Frank and his companions returned to the boat, where, half an hour later, the captain joined them, and, putting off to the Decoy, they continued the voyage down the coast.

The next morning they weighed anchor off Addah, a village at the mouth of the Volta. They whistled for a surf boat, but it was some time before one put out. When she was launched it was doubtful whether she would be able to make her way through the breaking water. The surf was much heavier here than it had been at Accra, and each wave threw the boat almost perpendicularly into the air, so that only a few feet of the end of the keel touched the water. Still she struggled on, although so long was she in getting through the surf that those on board the ship thought several times that she must give it up as impracticable. At last, however, she got through; the paddlers waited for a minute to recover from their exertions, and then made out to the Decoy. None of the officers had ever landed here, and several of them obtained leave to accompany the captain on shore. Frank was one of the party. After what they had seen of the difficulty which the boat had in getting out, all looked somewhat anxiously at the surf as they approached the line where the great smooth waves rolled over and broke into boiling foam. The steersman stood upon the seat in the stern, in one hand holding his oar, in the other his cap. For some time he stood half turned round, looking attentively seaward, while the boat lay at rest just outside the line of breakers. Suddenly he waved his cap and gave a shout. It was answered by the crew. Every man dashed his paddle into the water. Desperately they rowed, the steersman encouraging them by wild yells. A gigantic wave rolled in behind the boat, and looked for a moment as if she would break into it, but she rose on it just as it turned over, and for an instant was swept along amidst a cataract of white foam, with the speed of an arrow. The next wave was a small one, and ere a third reached it the boat grounded on the sand. A dozen men rushed out into the water. The passengers threw themselves anyhow on to their backs, and in a minute were standing perfectly dry upon the beach.

They learned that Captain Glover's camp was half a mile distant, and at once set out for it. Upon the way up to the camp they passed hundreds of negroes, who had arrived in the last day or two, and had just received their arms. Some were squatted on the ground cooking and resting themselves. Others were examining their new weapons, oiling and removing every spot of rust, and occasionally loading and firing them off. The balls whizzed through the air in all directions. The most stringent orders had been given forbidding this dangerous nuisance; but nothing can repress the love of negroes for firing off guns. There were large numbers of women among them; these had acted as carriers on their journey to the camp; for among the coast tribes, as among the Ashantis, it is the proper thing when the warriors go out on the warpath, that the women should not permit them to carry anything except their guns until they approach the neighborhood of the enemy.

The party soon arrived at the camp, which consisted of some bell tents and the little huts of a few hundred natives. This, indeed, was only the place where the latter were first received and armed, and they were then sent up the river in the steamboat belonging to the expedition, to the great camp some thirty miles higher.

The expedition consisted only of some seven or eight English officers. Captain Glover of the royal navy was in command, with Mr. Goldsworthy and Captain Sartorius as his assistants. There were four other officers, two doctors, and an officer of commissariat. This little body had the whole work of drilling and keeping in order some eight or ten thousand men. They were generals, colonels, sergeants, quartermasters, storekeepers, and diplomatists, all at once, and from daybreak until late at night were incessantly at work. There were at least a dozen petty kings in camp, all of whom had to be kept in a good temper, and this was by no means the smallest of Captain Glover's difficulties, as upon the slightest ground for discontent each of these was ready at once to march away with his followers. The most reliable portion of Captain Glover's force were some 250 Houssas, and as many Yorabas. In addition to all their work with the native allies, the officers of the expedition had succeeded in drilling both these bodies until they had obtained a very fair amount of discipline.

After strolling through the camp the visitors went to look on at the distribution of arms and accouterments to a hundred freshly arrived natives. They were served out with blue smocks, made of serge, and blue nightcaps, which had the result of transforming a fine looking body of natives, upright in carriage, and graceful in their toga-like attire, into a set of awkward looking, clumsy negroes. A haversack, water bottle, belts, cap pouch, and ammunition pouch, were also handed to each to their utter bewilderment, and it was easy to foresee that at the end of the first day's march the whole of these, to them utterly useless articles, would be thrown aside. They brightened up, however, when the guns were delivered to them. The first impulse of each was to examine his piece carefully, to try its balance by taking aim at distant objects, then to carefully rub off any little spot of rust that could be detected, lastly to take out the ramrod and let it fall into the barrel, to judge by the ring whether it was clean inside.

Thence the visitors strolled away to watch a number of Houssas in hot pursuit of some bullocks, which were to be put on board the steamers and taken up the river to the great camp. These had broken loose in the night, and the chase was an exciting one. Although some fifty or sixty men were engaged in the hunt it took no less than four hours to capture the requisite number, and seven Houssas were more or less injured by the charges of the desperate little animals, which possessed wonderful strength and endurance, although no larger than moderate sized donkeys. They were only captured at last by hoops being thrown over their horns, and even when thrown down required the efforts of five or six men to tie them. They were finally got to the wharf by two men each: one went ahead with the rope attached to the animal's horn, the other kept behind, holding a rope fastened to one of the hind legs. Every bull made the most determined efforts to get at the man in front, who kept on at a run, the animal being checked when it got too close by the man behind pulling at its hind leg. When it turned to attack him the man in front again pulled at his rope. So most of them were brought down to the landing place, and there with great difficulty again thrown down, tied, and carried bodily on board. Some of them were so unmanageable that they had to be carried all the way down to the landing place. If English cattle possessed the strength and obstinate fury of these little animals, Copenhagen Fields would have to be removed farther from London, or the entrance swept by machine guns, for a charge of the cattle would clear the streets of London.

After spending an amusing day on shore, the party returned on board ship. Captain Glover's expedition, although composed of only seven or eight English officers and costing the country comparatively nothing, accomplished great things, but its doings were almost ignored by England. Crossing the river they completely defeated the native tribes there, who were in alliance with the Ashantis, after some hard fighting, and thus prevented an invasion of our territory on that side. In addition to this they pushed forward into the interior and absolutely arrived at Coomassie two days after Sir Garnet Wolseley.

It is true that the attention of the Ashantis was so much occupied by the advance of the white force that they paid but little attention to that advancing from the Volta; but none the less is the credit due to the indomitable perseverance and the immensity of the work accomplished by Captain Glover and his officers. Alone and single handed, they overcame all the enormous difficulties raised by the apathy, indolence, and self importance of the numerous petty chiefs whose followers constituted the army, infused something of their own spirit among their followers, and persuaded them to march without white allies against the hitherto invincible army of the Ashantis. Not a tithe of the credit due to them has been given to the officers of this little force.

Captain Glover invited his visitors to pass the night on shore, offering to place a tent at their disposal; but the mosquitoes are so numerous and troublesome along the swampy shore of the Volta that the invitations were declined, and the whole party returned on board the Decoy. Next day the anchor was hove and the ship's head turned to the west; and two days later, after a pleasant and uneventful voyage, she was again off Cape Coast, and Frank, taking leave of his kind entertainers, returned on shore and reported himself as ready to perform any duty that might be assigned to him.

Until the force advanced, he had nothing to do, and spent a good deal of his time watching the carriers starting with provisions for the Prah, and the doings of the negroes.

The order had now been passed by the chiefs at a meeting called by Sir Garnet, that every able bodied man should work as a carrier, and while parties of men were sent to the villages round to fetch in people thence, hunts took place in Cape Coast itself. Every negro found in the streets was seized by the police; protestation, indignation, and resistance, were equally in vain. An arm or the loin cloth was firmly griped, and the victim was run into the castle yard, amid the laughter of the lookers on, who consisted, after the first quarter of an hour, of women only. Then the search began in the houses, the chiefs indicating the localities in which men were likely to be found. Some police were set to watch outside while others went in to search. The women would at once deny that anyone was there, but a door was pretty sure to be found locked, and upon this being broken open the fugitive would be found hiding under a pile of clothes or mats. Sometimes he would leap through the windows, sometimes take to the flat roof, and as the houses join together in the most confused way the roofs offered immense facilities for escape, and most lively chases took place.

No excuses or pretences availed. A man seen limping painfully along the street would, after a brief examination of his leg to see if there was any external mark which would account for the lameness, be sent at a round trot down the road, amid peals of laughter from the women and girls looking on.

The indignation of some of the men thus seized, loaded and sent up country under a strong escort, was very funny, and their astonishment in some cases altogether unfeigned. Small shopkeepers who had never supposed that they would be called upon to labor for the defense of their freedom and country, found themselves with a barrel of pork upon their heads and a policeman with a loaded musket by their side proceeding up country for an indefinite period. A school teacher was missing, and was found to have gone up with a case of ammunition. Casual visitors from down the coast had their stay prolonged.

Lazy Sierra Leone men, discharged by their masters for incurable idleness, and living doing nothing, earning nothing, kept by the kindness of friends and the aid of an occasional petty theft, found themselves, in spite of the European cut of their clothes, groaning under the weight of cases of preserved provisions.

Everywhere the town was busy and animated, but it was in the castle courtyard Frank found most amusement. Here of a morning a thousand negroes would be gathered, most of them men sent down from Dunquah, forming part of our native allied army. Their costumes were various but scant, their colors all shades of brown up to the deepest black. Their faces were all in a grin of amusement. The noise of talking and laughing was immense. All were squatted upon the ground, in front of each was a large keg labelled "pork." Among them moved two or three commissariat officers in gray uniforms. At the order, "Now then, off with you," the negroes would rise, take off their cloths, wrap them into pads, lift the barrels on to their heads, and go off at a brisk pace; the officer perhaps smartening up the last to leave with a cut with his stick, which would call forth a scream of laughter from all the others.

When all the men had gone, the turn of the women came, and of these two or three hundred, who had been seated chattering and laughing against the walls, would now come forward and stoop to pick up the bags of biscuit laid out for them. Their appearance was most comical when they stooped to their work, their prodigious bustles forming an apex. At least two out of every three had babies seated on these bustles, kept firm against their backs by the cloth tightly wrapped round the mother's body. But from the attitudes of the mothers the position was now reversed, the little black heads hanging downwards upon the dark brown backs of the women. These were always in the highest state of good temper, often indulging when not at work in a general dance, and continually singing, and clapping their hands.

After the women had been got off three or four hundred boys and girls, of from eleven to fourteen years old, would start with small kegs of rice or meat weighing from twenty-five to thirty-five pounds. These small kegs had upon their first arrival been a cause of great bewilderment and annoyance to the commissariat officers, for no man or woman, unless by profession a juggler, could balance two long narrow barrels on the head. At last the happy idea struck an officer of the department that the children of the place might be utilized for the purpose. No sooner was it known that boys and girls could get half men's wages for carrying up light loads, than there was a perfect rush of the juvenile population. Three hundred applied the first morning, four hundred the next. The glee of the youngsters was quite exuberant. All were accustomed to carry weights, such as great jars of water and baskets of yams, far heavier than those they were now called to take up the country; and the novel pleasure of earning money and of enjoying an expedition up the country delighted them immensely.

Bullocks were now arriving from other parts of the coast, and although these would not live for any time at Cape Coast, it was thought they would do so long enough to afford the expedition a certain quantity of fresh meat; Australian meat, and salt pork, though valuable in their way, being poor food to men whose appetites are enfeebled by heat and exhaustion.

It was not till upwards of six weeks after the fight at Abra Crampa that the last of the Ashanti army crossed the Prah. When arriving within a short distance of that river they had been met by seven thousand fresh troops, who had been sent by the king with orders that they were not to return until they had driven the English into the sea. Ammon Quatia's army, however, although still, from the many reinforcements it had received, nearly twenty thousand strong, positively refused to do any more fighting until they had been home and rested, and their tales of the prowess of the white troops so checked the enthusiasm of the newcomers, that these decided to return with the rest.

CHAPTER XXI: THE ADVANCE TO THE PRAH

A large body of natives were now kept at work on the road up to the Prah. The swamps were made passable by bundles of brushwood thrown into them, the streams were bridged and huts erected for the reception of the white troops. These huts were constructed of bamboo, the beds being made of lattice work of the same material, and were light and cool.

On the 9th of December the Himalaya and Tamar arrived, having on board the 23d Regiment, a battalion of the Rifle Brigade, a battery of artillery, and a company of engineers. On the 18th, the Surmatian arrived with the 42d. All these ships were sent off for a cruise, with orders to return on the 1st of January, when the troops were to be landed. A large number of officers arrived a few days later to assist in the organization of the transport corps.

Colonel Wood and Major Russell were by this time on the Prah with their native regiments. These were formed principally of Houssas, Cossoos, and men of other fighting Mahomedan tribes who had been brought down the coast, together with companies from Bonny and some of the best of the Fantis. The rest of the Fanti forces had been disbanded, as being utterly useless for fighting purposes, and had been turned into carriers.

On the 26th of December Frank started with the General's staff for the front. The journey to the Prah was a pleasant one. The stations had been arranged at easy marches from each other. At each of these, six huts for the troops, each capable of holding seventy men, had been built, together with some smaller huts for officers. Great filters formed of iron tanks with sand and charcoal at the bottom, the invention of Captain Crease, R.M.A., stood before the huts, with tubs at which the native bearers could quench their thirst. Along by the side of the road a single telegraph wire was supported on bamboos fifteen feet long.

Passing through Assaiboo they entered the thick bush. The giant cotton trees had now shed their light feathery foliage, resembling that of an acacia, and the straight, round, even trunks looked like the skeletons of some giant or primeval vegetation rising above the sea of foliage below. White lilies, pink flowers of a bulbous plant, clusters of yellow acacia blossoms, occasionally brightened the roadside, and some of the old village clearings were covered with a low bush bearing a yellow blossom, and convolvuli white, buff, and pink. The second night the party slept at Accroful, and the next day marched through Dunquah. This was a great store station, but the white troops were not to halt there. It had been a large town, but the Ashantis had entirely destroyed it, as well as every other village between the Prah and the coast. Every fruit tree in the clearing had also been destroyed, and at Dunquah they had even cut down a great cotton tree which was looked upon as a fetish by the Fantis. It had taken them seven days' incessant work to overthrow this giant of the forest.

The next halting place was Yancoomassie. When approaching Mansue the character of the forest changed. The undergrowth disappeared and the high trees grew thick and close. The plantain, which furnishes an abundant supply of fruit to the natives and had sustained the Ashanti army during its stay south of the Prah, before abundant, extended no further. Mansue stood, like other native villages, on rising ground, but the heavy rains which still fell every day and the deep swamps around rendered it a most unhealthy station.

Beyond Mansue the forest was thick and gloomy. There was little undergrowth, but a perfect wilderness of climbers clustered round the trees, twisting in a thousand fantastic windings, and finally running down to the ground, where they took fresh root and formed props to the dead tree their embrace had killed. Not a flower was to be seen, but ferns grew by the roadside in luxuriance. Butterflies were scarce, but dragonflies darted along like sparks of fire. The road had the advantage of being shady and cool, but the heavy rain and traffic had made it everywhere slippery, and in many places inches deep in mud, while all the efforts of the engineers and working parties had failed to overcome the swamps.

It was a relief to the party when they emerged from the forests into the little clearings where villages had once stood, for the gloom and quiet of the great forest weighed upon the spirits. The monotonous too too of the doves—not a slow dreamy cooing like that of the English variety, but a sharp quick note repeated in endless succession—alone broke the hush. The silence, the apparently never ending forest, the monotony of rank vegetation, the absence of a breath of wind to rustle a leaf, were most oppressive, and the feeling was not lessened by the dampness and heaviness of the air, and the malarious exhalation and smell of decaying vegetation arising from the swamps.

Sootah was the station beyond Mansue, beyond this Assin and Barracoo. Beyond Sootah the odors of the forest became much more unpleasant, for at Fazoo they passed the scene of the conflict between Colonel Wood's regiment and the retiring Ashantis. In the forest beyond this were the remains of a great camp of the enemy's, which extended for miles, and hence to the Prah large numbers of Ashantis had dropped by the way or had crawled into the forest to die, smitten by disease or rifle balls.

There was a general feeling of pleasure as the party emerged from the forest into the large open camp at Prahsue. This clearing was twenty acres in extent, and occupied an isthmus formed by a loop of the river. The 2d West Indians were encamped here, and huts had been erected under the shade of some lofty trees for the naval brigade. In the center was a great square. On one side were the range of huts for the general and his staff. Two sides of the square were formed by the huts for the white troops. On the fourth was the hospital, the huts for the brigadier and his staff, and the post office. Upon the river bank beyond the square were the tents of the engineers and Rait's battery of artillery, and the camps of Wood's and Russell's regiments. The river, some seventy yards wide, ran round three sides of the camp thirty feet below its level.

The work which the engineers had accomplished was little less than marvelous. Eighty miles of road had been cut and cleared, every stream, however insignificant, had been bridged, and attempts made to corduroy every swamp. This would have been no great feat through a soft wood forest with the aid of good workmen. Here, however, the trees were for the most part of extremely hard wood, teak and mahogany forming the majority. The natives had no idea of using an axe. Their only notion of felling a tree was to squat down beside it and give it little hacking chops with a large knife or a sabre.

With such means and such men as these the mere work of cutting and making the roads and bridging the streams was enormous. But not only was this done but the stations were all stockaded, and huts erected for the reception of four hundred and fifty men and officers, and immense quantities of stores, at each post. Major Home, commanding the engineers, was the life and soul of the work, and to him more than any other man was the expedition indebted for its success. He was nobly seconded by Buckle, Bell, Mann, Cotton, Skinner, Bates and Jeykyll, officers of his own corps, and by Hearle of the marines, and Hare of the 22d, attached to them. Long before daylight his men were off to their work, long after nightfall they returned utterly exhausted to camp.

Upon the 1st of January, 1874, Sir Garnet Wolseley, with his staff, among whom Frank was now reckoned, reached the Prah. During the eight days which elapsed before the white troops came up Frank found much to amuse him. The engineers were at work, aided by the sailors of the naval brigade, which arrived two days after the general, in erecting a bridge across the Prah. The sailors worked, stripped to the waist, in the muddy water of the river, which was about seven feet deep in the middle. When tired of watching these he would wander into the camp of the native regiments, and chat with the men, whose astonishment at finding a young Englishman able to converse in their language, for the Fanti and Ashanti dialects differ but little, was unbounded. Sometimes he would be sent for to headquarters to translate to Captain Buller, the head of the intelligence department, the statements of prisoners brought in by the scouts, who, under Lord Gifford, had penetrated many miles beyond the Prah.

Everywhere these found dead bodies by the side of the road, showing the state to which the Ashanti army was reduced in its retreat. The prisoners brought in were unanimous in saying that great uneasiness had been produced at Coomassie by the news of the advance of the British to the Prah. The king had written to Ammon Quatia, severely blaming him for his conduct of the campaign, and for the great loss of life among his army.

All sorts of portents were happening at Coomassie, to the great disturbance of the mind of the people. Some of those related singularly resembled those said to have occurred before the capture of Rome by the Goths. An aerolite had fallen in the marketplace of Coomassie, and, still more strange, a child was born which was at once able to converse fluently. This youthful prodigy was placed in a room by itself, with guards around it to prevent anyone having converse with the supernatural visitant. In the morning, however, it was gone, and in its place was found a bundle of dead leaves. The fetish men having been consulted declared that this signified that Coomassie itself would disappear, and would become nothing but a bundle of dead leaves. This had greatly exercised the credulous there.

Two days after his arrival Frank went down at sunset to bathe in the river. He had just reached the bank when he heard a cry among some white soldiers bathing there, and was just in time to see one of them pulled under water by an alligator, which had seized him by the leg. Frank had so often heard what was the best thing to do that he at once threw off his Norfolk jacket, plunged into the stream, and swam to the spot where the eddy on the surface showed that a struggle was going on beneath. The water was too muddy to see far through it, but Frank speedily came upon the alligator, and finding its eyes, shoved his thumbs into them. In an instant the creature relaxed his hold of his prey and made off, and Frank, seizing the wounded man, swam with him to shore amid the loud cheers of the sailors. The soldier, who proved to be a marine, was insensible, and his leg was nearly severed above the ankle. He soon recovered consciousness, and, being carried to the camp, his leg was amputated below the knee, and he was soon afterwards taken down to the coast.

It had been known that there were alligators in the river, a young one about a yard long having been captured and tied up like a dog in the camp, with a string round its neck. But it was thought that the noise of building the bridge, and the movement on the banks, would have driven them away. After this incident bathing was for the most part abandoned.

The affair made Frank a great favorite in the naval brigade, and of a night he would, after dinner, generally repair there, and sit by the great bonfires, which the tars kept up, and listen to the jovial choruses which they raised around them.

Two days after the arrival of Sir Garnet, an ambassador came down from the king with a letter, inquiring indignantly why the English had attacked the Ashanti troops, and why they had advanced to the Prah. An opportunity was taken to impress him with the nature of the English arms. A Gatling gun was placed on the river bank, and its fire directed upon the surface, and the fountain of water which rose as the steady stream of bullets struck its surface astonished, and evidently filled with awe, the Ashanti ambassador. On the following day this emissary took his departure for Coomassie with a letter to the king.

On the 12th the messengers returned with an unsatisfactory answer to Sir Garnet's letter; they brought with them Mr. Kuhne, one of the German missionaries. He said that it was reported in Coomassie that twenty thousand out of the forty thousand Ashantis who had crossed the Prah had died. It is probable that this was exaggerated, but Mr. Kuhne had counted two hundred and seventy-six men carrying boxes containing the bones of chiefs and leading men. As these would have fared better than the common herd they would have suffered less from famine and dysentery. The army had for the most part broken up into small parties and gone to their villages. The wrath of the king was great, and all the chiefs who accompanied the army had been fined and otherwise punished. Mr. Kuhne said that when Sir Garnet's letter arrived, the question of peace or war had been hotly contested at a council. The chiefs who had been in the late expedition were unanimous in deprecating any further attempt to contend with the white man. Those who had remained at home, and who knew nothing of the white man's arms, or white man's valor, were for war rather than surrender.

Mr. Kuhne was unable to form any opinion what the final determination would be. The German missionary had no doubt been restored as a sort of peace offering. He was in a bad state of health, and as his brother and his brother's wife were among the captives, the Ashanti monarch calculated that anxiety for the fate of his relatives would induce him to argue as strongly as possible in favor of peace.

Frank left the camp on the Prah some days before the arrival of the white troops, having moved forward with the scouts under Lord Gifford, to whom his knowledge of the country and language proved very valuable. The scouts did their work well. The Ashantis were in considerable numbers, but fell back gradually without fighting. Russell's regiment were in support, and they pressed forward until they neared the foot of the Adansee Hills. On the 16th Rait's artillery and Wood's regiment were to advance with two hundred men of the 2d West Indians. The Naval Brigade, the Rifle Brigade, the 42d, and a hundred men of the 23d would be up on the Prah on the 17th.

News came down that fresh portents had happened at Coomassie. The word signifies the town under the tree, the town being so called because its founder sat under a broad tree, surrounded by his warriors, while he laid out the plan of the future town. The marketplace was situated round the tree, which became the great fetish tree of the town, under which human sacrifices were offered. On the 6th, the day upon which Sir Garnet sent his ultimatum to the king, a bird of ill omen was seen to perch upon it, and half an hour afterwards a tornado sprang up and the fetish tree was levelled to the ground. This caused an immense sensation in Coomassie, which was heightened when Sir Garnet's letter arrived, and proved to be dated upon the day upon which the fetish tree had fallen.

The Adansee Hills are very steep and covered with trees, but without undergrowth. It had been supposed that the Ashantis would make their first stand here. Lord Gifford led the way up with the scouts, Russell's regiment following behind. Frank accompanied Major Russell. When Gifford neared the crest a priest came forward with five or six supporters and shouted to him to go back, for that five thousand men were waiting there to destroy them. Gifford paused for a moment to allow Russell with his regiment to come within supporting distance, and then made a rush with his scouts for the crest. It was found deserted, the priest and his followers having fled hastily, when they found that neither curses nor the imaginary force availed to prevent the British from advancing.

The Adansee Hills are about six hundred feet high. Between them and the Prah the country was once thick with towns and villages inhabited by the Assins. These people, however, were so harassed by the Ashantis that they were forced to abandon their country and settle in the British protectorate south of the Prah.

Had the Adansee Hills been held by European troops the position would have been extremely strong. A hill if clear of trees is of immense advantage to men armed with rifles and supported by artillery, but to men armed only with guns carrying slugs a distance of fifty yards, the advantage is not marked, especially when, as is the case with the Ashantis, they always fire high. The crest of the hill was very narrow, indeed a mere saddle, with some eight or ten yards only of level ground between the steep descents on either side. From this point the scouts perceived the first town in the territory of the King of Adansee, one of the five great kings of Ashanti. The scouts and Russell's regiment halted on the top of the hill, and the next morning the scouts went out skirmishing towards Queesa. The war drum could be heard beating in the town, but no opposition was offered. It was not, however, considered prudent to push beyond the foot of the hill until more troops came up. The scouts therefore contented themselves with keeping guard, while for the next four days Russell's men and the engineers labored incessantly, as they had done all the way from the Prah, in making the road over the hill practicable.

During this time the scouts often pushed up close to Queesa, and reported that the soldiers and population were fast deserting the town. On the fifth day it was found to be totally deserted, and Major Russell moved the headquarters of his regiment down into it. The white officers were much surprised with the structure of the huts of this place, which was exactly similar to that of those of Coomassie, with their red clay, their alcoved bed places, and their little courts one behind the other. Major Russell established himself in the chief's palace, which was exactly like the other houses except that the alcoves were very lofty, and their roofs supported by pillars. These, with their red paint, their arabesque adornments, and their quaint character, gave the courtyard the precise appearance of an Egyptian temple.

The question whether the Ashantis would or would not fight was still eagerly debated. Upon the one hand it was urged that if the Ashantis had meant to attack us they would have disputed every foot of the passage through the woods after we had once crossed the Prah. Had they done so it may be confidently affirmed that we could never have got to Coomassie. Their policy should have been to avoid any pitched battle, but to throng the woods on either side, continually harassing the troops on their march, preventing the men working on the roads, and rendering it impossible for the carriers to go along unless protected on either side by lines of troops. Even when unopposed it was difficult enough to keep the carriers, who were constantly deserting, but had they been exposed to continuous attacks there would have been no possibility of keeping them together.

It was then a strong argument in favor of peace that we had been permitted to advance thirty miles into their country without a shot being fired. Upon the other hand no messengers had been sent down to meet us, no ambassadors had brought messages from the king. This silence was ominous; nor were other signs wanting. At one place a fetish, consisting of a wooden gun and several wooden daggers all pointing towards us, was placed in the middle of the road. Several kids had been found buried in calabashes in the path pierced through and through with stakes; while a short distance outside Queesa the dead body of a slave killed and mutilated but a few hours before we entered it was hanging from a tree. Other fetishes of a more common sort were to be met at every step, lines of worsted and cotton stretched across the road, rags hung upon bushes, and other negro trumperies of the same kind.

Five days later the Naval Brigade, with Wood's regiment and Rait's battery, marched into Queesa, and the same afternoon the whole marched forward to Fomana, the capital of Adansee, situated half a mile only from Queesa. This was a large town capable of containing some seven or eight thousand inhabitants. The architecture was similar to that of Queesa, but the king's palace was a large structure covering a considerable extent of ground. Here were the apartments of the king himself, of his wives, the fetish room, and the room for execution, still smelling horribly of the blood with which the floor and walls were sprinkled. The first and largest court of the palace had really an imposing effect. It was some thirty feet square with an apartment or alcove on each side. The roofs of these alcoves were supported by columns about twenty-five feet high. As in all the buildings the lower parts were of red clay, the upper of white, all being covered with deep arabesque patterns.

Fomana was one of the most pleasant stations which the troops had reached since leaving the coast. It lay high above the sea, and the temperature was considerably lower than that of the stations south of the hills. A nice breeze sprung up each day about noon. The nights were comparatively free from fog, and the town itself stood upon rising ground resembling in form an inverted saucer. The streets were very wide, with large trees at intervals every twenty or thirty yards along the middle of the road.

CHAPTER XXII: THE BATTLE OF AMOAFUL

Two days after the arrival at Fomana the remaining members of the German mission, two males, a female, and two children, were sent in by the king with a letter containing many assurances of his desire for peace, but making no mention of the stipulations which Sir Garnet Wolseley had laid down. The advance was therefore to continue. The rest of the troops came up, and on the 25th Russell's regiment advanced to Dompiassee, Wood's regiment and Rait's battery joining him the next day. That afternoon the first blood north of the Prah was shed. It being known that a body of the enemy were collecting at a village a little off the road the force moved against them. Lord Gifford led the way, as usual, with his scouts. The enemy opened fire as soon as the scouts appeared; but these, with the Houssa company of Russell's regiment, rushed impetuously into the village, and the Ashantis at once bolted. Two of them were killed and five taken prisoners.

The next halting places of the advance troops were Kiang Bossu and Ditchiassie. It was known now that Ammon Quatia was lying with the Ashanti army at Amoaful, but five miles away, and ambassadors arrived from the king finally declining to accept the terms of peace. Russell's and Wood's regiments marched forward to Quarman, within half a mile of the enemy's outposts. The white troops came on to Insafoo, three miles behind. Quarman was stockaded to resist an attack. Gordon with the Houssa company lay a quarter of a mile in advance of the village, Gifford with his scouts close to the edge of the wood. Major Home with the engineers cut a wide path for the advance of the troops to within a hundred yards of the village which the enemy held.

Every one knew that the great battle of the war would be fought next morning. About half past seven on the morning of the 81st of January the 42d Regiment entered the village of Quarman, and marched through without a halt. Then came Rait's artillery, followed by the company of the 23d and by the Naval Brigade. The plan of operations was as follows. The 42d Regiment would form the main attacking force. They were to drive the enemy's scouts out of Agamassie, the village in front, and were then to move straight on, extending to the right and left, and, if possible, advance in a skirmishing line through the bush. Rait's two little guns were to be in their center moving upon the road itself. The right column, consisting of half the Naval Brigade, with Wood's regiment, now reduced by leaving garrisons at various posts along the road to three companies, was to cut a path out to the right and then to turn parallel with the main road, so that the head of the column should touch the right of the skirmishing line of the 42d. The left column, consisting of the other half of the Naval Brigade with the four companies of Russell's regiment, was to proceed in similar fashion on the left. These columns would therefore form two sides of a hollow square, protecting the 42d from any of those flanking movements of which the Ashantis are so fond. The company of the 23d was to proceed with the headquarter staff. The Rifle Brigade were held in reserve.

Early in the morning Major Home cut the road to within thirty yards of the village of Agamassie, and ascertained by listening to the voices that there were not more than a score or so of men in the village. Gifford had made a circuit in the woods, and had ascertained that the Ashanti army was encamped on rising ground across a stream behind the village.

Frank had been requested by Sir Garnet Wolseley to accompany the 42d, as his knowledge of Ashanti tactics might be of value, and he might be able by the shouts of the Ashantis to understand the orders issued to them. The head of the 42d Regiment experienced no opposition whatever until they issued from the bush into the little clearing surrounding the village, which consisted only of four or five houses. The Ashantis discharged their muskets hastily as the first white men showed themselves, but the fire of the leading files of the column quickly cleared them away. The 42d pushed on through the village, and then forming in skirmishing line, advanced. For the first two or three hundred yards they encountered no serious opposition, and they were then received by a tremendous fire from an unseen foe in front. The left column had not gone a hundred yards before they too came under fire. Captain Buckle of the Engineers, who was with the Engineer laborers occupied in cutting the path ahead of the advancing column, was shot through the heart. A similar opposition was experienced by the right.

The roar of the fire was tremendous, so heavy indeed that all sound of individual reports was lost, and the noise was one hoarse hissing roar. Even the crack of Rait's guns was lost in the general uproar, but the occasional rush of a rocket, of which two troughs with parties of Rait's men accompanied each wing, was distinctly audible.

The 42d could for a time make scarcely any way, and the flanking columns were also brought to a stand. Owing to the extreme thickness of the wood and their ignorance of the nature of the ground these columns were unable to keep in their proper position, and diverged considerably. The Ashantis, however, made no effort to penetrate between them and the 42d. For an hour this state of things continued. The company of the 23d advanced along the main road to help to clear the bush, where the Ashantis still fought stubbornly not two hundred yards from the village, while two companies of the Rifle Brigade were sent up the left hand road to keep touch with the rear of Russell's regiment.

When the fight commenced in earnest, and the 42d were brought to a stand by the enemy, Frank lay down with the soldiers. Not a foe could be seen, but the fire of the enemy broke out incessantly from the bushes some twenty yards ahead. The air above was literally alive with slugs and a perfect shower of leaves continued to fall upon the path. So bewilderingly dense was the bush that the men soon lost all idea of the points of the compass, and fired in any direction from which the enemy's shots came. Thus it happened that the sailors sent in complaints to the general that the 23d and 42d were firing at them, while the 42d and 23d made the same complaint against the Naval Brigade. Sir Garnet, who had taken up his headquarters at the village, sent out repeated instructions to the commanding officers to warn their men to avoid this error.

For two hours the fight went on. Then the column to the left found that the Ashantis in front of them had fallen back; they had, however, altogether lost touch of the 42d. They were accordingly ordered to cut a road to the northeast until they came in contact with them. In doing so they came upon a partial clearing, where a sharp opposition was experienced. The Houssas carried the open ground at a rush, but the enemy, as usual, opened a heavy fire from the edge of the bush. The Houssas were recalled, and fire was opened with the rockets, which soon drove the Ashantis back, and the cutting of the path was proceeded with.

In the meantime the 42d was having a hard time of it. They had fought their way to the edge of the swamp, beyond which lay an immense Ashanti camp, and here the fire was so tremendously heavy that the advance was again completely arrested. Not an enemy was to be seen, but from every bush of the opposite side puffs of smoke came thick and fast, and a perfect rain of slugs swept over the ground on which they were lying. Here Rait's gun, for he was only able from the narrowness of the path to bring one into position, did splendid service. Advancing boldly in front of the line of the 42d, ably assisted by Lieutenant Saunders, he poured round after round of grape into the enemy until their fire slackened a little, and the 42d, leaping to their feet, struggled across the swamp, which was over knee deep. Step by step they won their way through the camp and up the hill. Everywhere the dead Ashantis lay in heaps, attesting the terrible effect of the Snider fire and the determination with which they had fought.

Beyond the camp, upon the hills the bush was thicker than ever, and here, where it was impossible for the white soldiers to skirmish through the bush, the Ashantis made a last desperate stand. The narrow lane up which alone the troops could pass was torn as if by hail with the shower of slugs, while a large tree which stood nearly in the center of the path and caused it slightly to swerve, afforded some shelter to them from the storm of bullets which the 42d sent back in return. Here Rait brought his gun up again to the front and cleared the lane. The bush was too thick even for the Ashantis. The gun stopped firing and with a rush the regiment went up the narrow path and out into the open clearing beyond. For a short time the Ashantis kept up a fire from the houses, but the 42d soon drove them out, and a single shot from the gun down the wide street which divided the town into two portions, bursting in the midst of a group at the further end, killed eight and drove all further idea of resistance in that direction from their minds.

It was now about twelve o'clock; but although the Ashantis had lost their camp and village, and had suffered terribly, they were not yet finally beaten. They had moved the principal part of the forces which had been engaged upon our left round to the right, were pressing hard upon the column there and the 23d, and were cutting in between the latter and the 42d, when a fortunate accident enabled us to meet this attack more effectively. The left column had cut its path rather too much to the east, and came into the road between the 42d and 23d, forming a connecting link between them; while the right column, having at last cut away the whole of the brush wood in which the Ashantis had so long wedged themselves between them and the road, were now in direct communication with the 23d. They had been reinforced by a company of the Rifle Brigade. Our front, therefore, was now entirely changed, and faced east instead of north. The Ashantis in vain tried to break the line, but desisted from their efforts.

The firing died away, and it was thought that the battle was over, when at about a quarter to one a tremendous fire broke out from the rear of the column, showing that the Ashantis were making a last and desperate effort to turn our flank, and to retake the village from which we had driven them at eight in the morning. So near was the rear of the column to the village that the slugs fell fast into the reserve who were stationed there. Three companies of the Rifles were sent up to strengthen the line, and for three quarters of an hour the roar of the musketry was as heavy and continuous as it had been at any time during the day. Then, as the enemy's fire slackened, Sir Garnet gave the word for the line to advance, sweeping round from the rear so as to drive the enemy northwards before them.

The movement was admirably executed. The Bonny men of Wood's regiment, who had fought silently and steadily all the time that they had been on the defensive, now raised their shrill war cry, and slinging their rifles and drawing their swords—their favorite weapons—dashed forward like so many panthers let loose. By their side, skirmishing as quietly and steadily as if on parade, the men of the Rifle Brigade searched every bush with their bullets, and in five minutes from the commencement of the advance the Ashantis were in full and final retreat. The battle ended at about half past one, having lasted five hours and a half.

The Ashantis were supposed to have had from fifteen to twenty thousand men in the field. What their loss was could not accurately be calculated, as they carry off their dead as fast as they fall; but where rushes were made by our troops, as they had not time to do this, they lay everywhere thick on the ground. By the most moderate computation they must have lost over two thousand. Ammon Quatia himself was killed, as well as Aboo, one of the six great tributary kings. The body of the king's chief executioner was also pointed out by some of the prisoners. They fought with extraordinary pluck and resolution, as was shown by the fact that although wretchedly armed, for upwards of five hours they resisted the attack of troops armed with breech loaders, and supported by guns and rockets. Their position was a good one, and they had, no doubt, calculated upon coming down upon us from the rising ground, either on the flank or rear, with advantage, should we succeed in pushing forward.

Upon our side the loss in killed was very slight, not exceeding eight or ten. The 42d out of a total of four hundred and fifty had a hundred and four wounded, of whom eight were officers. In the right hand column, Colonel Wood, six naval officers, and twenty men of the Naval Brigade, with many of the native regiment, were wounded. Of the sixty engineer laborers twenty were wounded; while of their five officers Captain Buckle was killed, Major Home and Lieutenant Hare wounded, together with several of their white soldiers. Altogether our casualties exceeded two hundred and fifty. Fortunately but a small proportion of the wounds were serious.

While the battle was raging at one o'clock Quarman was attacked by a strong body of Ashantis coming from the west, probably forming part of Essarman Quatia's force. Captain Burnett, who was in command, having under him Lieutenant Jones of the 2d West Indian regiment, and thirty-five men of that corps and a few natives, conducted the defense, and was well seconded by his men. Although the attacking force was very greatly superior, and took the little garrison by surprise—for they did not expect, while a great battle was raging within a distance of a mile, that the Ashantis would be able to spare a force to attack a detached party—the garrison defended itself with great gallantry and complete success, not only beating off the enemy whenever they attacked, but sallying out and assisting to bring in a convoy of stores which was close at hand when the attack began.

Amoaful was a town capable of containing two or three thousand inhabitants. Great quantities of grain and coarse flour were found here. These were done up in bundles of dried plantain leaves, each bundle weighing from five to fifteen pounds. This capture was of great service to the commissariat, as it afforded an abundant supply of excellent food for the carriers. The troops were in high spirits that night. They had won a battle fought under extreme difficulty, and that with a minimum of loss in killed. There were therefore no sad recollections to damp the pleasure of victory.

Frank had been twice struck with slugs, but in neither case had these penetrated deeply, and he was able to sit round the camp fire and to enjoy his glass of rum and water. Two kegs of rum were the only stores which that night came up from the rear, thanks to the consideration of a commissariat officer, to whom the soldiers felt extremely grateful for providing them with an invigorating drink after their long and fatiguing labors of the day.

At about a mile and a quarter from Amoaful lay the town of Bequah, the capital of one of the most powerful of the Ashanti kings. Here a considerable force was known to be collected before the battle, and here many of the fugitives were believed to have rallied. It would have been impossible to advance and leave this hostile camp so close to a station in our rear. Lord Gifford was therefore sent out at daybreak to reconnoiter it. He approached it closely, when twenty men sprang out from the bush and fired at him, fortunately without hitting him. When he returned and made his report the general determined to attack and burn the place, and orders were issued for a column, consisting of Russell's regiment, Rait's battery, and the Naval Brigade, supported by the 42d and commanded by Colonel M'Leod, to start at one o'clock.

The march was not opposed through the bush, but as the scouts entered the clearing a heavy fire was opened upon them. Lord Gifford and almost the whole of his party were more or less severely wounded when the sailors rushed in to their support. For a short time the enemy kept up a heavy fire from the houses, and then fled, leaving about forty of their number dead on the ground. The town, which was about twice the size of Fomana, was burned, and the column returned to the camp.

A great portion of the town was destroyed and the place stockaded, and then all was in readiness for the advance upon Coomassie. Amoaful was to be left in charge of the 2d West Indians, who had now come up. Each man received four days' rations and each regiment was to take charge of its own provision and baggage. The advance started at seven in the morning, Russell's regiment, Rait's battery, and the Rifle Brigade. Then came the headquarter staff followed by the 42d and Naval Brigade. The hammocks and rations went on with the troops. The rest of the baggage remained behind. The road differed in nothing from that which had so long been followed. It bore everywhere marks of the retreating enemy, in provisions and other articles scattered about, in occasional dark stains, and in its plants and grass trampled into the ground, six feet in breadth, showing that the usual negro way of walking in single file had been abandoned. The rate of progression was slow, as the country had to be thoroughly searched by the advance. There were, too, many streams to be crossed, each causing a delay.

At one of the villages there was a large camp, where about a thousand men were assembled to make a stand. The defense was, however, feeble in the extreme, and it was evident that they were greatly demoralized by their defeat on the 1st. Russell's regiment carried the place at a rush, the enemy firing wildly altogether beyond the range of their weapons. Several were killed and the rest took precipitately to the bush. A few shots were fired at other places, but no real resistance took place. On reaching the village of Agamemmu, after having taken six hours in getting over as many miles, the column halted, and orders were sent for the baggage to come on from Amoaful. The troops were set to work to cut the bush round the village, which was a very small one, and a breastwork was thrown up round it. The troops were in their little tentes d'abri packed as closely together as possible outside the houses, but within the stockade. The carriers slept in the street of the village, where so thickly did they lie that it was impossible for anyone to make his way along without treading upon them.

News came in that night that Captain Butler with the Western Akims had arrived within two days' march of Amoaful, but that without the slightest reason the king and the whole of his army had left Captain Butler and retired suddenly to the Prah. At the same time they heard that the army of the Wassaws under Captain Dalrymple had also broken up without having come in contact with the enemy. From the rear also unpleasant news came up. The attack upon Quarman had been no isolated event. Fomana had also been attacked, but the garrison there had, after some hours' fighting, repulsed the enemy. Several convoys had been assaulted, and the whole road down to the Prah was unsafe. The next morning, after waiting till a large convoy came safely in, the column marched at nine o'clock, Gifford's scouts, Russell's regiment, and Rait's battery being as usual in front. The resistance increased with every step, and the head of the column was constantly engaged. Several villages were taken by Russell's regiment, who, full of confidence in themselves and their officers, carried them with a rush in capital style. It was but six miles to the Dab, but the ground was swampy and the road intersected by many streams. Consequently it was not until after being eight hours on the road that the head of the column reached the river, three hours later before the whole of the troops and their baggage were encamped there.

CHAPTER XXIII: THE CAPTURE OF COOMASSIE

Upon the afternoon of the arrival of the English column upon the Dah the king made another attempt to arrest their progress, with a view no doubt of bringing up fresh reinforcements. A flag of truce came in with a letter to the effect that our rapid advance had much disconcerted him, which was no doubt true, and that he had not been able to make arrangements for the payments claimed; that he would send in hostages, but that most of those whom the general had asked for were away, and that he could not agree to give the queen mother or the heir apparent. These were, of course, the principal hostages, indeed the only ones who would be of any real value. The answer was accordingly sent back, that unless these personages arrived before daybreak the next morning we should force our way into Coomassie.

The Dah is a river about fifteen yards wide and three feet deep at the deepest place. The Engineers set to work to bridge it directly they arrived, Russell's regiment at once crossing the river and bivouacking on the opposite bank.

It was unfortunate that this, the first night upon which the troops had been unprovided with tents, should have turned out tremendously wet. The thunder roared, the lightning flashed, and the rain came down incessantly. Tired as the troops were there were few who slept, and there was a general feeling of satisfaction when the morning broke and the last day of the march began.

The rain held up a little before daybreak, and the sky was clear when at six o'clock Wood's Bonny men, who had come up by a forced march the evening before, led the advance. Lieutenant Saunders with one of Rait's guns came next. The Rifles followed in support.

Before the Bonny men had gone half a mile they were hotly engaged, and the combat was for two hours a repetition of that of Amoaful. Saunders advanced again and again to the front with his gun, and with a few rounds of grape cleared the sides of the path of the enemy. At last, however, the Bonny men would advance no farther, and Lieutenant Byre, the adjutant of Wood's regiment, was mortally wounded.

Lieutenant Saunders sent back to say it was impossible for him to get on farther unless supported by white troops. The Rifles were then sent forward to take the Bonny men's place, and slowly, very slowly, the advance was continued until the clearing round a village could be seen fifty yards away. Then the Rifles gave a cheer and with a sudden rush swept through to the open and carried the village without a check. In the meantime the whole column had been following in the rear as the Rifles advanced, and were hotly engaged in repelling a series of flank attacks on the part of the enemy. These attacks were gallantly persevered in by the Ashantis, who at times approached in such masses that the whole bush swayed and moved as they pushed forward.

Their loss must have been extremely large, for our men lined the road and kept up a tremendous Snider fire upon them at a short distance. Our casualties were slight. The road, like almost all roads in the country, was sunk two feet in the center below the level of the surrounding ground, consequently the men were lying in shelter as behind a breastwork, while they kept up their tremendous fire upon the foe.

The village once gained, the leading troops were thrown out in a circle round it, and the order was given to pass the baggage from the rear to the village. The operation was carried out in safety, the path being protected by the troops lying in a line along it. The baggage once in, the troops closed up to the village, the disappointed foe continuing a series of desperate attacks upon their rear. These assaults were kept up even after all had reached the cleared space of the village, the enemy's war horn sounding and the men making the woods re-echo with their wild war cry. The Naval Brigade at one time inflicted great slaughter upon the enemy by remaining perfectly quiet until the Ashantis, thinking they had retired, advanced full of confidence, cheering, when a tremendous fire almost swept them away.

It was six hours from the time at which the advance began before the rear guard entered the village, and as but a mile and a half had been traversed and Coomassie was still six miles away, it was evident that if the Ashantis continued to fight with the same desperation, and if the baggage had to be carried on step by step from village to village, the force would not get halfway on to Coomassie by nightfall.

The instant the baggage was all in, preparations were made for a fresh advance. Rait's guns, as usual, opened to clear the way, and the 42d this time led the advance. The enemy's fire was very heavy and the Highlanders at first advanced but slowly, their wounded straggling back in quick succession into the village. After twenty minutes' work, however, they had pushed back the enemy beyond the brow of the hill, and from this point they advanced with great rapidity, dashing forward at times at the double, until the foe, scared by the sudden onslaught, gave way altogether and literally fled at the top of their speed.

War drums and horns, chiefs' stools and umbrellas, littered the next village and told how sudden and complete had been the stampede. As the 42d advanced troops were from time to time sent forward until a despatch came in from Sir A. Alison saying that all the villages save the last were taken, that opposition had ceased, and that the enemy were in complete rout. Up to this time the attack of the enemy upon the rear of the village had continued with unabated vigor, and shot and slug continually fell in the place itself. The news from the front was soon known and was hailed with a cheer which went right round the line of defense, and, whether scared by its note of triumph or because they too had received the news, the efforts of the enemy ceased at once, and scarcely another shot was fired.

At half past three the baggage was sent forward and the headquarter staff and Rifle Brigade followed it. There was no further check. The 42d and several companies of the Rifle Brigade entered Coomassie without another shot being fired in its defense. Sir Garnet Wolseley soon after arrived, and taking off his hat called for three cheers for the Queen, which was responded to with a heartiness and vigor which must have astonished the Ashantis. These were still in considerable numbers in the town, having been told by the king that peace was or would be made. They seemed in no way alarmed, but watched, as amused and interested spectators, the proceedings of the white troops.

The first thing to be done was to disarm those who had guns, and this seemed to scare the others, for in a short time the town was almost entirely deserted. It was now fast getting dark, and the troops bivouacked in the marketplace, which had so often been the scene of human sacrifices on a large scale.

Their day's work had, indeed, been a heavy one. They had been twelve hours on the road without rest or time to cook food. Water was very scarce, no really drinkable water having been met with during the day. In addition to this they had undergone the excitement of a long and obstinate fight with an enemy concealed in the bush, after work of almost equal severity upon the day before, and had passed a sleepless night in a tropical rainstorm, yet with the exception of a few fever stricken men not a single soldier fell out from his place in the ranks.

Nor was the first night in Coomassie destined to be a quiet one. Soon after two o'clock a fire broke out in one of the largest of the collections of huts, which was soon in a blaze from end to end. The engineers pulled down the huts on either side and with great difficulty prevented the flames from spreading. These fires were the result of carriers and others plundering, and one man, a policeman, caught with loot upon him, was forthwith hung from a tree. Several others were flogged, and after some hours' excitement the place quieted down. Sir Garnet was greatly vexed at the occurrence, as he had the evening before sent a messenger to the king asking him to come in and make peace, and promising to spare the town if he did so.

Although Coomassie was well known to Frank he was still ignorant of the character of the interior of the chiefs' houses, and the next day he wandered about with almost as much curiosity as the soldiers themselves. The interiors even of the palaces of the chiefs showed that the Ashantis can have no idea of what we call comfort. The houses were filled with dust and litter, and this could not be accounted for solely by the bustle and hurry of picking out the things worth carrying away prior to the hurried evacuation of the place. From the roofs hung masses of spiders' web, thick with dust, while sweeping a place out before occupying it brought down an accumulation of dust which must have been the result of years of neglect. The principal apartments were lumbered up with drums, great umbrellas, and other paraphernalia of processions, such as horns, state chairs, wooden maces, etc. Before the door of each house stood a tree, at the foot of which were placed little idols, calabashes, bits of china, bones, and an extraordinary jumble of strange odds and ends of every kind, all of which were looked upon as fetish. Over the doors and alcoves were suspended a variety of charms, old stone axes and arrow tips, nuts, gourds, amulets, beads, and other trumpery articles.

The palace was in all respects exactly as the king had left it. The royal bed and couch were in their places, the royal chairs occupied their usual raised position. Only, curiously enough, all had been turned round and over. The storerooms upstairs were untouched, and here was found an infinite variety of articles, for the most part mere rubbish, but many interesting and valuable: silver plate, gold masks, gold cups, clocks, glass, china, pillows, guns, cloth, caskets, and cabinets; an olla podrida, which resembled the contents of a sale room.

In many of the native apartments of the palace were signs that human sacrifice had been carried on to the last minute. Several stools were found covered with thick coatings of recently shed blood, and a horrible smell of gore pervaded the whole palace, and, indeed, the whole town. The palace was full of fetish objects just as trumpery and meaningless as those in the humblest cottages. The king's private sitting room was, like the rest, an open court with a tree growing in it. This tree was covered with fetish objects, and thickly hung with spiders' webs. At each end was a small but deep alcove with a royal chair, so that the monarch could always sit on the shady side.

Along each side of the little court ran a sort of verandah, beneath which was an immense assortment of little idols and fetishes of all kinds.

From one of the verandahs a door opened into the king's bedroom, which was about ten feet by eight. It was very dark, being lighted only by a small window about a foot square, opening into the women's apartments. At one end was the royal couch, a raised bedstead with curtains, and upon a ledge by the near side (that is to say the king had to step over the ledge to get into bed) were a number of pistols and other weapons, among them an English general's sword, bearing the inscription, "From Queen Victoria to the King of Ashanti." This sword was presented to the predecessor of King Coffee. Upon the floor at the end opposite the bed was a couch upon which the king could sit and talk with his wives through the little window.

In the women's apartments all sorts of stuffs, some of European, some of native manufacture, were found scattered about in the wildest confusion. The terror and horror of the four or five hundred ladies, when they found that their husband was about to abandon his palace and that they would have no time to remove their treasured finery, can be well imagined.

In almost every apartment and yard of the palace were very slightly raised mounds, some no larger than a plate, others two or even three feet long. These were whitewashed and presented a strong contrast to the general red of the ground and lower walls. These patches marked the places of graves. The whole palace, in fact, appeared to be little better than a cemetery and a slaughterhouse in one. A guard was placed over the palace, and here, as elsewhere through the town, looting was strictly forbidden.

All day the general expected the arrival of the king, who had sent a messenger to say he would be in early. At two o'clock a tremendous rainstorm broke over the town, lasting for three hours. In the evening it became evident that he was again deceiving us, and orders were issued that the troops, in the morning, should push on another three miles to the tombs of the kings, where he was said to be staying. Later on, however, the news came that the king had gone right away into the interior, and as another storm was coming up it became evident that the rainy season was setting in in earnest. The determination was therefore come to, to burn the town and to start for the coast next morning.

All night Major Home with a party of Engineers was at work mining the palace and preparing it for explosion, while a prize committee were engaged in selecting and packing everything which they considered worth taking down to the coast. The news of the change of plan, however, had not got abroad, and the troops paraded next morning under the belief that they were about to march still farther up the country. When it became known that they were bound for the coast there was a general brightening of faces, and a buzz of satisfaction ran down the ranks. It was true that it was believed that a large amount of treasure was collected at the kings' tombs, and the prize money would not have been unwelcome, still the men felt that their powers were rapidly becoming exhausted. The hope of a fight with the foe and of the capture of Coomassie had kept them up upon the march, but now that this had been done the usual collapse after great exertion followed. Every hour added to the number of fever stricken men who would have to be carried down to the coast, and each man, as he saw his comrades fall out from the ranks, felt that his own turn might come next.

At six o'clock in the morning the advanced guard of the baggage began to move out of the town. The main body was off by seven. The 42d remained as rearguard to cover the Engineers and burning party.

Frank stayed behind to see the destruction of the town. A hundred engineer laborers were supplied with palm leaf torches, and in spite of the outer coats of thatch being saturated by the tremendous rains, the flames soon spread. Volumes of black smoke poured up, and soon a huge pile of smoke resting over the town told the Ashantis of the destruction of their blood stained capital. The palace was blown up, and when the Engineers and 42d marched out from the town scarce a house remained untouched by the flames.

The troops had proceeded but a short distance before they had reason to congratulate themselves on their retreat before the rains began in earnest, and to rejoice over the fact that the thunderstorms did not set in three days earlier than they did. The marsh round the town had increased a foot in depth, while the next stream, before a rivulet two feet and a half deep, had now swollen its banks for a hundred and fifty yards on either side, with over five feet and a half of water in the old channel.

Across this channel the Engineers had with much difficulty thrown a tree, over which the white troops passed, while the native carriers had to wade across. It was laughable to see only the eyes of the taller men above the water, while the shorter disappeared altogether, nothing being seen but the boxes they carried. Fortunately the deep part was only three or four yards wide. Thus the carriers by taking a long breath on arriving at the edge of the original channel were able to struggle across.

This caused a terrible delay, and a still greater one occurred at the Dah. Here the water was more than two feet above the bridge which the Engineers had made on the passage up. The river was as deep as the previous one had been, and the carriers therefore waded as before; but the deep part was wider, so wide, indeed, that it was impossible for the shorter men to keep under water long enough to carry their burdens across. The tall men therefore crossed and recrossed with the burdens, the short men swimming over.

The passage across the bridge too was slow and tedious in the extreme. Some of the cross planks had been swept away, and each man had to feel every step of his way over. So tedious was the work that at five in the afternoon it became evident that it would be impossible for all the white troops to get across—a process at once slow and dangerous—before nightfall. The river was still rising, and it was a matter of importance that none should be left upon the other side at night, as the Ashantis might, for anything they could tell, be gathering in force in the rear. Consequently Sir Archibald Alison gave the order for the white troops to strip and to wade across taking only their helmets and guns. The clothes were made up in bundles and carried over by natives swimming, while others took their places below in case any of the men should be carried off their feet by the stream. All passed over without any accident.

One result, however, was a laughable incident next morning, an incident which, it may be safely asserted, never before occurred in the British army. It was quite dark before the last party were over, and the natives collecting the clothes did not notice those of one of the men who had undressed at the foot of a tree. Consequently he had to pass the night, a very wet one, in a blanket, and absolutely paraded with his regiment in the morning in nothing but a helmet and rifle. The incident caused immense laughter, and a native swimming across the river found and brought back his clothes.

As the journeys were necessarily slow and tedious, owing to the quantity of baggage and sick being carried down, Frank now determined to push straight down to the coast, and, bidding goodbye to Sir Garnet and the many friends he had made during the expedition, he took his place for the first time in the hammock, which with its bearers had accompanied him from Cape Coast, and started for the sea. There was some risk as far as the Prah, for straggling bodies of the enemy frequently intercepted the convoys. Frank, however, met with no obstacle, and in ten days after leaving the army reached Cape Coast.

Ostik implored his master to take him with him across the sea; but Frank pointed out to him that he would not be happy long in England, where the customs were so different from his own, and where in winter he would feel the cold terribly. Ostik yielded to the arguments, and having earned enough to purchase for years the small comforts and luxuries dear to the negro heart, he agreed to start for the Gaboon immediately Frank left for England.

On his first arrival at Cape Coast he had to his great satisfaction found that the Houssas who had escaped from Coomassie had succeeded in reaching the coast in safety, and that having obtained their pay from the agent they had sailed for their homes.

Three days after Frank's arrival at Cape Coast the mail steamer came along, and he took passage for England. Very strange indeed did it feel to him when he set foot in Liverpool. Nearly two years and a half had elapsed since he had sailed, and he had gone through adventures sufficient for a lifetime. He was but eighteen years old now, but he had been so long accustomed to do man's work that he felt far older than he was. The next day on arriving in town he put up at the Charing Cross Hotel and then sallied out to see his friends.

He determined to go first of all to visit the porter who had been the earliest friend he had made in London, and then to drive to Ruthven's, where he was sure of a hearty welcome. He had written several times, since it had been possible for him to send letters, to his various friends, first of all to his sister, and the doctor, to Ruthven, to the porter, and to the old naturalist. He drove to London Bridge Station, and there learned that the porter had been for a week absent from duty, having strained his back in lifting a heavy trunk. He therefore drove to Ratcliff Highway. The shop was closed, but his knock brought the naturalist to the door.

"What can I do for you, sir?" he asked civilly.

"Well, in the first place, you can shake me by the hand."

The old man started at the voice.

"Why, 'tis Frank!" he exclaimed, "grown and sunburnt out of all recollection. My dear boy, I am glad indeed to see you. Come in, come in; John is inside."

Frank received another hearty greeting, and sat for a couple of hours chatting over his adventures. He found that had he arrived a fortnight later he would not have found either of his friends. The porter was in a week about to be married again to a widow who kept a small shop and was in comfortable circumstances. The naturalist had sold the business, and was going down into the country to live with a sister there.

After leaving them Frank drove to the residence of Sir James Ruthven in Eaton Square. Frank sent in his name and was shown up to the drawing room. A minute later the door opened with a crash and his old schoolfellow rushed in.

"My dear, dear, old boy," he said wringing Frank's hand, "I am glad to see you; but, bless me, how you have changed! How thin you are, and how black! I should have passed you in the street without knowing you; and you look years older than I do. But that is no wonder after all you've gone through. Well, when did you arrive, and where are your things? Why have you not brought them here?"

Frank said that he had left them at the hotel, as he was going down early the next morning to Deal. He stayed, however, and dined with his friend, whose father received him with the greatest cordiality and kindness.

On leaving the hotel next morning he directed his portmanteau to be sent in the course of the day to Sir James Ruthven's. He had bought a few things at Cape Coast, and had obtained a couple of suits of clothes for immediate use at Liverpool.

On arriving at Deal he found his sister much grown and very well and happy. She was almost out of her mind with delight at seeing him. He stayed two or three days with her and then returned to town and took up his abode in Eaton Square.

"Well, my dear boy, what are you thinking of doing?" Sir James Ruthven asked next morning at breakfast. "You have had almost enough of travel, I should think."

"Quite enough, sir," Frank said. "I have made up my mind that I shall be a doctor. The gold necklace which I showed you, which Ammon Quatia gave me, weighs over twenty pounds, and as it is of the purest gold it is worth about a thousand pounds, a sum amply sufficient to keep me and pay my expenses till I have passed. Besides, Mr. Goodenough has, I believe, left me something in his will. I sent home one copy to his lawyer and have brought the other with me. I must call on the firm this morning. I have also some thirty pounds' weight in gold which was paid me by the king for the goods he took, but this, of course, belongs to Mr. Goodenough's estate."

Upon calling upon the firm of lawyers, and sending in his name, he was at once shown in to the principal.

"I congratulate you on your safe return, sir," the gentleman said. "You have called, of course, in reference to the will of the late Mr. Goodenough."

"Yes," Frank replied. "I sent home one copy from Coomassie and have brought another with me."

"We received the first in due course," the gentleman said, taking the document Frank held out to him. "You are, of course, acquainted with its contents."

"No," Frank answered, "beyond the fact that Mr. Goodenough told me he had left me a legacy."

"Then I have pleasant news to give you," the lawyer said. "Mr. Goodenough died possessed of about sixty thousand pounds. He left fifteen thousand each to his only surviving nephew and niece. Fifteen thousand pounds he has divided among several charitable and scientific institutions. Fifteen thousand pounds he has left to you."

Frank gave a little cry of surprise.

"The will is an eminently just and satisfactory one," the lawyer said, "for Mr. Goodenough has had but little intercourse with his relations, who live in Scotland, and they had no reason to expect to inherit any portion of his property. They are, therefore, delighted with the handsome legacy they have received. I may mention that Mr. Goodenough ordered that in the event of your not living to return to England, five thousand pounds of the portion which would have come to you was to be paid to trustees for the use of your sister, the remaining ten thousand to be added to the sum to be divided among the hospitals."

"This is indeed a surprise," Frank said; "and I shall be obliged, sir, if you will at once draw out a paper for me to sign settling the five thousand pounds upon my sister. Whatever may happen then she will be provided for."

The accession of this snug and most unexpected fortune in no way altered Frank's views as to his future profession. He worked hard and steadily and passed with high honors. He spent another three years in hospital work, and then purchased a partnership in an excellent West End practice. He is now considered one of the most rising young physicians of the day. His sister keeps house for him in Harley Street; but it is doubtful whether she will long continue to do so. The last time Dick Ruthven was at home on leave he persuaded her that it was her bounden duty to endeavor to make civilian life bearable to him when he should attain captain's rank, and, in accordance with his father's wish, retire from the army, events which are expected to take place in a few months' time.

Ruthven often laughs and tells Frank that he is a good soldier spoiled, and that it is a pity a man should settle down as a doctor who had made his way in life "by sheer pluck."

THE END

Table of Contents

"The Young Colonists"

Preface.

Chapter One.

A Snow-Drift.

Chapter Two.

The Red Flag.

Chapter Three.

The Farm.

Chapter Four.

The Outbreak of War.

Chapter Five.

Isandula.

Chapter Six.

Zlobani.

Chapter Seven.

Kambula.

Chapter Eight.

The Second Advance.

Chapter Nine.

Ulundi.

Chapter Ten.

A Trading Expedition.

Chapter Eleven.

A Troop of Lions.

Chapter Twelve.

An Attack by Elephants.

Chapter Thirteen.

A Brush with the Natives.

Chapter Fourteen.

Trapped in a Defile.

Chapter Fifteen.

A Mountain-Torrent.

Chapter Sixteen.

A Fight with the Boers.

Chapter Seventeen.

A Terrible Journey.

Chapter Eighteen.

The Boer Insurrection.

Chapter Nineteen.

The Garrisons in the Transvaal.

Chapter Twenty.

Laing’s Neck.

G.A. Henty

"The Young Colonists"

"A Story of the Zulu and Boer Wars"

Preface.

As a rule the minor wars in which this country has been from time to time engaged, have been remarkable both for the admirable way in which they were conducted and for the success that attended them. The two campaigns in South Africa, however, that followed each other with but a brief interval, were notable exceptions. In the Zulu War the blunder, made by the General in command, of dividing his army and marching away with the greater portion without troubling himself to keep up communication with the force left behind, brought about a serious disaster at Isandula. In the Boer War we also suffered two defeats,—one at Laing’s Neck, the other at Majuba Hill,—and when at last a British force was assembled capable of retrieving these misfortunes, the English government decided not to fight, but to leave the Boers in possession of the Transvaal. This unfortunate surrender has, assuredly, brought about the troubled state of things now existing in South Africa.

After having written upwards of fifty records of almost unbroken success to the British arms in almost all parts of the world, I have found it painful to describe these two campaigns in which we suffered defeat. I trust, however, that this story will prove of great interest to the reader because of the characteristic English pluck and daring of its hero.

G.A. Henty.

Chapter One.

A Snow-Drift.

The country round Castleton, in Derbyshire, is greatly admired by summer tourists, for it lies in the wildest part of that county; but in winter the wind whistles sharply over the bleak hills—where there are no trees to break its violence,—the sheep huddle under the shelter of the roughly-built stone walls, and even lovers of the picturesque would at that season prefer a more level and wooded country. The farm of Mr Humphreys was situated about a mile from Castleton. It consisted of 100 acres or so of good land in the bottom, and of five or six times as much upland grazing on the hills. Mr Humphreys owned as well as farmed his land, and so might have claimed, had he chosen, the title of gentleman-farmer; but he himself would have scoffed at such an idea. He was a hard-working, practical farmer, about over his ground from morning to night, save when the hounds met within easy distance in winter; then he would mount “Robin,” who served alike as hunter, or hack, or to drive in the neat dog-cart to Buxton market; and, although there were many handsomer horses in the field, Mr Humphreys was seldom far off when the fox was killed.

His family consisted of his wife and two sons, the eldest, Richard, was about fourteen years old. His brother, John, was three years younger. Both went to school at Castleton. The younger boy was fond of his books; he had always been weak and delicate, and, being unable to spend his time in active exercise out of doors, he was generally to be found reading by the fire in winter, or lying on the ground in summer under a tree in the orchard, with his chin on his hand, and the book before him. Richard had no literary taste; he managed to scrape through his work and keep a moderate place in his class, somewhere about half-way down; but he threw his whole heart into outdoor exercise, and was one of the best bats in the school, although there were many there older by years. He knew every foot of the hills, could tell every bird by its note, and knew all about their nests and eggs. Except in school, or perhaps during the long winter evenings, it was rare indeed to find Dick with a book in his hand.

“You will never set the Thames on fire, Dick,” his father would say to him.

“I shall never want to, father,” he would reply. “I do not see that learning will ever be much good to me.”

“That is a foolish idea, Dick. A great deal of the learning that boys get at school is of no actual value in pounds, shillings, and pence. It is not the fact of knowing Latin, and Greek, and mathematics which benefits a man; but it is the learning of them. It is the discipline to the mind, which is of benefit. The mind is like the body. There is no use in cricket, or in boating, or in hunting, but these things strengthen the body and make it active and healthy, and able to do better everything which it undertakes, and it is exactly the same thing with the mind; besides, the days are coming when farmers must farm their land with science and intelligence, or they will be left behind in the race. We are being rivalled by the farmers of America. Not only do we have to pay rent, but by the tithes and rates and taxes they put upon us government makes the English farmer pay a heavy tax upon every bushel of corn he produces, while they allow the American corn to come into the market tax-free. This may be all right, but it does not appear fair to me. However, there it is, and we have got to meet it, and if we are to keep our heads above water, it can only be by farming up to the very best lights of the day.”

“Well, father,” Dick said, “then it seems to me that when we grow up, John and I must farm together. He shall be the scientific partner; I will do the work.”

“That is all right enough, Dick, but you must have some science too, else you and he will never get on. You would want to go on in the old-fashioned groove, and would call his ideas newfangled. No, I intend you, when you get old enough, to go to Cirencester College, where you will learn the theory and science of farming thoroughly. You will get the practical part at home. As to John, he is a child yet, and, I trust, will grow up strong and active; but if his tastes remain as they now are, I do not think it likely he will take to farming, and we must find some other career for him.”

One afternoon in the beginning of December two of Dick’s school-fellows said to him—

“We are going over the hills to our uncle’s farm, Dick. Will you go with us?”

When there was nothing better to do, Dick was always ready for a walk, and he at once agreed to accompany the Jacksons. The elder boy was about his own age, the younger two years his junior.

The Jacksons called for him directly he had finished his dinner, and they started away together for a farm which was about four miles distant. They struck right across the hills, as it would have been two miles longer by the nearest road.

“I should not be surprised,” Dick said, “if it were to snow to-night; it is bitterly cold, and the clouds look very heavy.”

“I hope it won’t snow until we get back,” James, the younger of the brothers, remarked.

“I don’t know,” Dick answered, looking at the clouds. “I should not be surprised if it began at any moment.”

The wind was blowing strongly. The hills were high and steep, and, although the boys made their best speed, it was considerably over an hour before they reached the farm. They had started at two, and it was now a quarter past three. Mr Jackson was out. The boys delivered the message with which they had been charged to their aunt.

“Now,” she said, “I will cut you each a hunch of cake, and when you have eaten that and had a glass of fresh milk you had best start at once. It is bitterly cold, and we are going to have snow: The sooner you are home, the better.”

The boys now ate their cake. Mrs Jackson came to the door with them. Then she said, as the first flake of snow fell—

“I am not sure, boys, that you had not better stay here all night.”

The boys laughed.

“Why, what would they say at home? They would just be in a way about us.”

“Well, at any rate, you had better go by the road.”

“Oh, that is two miles farther at least. We should not get home until long after dark. We shan’t be an hour by the hills. We know every foot of the way.”

“Well, good-bye, then. Make as much haste as you can.”

For half a mile their way led along the road, then they scrambled over a wall and began to ascend the barren hill-side. The snow was falling fast now. Thicker and thicker it came down, and when, hot and panting, they reached the top of the hill, the wind blew the flakes so fiercely into their faces that they were half-blinded, and were obliged to turn their backs to the gale while they got breath. For half an hour they struggled on. They could scarcely see ten paces before them through the driving snow, and in every sheltered spot white patches rapidly began to form.

“How different things look in a snow-storm!” Dick said, as they stopped for breath and shelter under the lee of a wall. “I don’t know, Tom, but I am not quite sure that we are going straight; I do not know what wall this is.”

“No more do I,” Tom Jackson replied. “I felt quite sure that we were going right at first, but somehow I don’t think so now.”

“I wish the snow would stop for a minute,” Dick said, “just to let us have a look round. If I could see a hundred yards I am sure I should know where we are. What is the matter with you, James; what are you blubbering about?”

“My feet are so cold; they hurt dreadfully.”

“Oh, never mind,” Dick said. “Come, boys, push along, and we shall soon be home.”

Again they started with heads bent to face the storm.

“It is getting dark awfully fast,” Tom Jackson said.

“It is, and no mistake. Come, let us have a trot. Come on, young one.”

But, although Dick spoke hopefully, he was not as confident as he appeared. He was sure now that they had lost the way. They might not, he hoped, be far off the track; but he knew that they were not following the precise line by which they came.

It was now nearly dark. The snow was falling thicker than ever, and the ground, except upon the uplands exposed to the full force of the wind, was covered with a white mantle.

On arriving at the bottom of a steep hill, they stopped again.

“Do you know where we are, Tom?”

“Not in the least,” Tom answered.

“This ought to be the last valley,” Dick said, “and after one more climb we ought to go straight down into Castleton. Don’t you remember in that valley there were a lot of sheep in a fold, with a wall round it? If we can find that, we shall know that we are right. It is near the bottom, so we shall not miss it. Which way shall we turn, left or right?”

“Let us try the left first,” Tom said.

They walked for half a mile, gradually ascending.

“It is not this way,” Tom said at last. “We are getting to the head of the valley. What are you doing, James?” as the young boy, who had been sobbing for some time, threw himself on the snow.

“I cannot go any farther,” he murmured. “I am so cold, and so tired, and so sleepy.”

“Oh, nonsense!” Dick said. “Here, take hold of his arm, Tom, and lift him up; give him a good shake; he must go on; he would die if he stopped here.”

The two lads raised the younger boy, and half-supporting half-dragging him turned and retraced their footsteps.

It was pitch dark now, and they could not see a yard before them. For some time they continued their way.

“There is no shepherd’s hut. Certainly, this is not the valley. What on earth are we to do?”

“I don’t know,” Tom said, beginning to cry.

“Shut up, Tom Jackson. What are you thinking about? This is no time for howling like a baby; you have got to think of what is best to do. It is no use climbing the next hill, for we might be going away from home, instead of getting nearer. Besides, we should have to haul Jimmy up, for he can scarcely stand now; and, although it is bitterly cold here, it would be worse on the top of the hill. No, we have got to step here all night, that is clear.”

“We shall be dead before morning!” Tom roared.

“I will hit you in the eye, Tom Jackson, if you don’t shut up; you are as bad as a girl; I am ashamed of you. Now, what we have got to do, is to find some sort of shelter, either a wall or bush, and we must keep on until we come to something. Keep awake, Jimmy; we shan’t have much farther to go, and then you can lie down quietly.”

They went on for a bit.

“It is no use,” Dick said. “They don’t put walls across bottoms; more likely to find one either to the right or left. Now, Tom, you stop here for a minute or two, and I will look about; you keep shouting every minute, so that I can find my way back to you.”

Turning off, he began to ascend the next hill, and in two or three minutes shouted the glad news to Tom that he had found the wall; then he returned.

Jimmy, cheered at the prospect of lying down, made an effort, and they soon reached the wall.

Like most of the walls in Derbyshire, it was formed of flat stones laid without mortar, some four feet high.

“Now, Tom, set to work; get some stones off the wall on both sides, and build up two other walls against this; three feet wide inside will do, and just long enough to lie in. Here, Jimmy, you help; it will keep you awake, and, you see, the higher we make the walls the snugger it will be; we will have quite a nice house.”

The boys all set to work, and in half an hour three walls were built. At the point where the two side walls touched the other, they were three feet high, and sloped down to two at the lower end.

“Now, Jimmy, you chuck the snow out. Tom and I will go, one each way, along the wall; likely enough we may come upon some bushes—they often grow in shelter of the walls: if we can find a few sticks we will cover the house over. Lots of these stones are a couple of feet long, and we will manage a sort of roof. The snow will soon cover it, and we shall be as warm as possible.”

A quarter of an hour later the two boys returned; both had been successful and brought a bundle of sticks; these were laid across the top, interspersed with smaller twigs, the ends being kept down with stones to prevent their being blown away. The last were placed in position after the boys had crept inside. They did not attempt to roof it with stones, for the supply of sticks and brushwood was large enough to catch the snow-flakes as they fell, and these would soon form a covering, while it would have been difficult to balance the stones.

Jimmy was by this time in a state almost of lethargy; but the others were fairly warm from their exertions. They now lay down close beside the younger boy, one on each side. At first they felt the cold extremely.

“Let us keep awake as long as we can,” Dick said.

“I don’t feel inclined to sleep at all,” Tom answered; “my hands and feet feel frozen, but I am warm enough everywhere else, and the ground is precious hard and bumpy.”

“I am only afraid about Jimmy,” Dick said; “he is sound asleep, and he was so awfully cold; lie as close as you can to him, Tom, and put your arm over him and keep your legs huddled up against his.”

“It feels warmer than it did,” he went on, after a pause of half an hour; “don’t you think so, Tom?”

“A lot warmer,” Tom said. “I expect the snow has made a good thick roof.”

“Yes, and the wind does not blow through the stones as it did. I expect the snow is drifting up all round; it was getting very deep against the wall when we got in, and if it goes on all night, Tom, I should not wonder if we are covered deep before morning. The wind always sweeps it off the hills, and makes deep drifts in the bottoms.”

“What shall we do, then?”

“I don’t know,” Dick answered; “but there will be plenty of time to think of that in the morning. I think Jimmy is all right, Tom; I have just put my hand inside his waistcoat and he feels quite warm now. Say your prayers, and then let us try to get off to sleep.”

This they were not very long in doing, for the air in the little hut was soon heated by the action of their bodies. Outside the storm was still raging, and the wind, laden with swirling snow from the uplands, was piling it high in the valleys. Already the hut was covered and the wall behind it.

All night and all next day the snow continued to fall; the next day, and the next, it kept on. Old folks down in Castleton said they never remembered such a storm. It lay three feet deep in the fields, and there was no saying how deep the drifts might be in the hollows. For the first two days the wind had tried its best to keep the hills clear, but it had tired of the work, and for the last two had ceased to blow, and the great feathered flakes formed steadily and silently.

Tom was the first to wake.

“Holloa!” he exclaimed, “where are we? Oh! I remember. Dick, are you awake?”

“Yes, I am awake now,” Dick said. “What is it? It is not morning yet. I seem to have been asleep a long time, and don’t my bones just ache? Jimmy, old boy, are you all right?”

“Yes,” Jimmy grunted.

“It is quite warm,” Dick said. “It feels very close, and how still it is! The wind has quite gone down. Do you know, Tom, I think it must be morning. There seems a faint sort of light. I can see the stones in the wall behind you.”

“So it must,” Tom assented. “Oh! how stifling it is!” and he raised himself into a sitting position.

“I am afraid we are buried deep in the snow-drift. Put your hand up, Tom; don’t you feel some of these sticks are bent in the middle?”

“Ever so much; there must be a great weight on them. What are we to do, Dick; shall we try and dig a way out?”

“That will be no good,” Dick answered; “not if it is deep; and if it has been snowing all night, there is no saying how deep it may be this morning down in this bottom. This drift-snow is like dust. I remember last winter that Bill Jones and Harry Austin and I tried to make a tunnel in a deep drift, but the snow fell in as fast as we scraped it away. It was just like dry sand.”

“We are all right for warmth,” Tom said; “but it feels quite stifling.”

“Yes, we must try and get some air,” Dick said. “The roof-sticks are close together down at our feet. There were three or four left over when we had finished, so we can take them away without weakening the roof. We might shove one of them up through the snow.”

The sticks were removed carefully, but a quantity of fine snow fell in on their feet. One was then shoved up through the top, but the only effect, when it was removed, was that it was followed by some snow powdering down on their faces.

“Let us tie four of them together,” Dick said. “I have plenty of string in my pocket.”

This was done, fresh sticks being tied to the bottom as the first were shoved up through the snow.

“Now, Tom, help me to work it about a bit, so as to press the snow all round, and make a sort of tube.”

For some time a shower of little particles fell as they worked, but gradually these ceased. Then the stick was cautiously lowered, being untied joint by joint, and looking up the boys gave a shout of pleasure. At the top of the hole, which was some six inches wide at the bottom, was a tiny patch of light.

“We have only just reached the top,” Dick said; “the snow must be near fifteen feet deep.”

Small though the aperture was, it effected a sensible relief. The feeling of oppression ceased; half an hour later the hole was closed up, and they knew that the snow was still falling.

Another length of stick was added, and the daylight again appeared.

The boys slept a good deal; they had no sensation of cold whatever, the heat of their bodies keeping the air at a comfortable temperature. They did not feel so hungry as they expected, but they were very thirsty.

“I shall eat some snow,” Tom said.

“I have heard that that makes you more thirsty,” Dick remarked; “hold some in your hands till it melts, and then sip the water.”

Four days passed; then they found that the snow no longer continued to cover up the hole, and knew that the snow-storm had ceased. The number of sticks required to reach the top was six, and as each of these was about four feet long they knew that, making allowance for the joints, the snow was over twenty feet deep.

Very often the boys talked of home, and wondered what their friends were doing. The first night, when they did not return, it would be hoped that they had stayed at the farm; but somebody would be sure to go over in the morning to see, and when the news arrived that they were missing, there would be a general turn out to find them.

“They must have given up all hope by this time,” Dick said, on the fifth morning, “and must be pretty sure that we are buried in the drift somewhere; but, as all the bottoms will be like this, they will have given up all hopes of finding our bodies till the thaw comes.”

“That may be weeks,” Tom said; “we might as well have died at once.”

“We can live a long time here,” Dick replied confidently. “I remember reading once of a woman who had been buried in the snow being got out alive a tremendous time afterwards. I think it was five weeks, but it might have been more. Hurrah! I have got an idea, Tom.”

“What is that?” Tom asked.

“Look here; we will tie three more sticks—”

“We can’t spare any more sticks,” Tom said; “the snow is up to our knees already.”

“Ah! but thin sticks will do for this,” Dick said; “we can get some thin sticks out here. We will tie them over the others, and on the top of all we will fasten my red pocket-handkerchief, like a flag; if any one comes down into this bottom they are sure to see it.”

Chapter Two.

The Red Flag.

Dick’s plan was soon carried into effect, and the little red flag flew as an appeal for help ten feet above the snow in the lonely valley.

Down in Castleton events had turned out just as the boys had anticipated. The night of the snow-storm there was no sleep for their parents, and at daybreak, next morning, Mr Humphreys and Mr Jackson set out on foot through the storm for the distant farm. They kept to the road, but it took them four hours to reach the farm, for the drifts were many feet deep in the hollows, and they had the greatest difficulty in making their way through.

When, upon their arrival, they found the boys had left before the gale began, their consternation and grief were extreme, and they started at once on their return to Castleton.

Search-parties were immediately organised, and these, in spite of the fury of the storm, searched the hills in all directions.

After the first day, when it was found that they were not at any of the shepherds’ huts scattered among the hills, all hopes of finding them alive ceased. So hopeless was it considered, that few parties went out on the three following days; but on the fifth, when the snow-storm ceased and the sun shone out, numbers of men again tramped the hills in the vague hope of finding some sign of the missing boys; they returned disheartened. The snow was two feet deep everywhere, twenty in many of the hollows.

The next day but few went out, for the general feeling was, that the bodies could not be discovered until the thaw came, and at present it was freezing sharply.

Among those who still kept up the search were several of the boys’ school-fellows. They had not been permitted to join while the snow-storm continued, and were therefore fresh at the work. A party of four kept together, struggling through the deep snow-drifts, climbing up the hills, and enjoying the fun, in spite of the saddening nature of their errand.

On arriving at the brow of a deep valley five miles from home, they agreed that they would go no farther, as it was not likely that the missing boys could have wandered so far from their track. That they had in fact done so was due to a sudden change in the direction of the wind; it had been driving in their faces when they started, and with bent down heads they had struggled against it, unconscious that it was sharply changing its direction.

“Just let us have a look down into the bottom,” one of the boys said; “there may be a shepherd’s hut here.”

Nothing, however, was seen, save a smooth, white surface of snow.

“What is that?” one exclaimed suddenly. “Look, there is a little red flag flying down there—come along.”

The boys rushed down the hill at full speed.

“Don’t all go near the flag,” one said; “you may be treading on their bodies.”

They arrived within ten yards of the flag, in which they soon recognised a red pocket-handkerchief. They were silent now, awestruck at the thought that their companions were lying dead beneath.

“Perhaps it is not theirs,” the eldest of the party said presently. “Anyhow I had better take it off and carry it home.”

Treading cautiously and with a white face, for he feared to feel beneath his feet one of the bodies of his friends, he stepped, knee-deep in the snow-drift, to the flag. He took the little stick in his hand to pluck it up; he raised it a foot, and then gave a cry of astonishment and started back.

“What is the matter?” the others asked.

“It was pulled down again,” he said in awestruck tones. “I will swear it was pulled down again.”

“Oh, nonsense!” one of the others said; “you are dreaming.”

“I am not,” the first replied positively; “it was regularly jerked in my hand.”

“Can they be alive down there?” one suggested.

“Alive! How can they be alive after five days, twenty feet deep in the snow? Look at the flag!”

There was no mistake this time; the flag was raised and lowered five or six times. The boys took to their heels and ran and gathered in a cluster fifty yards away on the hill-side.

“What can it be?” they asked, looking in each others’ pale faces.

The behaviour of the flag seemed to them something supernatural.

“We had better go back and tell them at home,” one of them said.

“We can’t do that; no one would believe us. Look here, you fellows,” and he glanced round at the bright sky, “this is nonsense; the flag could not wave of itself; there must be somebody alive below; perhaps there is a shepherd’s hut quite covered with the drift, and they have pushed the flag up through the chimney.”

The supposition seemed a reasonable one, and a little ashamed of their panic the group returned towards the flag. The eldest boy again approached it.

“Go carefully, Tomkins, or you may fall right down a chimney.”

The flag was still continuing its up and down movement; the boy approached and lay down on the snow close to it; then he took hold of the stick; he felt a pull, but held fast; then he put his mouth close to the hole, two or three inches in diameter, through which it passed.

“Halloa!” he shouted; “is any one below?”

A cry of “Yes, yes,” came back in reply. “The two Jacksons and Humphreys.”

“Hurrah!” he shouted at the top of his voice, and his companions, although they had not heard the answer, joined in the cheer.

“Are you all right?” he shouted down again.

“Yes, but please get help and dig us out.”

“All right; I will run all the way back; they will have men here in no time; good-bye; keep up your spirits.”

“They are all there below!” he shouted to his friends. “Come on, you fellows, there is not a moment to lose.”

Wild with excitement the boys made their way home; they rushed down the hill-sides, scrambled through the drifts in the bottoms, in which they sometimes disappeared altogether, and had to haul each other out, struggled up the hills, and, panting and breathless, rushed in a body into Mr Humphreys’ farmhouse, that standing nearest to them, on their way to Castleton.

“We have found them; we have found them,” they panted out. “They are all alive.”

Mrs Humphreys had risen from her seat in a chair by the fire as the boys entered, and uttering a faint cry fell back insensible.

At this moment the farmer, who had but five minutes before returned, having been out since daybreak on the hills, hurried into the room; he was taking off his heavy boots when he heard the rush of feet into the house. “We have found them, sir; they are all alive!”

“Thank God! thank God!” the farmer exclaimed reverently, and then seeing his wife insensible hurried towards her, uttering a shout for the servants. Two women ran in. “Look to your mistress,” he said; “she has fainted; the good news has been too much for her—the boys are found alive.”

With mingled exclamations of gladness and dismay the servants raised their mistress.

“Now, boys, where are they?” Mr Humphreys asked.

The lads gave a rapid narrative of what had happened.

“Under the snow all this time!” the farmer exclaimed; “they must be, as you say, in a hut. Now, will one of you stay and show me the way back, and the others go on to Mr Jackson’s and other places, and bring a strong party of men with shovels on after us?”

The lad who had spoken with the prisoners remained to act as guide, the others hurried off.

“Come with me, my boy, into the larder. There, help yourself; you must be hungry and tired, and you have got to do it over again.”

Mr Humphreys then ran into the yard, and bade the four labourers provide themselves with shovels and prepare to accompany him at once.

He then went back into the parlour. His wife was just opening her eyes; for a time she looked confused and bewildered, then suddenly she sat up and gazed beseechingly at her husband—memory had come back to her.

“Yes, wife, thanks be to God, it is true—the boys are alive; I am just going with these men to dig them out. They are snowed up in a hut. Now, Jane, get a large basket, and put in it lots of bread, and bacon—the men who are working will want something; fill the largest stone jar with beer; put in a bottle of brandy and a bottle of milk, and set to and get some soup ready; bring three small mattresses downstairs and a lot of blankets.”

Five minutes later the search-party started, Mr Humphreys and the guide leading the way; the men followed, one carrying five shovels; another, the basket and jar; the other two, three hurdles on which were placed the mattresses and blankets.

It was no easy matter so laden making their way over the hills and through the deep drifts. Mr Humphreys took his share of the labour; but it was two hours from the time when they started before they arrived at the spot where the flag was waving, and the night was already closing in.

Mr Humphreys hurried forward to the flag; he knelt down beside it.

“Are you still alive, Dick?—it is I, your father!”

“Yes, father, we are all alive, and we shall be all right now you have come. Don’t get too near the stick; we are afraid of the hole closing up, and smothering us.”

“Which side is the door,” Mr Humphreys asked, “so that we can dig that way?”

“There is no door, father; but you had better dig from below, because of the wall.”

“There must be a door,” Mr Humphreys said to himself, as he rejoined the men. “There can’t be a hut without a door; Dick must be a little lightheaded, and no wonder. Now, lads, let us set to work from below.”

The five men were soon at work, throwing aside the snow. In a short time the other parties arrived.

Mr Humphreys had brought with him a stock of candles. These were lit and stuck in the snow, where, as there was no wind, they burnt steadily, affording sufficient light for the search. The work was all the more difficult from the lightness of the snow, as the sides fell in like sand as they worked upon it, and they were obliged to make a very broad cutting.

At last there was a cheer, as they struck the ground.

“Now, working up hill we must be at the hut in a few feet.”

Twenty willing hands laboured away incessantly, but to their surprise no hut was met with; they worked and worked, throwing the snow behind them, until Mr Jackson struck his shovel upon something hard.

“Here is a wall or something,” he said.

Another minute uncovered a low wall of two feet in height, and directly afterwards a leg was popped up through the snow. A loud cheer broke from the men.

But again the snow-drift fell in from the sides, and it was another quarter of an hour before the lads were lifted from the narrow shelter where they had for five days lain.

The Jacksons were too weak to stand, but Dick was just able to keep on his feet. A cup of milk mixed with some brandy was given to each. Then Dick in a few words told the story, and the surprise of all, as they examined the little hut and heard the details of the almost miraculous preservation of the boys, was almost unbounded.

They were now wrapped in blankets and laid on mattresses placed on the hurdles; the contents of the baskets—for others besides Mr Humphreys had brought a stock of provisions, not knowing how long the search-party might be engaged—were distributed among the workers, and then four men lifted each hurdle and the party started for home, a messenger having been sent back at full speed directly the boys were got out, to bear the glad news to Castleton.

It was just midnight when the main body returned. A second cup of brandy and milk had done much to revive the two elder boys, and Dick had been able to eat a piece of bread. James, however, had fallen asleep directly he was wrapped in the blankets, and did not awake until he was set down at his father’s door.

At both houses doctors were in waiting for their arrival. Dick was at once pronounced to be none the worse for his adventure, except that his feet were frost-bitten from long contact with the snow; indeed had it not been from this cause he could, on the following day, have been up and about. As it was, in a fortnight, he was perfectly himself again.

Tom Jackson was confined to the house for many weeks; he lost several of his toes, but eventually became strong and hearty again. James, however, never recovered—the shock to his system had been too great; he lingered on for some months, and then sank quietly and painlessly.

The events of the snow-storm left a far deeper trace upon Mrs Humphreys than upon her son. The terrible anxiety of those five days had told greatly upon her, and after they were over she seemed to lose strength rapidly. She had never been very strong, and a hacking cough now constantly shook her. The doctor who attended her looked serious, and one day said to Mr Humphreys—

“I don’t like the state of your wife; she has always been weak in her lungs, and I fear that the anxiety she went through has somehow accentuated her former tendency to consumption. The air of this place—you see she was born in the south—is too keen for her. If I were you I would take her up to London and consult some first-rate man in lung diseases, and get his opinion.”

The next day Mr Humphreys started for London. The celebrated physician examined his wife, and afterwards took him aside.

“I cannot conceal from you,” he said, “that your wife’s lungs are very seriously affected, although consumption has not yet thoroughly set in. If she remains in this country she may not live many months; your only hope is to take her abroad—could you do that?”

“Yes, sir,” Mr Humphreys said. “I can take her anywhere. Where would you advise?”

“She would benefit from a residence either in Egypt or Madeira,” the doctor said; “but for a permanency I should say the Cape. I have known many complete cures made there. You tell me that you are engaged in agricultural pursuits; if it is possible for you to settle there, I can give you every hope of saving her life, as the disease is not yet developed. If you go, don’t stay in the lowlands, but get up into the high plateaus, either behind the Cape itself, or behind Natal. The climate there is delicious, and land cheap.”

Mr Humphreys thanked him and left, returning the next day to Castleton. The astonishment of the boys, and indeed of Mrs Humphreys, was unbounded, when the farmer announced in the evening at supper that he intended to sell his land and emigrate at once to the Cape.

The boys were full of excitement at the new and strange idea, and asked numerous questions, none of which the farmer could answer; but he brought out a pile of books, which he had purchased in town, concerning the colonies and their resources, and for once Dick’s aversion to books vanished, and he was soon as much absorbed as his brother in the perusal of the accounts of the new land to which they were to go.

On the following Saturday, to the surprise of all Castleton, an advertisement appeared in the Derbyshire paper announcing the sale by auction at an early date of Mr Humphreys’ farm.

Dick and John were quite heroes among their companions, who looked with envy at boys who were going to live in a land where lions and elephants and all sorts of wild beasts abounded, to say nothing of warlike natives.

“There always seem to be Kaffir wars going on,” one boy said, “out at the Cape; you will have all sorts of excitement, Dick.”

“I don’t think that sort of excitement will be nice,” Dick replied; “it must be horribly anxious work to think every time you go out to work that the place may be attacked and every one killed before you get back. But that is all nonsense, you know; I have been reading about some of the Kaffir wars; they are in the bush-country, down by the sea. We are going up on to the high lands at the back of Natal. Father says very likely we may buy a farm in the Transvaal, but mother does not seem to like the accounts of the Dutchmen or Boers, as they are called, who live there, and says she would rather have English neighbours; so I expect if we can get a farm somewhere in the Natal colony, we shall do so.”

“You seem to know all about the place,” the boy said, surprised.

“Well, we have had seven or eight books to read about it, and I seem now to know more about South Africa than about any other country in the world. There are the diamond-fields, too, out there, and I hope, before I settle down regularly to a farm, that father will let me go for a few months and try my luck there. Would it not just be jolly to find a diamond as big as a pigeon’s egg and worth about twenty thousand pounds?”

“And do they do that?” the boy asked.

“Well, they don’t often find them as big as that; still, one might be the lucky one.”

The news that Mr Humphreys and his family were about to sell off and emigrate naturally caused a great deal of talk in and around Castleton, and put the idea into the minds of many who had never before seriously thought of it. If Mr Humphreys, who had one of the best farms in the neighbourhood, thought that it would pay him to sell his land and go out, it would surely be a good thing for others to do the same. He was considered to be a good farmer and a long-headed man; one who would not take such a step without carefully looking into the matter—for Mr Humphreys, in order to avoid questioning and the constant inquiries about his wife’s health, which would be made, did he announce that he was leaving for that reason, did not think it necessary to inform people that it was in the hopes of staving off the danger which threatened her that he was making a move.

A great many of the neighbouring labourers would gladly have gone with him; but he found by his reading that Kaffir labour was to be obtained out there very cheaply. He determined, however, to take with him two of his own hands; the one a strong active young fellow named Bill Harrison, the other a middle-aged man named Johnson, who had been with him from a boy. He was a married man with two girls, aged fifteen and sixteen, the eldest of whom was already employed by Mrs Humphreys in the house. Johnson’s wife was a superior woman of her class, and Mr Humphreys thought that it would be pleasant for his wife, having a woman at hand, whom she could speak to. The girls were to act as servants—indeed Mr Humphreys thought it probable that the whole party would live under one roof.

Among those whom Mr Humphreys’ decision to emigrate had much moved was Mr Jackson. He was not in so good a position, as he did not farm his own land; but he had sufficient capital to start him well in the colony, where a farm can be bought outright at a few shillings an acre. He talked the matter over with his friend on several occasions, and at last said—

“Well, I think I have pretty well made up my mind; the doctor is telling me that my poor little chap is not likely to live long; his mother is wrapped up in him, and will never like the place again;—so I think on all grounds a change will be good. I can’t come out with you, because I have got a lease of the farm; but I fancy that it is worth more than it was when I took it, and if I can get a good tenant to take it off my hands I don’t suppose the landlord will make any objections. I shall look about at once, and, when my poor little chap is gone, I shan’t be long before I come after you. You will let me know how you find the place, and whether these book-accounts are true?—I have heard that many of these chaps who write books are awful liars. I should like to get a farm as near you as may be.”

It was early in the spring when Mr Humphreys and his party embarked at Plymouth in the Dunster Castle. The farm had sold well, and Mr Humphreys possessed a capital of several thousand pounds—a sum which would make him a rich man in the colony. None of the party had ever seen the sea before, and the delight of the two boys and the wonderment of the labourers at all they saw was very great. Mr Humphreys had taken first-class passages for himself and family, while the others of course were steerage passengers.

Chapter Three.

The Farm.

The voyage to the Cape passed without any incident whatever. The weather was fine the whole distance. Without even a single storm to break the monotony they touched at Capetown and Port Elizabeth, and at last arrived at Durban. The journey had not been too long for the boys; everything was so perfectly new to them that they were never tired of watching the sea and looking for porpoises and the shoals of fish, over which hovered thousands of birds.

Once or twice they saw a whale spout, while flying-fish were matters of hourly occurrence. They had prodigious appetites, and greatly enjoyed the food, which was altogether different to that to which they had been accustomed. They had stopped at Madeira and St Vincent, where great stocks of delicious fruit had been taken on board. Altogether they were quite sorry when they arrived at the end of the voyage.

The landing was effected in large boats, as the Dunster Castle drew too much water to cross the bar at the mouth of the harbour.

They stopped only one day at Durban, where Mr Humphreys hired a waggon to take the party to Pieter-Maritzburg, the capital. He was not encumbered with baggage, as he had decided to buy everything he wanted in the colony.

“You may pay dearer,” he said, “no doubt; but then you get just what you want. If I were to take out implements, they might not be suited to the requirements of the country. As for clothes, they would of course be pretty much the same everywhere; still, it is better to take out only a year’s requirements and to buy as we want, instead of lumbering over the country with a quantity of heavy baggage.”

The party were greatly amused at their first experience of a Cape waggon; it was of very large size, massively built, and covered with a great tilt; and it was drawn by sixteen oxen, spanned two by two. This was an altogether unnecessary number for the weight which had to be carried, but the waggon had come down loaded from the interior, and Mr Humphreys therefore paid no more than he would have done for a waggon with a small number of oxen. They took two days to accomplish the journey, the women sleeping at night in the waggon, and Mr Humphreys and his sons in blankets on the ground.

The driver, who was an Englishman, had been many years in the colony, and from him, upon the road, Mr Humphreys gained much valuable information about the country. The driver was assisted by two Kaffirs, one of whom walked ahead of the leading cattle, the other alongside, shouting and prodding them.

The boys were astonished at the power and accuracy with which the driver whirled his whip; this had a short handle and a lash of twenty yards long, and with it he was able to hit any animal of the team with absolute certainty, and indeed to make the thong alight on any part of their bodies at which he aimed.

On their arrival at Pieter-Maritzburg Mr Humphreys hired a house, and here he placed his party while he set to work to make inquiries after a suitable location. He soon heard of several places which seemed suitable, and having bought a horse started for Newcastle, a small town situated close to the frontier-line between the Transvaal and Natal.

He was away for three weeks, and on his return informed his wife that he had purchased a farm of 2000 acres, with a substantial farmhouse, at a distance of ten miles from Newcastle, for the sum of 1500 pounds.

The farmhouse was already roughly furnished, but Mr Humphreys purchased a number of other articles, which would make it comfortable and home-like. He laid in a great stock of groceries, and then hiring a waggon, similar to that in which they had before travelled, started with his party for the farm, having also hired four Kaffirs to assist there. Travelling by easy stages, it took them twelve days to get to Newcastle. The country was undulating and the road rose steadily the whole distance.

Near Pieter-Maritzburg the population was comparatively thick. The fields were well cultivated and the vegetation thick and luxuriant, but as they ascended the character of the country changed. Vast stretches of rolling grass everywhere met the eye. This was now beautifully green, for it was winter. In the summer and autumn the grass becomes dry and burnt up; fire is then applied to it, and the whole country assumes a black mantle. But the first shower of rain brings up the young grass and in a very short time the country is covered with fresh verdure.

Mr Humphreys told his wife that, before fixing on the farm, he had ridden into the Transvaal, and found that land could be purchased there even more cheaply than in Natal; but that he had much conversation with English settlers on the frontier, and these had for the most part strongly advised him to settle inside the Natal frontier.

“It may be that all will be right,” one had told him, “but the Boers have not yet recovered from their scare from Secoceni.”

“Who is Secoceni, father?” Dick asked. “The books we have say nothing about him.”

“No,” Mr Humphreys said; “they were all published a few years since, and none of them treat much of the affairs of the Transvaal, which, as an independent state, had comparatively little interest to English settlers. There are in the Transvaal, which is of immense extent, a very large number of natives, enormously outnumbering the Boers. In the southern districts, where the Boers are strongest, they cruelly ill-treat the natives, making slaves of them, and thinking no more of shooting one of them down than they would of shooting a dog. In the outlying provinces they live almost on sufferance of the natives, and, were these to unite their forces and rise, they could annihilate the Dutch. Secoceni is a powerful chief, who lives with his tribe in a natural stronghold; he has always held himself as independent of the Dutch. As his men used to make raids upon the Boers’ cattle, the latter attacked him, and in alliance with Swazis, another powerful tribe, endeavoured to carry his fortress; they were, however, badly beaten; it being only by the gallantry of their native allies that the Boer contingent was saved from destruction. Secoceni then took the offensive. A perfect panic seized the Boers; they refused to obey the orders of their government, and to turn out to resist the invaders. The treasury was empty, for their government had never been enabled to persuade them to pay taxes. They applied for aid to Natal, but finally their plight was so bad that they were glad to accept the offer which Mr Shepstone made them, of annexation to England, by which they secured our protection and were safe from annihilation. Secoceni was not the only enemy who threatened them. They had a still more formidable foe in the Zulus on the eastern frontier. These are a very warlike people, and it was known that their king meditated the conquest of the Transvaal. But, glad enough as the Boers were at the moment to accept the protection of England, now that the danger is over a great many of them would like to kick down the bridge which has helped them over the stream. They make no secret of their dislike to Englishmen, and although they are glad enough to sell their land at prices immensely in advance of the former value, for indeed land was previously almost unsaleable in the Transvaal, they are on bad terms with them. One of my informants describes them as a sullen, sulky people, and predicts that sooner or later we shall have trouble with them; so I thought it better altogether to pay a little higher for my land, and to be within the boundaries of this colony.”

On arriving at the farm Mrs Humphreys was glad to find that the house, though rough, was substantial. It was built of stone. The walls were of great thickness, as the stones were laid without mortar, with which, however, it was faced inside and out. One large room occupied the greater portion of the ground floor; beside this was a small sitting-room. Upstairs were four bedrooms. For the time the small room downstairs was turned into a bedroom, which Mr and Mrs Humphreys occupied. The four bedrooms upstairs just held the rest of the party. The out-houses consisted only of a large barn and a rough stable.

Mr Humphreys at once rode over to Newcastle, and obtained the services of a mason and six Kaffirs, and proceeded to add a wing to the farmhouse. This was for the use of Johnson and his wife, and Harrison. The whole party were, however, to take their meals together in the great kitchen. A hut was also built for the Kaffirs, and another large stable was erected.

A few days after his arrival Mr Humphreys went across the border into the Transvaal, taking Harrison and two of the Kaffirs with him, and returned a fortnight later with a herd of 400 cattle, which he had purchased. He also bought three yoke of oxen, broken to the plough. Hitherto the farm had been purely a pastoral one, but Mr Humphreys at once began to break up some land for wheat and Indian corn. The Kaffirs were set to work to fence and dig up a plot round the house for vegetables, and to dig holes near it, over a space of some acres, for the reception of 3000 young fruit-trees—apples, pears, peaches, and plums,—which he had bought at Pieter-Maritzburg, and which were to come up in two months’ time. He also bought six riding-horses.

In a few weeks the farm assumed quite a different appearance. A gang of Kaffirs, ten strong, had been hired to hurry on the work of preparing the orchard and erecting a fence round it. Wood was, Mr Humphreys found, extremely scarce and dear, the country being absolutely bare of trees, and wood for fuel was only obtained in kloofs or deep hollows, and had to be fetched long distances.

“I suppose,” Mrs Humphreys said to her husband one evening, “you mean to make cattle-raising your principal point?”

“No,” he said; “every one raises cattle, and the Dutch can do it cheaper than we can; they have immense tracts of land, and their Kaffir labour costs them next to nothing. I do not say that we could not live and to a certain extent thrive on cattle, but I think that there is something much better to be done. Wood is an awful price here, and all that is used has to be brought up from the coast. I think therefore of planting trees. The climate is magnificent, and their growth will be rapid. They will of course require fencing to keep out the cattle, but I shall do that, as I am doing the orchard, with wire fencing and light iron-uprights. Labour is plentiful, and there are large nurseries near Pieter-Maritzburg, where I can procure any number of young trees; so I mean to plant 200 acres a year—in ten years the whole farm will be planted, and the loppings for poles and firewood will in a very short time after planting begin to pay well. In fifteen years the first 200 acres will be fit to fell, and the property will be worth a very large sum of money. Of course we can sell out before that if we like. But at the present price of wood up here, or even should it fall to a quarter of its present price, the value of the 2000 acres of wood will in twenty years be extremely large.”

The boys were delighted with their new life. Mr Humphreys had, before leaving England, bought for Dick a Winchester repeating-rifle. These arms are very light, and Dick was able to carry his without difficulty; and very shortly after their arrival his father had a mark erected at a distance from the house, at which he could practise with safety. Game was abundant all over the country. Herds of deer and antelope of various kinds often swept past in sight of the farmhouse, and winged game also abounded.

Mr Humphreys had at home been considered a first-rate shot at partridges, and had for four or five years belonged to the Castleton volunteers, and had carried off many prizes for rifle-shooting. He was now able, by going out for a few hours once or twice a week, to keep the larder well supplied, and the little flock of fifty sheep, which he had bought for home-consumption, was but seldom drawn upon. The Kaffirs were fed upon mealies, as they call Indian corn, of which Mr Humphreys had no difficulty in purchasing sufficient for his wants from the neighbouring farmers.

His next neighbours were two brothers, Scotchmen, named Fraser, who lived at a distance of four miles. They rode over the day after the travellers’ arrival, and offered their services in any way. Mr Humphreys, however, was well supplied with stores of all kinds, and his two white labourers, being both handy men, were able to do all that was required about the house.

The Frasers proved pleasant neighbours, and often rode over and spent Sunday with the Humphreys, and the boys sometimes went over and spent the day with them.

A Kaffir lad, son of one of the men engaged upon the farm, was hired by Mr Humphreys as a special attendant for Dick. On these vast undulating plains, where there are no trees to serve as a landmark, it is exceedingly difficult for a stranger to find his way. Dick was told by his father that, whether riding or walking, he was always to take the Kaffir boy with him; and except when he was indulging in a gallop the lad was easily able to keep up with him. He had been born a hunter, and soon taught Dick how to stalk the timid deer, and, as the lad improved in his shooting, he was ere long enabled to keep the larder supplied—a duty which Mr Humphreys gladly handed over to him, as every minute of his own time was occupied by his work on the farm.

Of an evening after supper, which was partaken of at the conclusion of work, the men retired to their own wing and Mrs Humphreys and the two girls sat down to their sewing by the fire; for upon the uplands the evenings are quite cold enough to find a fire a comfort in winter. Then the boys would take out their lesson-books and work steadily for three hours. Under the changed conditions of their life, Mr Humphreys felt that Dick might, if he chose, well discontinue his study of the classics, and his work therefore consisted in the reading of history, travels, and books of scientific knowledge.

“Next to being a learned man,” his father said to him, “the best and most useful thing is to be a thoroughly well-informed man on all general subjects.”

John, however, continued his studies as before; his life of outdoor exercise strengthened and improved him, and he no longer wished to be always sitting with a book in his hand—still, he had a natural love of study, which his father encouraged, deeming it possible that as he grew up he might be unwilling to embrace the life of a colonist, in which case he determined to send him home to finish his education in England, and afterwards to start him in any profession he might select.

Finding that the cost of carriage up the country was very high, and as he would yearly require many waggon-loads of young trees and fencing Mr Humphreys determined to do his own teaming; he therefore bought two of the large country-waggons and set a Kaffir to work to break in some young steers to the yoke.

Six months after their arrival in the colony they had for the first time visitors to stay at the farm—Mr Jackson, his wife, his son Tom, and two daughters coming out to settle near them. This was a great delight to the boys, and fortunately Mr Jackson was able to buy a farm of 500 acres adjoining that of his friend; the house, however, was but a cabin, and while a fresh one was being erected the family remained guests of the Humphreys. Mr Jackson had, at his friend’s advice, brought with him from England a labourer with his wife and family, who at once took up their residence in the hut on the farm.

To Dick the coming of the Jacksons was a source of special pleasure. Tom was just his own age, and the two boys had become inseparable friends at home after their adventure in the snow, upon which occasion Tom, as he freely owned, had owed his life to Dick’s energy and promptness of suggestion. Dick was fond of his brother, but three years make a great difference at this period of life, and, as their tastes were wholly dissimilar, John had never been a companion for him. Since their arrival in South Africa they had got on very well together; still, they had not the same ideas or subjects of thought, and it was an immense delight to Dick to have his old friend and companion with him.

It must not be supposed that Dick’s time was occupied solely in amusement; from early morning until dinner-time he worked steadily. Sometimes he assisted to erect the hurdles and strain the wires of the fencing; at others he aided in the planting of the fruit-trees; then he would be with the Kaffirs who were breaking in the oxen for the waggons. At all times he took off his coat and worked with the rest, for, as his father said—

“If a farmer is to be able properly to look after men at work, he must be able to do the work himself.”

While Dick was at work with the men, John, who was too young to be of any use, remained indoors at his books, and, although of an afternoon he would stroll out, he seldom went far from the house. The other boys generally went for long rides when work was done. One day they sighted a herd of steinbock. Leaving their horses with the Kaffir lad in a hollow, they crept round so as to get the deer between them and the wind, and managed to reach unobserved a brow within a hundred yards of the herd. Dick had by this time become a good shot, and the buck at which he aimed fell dead in its tracks. Tom was not much of a shot, but he had fired into the thick of the deer and gave a shout of delight at seeing one of them fall. The rest of the herd dashed off at full speed. Tom ran, shouting, forward, but to his mortification the stag that he had hit rose again to its feet and went off at a trot in the direction taken by the others; a minute later the Kaffir boy was seen running towards them at his full speed, leading the horses.

The two boys on his arrival leapt into their saddles and started in pursuit of the wounded stag, which was still in sight, thinking at first they could easily ride it down. But the animal seemed rather to gain than to lose strength, and, although they had considerably lessened the start he had obtained of them, he still kept steadily on. Active and wiry as their horses were, they could not overtake it, and the boys had at last the mortification of seeing that the stag was now gaining upon them, and they presently drew rein, and their panting horses came to a standstill.

“What a horrid sell!” Tom Jackson exclaimed angrily. “I can’t understand his going like that after I fairly brought him down.”

“I expect,” Dick said, “that your bullet can only have grazed his skull; it stunned him for the moment, but after he had once come to himself he went on as briskly as usual. If he had been hard hit we should certainly have ridden him down.”

“Well, I suppose,” Tom said more good-humouredly, “there is nothing for it but to ride back.”

“But which is our road?” Dick said in some dismay. “I am sure I have no idea, and now that the sun is gone in there is nothing to steer by.”

While they had been riding, the day had changed; the sky, which had for weeks been bright and fine, was now overcast with heavy clouds.

“We are in for a storm, I think,” Dick went on, “and it is coming on fast. I have not an idea which way to go, and I think our best plan will be to halt. Joel will track us, and the farther we go the longer he will be in overtaking us. There is the first drop! The best thing to do, Tom, will be to take off our saddles and tether our horses, and then to wait. This storm is a nuisance; in the first place we shall be drenched, in the second it will wash out our tracks, and the darkness will come so quickly that I am afraid Joel will not be able to trace us. You see we do not know whether we have been riding straight or not; the stag may have been running in a circle for anything we know, and as we have been riding for something like two hours, we may be within five miles of home or we may be five and twenty.”

Scarcely had the boys got the saddles off and tethered their horses when the rain came down in a sheet, accompanied by the most tremendous thunder and the most vivid lightning Tom had ever seen.

“This is awful, Dick,” he said.

“Yes,” Dick agreed; “thunderstorms here are frightful. Houses are often struck; but, lying down here in the open, there is not much fear.”

For hours the storm continued unabated; the rain came down in a perfect deluge. The boys had put their saddles together and had covered these with the horse-cloths so as to form a sort of tent, but they were nevertheless soaked to the skin, and, to add to their discomfiture, the horses had been so frightened by the blinding glare of the lightning that they tugged at the ropes until, as the wet penetrated the ground, the pegs became loosened, and they scoured away into the darkness.

After continuing for five hours the rain suddenly ceased.

“What are we to do in the morning, Dick?”

“If it is fine it will be easy enough; we shall put our saddles on our heads and walk eastward. I have got a little pocket-compass which father gave me in case I should at any time get lost, so we shall have no difficulty in keeping our way, and sooner or later we must strike the road running north to Newcastle.”

They did not, however, wait till morning; so wet and chilled were they, that they agreed they would rather walk than lie still. Accordingly they put the saddles on their heads as soon as the rain ceased and the stars shone out, struck a light and looked at their compass, fixed on a star to steer by, and then set out on their journey.

Fortunately, after two hours’ walking, they struck the road at a point some ten miles from the farm, and were home soon after daybreak, just as their fathers were about to set out with a body of Kaffirs in search of them. Joel had returned late at night, having turned his face homeward when it became too dark to follow the track; the horses had both come in during the night.

Chapter Four.

The Outbreak of War.

As soon as the Jacksons’ house was finished, they went into residence there; but two or three times a week Dick and Tom managed to meet, one or other being sure to find some excuse for riding over.

The Humphreys had arrived in Natal at the end of April, 1877, and by November in the following year their farm presented a very different appearance to that which it had worn on their arrival—sixteen months of energetic labour, carried on by a considerable number of hands, will effect wonders. Possessing ample capital Mr Humphreys was able to keep a strong gang of Kaffirs at work, and for some time had thirty men upon the farm. Thus the house which, when he took it, stood solitary and lone in a bare plain, was now surrounded by 200 acres of young trees. Of these, twenty acres were fruit-trees; the remainder, trees grown for their wood. These were planted thickly, as they would every year be thinned out, and the young poles would fetch a good sum for fencing. Although they had only been planted a few months, they were already green and bright; they were protected from the cattle by a wire fence encircling the whole.

The cattle had thriven and were doing well, and a large field of Indian corn had been harvested for the use of the Kaffirs. The cattle had nearly doubled in numbers, as Mr Humphreys did not care about selling at present. The expenses of living were slight. Meat, fowls, and eggs were raised upon the farm, and the guns of Mr Humphreys and Dick provided them with a plentiful supply of game. Four milch cows were kept in a paddock near the house, and supplied it with milk, butter, and cheese. Groceries and flour had alone to be purchased, and, as Mr Humphreys said, he did not care if he did not sell a head of cattle for the next ten years; but he would be obliged to do so before long, as the farm would carry but a small number more than he already possessed, and its available extent for that purpose would diminish every year, as the planting went on.

Mr Humphreys was fortunate in having a small stream run through his farm. He erected a dam across a hollow, so that in winter a pond of two or three acres in extent, and fifteen or sixteen feet deep, was formed, affording an ample supply for the summer; this was of great utility to him, as he was thereby enabled to continue his planting operations, filling up each hole with water when the trees were put in, and then, as this subsided, filling in the earth; by this means the young trees got a good start, and seldom required watering afterwards. He had a large water-cart built for him; this was drawn by four oxen, and brought the water to the point where the Kaffirs were engaged in planting.

Steers sufficient for two waggons had been broken in, and when these were not employed in bringing up young trees and fencing from Newcastle they worked upon the road between Newcastle and Pieter-Maritzburg, there being a great demand for conveyance, as numbers of traders were going up into the Transvaal and opening stores there. Mr Jackson had also two waggons engaged in the same work. When trees and goods were wanted for the farm, Dick went down with the waggons to see that these were properly loaded, and that the young trees, which were often in leaf, were taken out every night and set with the roots in water until the morning.

One evening, early in October, Mr Jackson rode over with Tom.

“I have heard,” the former said to Mr Humphreys, “that the government have determined on moving the troops down to the Zulu frontier; the attitude of Cetewayo is very threatening.”

“He is a troublesome neighbour,” Mr Humphreys said. “They say that he has 30,000 fighting-men, and in that case he ought to be able to overrun both Natal and the Transvaal, for there is no doubt that Zulus fight with great bravery. As for the Dutch, I really can’t blame the Zulus. The Boers are always encroaching on their territory, and any remonstrance is answered by a rifle-shot. Had it not been for our annexation of the Transvaal, Cetewayo would have overrun it and exterminated the Dutch before now. We have a strong force in the colony just at present, and I think Sir Bartle Frere means to bring matters to a crisis. The existence of such an army of warlike savages on the frontier is a standing threat to the very existence of the colony, and the constitution of the army renders it almost a necessity that it should fight. All the men are soldiers, and as none are allowed to marry until the regiment to which they belong has distinguished itself in battle they are naturally always burning for war. The Pieter-Maritzburg paper says that it understands that Sir Bartle Frere is about to send in an ultimatum, demanding—in addition to various small matters, such as the punishing of raiders across the frontier—the entire abandonment of the present system of the Zulu army, and cessation of the bloody massacres which constantly take place in that country. If a man offends the king, not only is he put to death, but the whole of the people of his village are often massacred. Altogether an abominable state of things prevails; there seems to be but one opinion throughout the colony, that it is absolutely necessary for our safety that the Zulu organisation shall be broken up.”

“I see,” Mr Jackson said, “that there is an advertisement in the papers for waggons for the transport of stores, and the price offered is excellent. A large number are required; I was thinking of sending down my two teams—what do you think?”

“I have been turning it over in my mind,” Mr Humphreys replied, “and I am inclined also to offer my waggons. The rate of pay is, as you say, high, and they certainly will have a difficulty in obtaining the number they require. I shall not have need for mine for home purposes for a considerable time now. The hot weather will soon be setting in, and planting is over for the season. I shall of course go on digging holes for my next batch, but I shall not want them up until after the end of the hot season. So I think, as I can spare them, I shall hire them to government. I think we ought all to do what we can to aid it at present, for every one agrees as to the necessity of the steps it is now taking.”

“And do you think that there will be any fighting, father?” Dick asked eagerly.

“That no one can say, my boy. The Zulus are a proud as well as a brave people, and believe that they are invincible. I hardly think that they will consent to break up their army and abandon their customs at our dictation; I should not be surprised if it comes to fighting.”

“Oh, father, if you hire the waggons to government, may I go with them? I can see that the Kaffirs look after the oxen, you know, and that everything goes straight. I have picked up a little Kaffir from Joel, and can manage to make them understand.”

“Well, Dick,” Mr Humphreys said, after a little thought, “I don’t know that I have any objection to it; it will be a change for you, and of course there will be no chance of the waggons being near if any fighting goes on. What do you think, Jackson? I suppose your boy will want to go if mine does?”

“Well, I don’t mind,” Mr Jackson answered. “I suppose it will not be for long, for the boy is useful on the farm now. However, as you say, it will be a change, and boys like a little excitement. Well, I suppose I must say yes; they are fifteen now, and old enough to keep out of mischief.”

The boys were delighted at the prospect of the expedition, and at once went out to talk matters over together. They cordially agreed in the hope that the Zulus would fight, and promised themselves that if possible they would see something of it. Their fathers would, they thought, allow them to take their horses, and it would be easy, if the waggons were left behind, to ride forward with the troops, and see what went on.

Two days later the four teams started together for Pieter-Maritzburg. Contrary to their expectations the boys were not allowed to take their horses.

“No, no, Dick,” Mr Humphreys had said, when his son asked him, “no horses, if you please; I know what you will be up to. Galloping about to see what is going on, and getting into all sorts of mischief and scrapes. No, if you go, you go with the waggons, to see that everything goes straight, to translate orders to the Kaffirs, and to learn something of waggon-driving across a rough country. For between this place and Pieter-Maritzburg it is such a fair road that you really learn nothing in that way; once get into a cross country, and you will see how they get waggons down steep kloofs, across streams, and over rough places. No, you and Tom will stick to the waggons. I have been fixing a number of rings to-day underneath one of them, and your mother and the women have been at work, making a sort of curtain to hook on all round; so at night you will have a comfortable place to sleep in, for the waggons will likely enough be so filled with cases and stores that there will be no sleeping in them. You can take the double-barrel as well as your Winchester, as of an evening you may be able to get a shot sometimes at game, which will vary your rations a bit. You must take with you a stock of tinned meats from Pieter-Maritzburg, for I do not suppose they will issue regular rations to you. So long as you are this side of the Tugela, you will be able to buy food; but if the troops cross into Zululand, you may have to depend on what you carry.”

Tom with his two waggons arrived at daybreak, and the four teams set off together, Mrs Humphreys—who had now completely lost her cough and was quite strong and well—laying many injunctions upon Dick against exposing himself to any danger, and Dick promising to be as careful as possible.

Upon their arrival at Pieter-Maritzburg the boys went at once to the government transport-yard, and on stating their errand were shown into the office of the officer in charge.

“We have brought down four teams of sixteen oxen each,” Dick said, “from near Newcastle, to be hired to the government.”

“That is right, my lads,” the officer said, “we have room for plenty more. This is the form of contract. You engage to serve the government by the month; you bear any damages which may take place from wear and tear of the roads, breakdowns, and the other ordinary accidents of travel; the government engages to make good any loss or damage which may occur from the action of the enemy. This is not,” he said, smiling, “likely to take place, but still those are the terms. Have you any authority from your fathers, to whom, I suppose, the teams belong, to sign the contracts for them?”

“Yes, sir,” Dick said. “Here is a paper from my father, and one from Tom Jackson’s father, saying that they agree to be bound by the terms of the contract, and that they authorise us to sign in their names. We are going with the waggons, sir, to look after the Kaffirs.”

“Well,” the officer said, “you can do as you like about that; but if you speak Kaffir it will be useful—only, mind, you will have to provision yourselves. From the day the teams are taken up, rations of mealies will be served to the Kaffirs at the various halting-places, but there is no provision for rations of white men. The cattle, too, will be fed, but you will have to see to yourselves.”

“Yes, sir; we expected to do so.”

“Well, you had better fetch the teams up to the yard. I must inspect and pass them before they are taken up. Bring them round at once; then they will be loaded to-night, and start at daybreak to-morrow.”

The teams were brought round to the yard, and immediately passed by the officer, who indeed remarked upon the excellence of the animals. The Kaffirs were directed to outspan or unyoke the oxen, for whom rations of hay and grain were at once issued.

The boys returned to the town and made their purchases, which were carried down by two Kaffirs and stored in the waggons, which were already in process of being loaded—two with boxes of ammunition, the others with miscellaneous stores for the troops. They slept at an hotel, and next morning at daybreak presented themselves at the yard. The Kaffirs were already harnessing up the oxen, and in a quarter of an hour the four waggons, with sixteen others, started for the Tugela.

It was now the middle of December. Early in the month commissioners had been sent to Cetewayo with the terms decided upon by Sir Bartle Frere. The first clauses of the document contained the settlement of the disputed frontier, and fines were fixed to be paid by the chiefs whose men had committed forays across the borders; it then went on to demand that the whole of Cetewayo’s army should at once be disbanded; freedom of marriage was to be allowed, when the parties thereto were of age; justice was to be impartially administered; missionaries to be allowed to reside in the Zulu country; British residents to be appointed; all disputes between Zulus and Europeans to be referred to the king and resident; and no expulsion from Zulu territory was to be carried into effect without the distinct approval of the resident.

It was intimated to the king that unless these terms were accepted by the 11th of January the army would at once invade the country. Few men expected that the Zulu king would tamely submit to conditions which would deprive him of all the military power in which he delighted, and would reduce him to a state of something like dependency upon the British.

During the month of December General Thesiger, who commanded the British forces in South Africa, made every effort to prepare for hostilities. The regiments which were at the Cape were brought round by sea; a brigade of seamen and marines was landed from the ships of war; several corps of irregular horse were raised among the colonists; and regiments of natives were enrolled. Before the date by which the king was to send in his answer the troops were assembled along the frontier in the following disposition:—

Number 1 Column.

(Headquarters, Thring’s Post, Lower Tugela.)

Commandant.—Colonel C.K. Pearson, the Buffs.

Naval Brigade.—170 bluejackets and marines of

H.M.S. Active (with one Gatling and two 7-pounder guns), under

Captain Campbell, R.N.

Royal Artillery.—Two 7-pounder guns and rocket-battery, under

Lieutenant W.N. Lloyd, R.A.

Infantry.—2nd battalion, 3rd Buffs, under Lieutenant-Colonel H. Parnell.

Mounted Infantry.—100 men under Captain Barrow, 19th Hussars.

Volunteers.—Durban Rifles, Natal Hussars, Stanger Rifles, Victoria

Rifles, Alexandra Rifles. Average, forty men per corps—all mounted.

Native Contingent.—1000 men under Major Graves, the Buffs.

Number Two Column.

(Headquarters, Helpmakaar, near Rorke’s Drift.)

Commandant.—Colonel Glyn, 1st battalion, 24th Regiment.

Royal Artillery.—N. battery, 5th brigade, Royal Artillery

(with 7-pounder guns), under Major A. Harness, R.A.

Infantry.—Seven companies 1st battalion, 24th Regiment, and 2nd

battalion, 24th Regiment, under Lieutenant-Colonel Degacher.

Natal Mounted Police.—Commanded by Major Dartnell.

Volunteers.—Natal Carabineers, Buffalo Border Guard, Newcastle Mounted

Rifles—all mounted; average, forty men.

Native Contingent—1000 men, under Commandant Lonsdale, late 74th Highlanders.

Number 3 Column.

(Headquarters, Utrecht.)

Commandant.—Colonel Evelyn Wood, V.C. C.B., 40th Regiment.

Royal Artillery.—11th battery, 7th brigade, R.A. (with four 7-pounder

guns), under Major E. Tremlett, R.A.

Infantry.—1st battalion 13th Regiment, and 90th Regiment.

Mounted Infantry.—100 men, under Major J.C. Russell, 12th Lancers.

Frontier Light Horse.—200 strong, under Major Redvers Buller, C.B., 60th Rifles.

Volunteers.—The Kaffrarian Vanguard, Commandant Schermbrucker, 100 strong.

Native Contingent.—The Swazis, our native allies, some 5000 strong.

In the first fortnight of their engagement the waggons travelled backward and forward between Pieter-Maritzburg and Grey Town, which for the time formed the base for the column of Colonel Glyn. The distance of the town from the capital was forty-five miles, and as the waggons travelled at the rate of fifteen miles a day, they were twelve days in accomplishing two double journeys. When they were loaded up the third time, they received orders to go straight through to the headquarters of the column at Helpmakaar. The boys were pleased at the change, for the road as far as Grey Town was a good one.

They reached Grey Town for the third time on the 2nd of January. Here they found the place in a state of great excitement, a mounted messenger having arrived that morning with the news that Cetewayo had refused all demands and that large bodies of the Zulus were marching towards the frontier to oppose the various columns collecting there.

On arriving at the government-yard the lads received orders at once to unload the waggons and to take on the stores of the 2nd battalion of the 24th, which was to march from Grey Town the next morning. The start was delayed until the afternoon, as sufficient waggons had not arrived to take on their baggage. The road was rough, and it was late in the afternoon before they arrived at the Mooin River.

The weather had set in wet, the river was in flood, and the oxen had immense difficulty in getting the waggons across. Two teams had to be attached to each waggon, and even then it was as much as they could do to get across, for the water was so high that it nearly took them off their feet.

The troops were taken over in punts, and, after crossing, a halt was made for the night.

After seeing the cattle outspanned and attended to, the boys wandered away among the troops, as they were to start at daybreak, and it was long past dark before all were over. The tents were not pitched, and the troops bivouacked in the open. Brushwood was collected from the rough ground around, and blazing fires were soon burning merrily. It was all new and very amusing to the boys. The troops were in high spirits at the prospect of an early brush with the enemy, and songs were sung around the fires until the bugle rang out the order, “Lights out,” when the men wrapped themselves in their blankets and lay down, and the boys retired to their snug shelter under the waggons, where their Kaffirs had as usual laid piles of brushwood to serve as their beds.

The next morning they were off early, and reached the Tugela after five hours’ march. This river does not here form the frontier between Zululand and Natal, this being marked by the Buffalo—a much larger and more important stream—from the point where this falls into the Tugela, some fifteen miles below the spot where they crossed the latter river, which here runs towards the southwest. Two more days’ marching took the column to Helpmakaar. The weather was wet and misty, and the troops now marched in close order, with flankers thrown out, for the road ran parallel with the Buffalo, about five miles distant, and it was thought possible that the Zulus might cross the river and commence hostilities. A cordon of sentinels had, however, been placed all along the river from Rorke’s Drift down to the point of junction of the Buffalo and Tugela; below the stream was so wide that there was no fear of the Zulus effecting a crossing.

Most of the troops which had been stationed at Helpmakaar had already marched up to Rorke’s Drift, and after staying two days at Helpmakaar the 2nd battalion of the 24th marched to that place, where the 1st battalion of the same regiment were already encamped.

Two days later the remainder of the force destined to act under Colonel Glyn had assembled at Rorke’s Drift—the term “drift” meaning a ford across a river.

This column was the strongest of those which had been formed for the simultaneous invasion of Zululand, and General Thesiger was himself upon the spot to accompany it. Many of the waggons which had brought up stores were sent back to Grey Town for further supplies; but those of the boys, being laden with the spare ammunition and baggage of a portion of the 24th, were to accompany the column in its advance.

The last two days of the term granted to Cetewayo to accede to our terms were full of excitement; it had been reported, indeed, that the king was determined upon resistance, but it was thought probable that he might yield at the last moment, and the road leading down to the drift on the other side of the river was anxiously watched.

As the hours went on and no messenger was seen approaching, the spirits of the troops rose, for there is nothing that soldiers hate so much as, after enduring the fatigues preparatory to the opening of a campaign, the long marches, the wet nights, and other privations and hardships, for the enemy to yield without a blow. Men who had been in the campaigns of Abyssinia and Ashanti told their comrades how on both occasions the same uncertainty had prevailed as to the intentions of the enemy up to the last moment; and the fact that in both campaigns the enemy had at the last moment resolved to fight, was hailed as a sort of presage that a similar determination would be arrived at by the Zulu king.

To the boys these days passed very pleasantly; they had nothing to do but to wander about the camp and watch the proceedings. There was a parade of the two native regiments before the general, who was much pleased with their appearance, and who exhorted them on no account to kill women, children, or prisoners.

Among these native regiments were curiously many Zulus; for great numbers of this people had at various times been obliged to take refuge in Natal, to avoid the destruction threatened them by their despotic king, and these were now eager to fight against their late monarch.

Some of the bodies of volunteer horse were very smart and soldier-like in their appearance. They were for the most part composed of young farmers, and Dick and Tom bitterly regretted that they had not been a few years older, in which case, instead of looking after a lot of bulls, as Dick contemptuously said, they might have been riding in the ranks of the volunteers.

By the regulars the two days were spent in cleaning their arms and accoutrements, whose burnish and cleanliness had suffered much in the long wet march, and from the bivouacs on the damp ground.

After marching from Grey Town with the 24th the boys had been placed regularly on the roll of the army, as conductors, and, although they drew no pay, had now the advantage of receiving rations as white men. They had upon the line of march frequently chatted with the young officers of the regiment, who, finding that they were the sons of well-to-do farmers and were cheery, high-spirited lads, took to them very much, and invited them of an evening to join them round the camp-fire.

The last day came, and still no messenger arrived from Cetewayo, and in the evening orders were issued that the column should at daybreak pass the drift and advance into the enemy’s country. The troops laid down that night in high spirits, little dreaming of the disaster which was to befall them in the campaign which they thought of so lightly.

Chapter Five.

Isandula.

At two o’clock on the morning of the 11th of January the bugle sounded the reveillé and the troops prepared to cross the Buffalo. Tents were struck, baggage piled on the waggons, and the regiments stood to arms at half-past four. The native contingent crossed first. The cavalry brigade under Lieutenant-Colonel Russell placed their ammunition on a pontoon and rode over. The river was in some places up to the necks of the infantry, and even the cavalry were nearly swept away. The first and second battalions of the 24th crossed on the pontoons. The third regiment of the native contingent threw out skirmishers, but could find no trace of the enemy.

A heavy storm had come on at daybreak, but this left off at nine o’clock. Lieutenant-Colonel Buller, commanding the Frontier Light Horse, now rode in from the camp of Colonel Wood’s force, which had crossed the Blood River and had encamped in Zululand at a spot about thirty-two miles distant. Lord Chelmsford rode over there with an escort of the Natal Mounted Police and the Natal Carabineers, who on their return captured three hundred head of cattle, several horses, and a number of sheep and goats. During the day the waggons, oxen, and ambulances were brought across the river on the platoon.

Early next morning the 1st battalion of the 1st Native Regiment, four companies of the 1st battalion of the 24th, and 300 of the irregular horse started on a reconnaissance towards the kraal of Sirayo, the chief whose sons had been the greatest offenders in the raids into Natal. The cavalry were thrown out in skirmishing order, and after marching nine miles they descended into the slope of the valley in which Sirayo’s kraals were situated. The enemy were heard singing their war-songs in one of the ravines, and the 3rd Native Regiment advanced against them with the 24th in reserve. The Zulus opened fire as they approached, and so heavy was this that many of our natives turned and ran; they were rallied, however, and with a rush carried the caves in which the Zulus were lurking.

In the meantime the 24th’s men had moved round to the head of the ravine, and cut off the enemy’s retreat. There was a skirmish between the cavalry and some mounted Zulus, and six of these, including a son of Sirayo, were killed. Thirty horses and 400 head of cattle were captured.

The next day was spent in cleaning up arms and accoutrements, after the heavy rain which had fallen the preceding week, and several days were spent in making the roads passable for the waggons.

On the 20th the force moved forward, leaving one company of the 2nd battalion of the 24th, under Lieutenant Bromhead, with some engineers and a few natives to guard the ford and look after the platoons, and garrison the store and hospital. The column camped at Isandula, or, as it is more properly called, Isandwhlana, ten miles distant from Rorke’s Drift. A portion of the road was extremely rough, and the waggons had the greatest difficulty in making their way forward.

The spot selected for a camping-ground was a wide flat valley, with hills on the left and undulating ground on the right; almost in the centre rose an isolated hill, perpendicular on three sides, and very steep and difficult on the fourth. The camp was pitched in front of this hill, looking down the valley, with a mile of open country between it and the hills on the left.

The camp was formed in the following order: on the left were the two battalions of the 3rd Native Regiment; the Royal Artillery were in the centre; next to these was the 2nd battalion of the 24th. The line was then taken up by the cavalry, with the 1st battalion of the 24th on the right of the whole. The waggons were all placed between the camp and the hill at the back.

By a strange and criminal neglect no attempt was made to intrench this position, although it was known that the column might at any moment be attacked by the Zulus.

It was determined that the greater part of the force should advance the next morning towards a stronghold, ten miles distant from the camp, straight down the valley. News had come that a large number of Zulus were at this spot, and it was supposed that these would fight. The column consisted of eight companies of each of the battalions of the 3rd Native Regiment, with the greater part of the cavalry.

The force started early and marched for three hours down the valley. Here they came on much cultivated ground, but the kraals had been deserted by the enemy. At four o’clock, as the cavalry were skirmishing at a distance on both flanks, they came upon a body of Zulus about 2000 strong. The horse fell back upon the infantry, but, as it was now late, Major Dartnell decided to encamp for the night, and to attack in the morning. A messenger was despatched into camp with a report of the day’s proceedings, and some provisions and blankets were sent out, with news that the general would join the troops with reinforcements in the morning.

At daybreak he left the camp at Isandula with seven companies of the 2nd battalion of the 24th, and orders were sent to Colonel Durnford, at Rorke’s Drift, to bring up 200 mounted men and his rocket-battery, which had reached that spot.

The Zulus were seen in all directions, and a good deal of skirmishing took place. By a gross neglect, equal to that which was manifested in the omission to fortify the camp, no steps whatever were taken to keep up communication between the column, which now consisted of the greater part of the troops, and those who remained at the camp at Isandula. No signallers were placed on the hills, no mounted videttes were posted, and the column marched on, absorbed in its own skirmishes with the enemy, as if the general in command had forgotten the very existence of the force at Isandula. Even in the middle of the day, when the firing of cannon told that the camp was attacked, no steps were taken to ascertain whether reinforcements were needed there, and it was not until hours after all was over that a party was despatched to ascertain what had taken place at the camp.

Upon the day on which the two native regiments advanced, the two boys felt the time hang heavy on their hands; they would have liked to take their guns and go out to shoot some game for their dinners, but all shooting had been strictly forbidden, as the sound of a gun might cause a false alarm. After hanging about the camp for an hour or two, Dick proposed that they should climb the hill which rose so steeply behind them.

“If the columns have any fighting,” he said, “we should be sure to see it from the top.”

Borrowing a telescope from one of the officers of the volunteer cavalry, they skirted round to the back of the hill, and there began their climb. It was very steep, but after some hard work they reached the summit, and then crossed to the front and sat down in a comfortable niche in the rock, whence they could command a view far down the valley. They could see the two battalions of infantry marching steadily along, and the cavalry moving among the hills and undulations on both flanks. They had taken some biscuits and a bottle of beer up with them, and spent the whole day on the look-out. The view which they gained was a very extensive one, as the hill was far higher than those on either side, and in many places they could see small bodies of the enemy moving about. At sunset they descended.

“I vote we go up again,” Tom said the next morning. “The general has gone forward with most of the white troops, and there is sure to be fighting to-day. We shall have nothing to do, and may as well go up there as anywhere else.”

After the general’s departure there remained in camp five companies of the 1st battalion of the 24th, and one of the 2nd battalion, two field-pieces with their artillery men, and some mounted men.

Just as the boys were starting at eight in the morning, there was a report in the camp that the Zulus were gathering in force to the north of the camp. This quickened the boys’ movements and half an hour later they gained the top of the hill, and from their old position looked down upon the camp lying many hundred feet below them. There was considerable bustle going on, and the Kaffir drivers were hastily collecting the cattle which were grazing round, and were driving them into camp.

“There is going to be a fight!” Dick exclaimed, as they gained their look-out; “there are crowds of Zulus out there on the plains.”

Could the boys have looked over the hills a mile away to their right, they would have seen that the number of Zulus down in the valley in front was but a small proportion of those gathering for the attack; for 15,000 men had moved up during the night, and were lying quietly behind those hills, 3000 or 4000 more were taking the road to Rorke’s Drift, to cut off any who might escape from the camp, while as many more were showing down the valley. Altogether some 24,000 of the enemy had gathered round the little body in the camp. To the boys, however, only the party down the valley was visible.

At eleven o’clock Colonel Durnford came into camp with his 350 mounted men from Rorke’s Drift, and advanced with them to meet the enemy threatening the left flank, while two companies of the 1st battalion of the 24th moved out to attack their right. The Zulus, now reinforced from behind the hills, moved forward steadily, and Colonel Durnford with his cavalry could do little to arrest them. For an hour the infantry stood their ground, and the two field-pieces swept lines through the thick ranks of the enemy. The Zulus advanced in the form of a great crescent.

“Things look very bad, Dick,” Tom said; “what do you think we had better do?”

“I think we had better stay where we are, Tom, and wait and see what occurs; we have a splendid view of the fight, and if our fellows meet them we shall see it all; but if—oh, look there, Tom!”

Over the hills on the left thousands of Zulus were seen pouring down.

“This is terrible, Tom. Look here, I will crawl along over the crest, so as not to be seen, and look behind to see if it is clear there. If it is, I vote we make a bolt. It is of no use our thinking of going down for a couple of horses; the Zulus will be in the camp long before we could get there.”

Five minutes later he again joined his friend.

“They are coming up behind too, Tom. They have really surrounded us. Look, they are close to the camp!”

It was a scene of frightful confusion. Nothing could be seen of the companies of the 24th, which had gone out to meet the Zulus. The great wave of the advancing army had swept over them. Below, the panic was complete and terrible, and soldiers, native drivers, and camp-followers were running wildly in all directions.

One party of the 24th’s men, about sixty strong, had gathered together and stood like a little island. The incessant fire of their rifles covered them with white smoke, while a dense mass of Zulus pressed upon them. Many of the soldiers were flying for their lives; others again, when they found that their retreat was cut off, had gathered in groups and were fighting desperately to the last. Here and there mounted men strove to cut their way through the Zulus, while numbers of fugitives could be seen making for the river, hotly pursued by crowds of the enemy, who speared them as they ran.

“It is frightful, frightful, Tom! I cannot bear to look at it.”

For a few minutes the fight continued. The crack of the rifles was heard less frequently now. The exulting yell of the Zulus rose louder and louder. On the right Colonel Durnford with his cavalry essayed to make one last stand to check the pursuit of the Zulus and give time for the fugitives to escape; but it was in vain, showers of assegais fell among them, and the Zulu crowd surged round.

For a time the boys thought all were lost, but a few horsemen cut their way through the crowd and rode for the river. The artillery had long before ceased to fire, and the gunners lay speared by the cannons. The first shot had been fired at half-past eleven, by one o’clock all was over. The last white man had fallen, and the Zulus swarmed like a vast body of ants over the camp in search of plunder.

Horror-stricken and sick, the boys shrank back against the rock behind them, and for some time sobbed bitterly over the dreadful massacre which had taken place before their eyes. But after a time they began to talk more quietly.

“Will they come up here, do you think, Dick?”

“No, I don’t think so,” Dick replied. “They could hardly have seen us come up here, even if they had been on the look-out on the hills, and as they reached the back of the mountain before the camp was taken, they will know that nobody could have come up afterwards. Lie back here; we cannot possibly be seen from below. They will be too much taken up with plundering the camp to think of searching this hill. What on earth is the general doing?—I can see his troops right away on the plain. Surely he must have heard the guns? Our only hope now is that when he hears it he will march straight back; but, even if he does, I fear that the Zulus will be too strong for him. The whole force which he has with him is no stronger than that which has been crushed here, and I don’t expect the native regiments can make much stand if attacked by such a tremendously strong force.”

So long as the daylight lasted, the boys, peering occasionally over, could see the Zulus at the work of plundering. All the sacks and barrels were taken from the waggons and cut or broken open, each man taking as much as he could carry of the tea, sugar, flour, and other necessaries; many of the yoke-oxen were assegaied at once, and cut up and eaten, the rest being driven off towards the north by a party of warriors.

At nightfall the tents were set on fire; they soon burnt out, and the boys could no longer see what was taking place. Rising from the shelter, they walked back to the other side of the crest.

“I can hear firing now,” Dick said; “it seems to me that it is back at Rorke’s Drift.”

They were soon sure that they were not mistaken; as it grew darker a flittering light was seen in that direction, and a continued fire of distant musketry was heard. Later on there was a broad glare in the sky.

“I fear it is all over there too,” Dick said, “and that the place has been burnt.”

Still, however, the firing continued, as heavy as ever, and long on into the night the lads sat listening to it. At last they fell asleep, and when they awoke the sun was already high. Thus they missed their chance of escape.

At nine o’clock in the evening Lord Chelmsford’s force, hearing at last what had happened, marched back into the camp, and before day had fairly broken continued their way down to Rorke’s Drift. The defenders here, a little garrison, under Lieutenant Bromhead of the 24th, and Chard of the Royal Artillery, had made an heroic defence against some 4000 of the enemy. With mealy bags and boxes they built up a breastwork, and this they held all night, in spite of the desperate efforts of the Zulus to capture it. The hospital, which stood at one end of the intrenchment, was carried and burnt by the Zulus, but the little garrison held out till morning in an inner intrenchment round the store-house.

Here was seen what could be done in the way of defence by the aid of hastily-thrown-up intrenchments; and had breastworks been erected at Isandula, as they ought to have been the instant the troops arrived there, and still more so when the major portion of the column marched away, the force there, small as it was, would doubtless have made a successful resistance. Even had the step been taken, when the Zulus were first seen approaching, of forming a laager—that is, of drawing up the waggons in the form of a hollow square—at the foot of the steep mountain, the disaster might have been averted. It may be said that the massacre of Isandula was due entirely to the over-confidence and carelessness of the officers in command of the column.

The boys on waking crawled back cautiously to a spot where they could obtain a view over the valley, and, to their surprise, the force which, on the afternoon before, they had seen out there had entirely disappeared. Many bodies of Zulus were seen moving about, but there was no trace of the white troops. They made their way to the back of the hill, and then, to their horror, saw the column moving away from them, and already half-way on its road to Rorke’s Drift.

Their first impulse was to get up and start off in a run in pursuit of it, but this feeling lasted but a moment, for between the hill and the column many scattered parties of Zulus were to be seen. The boys looked blankly at each other. It was but too clear that they were cut off and alone in the enemy’s country.

“Whatever shall we do, Dick?”

“I have not the least idea, Tom. At any rate there is nothing to be done at present. We should be assegaied in a moment if we were to go down; let’s go back to our old look-out.”

After much talk they agreed that it would be hopeless to attempt to make south and cross the Buffalo, as many of the fugitives had done. There were sure to be strong bodies of Zulus along the river, and even if they passed these without detection they would be unable to cross the river, as they would find no ford, and neither of them was able to swim.

There were great numbers of Zulus in the camp below, and these seemed to be pursuing the work of plundering more minutely than they had done on the previous day. The stores scattered recklessly about were collected, placed in empty barrels, and loaded up on the waggons. Presently a number of cattle were brought down; these were harnessed to the waggons and driven off, and by nightfall nothing save scattered remnants marked the place where the British camp had stood. But from their post the boys could see that the ground far and near was dotted with corpses, black and white.

After nightfall the boys descended to the camp, and having marked the exact spot where the waggons had stood were able to collect a number of pieces of the broken biscuit scattered about; they were fortunate enough to light upon a water-bottle still full, and with these treasures they returned to the post on the mountain. They had agreed to wait there for three or four days, in fact as long as they could hold out, and then quietly to walk into one of the native kraals. If caught in the act of flight they were certain of being killed, but they hoped that when the Zulus’ blood had cooled down after the conflict their lives might possibly be spared.

This plan was carried out; for four days they remained on the hill of Isandula, and then descending late one evening to the plain walked for ten or twelve miles north, and waiting until daybreak showed them a large native kraal at no great distance, they made for it, and sat quietly down at the door of the principal hut. Presently a girl issued from a neighbouring hut, and, upon seeing them, gave a scream and ran back again. The cry brought others to the doors of the huts. When the boys were seen, a perfect hubbub of tongues broke forth, and many of the men, running out with their spears, advanced towards the lads. They sat perfectly quiet, and held up their hands to show that they were unarmed. The Zulus hesitated. Dick went through the motion of eating and drinking, and in his best Kaffir begged for a glass of water.

The Zulus, seeing that the boys were alone, approached them, and began to ask them questions, and were evidently much surprised at hearing that they had escaped from the massacre of the British. From the door of the hut in which they were sitting a chief, evidently of high rank, for the others greeted him respectfully, now came out.

After the cause of the tumult was explained to the chief, he ordered the boys to be bound. This was done and they were put into an empty hut while their fate was decided upon; after much deliberation it was agreed by the Zulus that, as they were but boys and had come into the camp unarmed and of their own accord, their lives should for the present be spared.

It happened that in the village were a party of men who belonged to the tribe of Umbelleni, whose territory lay to the north-west, and these volunteered to take the prisoners to their chief, who was one of the strongest opponents of the English. His country, indeed, lay just within the Zulu frontier, and, having been engaged in constant skirmishes and broils with the Dutch settlers, he was even more disappointed than the other chiefs at the taking over of the Transvaal by England, just at the time when the Zulus were meditating its conquest.

The road from Itelezi, the village at which the boys had given themselves up, to Umbelleni’s country ran along between the Blood River and the lofty hill-country; and, although they were ignorant of the fact, Colonel Wood’s force was at that moment lying on this line. They were therefore taken up over a mountain-country, crossing Mount Ingwe, to the Zlobani Mountain, a stronghold ten miles south of Umbelleni’s chief kraal, and where at present he was residing. After three days’ journey the lads, exhausted and footsore, ascended to the plateau of the Zlobani Mountains.

Upon their way they passed through many villages, and at each place it needed the efforts of their guards to prevent their being seriously maltreated, if not killed. The Zulus, although victorious at Isandula, had suffered terribly, it being estimated that nearly 3000 had fallen in the attack.

Thus there was not a village but had lost some of its members, for, although the Zulu regiments have local denominations and regular military kraals, each regiment consists of men drawn from the population at large.

Every four or five years all the lads who have passed the age of eighteen since the formation of the last corps, are called out and formed into a regiment, or are embodied with some regiment whose numbers have fallen in strength. Thus a regiment may consist of men differing considerably from each other in point of age, the great distinction being that some corps consist entirely of married men, while others are all unmarried. A regiment remains unmarried until the king formally gives the permission to take wives, and the corps to whom the boon has been granted are distinguished from the others by their hair being arranged in a thick ring round the head. So great is the enmity between these married regiments and their less fortunate comrades that they are never encamped in each other’s view, as fighting in that case would inevitably take place. Thus it happened that, although some of the corps had suffered far more than others, the loss was spread over the whole of Zululand.

Chapter Six.

Zlobani.

While disaster had fallen upon the centre column, the division under Colonel Evelyn Wood had been showing what could be done when care and prudence took the place of a happy-go-lucky recklessness. It had advanced from Utrecht on the 7th of January, and had moved up to the frontier at Sandspruit. At two in the afternoon of the 10th it moved forward, halted at six, and again advanced by the light of the moon at half-past one in the morning; a mounted advance-guard was thrown out, flanking patrols were organised, and the troops moved in the greatest silence.

The next day Colonel Buller, with his irregular horse, went out, and after a skirmish with the Zulus brought in a thousand cattle, and Captain Barton, with a party scouting in another direction, captured 550.

On the following morning a reconnaissance in force was made, and a good deal of skirmishing took place; but, as Colonel Wood never allowed his men to follow the Zulus into rough ground, the latter were unable to effect anything against the column. This division advanced forward but slowly, as it was intended that they should keep within reach of the leisurely-moving central column.

After several slight skirmishes the news reached them on the 24th of the disaster of Isandula, and with it Colonel Wood received orders to fall back; and on the 26th he encamped at Kambula. Raids were made in all directions with great success; the great military kraal of Manyamyoba was captured and destroyed by Colonel Buller and his cavalry. As Colonel Wood’s was now the most advanced column, Colonel Rowlands, with a wing of the 80th and a couple of guns and 200 Swazis, together with Raaff’s Horse and Wetherby’s Borderers, were sent as a reinforcement to him.

The Zulus were not idle, and Umbelleni and Manyamyoba made several successful raids across the border and destroyed the kraals of natives friendly to the English. These two chiefs were not regular Zulu chieftains; both were adventurers who had gathered under them numbers of broken men, and had for years carried on raids on their own account from their mountain-stronghold, in much the same way that the Scotch borderers of olden times harassed the country on the English side of the frontier.

Oham, the king’s brother, with his own following, came into Colonel Wood’s camp, and gave himself up, saying that he was altogether opposed to the war.

The boys on their arrival at Zlobani were brought before Umbelleni. That chief briefly gave orders that they should be killed; but two or three of his headmen represented to him that they might be of use; they would be able to carry a message to the British camp, should he desire at any time to send one; by their appearance and dress, they could tell him the nature of any troops they might intend to attack, and could read and explain any letters which might be captured on messengers; finally, they might be an acceptable present to send to Cetewayo, who might not be pleased if he heard that prisoners had been killed in cold blood.

Umbelleni assented to the reasoning, and ordered the boys to be taken to a hut. The Zulu dwellings resemble in form great bee-hives. They are circular and dome-roofed; the entrance is but three feet high, and people can only enter by crawling. A woman was ordered to cook for them. No guard was placed over them, and they were permitted to wander about freely, as escape from such a position was considered impossible.

Six weeks passed slowly, and on the 11th of March a messenger arrived, and there was a sudden stir in the camp. In a few minutes the fighting-men assembled. The boys were ordered to take their place in the column, and at a swift march, with which they had the greatest difficulty in keeping up, the column moved away.

“Where are they taking us now, I wonder?” Tom said.

“I suppose they are going to attack some English party on the march; our men are hardly likely, I should think, again to be caught napping, as they were at Isandula.”

Crossing two rivers, the Bevana and Pongola, they at night halted in another mountain-kraal of Umbelleni, about three miles from the Intombe River. On the bank of the river could be seen twenty waggons. These waggons had come down from Derby, on their way to Luneberg, a town situated four miles from the Intombe. Major Tucker, who commanded there, sent Captain Moriarty with a company of the 80th, seventy strong, down to the river to protect the waggons whilst crossing, and that officer had orders to neglect no precaution, and above all to keep an incessant and vigilant look-out.

The river was in flood, and no crossing could be effected, and for four days the waggons remained on the northern bank. Captain Moriarty placed the waggons in laager on the bank, and took post there with forty of his men, leaving Lieutenant Harwood with thirty-four on the south bank with directions to cover the sides of the laager with a flanking fire, should it be attacked. The position of the waggons was a dangerous one, as the ground rose immediately behind them, and was covered with bush.

In the middle of the night of the 11th Umbelleni’s men arose, and, accompanied by the boys, started from the kraal, and Dick and Tom were filled with forebodings of what was about to happen. Dick had already gathered from the natives that the guard of the waggons was an extremely small one, and, as the body moving to attack them were between 4000 and 5000 strong, the chance of a successful resistance appeared small.

When within a short distance of the waggons two of the Zulus motioned to the boys to stop. In ten minutes they heard a sentry challenge; his shout was answered by a loud yell, and the Zulus poured down to the attack. Unfortunately Captain Moriarty had not taken sufficient precaution against surprise, and before the men were fairly under arms the Zulus were upon them.

The force on the other side of the river were now on the alert, and their rifle-fire opened before that of the defenders of the waggons. For a moment or two there was a sharp rattling fire from the waggons; then there were shouts and screams, the firing ceased, and the boys knew that the laager had been captured. Many of the soldiers indeed were assegaied before they could leave their tents, most were slaughtered at once, but a few managed to swim across the river. The Zulus swarmed after them. Lieutenant Harwood jumped upon his horse and rode off to Luneberg to fetch assistance. The little detachment was broken by the rush of the Zulus, but a serjeant and eight men fell back into a deserted kraal, and succeeded in repelling the attacks of the enemy.

Lieutenant Harwood was afterwards tried by court-martial for his conduct; he was acquitted, but the general in command refused to confirm the verdict, and the commander-in-chief at home approved of the view he took of the matter, and issued a general order to the effect that “An officer, being the only one present with a party of soldiers actually engaged with the enemy, is not under any pretext whatever justified in deserting them, and thus by so doing abandoning them to their fate.”

Apprehensive of the arrival of reinforcements from Luneberg, Umbelleni did not continue his attack upon the little party in the kraal, but, after hastily plundering the waggons, retreated with his force, and the next day returned to Zlobani.

A few days passed and the boys learnt that two regiments from Ulundi were expected shortly to reinforce Umbelleni’s men. The chief himself, with the majority of his followers, was now at his kraal, four miles distant, but the boys remained in the village on the Zlobani plateau. Several times they saw parties of British horse riding over the plains and from a distance reconnoitring the position, and they wondered whether there could be any intention on the part of Colonel Wood to attack it. There was on the plateau a large number of cattle, part the property of Umbelleni’s men, but the great majority spoil taken in raids. It seemed to the boys that an attack could scarcely be successful. The sides of the mountains were extremely precipitous, covered with bush, and contained large numbers of caves. There was but one path up which mounted men could ride; this was about hallway along the west side, the hill being a much greater length from north to south than from east to west. Up the southern extremity of the plateau was a path by which footmen could descend to the plain, but it was exceedingly steep and altogether impracticable for cavalry; a handful of men should have been able to hold the position against an army.

Colonel Wood having heard of the large quantity of cattle concealed on the Zlobani Mountain had determined to attack it, and at three o’clock in the morning of the 27th of March a cavalry party started. It consisted of 150 mounted infantry; the Frontier Light Horse, 125; Raaff’s Troop, 50; Piet-Uys’ Boer Contingent, 50; Wetherby’s Horse, 80; Schermbrucker’s Horse, 40;—a total of 495 men. They were commanded by Colonel Russell, and Colonel Wood was himself to join them in the evening. The party was a picked one, all being well mounted and good rifle-shots.

The track led across a rough sandy country with deep nullahs, and thickly covered with trees and bush. At five o’clock they halted for half an hour, and then again advanced. After five miles’ travelling across a very rough country they came out into a large cultivated flat, which terminated in a long, dark, winding gorge, black with bush and skirted by precipices of sandstone and granite. They turned into this and followed a rivulet until they came to the end of the gorge, where they discovered a steep path which seemed cut out of the solid rock, and was only wide enough for one horseman to pass. After three quarters of an hour’s climbing they gained the summit. The country was wild in the extreme. The plateau upon which they found themselves extended for seven or eight miles. Huge masses of scrub and boulders, peaks, terraces, and ledges of rock appeared everywhere, while caves and immense fissures formed retreats for the cattle. It was now late in the afternoon, and the force bivouacked for the night, having brought with them three days’ provisions. At seven in the evening Colonel Wood joined them with his staff, eight mounted men of the 50th regiment and six natives under Untongo, a son of Pongo, a friendly chief. Untongo had by some means obtained information that seven strong regiments had marched from Ulundi seven days before, and was most anxious that the column should return to Kambula.

Colonel Wood, however, could not carry out this advice, for Colonels Buller and Wetherby and Piet-Uys, with their commands, who were in front, had moved forward a long distance, and a retreat now would leave them to be surrounded and cut off. The troops lay down and slept, and at half-past three o’clock again prepared to advance. Distant shots were heard, showing that Colonel Buller was attacked, and just as the party was setting off, Colonel Wetherby with his troopers rode in, having in the night got separated from Buller’s men in the wild and broken country. As the troops advanced they came here and there across the bodies of Zulus, showing that Buller had had to fight his way. Captain Ronald Campbell ascended a rock and scanned the country with his glass. Far away, almost in the centre of the gigantic and apparently inaccessible cliff of Zlobani, the remains of Buller’s column could be seen slowly advancing, driving some dark masses of cattle and Zulus before them.

Colonel Wetherby obtained permission to lead his men on at once to Buller’s assistance, while Colonel Wood followed with the remainder of the force. Wetherby moved by a terribly difficult path to the right, while Wood kept to what seemed the main track. About half a mile further the latter came on a party of 200 Zulus, armed with rifles; these crossed in front of him, taking an occasional shot at the leading files of the party, who on account of the difficulties of the road were compelled to dismount and lead their horses. Their object was evidently to cut off Wetherby’s troop from the main column. Lieutenant Lysons, leaving the column, reconnoitred the ground, and found that Wetherby’s party was already divided from them by a deep and impassable ravine, at the bottom of which was the pathway by which Buller had made his way to the summit of the cliff. A strong party of Zulus were seen faraway in front, working as if to cut off Buller’s horse. It was clear that there was nothing to do but to press forward in hopes that the line taken by Wetherby and that which the main column was following would come together.

At this moment a heavy fire was opened by a party of the enemy from a narrow ledge of rock a hundred yards above them. Untongo and two of his men guided a party of eight marksmen to a still higher point, and their fire speedily drove off the Zulus. Half an hour’s march brought Wood upon Wetherby’s track, and high above them to the right the rear of Buller’s column could be seen. No more unsuitable ground for the operation of mounted men could be found; perpendicular rocks rose in all directions, while steep precipices fell away at their feet. Killed and wounded horses were seen at every turn of the road, showing how stoutly the enemy had held their ground, and how difficult an operation Buller had performed. Sending fifty men to work upon the right flank and endeavour to take the Zulus in the rear, Colonel Wood kept his men for a few moments under cover of a friendly ledge of rocks, to take breath and look to their rifles, girths, and ammunition, and then pressed rapidly forward and joined the Border Horse.

The scene was now most exciting. The firing was almost continuous, and the yells of the savages rose from every rock and bush, mingled with the loud cheers of Buller’s men far up in front, as they saw the column approaching to their aid. The ground was now more level and practicable for riding, and Colonel Wood mounted his horse and, accompanied by his own little escort of a dozen men and the Border Horse under Colonel Wetherby himself, with his gallant boy, aged fifteen, who was fighting by his side, galloped forward for the front, leaving Colonel Russell in command of the column. When within a hundred paces of the summit of the cliff a rain of fire opened upon their front and flank from a mass of Zulus firing from caves, crevices, and behind enormous boulders. From one cave to the right front an excessively heavy fire was kept up, and Colonel Wetherby dashed at this with his men just as Colonel Wood’s horse staggered from a deep assegai wound in the chest. At the same moment a native from behind a boulder fired at that officer at ten paces’ distance; the bullet missed him and Lieutenant Lloyd rode at the man, but fell, shot through the head. Colonel Wood and Captain Ronald Campbell rode forward to cover his body. Two more Zulus fired at the same instant and the colonel’s horse fell dead. Colonel Wetherby’s men were hotly engaged at close quarters with the Zulus, and were unable to join the colonel. Captain Campbell, Lieutenant Lysons, and the eight 90th men of the escort rushed at the opening. Captain Campbell fell, shot through the head, but the rest dashed forward.

There was a movement in the cave and a sudden shout in English of “Come on!” and as the little band dashed in and fell upon the Zulus they saw, to their astonishment, two English boys, armed with assegais, attacking these in the rear. In another minute the Zulus were all cut down, and the party returned to Colonel Wood.

On the previous afternoon Zulu scouts had arrived at Zlobani with the news that an English column was on its way towards it. Messengers were despatched to Umbelleni’s kraal, and at night his force there came to the assistance of those at Zlobani. Early in the morning the boys proceeded with a number of Zulus to the edge of the plateau, and were placed with eight of their guards in a cave. From its mouth they watched anxiously the events of the day.

Colonel Buller’s party had struck upon the right road, and after hard fighting gained the summit of the cliff. Here a great quantity of cattle were collected, and these were sent off in charge of a body of friendly natives, which accompanied the force. This column in the advance had not passed near the cave in which the boys were placed. Their hearts beat high as they saw Colonel Wood’s column suddenly turn off from the line which Buller had followed, and make straight for it. Their excitement grew higher and higher as the conflict increased in vigour.

Soon the Zulus in the cave were at work. When Captain Campbell charged forward with his handful of men, Dick and Tom exchanged a glance. They stood quiet until it was evident that the English attack would be pushed home; then, as the men of the 90th, led by Lysons, dashed at the entrance of the cavern, the boys seized two assegais and each pinned one of the crouching Zulus to the ground. Before the others could turn round upon them Lysons and his men were among them.

The fire of Buller’s men from above drove the Zulus from their hiding-places. But Colonel Wood, finding it impossible to make his way up at this point, moved round at the foot of the rocks, to try and find the point at which Buller had ascended the cliff. Before doing so, however, the bodies of Captain Campbell and Lieutenant Lloyd were carried down the hill, and buried in a hastily-made grave. As, carrying their wounded men, the little party made their way to the foot of the cliff, Untongo, who had been reconnoitring the rocks on both sides, ran down to him and began to talk rapidly, pointing over towards the plain.

Colonel Wood did not understand Kaffir, but Dick, who was standing by, said—

“He says, sir, that there is a great Zulu army marching below.”

Colonel Wood mounted a fresh horse, and making his way with great difficulty across some broken ground reached a point where he could see the plain. There, in five continuous columns, the Zulu army from Ulundi, 20,000 strong, was sweeping along at its usual rapid pace. It was evident at once that only by a speedy retreat could any of the force hope to escape. Colonel Wood despatched a message at once to Colonel Russell, who had with his force by this time commenced the ascent at the extreme westerly point, to retrace his steps instantly, and to cover as far as possible the retreat of the native allies with the cattle.

Colonel Buller above had also seen the coming danger. So far he had accomplished his work admirably. The Zulu position had been triumphantly stormed, and a large number of cattle taken and driven off.

Had Colonel Wood’s force and Wetherby’s troop arrived on the scene of action immediately after Buller had ascended to the plateau, the retreat could have been made in time, and the expedition would have been successful at all points. The unfortunate incident of their losing the track, the delay caused thereby, and their inability to rejoin him had given time for the Ulundi army to come up.

Colonel Buller found that it was impossible now to descend to the plain by the path by which he had ascended. Not only would he have to fight his way back through the whole force of Umbelleni, but his retreat by that route would be cut off by the Ulundi men. Consequently, pursued by a great body of exulting Zulus, he made his way along the plateau to the steep path at its extremity.

The scene here was terrible. The Zulus blocked the way in front and lined both sides. Buller himself, with Piet-Uys, defended the rear, assisting the wounded, and often charging desperately into the ranks of the Zulus pressing upon him. The path was slippery with blood and strewn with dead. As the last of his troop made their way down it, Piet-Uys, a most gallant Dutchman, fell dead across the body of his horse, with six Zulus, whom he had shot with his revolver, around him.

Wetherby’s troop was surrounded, and forty-five out of his eighty men killed. The colonel himself and his boy both fell, the latter refusing to leave his father, although the latter urged him to gallop off and join the column, which appeared to be making its way through the Zulus. Colonel Russell’s command got through without so much opposition; but Buller’s horse, Piet-Uys’ troop, and Wetherby’s command suffered terribly.

Fortunately the Ulundi army did not follow the retreat; first, because the tremendous three days’ march which they had made had in a great measure exhausted the men, who had started in such haste that they had brought no provisions with them, and secondly, on account of the steady attitude and resolute bearing of Russell’s command.

Buller’s force reached Kambula camp at half-past seven at night. It had set in stormy, and torrents of rain were falling. Although he had been in the saddle for forty-eight hours, Colonel Buller, on hearing that a small party of the survivors had taken refuge in hiding ten miles away, collected a party of volunteers, and, taking led horses, set out to rescue them. This was effected; the fugitives were found to be seven in number, and returned with their rescuers safely to camp.

The boys had both escaped, two of Wetherby’s men, who accompanied Colonel Wood, taking them on their saddles behind them. The total loss was ten officers and seventy-eight men.

For the night the boys were handed over to the charge of one of the officers of the staff, but in the morning Colonel Wood sent for them, and they then told him the story of their adventures since the battle of Isandula, with which he was greatly interested. He said that he would at once have sent them to Utrecht, but that the camp would probably be attacked during the day.

The troops had been on the alert all night, expecting an attack. Before daylight Captain Raaff was sent out with twenty-five men to reconnoitre, and returned with one of Oham’s natives. This man had joined the Zulu army as it advanced, and was, fortunately for himself, not recognised by them as being one of Oham’s people. In the night he had slipped away. He reported the Zulus 20,000 strong, a great portion of them being armed with rifles.

Fortunately little preparation was necessary at Kambula. Nothing had been left to chance here, and there was therefore no fear of a repetition of the Isandula disaster. Each corps, each subdivision, each section, and each man had his place allotted to him, and had been told to be in that place at the sound of the bugle.

The little fort was in a strong position, laid out upon an elevated narrow reach of table-land. A precipice, inaccessible to a white man, guarded the right flank; on the left a succession of steep terraces had been utilised and carefully intrenched, each successive line commanding that below it. At one end there was a narrow slip of land swept by two 7-pounders. Immediately in the rear, upon an eminence 120 feet higher than the fort, was a small work, armed with two guns. The camp consisted of an outer defence of 100 waggons, and an inner one of fifty—the whole protected by earthworks and ditches.

Chapter Seven.

Kambula.

Immediately Oham’s Zulu had made his report, the bugle sounded, and the garrison quietly and quickly took up the places assigned to them. Messengers went out to order a fatigue-party, which had gone out wood-cutting, to return at once. These men reported that they had seen the Zulus scouting, about five miles to the west. The tents were struck, the men lined the shelter-trenches, and ammunition was served out by fatigue-parties told off for this duty. The white conductors and commissariat men, most of whom were old settlers and good shots, were told off to the different faces of the laager. A small party were provided with stretchers, in order to carry the wounded to the hospital in the centre.

Dick and Tom, having no duty and being without arms, thought that they might as well make themselves useful at this work, and therefore, taking a stretcher, they proceeded to one of the outer shelter-trenches.

It was nearly eleven o’clock when the Zulus were seen approaching, and halted just out of musket-range. Here apparently a council of war was held, and it was more than an hour before any forward movement was made. Then a body of them, about 7000 strong, ran at a tremendous pace along a ledge situated at the edge of the cultivated land. The troops were ordered not to fire, as it was thought better to wait until the Zulus came on in earnest. At half-past one a cloud of skirmishers advanced from the Zulu army, and fed by supports began to scale the north front of the English position. Here, behind the outermost line of intrenchments, some of Buller and Russell’s dismounted men, and a portion of the band of the gallant Piet-Uys were stationed, and these opened fire upon the Zulus. Scarcely one of them but was a dead-shot, and no sooner did a head or a shield appear above rock or boulder or tuft of grass than the deadly rifle rang out, and in most cases there was an enemy the less to encounter.

The Boers particularly distinguished themselves at this work. Most of these men are certain shots, being trained from childhood in the use of their large single-barrelled guns, carrying an enormous bullet, and suited for the destruction of big game. Animated by a hatred of the Zulus, and a longing for vengeance for the death of their late leader, the Boers picked off their foes with unerring aim. The enemy’s skirmishers now retired, and a more solid line took their place, supported by a dense column in its rear. The cavalry remounted and fell slowly back, and Major Russell, with twenty of his men, made a brilliant charge on a party of Zulus who were running to take possession of a sheltering ledge of rocks, and, after cutting down a great many, retreated without the loss of a man.

Buller and Russell now retired slowly within the laager, their retreat being covered by Colonel Gilbert and four companies of the 13th, who were posted at this face of the works. One company of the 13th, under Captain Cox, held the cattle-laager, which was situated outside the line, and so were able to take the enemy in flank, as they attacked the main work. This little garrison and Colonel Gilbert’s men poured a tremendous fire upon the Zulus, who still, however, pushed forward.

Major Hackett was now ordered to take a couple of companies of the 90th, and to advance up the slope, round the rear of the cattle-laager. Taking post here, they opened a deliberate and deadly fire upon the enemy, and then advancing drove back the Zulus with great loss. The Zulu general, however, led a party of his best marksmen round to his right, and opened a heavy fire upon the 90th, as they fell back upon their intrenchments. Lieutenant Bright fell mortally wounded, and in running forward to pick him up Major Hackett was struck by a ball sideways, which passed through both eyes and destroyed his sight for ever. Meanwhile, from the works on the heights, Captain Nicholson was doing great execution with his two 7-pounders. The Zulu main body had now come within range, and grape and canister were poured into their heavy masses. As Nicholson was standing on the parapet, field-glass in hand, directing the pointing of two guns, a bullet struck him on the temple and he fell dead. He was seen from the laager to fall, and Major Vaughan was sent to take his place. Major Tremlett, R.A., now took the four guns, hitherto held in reserve, to a small piece of rising ground outside the laager, and opened fire upon the masses of the enemy with immense execution. From time to time Buller and Russell, as they saw openings for a charge, swept down and drove the enemy’s skirmishers back on to their main body; the Zulus, altogether unaccustomed to cavalry, always falling back precipitately at these assaults.

At three o’clock a hot cross-fire was opened upon a company commanded by Captain Woodgate, which was stationed half-way between the laager and the upper fort, keeping open a communication between them, the enemy’s fire from a height commanding this line being particularly galling. Two of Tremlett’s guns were brought to bear on the point, and the enemy’s fire speedily slackened. For another hour and a half the troops continued to be hotly engaged, for the enemy, when driven back from one flank, swept round in most perfect order and attacked another.

At half-past four the Zulus, concentrating again, attacked the northern side, and made some desperate rushes up to the muzzles of the English rifles, and the fighting for a time was almost hand to hand.

The boys had worked round with their stretchers, wherever the fire was hardest, and had carried many wounded men into hospital. They were at the north face when the Zulus swarmed up towards it, and Woodgate’s men fell back into the shelter of the laager. As they came in, a young lieutenant, who was commanding the rear, fell, apparently dead. Being in the rear of the company his fall was unnoticed by the men. Dick, who was peering over the intrenchment, saw him fall, and saw too that he moved slightly.

“Quick, Tom!” he exclaimed; and, carrying the stretcher, the boys scrambled over the breastwork and ran towards the officer. He had fallen some twenty yards outside, and the Zulus, rushing on, were but eighty yards away.

On reaching the side of the young officer, the boys laid their stretcher on the ground, rolled him upon it, and, lifting it, turned towards the camp. A ringing cheer from the men had greeted this action, mingled with shouts of “Run! run!” for by this time the Zulus were but twenty yards behind.

A stream of fire broke out from the top of the breastworks; an assegai whizzed over Dick’s shoulder, and another grazed Tom’s arm, but they hurried on until they reached the ditch, and then threw themselves and their burden down. There for five or six minutes they lay, while the fight raged above them. Then the British cheer rose, and the boys knew that the Zulus had fallen back.

A minute later a dozen men leapt from the intrenchment into the ditch outside, and lifted the wounded lieutenant over it into the arms of those behind.

“Bravo! boys, bravo!” a hundred voices shouted, as the boys scrambled back into the works, while the men crowded round to pat them on the shoulder and shake their hands.

It was evident now that the Zulu fire was slackening, and three companies of the 13th went out, and, taking posts by the edge of the slope of the cattle-laager, opened fire upon them, as they retired. Every gun was brought to bear upon them, and as, disheartened and beaten, they fell back, Buller and Russell, with every mounted man in camp, sallied out and fell upon them, and, burning with the desire to wipe out their misfortune of the preceding day, chased them for seven miles, like a flock of sheep, cutting down immense numbers.

It was ascertained afterwards from prisoners that the Zulu force which attacked was composed of 25,000 men. It was commanded by Tyangwaiyo, with Umbelleni as his second. Many of the leading chiefs of Zululand and 3000 of the king’s bravest and best troops fell in the attack on Kambula, and this battle was by far the hottest and best-contested which took place during the war.

Upon our side two officers and twenty-one men were killed. The difference between the result of the action at Kambula and that at Isandula was due entirely to the fact that in one case every precaution was taken, every means of defence utilised; while in the other no more attention was paid to any of these points than if the troops had been encamped at Aldershot.

Upon the day following the battle Colonel Wood set his men to work to erect further defences at the points which the recent action had shown to be weak, and never ceased work until the place had been made almost impregnable against an assault of savages, however brave.

The messenger who carried to Natal the news of the victory of Kambula also took letters from the boys to their parents, acquainting them of their safety; and with the first convoy of wounded on the following day the boys started for home, Colonel Wood having given to each a flattering testimonial as to their gallant conduct in the action, and having presented them with two horses belonging to men of Buller’s corps who had fallen in the action, ordering that the horses should be entered as bought for the Queen’s service, and the value paid to the relatives of their late owners.

Three days’ march took the convoy to Utrecht, and the next morning the boys rode home, the distance from there to Newcastle being about forty miles. They were received as if they had risen from the dead, for their letters had not arrived before them, and their parents had of course assumed that they had been killed at Isandula. Both the mothers were in mourning, and their joy at the restoration of their sons was unbounded.

Mrs Jackson fainted from surprise and delight, as Tom rode up; but Dick, remembering the effect which the news of his being alive in the snow had produced upon his mother, was careful to save her the shock. Accordingly, instead of riding direct to the house, he made a devour and rode across the farm until he met Bill Harrison. The man was delighted at the sight of his young master, and could hardly believe his eyes, as he saw him riding towards him.

After the first warm greeting was over, Dick learned that his mother had been seriously ill, and was now recovering, and that his father had been much shaken. Dick told Harrison to go to the house, and, under the excuse of some question about his work, to call Mr Humphreys out, and to tell him of his return, leaving it to him to break the news to his wife.

This Mr Humphreys, after recovering from his own emotion at the joyful intelligence, did so gradually and quietly, that the tale produced no injurious effect upon the mother.

He began by saying that he had heard that a rumour was afloat that some of those that were supposed to have been killed at Isandula had been kept captives by the Zulus.

Mrs Humphreys for a time doubted the news, but, upon her husband’s assurance that the intelligence was well founded, a faint feeling of hope began to spring up; then gradually, step by step, he told her that it was reported that these captives consisted chiefly of non-combatants, men who had taken refuge among the rocks and bushes when the fight was seen to be going against the troops. This still further raised Mrs Humphreys’ hopes; for, from the presence of mind and shrewdness which Dick had shown on the occasion of the snow-storm, it seemed probable that he would be quick to avail himself of any chance of escape there might be. Then Mr Humphreys said that the report affirmed that among the prisoners were two or three quite young lads, and so step by step he went on, until the delighted mother learned that her son was already upon the farm, and was only waiting until he knew she would be strong enough to see him.

Mr Humphreys now went to the door and gave a loud shout, and Dick, who had been waiting the signal agreed on at a short distance from the house, ran up and was soon in his parents’ arms. A minute or two later his younger brother ran in, having just heard the news from Harrison, and it was indeed a happy party which that night assembled in the sitting-room of the farmhouse, and listened to Dick’s account of the adventures he had gone through. Not a little proud were the father and mother, as they read Colonel Wood’s testimony to the gallant conduct of their son.

The next day Mr and Mrs Jackson drove over with Tom, and the warmest congratulations were exchanged.

“Have you been paid for the waggons, father?” Dick asked.

“Yes, my boy, for there was a notice that the owners of all waggons and teams destroyed at Isandula would be paid at once. As there was a record kept of the ownership of those which accompanied the column, there was of course no difficulty in proving the loss, and both Mr Jackson and myself received orders on the public treasury for their value last week. You see more transports were required, and there was such a panic after Isandula, that if government had not promptly paid for their losses there, they would have got no more waggons from farmers for their work. We have already four more building for us at Newcastle.”

“I suppose there was a great fright in the colony after the defeat?”

“Terrible!” Mr Humphreys answered. “Everyone imagined that the Zulus would at once cross the frontier, and carry fire and sword throughout the colony. The rest of the 4th Regiment instantly went forward to Colonel Glyn’s column, and this restored it to something like its strength before the fight. The rivers were high, which may have accounted partly for the Zulus not taking the offensive. Probably too the great loss which they themselves must have suffered had some effect; while they might not have liked to have advanced in force across the frontier, being, as they were, threatened on the one side by the column of Colonel Wood at Kambula, and on the other by that of Colonel Pearson at Ekowe.”

“I have not heard about that column, father. What are they doing?”

“I will tell you about it this evening, Dick, as it is rather a long story.”

After the Jacksons had driven off in the evening, Dick again asked his father about the doings of Colonel Pearson’s column.

“Well, my boy, they have neither suffered a great defeat, like that under Lord Chelmsford, nor obtained a decisive victory, like the column of Colonel Wood; they have beaten the enemy in a fight, and are at present besieged in a place called Ekowe, or, as it is sometimes spelt, Etckowi. The column consisted of eight companies of the 3rd Buffs under Colonel Parnell; six companies of the 99th, under Colonel Welman; one company of Royal Engineers and two 7-pounder guns; they had, besides a naval brigade consisting of 270 bluejackets and marines of her Majesty’s ships Active and Tenedos, with three gatling-guns, 200 mounted infantry; 200 colonial mounted riflemen also formed part of the column, with about 2000 men of the native contingent. They had great difficulty in crossing the Tugela, which was nearly 400 yards wide. But, thanks to the exertions of the sailors, a flying bridge was constructed—that is, a boat with ropes attached to both shores, so that it can be pulled backwards and forwards, or, as is sometimes done, taken backwards and forwards by the force of the stream itself.

“It was the 13th before the crossing was effected. The enemy were in considerable force near the river. A small earthwork, called Fort Tenedos, was thrown up on the Zulu bank of the river. On the 18th the leading division started on its march into the enemy’s country, followed the next day by the second division, a small detachment being left to garrison the fort. Every precaution was taken in the advance, and the cavalry scouted the country in front of the column. At the end of the first day’s march the Inyoni, a small stream ten miles north of the Tugela, was reached.

“The second day they encamped on the Umsindusi. The third day’s march brought the column to the Amatikulu; beyond this the country became covered with bush, and great care was then taken, as it was known that a large force was marching from Ulundi to oppose their farther advance. Early on the morning of the 22nd, the day which proved so fatal to Colonel Glyn’s column, the first division had just crossed the Inyezane River and was halted for breakfast, when they were attacked by a large force of the enemy, who, having chosen this position, were lying in wait for them. The ground chosen for the halt was not a favourable one, as it was surrounded by bush. But as no other place could be found by Major Barrow, who commanded the horse, near water, the halt had been made here. Scarcely had they begun their preparations for breakfast, when Captain Hart, who was out scouting in front with the advance company of the native contingent, discovered the enemy advancing rapidly over the ridge in his front and attempting to gain the bush on both flanks of the halting-place. The Zulus at once opened a heavy fire upon the native contingent, and of these one officer and four non-commissioned officers and three men fell almost immediately.

“The native contingent was called in, and the naval brigade and two guns, under Lieutenant Lloyd, and two companies of the Buffs were ordered to take up a position upon a knoll close to the road, on which they were halted. The sailors at once opened fire on the enemy with two 7-pounders and two 24-pounder rocket-tubes, while the Buffs poured a heavy fire with their rifles upon them. The waggons were still coming up, and these were parked as they reached the ground; and two companies of the Buffs, who were guarding them on the march, being now free to act, were ordered to move out in skirmishing order, and draw the enemy out of the bush, when, as they retired, they were exposed to the fire from the knoll.

“The engineers and mounted troops moved forward, with the infantry skirmishers, supported by a half-company of the Buffs and a half-company of the 99th. The enemy tried to outflank their left, and Captain Campbell with a portion of the naval brigade and some of the native contingent went out and drove them from a kraal of which they had taken possession. A still farther advance was now made, and the Zulus took to flight, leaving 300 dead upon the ground. The attacking party were 5000 strong, and against these some 500 or 600 of our troops were engaged. We had only eight Europeans killed and four natives, and about twenty wounded. The next day Colonel Pearson reached Ekowe. The position was a strong one, as the place stood upon rising ground; it had been a missionary station, and there was a church which could at the worst be converted into a citadel.

“Colonel Pearson at once set to work to fortify the position. The same evening the news arrived of the disaster at Isandula. After a consultation with his officers Colonel Pearson decided to hold the spot at which he now was, convinced that, without further supplies of reinforcements, he could hold the place for two months. In order to economise food, the mounted men and most of the natives were sent back, and there remained 1200 British troops.

“Colonel Pearson at once commenced his preparations for a siege. Three moderate-sized brick erections were turned into store-houses, and the church into a hospital, the tower making a capital look-out; from this a splendid view was obtained, the hill by the Tugela being clearly visible. The men set to work to fortify the place. The intrenchments were of a six-sided form, about sixty yards across, with a ditch outside them eighteen feet deep and twelve feet wide. Assegais were planted in the bottom. Added to the south side was a kraal for cattle and horses, also defended by a small wall. Outside the fort were entanglements of rows of felled trees and bushes. The supply of water was obtained from a good well, outside the walls, but covered by the fire of the fort. The guns were placed in position, and the garrison was ready for any attack that might be made upon them. All these details we learned in the early days of the siege by occasional messengers, who managed to find their way through, but these had been few and far between; of twelve messengers sent out the first week of February, only one got through. The garrison had made several sorties, and had destroyed Dabulamanzi’s kraal. They also went out and cut off a large convoy of cattle on its way to Ulundi.”

“But how have they found out what is being done at Ekowe, if the first week only one messenger got through out of twelve?” Dick said.

“By a very ingenious plan, Dick. For three weeks we knew nothing of what was going on, and then it struck an engineer that communication might be established by flashing signals.”

“What are flashing signals, father?”

“Well, my boy, as a general rule they are made by showing a light either for a long or short period. Thus, one long and one short might be A; one short and one long, B; two short and one long, C; and so on all through the Alphabet. The distance was so great that ordinary lights would not have answered, but it struck one of the engineers that with a looking-glass the sunlight might be reflected. You know at what a distance the sun’s reflection on a window can be made out. Well, it was tried in vain for a whole week by Lieutenant Haynes, of the Royal Engineers, but at the end of that time he was delighted at seeing answering flashes from the hill on which Ekowe stands. Since that time news has been regularly received every day by this means of what is passing in the fort.

“In the meantime preparations were being made for the relief of the garrison. The news of the defeat at Isandula was sent home by a swift ship, by which the particulars were telegraphed from Saint Vincent. The people at home did not lose an hour. The Shah, which was on her way home, heard the news at Saint Helena, and Captain Bradshaw, who commanded her, at once, on his own responsibility, turned his ship’s head south, and steered for Durban, bringing with him the garrison of the island. Some draughts from the 4th, 88th, and 99th Regiments were brought down from the Cape; the Boadicea also arrived, and every man who could be spared from her and the Shah was landed and sent up to the Tugela.

“In the second week in March the 57th and 91st Regiments arrived from England. One hundred and sixty men were brought over from the garrison of Mauritius, and a few days later the 3rd battalion of the 60th Regiment also arrived. These assembled on the Tugela on the 27th, and that day set out. The vanguard was composed of the seamen and marines of the Shah and Tenedos—640 men and two gatlings, the 91st regiment of 900 men, 400 men of the 99th, 180 men of the 3rd Buffs, 150 mounted infantry, 200 of the mounted native contingent, and 1600 men of the native infantry contingent. The second division consisted of 200 men of the Boadicea with gatlings, the 37th Regiment, and the 3rd battalion of the 60th, 900 men, and two troops of mounted natives. That is all I can tell you, my boy. The news only arrived here yesterday that they had started. In the course of three or four more days I hope that we shall hear that they have given the Zulus a thorough licking. It is a strong force, and as there are about 3300 white troops among them, and there is no fear of their being taken by surprise this time, we need not have any anxiety about the result. I understand that, in accordance with the advice which Colonel Pearson has flashed from Ekowe, they are not going to follow the road he took, but to keep along on the lower ground near the sea.”

“And do you think, father, that they will push on for Ulundi when they have rescued the garrison of Ekowe?”

“No, Dick; I think they are quite strong enough to do so, but as there are at least half a dozen more regiments on their way out from England, including some regiments of cavalry, it will be more prudent to stop until our whole fighting force is here, when we ought to be enabled to make short work of them, and to do the work completely and effectually. And now, Dick, I am thoroughly sleepy—the sooner we are in bed the better.”

Chapter Eight.

The Second Advance.

It was some days before the news reached Newcastle of the complete success of the relieving column. On their first day’s march no difficulty was met with. The road was a good one, and the Zulus did not show in any force. The column halted for the night near the junction of the Inyoni and Amatikulu rivers. The waggons were placed in laager and a ditch and parapet formed round the camp. The ground was open and the waggons were able to travel six abreast. Numerous Zulu kraals were passed; but these were found deserted.

On the afternoon of the 1st they encamped at Ginghilovo. From this point Ekowe was visible; signals were exchanged with the besieged, and Colonel Pearson warned Lord Chelmsford that the Zulus were moving forward to attack him. The night passed quietly, but the greatest vigilance was maintained.

At daybreak dense masses of Zulus were seen in the distance, and at six o’clock they approached the camp. They came on in their usual order, with a massive centre and advanced horns on either flank. The British were kept lying down behind the shallow trenches they had thrown up. The Zulus advanced in splendid order with a sort of dancing step. Their white and coloured shields, their crests of leopard skins and feathers, and the long ox-tails dangling from their necks gave them a wild and strange appearance. Every ten or fifteen yards the first line would halt, a shot would be fired, then a loud yell burst forth, and they again advanced with a humming sound, in time to which their dancing movement was kept up. The 60th, who lay opposite to the point against which they advanced, withheld their fire until the first line of skirmishers came to within 300 yards. Then a deadly sheet of flame flashed along the ridge of the shelter-trench, and a number of the Zulu warriors fell.

The main body now rushed forward, and although a tremendous fusilade was kept up on them, the Zulu advance pressed on, ever fed by those in the rear, which deployed in excellent order as they reinforced the first line. For twenty minutes the fire of the 60th never ceased. Again and again the Zulus pressed forward, but their leading ranks were swept away by the storm of bullets.

At half-past six the Zulu masses, without the smallest confusion, faced to their right, ran round in columns, and fell upon the face of the laager held by the 57th and 91st. Here they were as hotly received as they had been by the 60th. Notwithstanding the deadly fire, the Zulus pressed forward with noble courage. They had ceased to shout now, and seemed only anxious to reach the square. Four times they rushed forward; each time they fell back with terrible loss. The fire of the soldiers was assisted by that of the native contingent, who, posted in the waggons behind, added their fire to that of the 91st and 57th.

The last attack was led by Dabulamanzi in person, and arrived within five yards of the muzzles of the men’s rifles; indeed one or two of the chiefs actually seized the hot barrels with one hand, while they stabbed at the men with their shortened assegais.

This was their final repulse, and they now began to fall back. The moment that they did so, the cavalry dashed out in pursuit, and chased them far across the plain. The gatlings and 9-pounders added in no slight degree to the effect of the rifles. The entire English loss was but two officers and four privates killed, and three officers and thirty-four privates wounded; while the Zulu loss exceeded 1000. The force under Dabulamanzi was about 11,000, and a similar force was close at hand, but fortunately had not joined that of Dabulamanzi before he attacked the British.

On the following day the 57th, 60th, and 91st, together with the mounted men and several of the mounted brigade, taking with them three days’ provisions, marched for Ekowe. Major Barrow scouted the ground, and reported that everywhere assegais, shields, feathers, ear and head ornaments, skins, furs, blankets, and ever; guns were lying about in confusion, evidently cast away in their headlong flight by the Zulus, but that none of these had been seen.

The column, however, advanced with every precaution, as it was possible that Dabulamanzi might procure reinforcements. No enemy, however, was met with, and the column continued its march until they were met by Colonel Pearson with 500 men, coming out to lend a hand to them in case they should be attacked. The united column then marched into Ekowe. The health of the garrison had suffered much from exposure to the sun and rain, and from the want of vegetables and useful medicine. Beef they had plenty of, as it was considered advisable to kill and consume the waggon-oxen rather than see them die from want of forage.

The great event of the siege had been the discovery of certain strange flashes of light on the white walls of the church-tower; these, after puzzling many of the officers and soldiers, were at length brought under the notice of an officer of the naval brigade, who had been trained in the use of the heliograph, and he was able at once to explain the mystery. They were three days before they could contrive an apparatus, which could be worked, to reply. Fortunately an old mirror was found, and communication was opened. The effect of their renewed intercourse with the outer world, and of learning the preparations which were being made for their relief, acted more beneficially on the health of the imprisoned garrison than all the tonics the hospital could afford. Nevertheless between the commencement of the siege and the arrival of the relief thirty deaths had occurred.

To the great regret of the garrison they found that it had been determined by the general to abandon the fort which they had held so long, as the whole force was required in Natal for operations in the veld in conjunction with the reinforcements on their way out. Before leaving, however, it was determined to strike another blow at Dabulamanzi, whose private residence had escaped at the time that his kraal was burnt. A small party of about 200 men therefore went out and fired the place without resistance. Ekowe was evacuated, and, having left a garrison at Ginghilovo, Lord Chelmsford retired with his force across the Tugela.

Every day for the next fortnight news reached Newcastle of the arrival of one or more transports with reinforcements, and in a month from the date of the arrival of the first from England, seventeen transports came in, bringing more than 9000 soldiers and 2000 horses. The force consisted of two regiments of cavalry, 1250 sabres, two batteries of artillery with 540 men, 190 men of the Royal Engineers, six regiments of infantry, 5320 bayonets, draughts of the regiments already in the colony and Army Service Corps’ men, 1200. Most of the regiments brought their equipments complete and ready for the field—tents, waterproof-sheets, cooking utensils, and camp stores. The Army Service Corps brought with them 100 light but strongly-built waggons.

Among the arrivals was the Prince Imperial of France, who had come out as a volunteer.

To convey the baggage and stores of so numerous a force an immense number of waggons was required, and a very urgent appeal was made to the loyalty of the colonists to furnish transport for the troops engaged in fighting their battles.

In answer to this appeal Mr Humphreys and Mr Jackson decided to send down the new waggons which had just been finished. Immediately they heard of the decision, Dick and Tom begged for permission again to accompany the waggons. Their mothers at first refused even to listen to the request, but their fathers, talking the matter over between them, agreed that harm was not likely this time to come of it.

The force was so overwhelmingly strong that there was not the slightest prospect of a repetition of the disaster of Isandula. At that time several hundred English soldiers had been surprised and crushed by some 20,000 of the enemy, but in future every precaution would be taken, and the British force would be ten times as strong as that which fought at Isandula. The colonists thought that it would be really an advantage to the boys to take part in the expedition; it was quite possible that if they remained in the colony they might have occasion to take part in wars with one or other of the native tribes, and the experience that they would gain in the campaign would in that case assuredly be useful to them. Having thus decided, Mr Humphreys and his friend succeeded in obtaining their wives’ consent to the boys accompanying the waggons, and in high glee they started for Durban on the 20th of April.

The campaign was arranged on a new plan. The numerous columns in which the strength of the force had been frittered away were abolished, and the following was adopted as the designation of the forces in the field, under the lieutenant-general commanding, viz.:— 1st Division South African Field-forces, Major-General Crealock, C.B., commanding, consisting of all troops on the left bank of the Lower Tugela; 2nd Division South African Field-forces, Major-General Newdigate commanding, consisting of all troops in the Utrecht district other than those attached to the Flying Column under Brigadier-General Wood, V.C., C.B., which was designated as “Brigadier-General Wood’s Flying Column.” Major-General Marshall assumed command of the cavalry brigade, and Major-General the Hon. H.H. Clifford, C.B., V.C., took up the command of the base of operations and superintendence of the lines of communication. The forces were divided as follows:—

First Division (General Crealock’s),

Lower Tugela Command.

Naval Brigade... 800

M. Battery, 6th Brigade, Royal Artillery... 90

Detachment, 11-7th Royal Artillery... 25

2-3rd Regiment... 836

57th Regiment... 830

3-60th Regiment... 880

88th Regiment... 640

91st Regiment... 850

99th... 870

Mounted Infantry, 2nd Squadron... 70

Army Service Corps... 50

Army Hospital Corps... 20

Royal Engineers... 150

8-7th Royal Artillery... 80

0-6th Regiment... 50

Lonsdale’s Horse... 84

Cooke’s Horse... 78

Colonial Volunteers... 105

Native Contingent:—

Foot... 2556

Mounted... 151

Total strength, effective and non-effective... 9215

Second Division (General Newdigate’s.)

1st Dragoon Guards attached to 2nd Division... 650

17th Lancers attached to 2nd Division... 626

N-5th Royal Artillery... 76

N-6th Royal Artillery... 80

10-7th Royal Artillery... 70

10-6th Royal Artillery... 30

Royal Engineers... 60

2-4th Regiment... 790

Detachment, 1-13th Regiment... 63

2-21st (two companies at Maritzburg)... 820

1-24th Regiment... 530

2-24th Regiment... 586

58th (one company at Durban)... 906

80th (several companies in the Transvaal)... 300

94th (one company at Grey Town)... 870

Army Service Corps... 60

Army Hospital Corps... 30

Grey Town District Colonial Volunteers... 139

Natal Mounted Police... 75

Natal Carabineers... 27

Newcastle Mounted Rifles... 18

Buffalo Mounted Guard... 20

Native Contingent:—

Europeans... 41

Natives (foot)... 3128

Natives (mounted)... 243

Total strength, effective and non-effective... 10,238

General Wood’s Flying Column.

11-7th Royal Artillery... 87

Royal Engineers... 13

1-13th Regiment... 721

90th Regiment... 823

1st Squadron, Mounted Infantry... 103

Army Service Corps... 9

Army Hospital Corps... 13

Frontier Light Horse... 173

Baker’s Horse... 179

Transvaal Rangers... 141

1st Battalion, Wood’s Irregulars:—

Europeans... 14

Natives... 377

2nd Battalion, Wood’s Irregulars:—

Europeans... 5

Natives... 355

Natal Native Horse:—

Europeans... 4

Natives... 75

Total strength, effective and non-effective... 3092

Grand Total.

1st Division... 9215

2nd Regiment... 10,238

General Wood’s Flying Column. 3092

Total, effective and non-effective: namely, Europeans, 15,660, and

natives, 6885... 22,545

Out of this grand total there were about 400 sick and non-effective with the 1st Division, 300 with the 2nd Division, and 600 (including some of Wood’s Irregulars, absent and not accounted for since the 28th of March) with Wood’s Flying Column. So that altogether, deducting, say, 1500, Lord Chelmsford had at his disposal, from the middle of April, a total of 21,000 troops, of which over 15,000 were European. Colonels Pearson and Wood were made Brigadier-Generals, and the former was to command Number 1 Brigade, 1st Division, and Colonel Pemberton, 3-60th, the other. They both, however, had to give up their commands through sickness, and Colonels Rowland, V.C., C.B., and Clark, 57th Regiment, succeeded them.

Major-General Clifford, V.C., C.B., had the following staff for the management of the base of the operations and the maintenance of the lines of communication between Zululand and Natal:—

Lieutenant Westmacott, 77th Foot, aide-de-camp; Major W.J. Butler, C.B., assistant-adjutant and quartermaster-general, stationed at Durban; and Captain W.R. Fox, Royal Artillery, deputy assistant-adjutant and quartermaster-general.

On the arrival of the boys with the waggons at Pieter-Maritzburg, they reported themselves at the headquarters of the transport corps, and were told that they were not to go down to Durban, but were to load up at once and accompany the Dragoon Guards, who were to march the next morning for the front.

This time the lads were mounted, as their fathers thought that they would gain more benefit from their experience if they were able to move about instead of being confined to the sides of their waggons, and it was a satisfaction to their mothers that, in case of any untoward event again happening, they would be in a better position for making their escape.

General Newdigate’s columns were encamped at Landmann’s Drift; the cavalry, under General Marshall, was also there. The march was altogether without incident.

Some days passed quietly, when a small party of horse made an expedition to Isandula; they reported that nearly a hundred waggons were still standing upon the field of battle. On the 17th of May, three days later, the rumour ran through the camp that the cavalry were to start on the 19th, to bury the dead and bring away the waggons. The Army Service Corps and waggons were to accompany the party, which was to consist of the Dragoon Guards and Lancers, with a party of native mounted scouts.

In the afternoon of the 18th the two boys went to Colonel Marshall’s tent; they waited patiently until he came out, accompanied by two or three other officers.

“We have come to ask, sir, if you will allow us to go with your column. We are in charge of waggons here, but they are not going. We were at the battle, and saw the whole thing, and were taken prisoners afterwards and carried to Umbelleni’s kraal, where we were liberated when Colonel Wood’s cavalry attacked the Zlobani hill. We are well mounted, sir, and are good shots; so, if you will let us go, we could keep with the scouts and not be in your way.”

“How did you see the fight?” General Marshall asked.

“We had gone up to the top of the hill, sir, before it began, and fortunately the natives did not notice us.”

“Oh, yes, you can go,” the general said. “Probably you can give us a better account of the action than any one else, as others who escaped were occupied by their own business, and could not mark the general progress of the battle. So you were taken prisoners! Well, I am going out now, but if you will call in this evening at about half-past eight, I shall be glad to have a talk with you.”

In the evening the boys called upon the general, one of the most popular and dashing officers in the service. Three or four of his staff were there, and all listened with great interest to the boys’ account of their adventures.

“You seem to have plenty of pluck and coolness, youngsters,” the general said, when they had finished. “In future you need not trouble to ask for permission to accompany me whenever the cavalry go out, providing we have natives mounted with us; you must go as recruits, and can either keep with them or ride with my orderlies.”

Much pleased with the permission given, the lads returned to the waggons, and the next morning they started on their way.

The column bivouacked that night at Dill’s Town, and reached Rorke’s Drift between three and four o’clock in the morning, and were there joined by the Natal Carabineers and Colonel Harness, R.A., with guns.

At daybreak on the 20th the reconnoitring force crossed the river. No signs of the enemy were seen until they neared Isandula; then signal-fires blazed up on the hills to the right, and spread quickly from hill to hill far into the interior. Pushing steadily on, the plain of Isandula was reached by ten o’clock. The whole scene of the conflict was overgrown with long grass, thickly intermixed with growing crops of oats and Indian corn. Lying thickly here, and scattered over a wide area, lay the corpses of the soldiers. The site of the camp itself was marked by the remains of the tents, intermingled with a mass of broken trunks, boxes, meat-tins, papers, books, and letters in wild disorder. The sole visible objects, however, rising above the grass, were the waggons, all more or less broken up.

The scouts were placed in all directions to give warning of the approach of any enemies. The Army Service Corps set to work to harness the seventy pairs of led horses they had brought with them to the best of the waggons, and the troops wandered over the scene of the engagement, and searched for and buried all the bodies they found, with the exception of those of the 24th Regiment, as these, Colonel Glyn had asked, should be left to be buried by their comrades. The bodies of the officers of Colonel Durnford’s corps were all found together, showing that when all hope of escape was gone they had formed in a group and defended themselves to the last. The men of the Royal Artillery buried all the bodies of their slain comrades who could be found, but the shortness of the time and the extent of the ground over which the fight had extended rendered anything like a thorough search impossible.

The object of the expedition was not to fight, and as at any moment the Zulus might appear in force upon the field, a start was made as soon as the waggons were ready. Forty of the best waggons were brought out, with some water-carts, a gun-limber and a rocket-battery cart. Twenty waggons in a disabled condition were left behind. Some seventy waggons were missing, these having been carried off by the Zulus, filled either with stores or with their own wounded. Having accomplished this work the cavalry rejoined headquarters at Landmann’s Drift.

On the 27th of May the column advanced, Newdigate’s division leading the way. By two o’clock in the afternoon the men had crossed the Buffalo and marched to Kopje-allein through a bare and treeless country. One of the most popular figures in the camp was the Prince Imperial of France, who, having received a military education at Woolwich, and being anxious to see service, had applied for and obtained leave to accompany the expedition. The young prince had been extremely popular at Woolwich, and was indeed an immense favourite with all who knew him—high-spirited and full of life, and yet singularly gentle and courteous in manner. He was by nature adapted to win the hearts of all who came in contact with him. His abilities too were of the very highest order, as was proved by the fact that, although suffering under the disadvantage of being a foreigner, he yet came out so high in the final examination at Woolwich as to be entitled to a commission in the Royal Engineers. When it is considered how keen is the competition to enter Woolwich, and that all the students there, having won their places by competitive examinations, may be said to be considerably above the average of ability, it will be seen that, for one who had previously gone through an entirely different course of education, and had now to study in a language that was not his own, to take rank among the foremost of these was a proof both of exceptional ability and industry.

A splendid career was open for the young prince, for there is little doubt that, had he lived, he would sooner or later have mounted the throne of his father, and there are few pages of history more sad than those which relate to his death in a paltry skirmish in a corner of Africa. To Englishmen the page is all the more sad, inasmuch as, had the men accompanying him acted with the coolness and calmness generally shown by Englishmen in a moment of danger, instead of being carried away by a cowardly panic, the Prince Imperial might yet be alive.

At Kopje-allein Newdigate’s column was joined by that of General Wood. Three days were spent in carefully exploring the country, and on the 1st of June the division, as nearly as possible 20,000 strong, with a baggage-train of 400 native waggons, moved forward and encamped near the Itelezi River. The flying column of General Wood went on one march ahead, and the country was carefully scouted by Buller’s horse for twenty miles round, and no Zulus were found.

Chapter Nine.

Ulundi.

On Sunday, the 1st of June, General Wood with a small escort was out reconnoitring in advance of his column, which was about five miles in front of the force of General Newdigate. The morning was clear and fresh, the ridges of the hills on either side were dotted with Buller’s horsemen. They crossed the river by a ford, and having ridden about another mile forward they observed some of the vedettes on the high ground signalling that horsemen were approaching.

Riding on to see who they could be, they were joined by Colonel Buller and a dozen of his men, and together they rode forward to meet the five men who were seen approaching. In a few seconds Lieutenant Carey and four troopers of Bettington’s Horse rode up, and when they had told their story English soldiers had the shame and humiliation of knowing that an English officer and four English troopers had escaped unwounded from a Zulu ambush, in which they had left a gallant young prince, the guest of England and the hope of France, to be barbarously slain.

Early in the morning the prince had learnt that a patrol was to be sent out in advance of the column, and had applied for and obtained permission to accompany it. Colonel Harrison, acting as quartermaster-general, granted the permission, and had an interview with the prince.

Six men of Bettington’s Horse and the same number of Shepstone’s Basutos were to form the party; but unfortunately the Basutos did not come up at the appointed time, and the patrol consisted therefore only of the prince, Lieutenant Carey, the six men of Bettington’s Horse, and one Zulu. Considering the importance of the safety of the prince, a grave responsibility attaches to the staff-officer who allowed him to go with so small a party.

After an hour’s ride they reached the crest of a hill and dismounted to fix the position of some distant points by the compass. Here Colonel Harrison overtook them, and remarked that the whole of the escort was not with them, and that they had better wait for the Basutos to come up. The prince said—

“Oh, we are quite strong enough—besides, we have all our friends around us, and with my glass I can see General Marshall’s cavalry coming up.”

Unfortunately Colonel Harrison did not insist that the party should wait until the Basutos arrived, and they proceeded another seven miles, and then halted in an isolated kraal in a valley. A worse spot could not have been selected for a halt, as it was surrounded by long grass, six or seven feet high; here the saddles were taken off the horses, and coffee was prepared. Without any search being made they sat down to make coffee, although it was clear, from the burnt embers, bones, and other débris, that the place had been but recently occupied.

The Zulu was the first to see the enemy in the long grass, and the horses were at once saddled. The escort stood ready by them, and just as the prince gave the word, “Prepare to mount,” the Zulus’ war-cry burst out, and some guns were fired from the grass.

The horses started at the outburst, and some broke away. Never were a body of troops in an enemy’s country so unprepared for the attack. Not a carbine was loaded! not a sentry placed! Each of the troopers, including the officer, was seized with a wild panic, and thought only of flight,—one indeed had fallen at the first shot. The prince’s horse was ill-tempered and badly broken, and, frightened by the firing and yells, he was so restive that the prince was unable to mount. Had one of those men stood for an instant at his head the prince might have gained his saddle, but all had galloped away, leaving him alone. Running by his horse, he in vain endeavoured to mount; he had not had time to tighten the girth, the saddle slipped round, and the horse galloped away. Unfortunately the prince’s revolvers were in the holsters, so he was unarmed, save with his sword, and with this he stood bravely at bay, and died nobly facing his foes, who pierced him with assegais at a distance.

According to Zulu accounts afterwards obtained, there were but five or six men engaged in the attack, and had the Englishmen accompanying the prince, nay even had one of them, possessed but the smallest amount of presence of mind and courage, the Prince Imperial might have been saved. There is no blacker page in the annals of English military history.

The feeling of indignation, shame, and regret in the English camp, when this shameful episode was known, was indescribable. Of all the party the friendly Zulu was the only one who came out with honour; he had gone towards the river to fetch water when he discovered the enemy, and might have instantly taken flight. He returned, however, and gave warning that the Zulus were lurking round. Even then it does not appear that he attempted to fly, but fought the foe until overcome by numbers. His body was afterwards discovered not far from that of the prince, riddled with wounds, together with a number of his own assegais broken, but stained with the blood of his assailants.

The next morning the cavalry rode out to find and bring in the prince’s body. When it was discovered, it was tenderly brought into camp. It was afterwards taken over to England, and laid by the remains of his father at Chislehurst. A court-martial was held on Lieutenant Carey. The sentence was kept secret, but it was generally understood that he was dismissed from the service with ignominy. He was sent home under arrest, but on his arrival there the proceedings of the court-martial were declared null and void on account of some technical irregularity, and he was ordered to resume his duties. It was reported that this extraordinary leniency was shown by the special desire of the Empress, who made a personal request to the Queen that nothing should be done in the matter.

Early in June some messengers arrived in Lord Chelmsford’s camp from Cetewayo. Lord Chelmsford told them that before any negotiations could be entered into, the whole of the spoil taken at Isandula, especially the two captured 7-pounder guns, must be restored.

Considerable delays now took place, and for three weeks a force of Englishmen sufficient to march through and through Zululand in every direction was kept doing nothing at a distance of three days’ march from the enemy’s capital. So extraordinary and unaccountable was the delay that the English government appointed Sir Garnet Wolseley to go out to supersede Lord Chelmsford. Upon the receipt of this news preparations for an advance were at last made. On the 21st General Newdigate’s column reached the right bank of the Umlatoosi. General Crealock, who commanded the division which was operating by the sea, also moved forward about this time, but met with such difficulties, owing to the sickness which attacked his transport-train, that he was unable to co-operate with the first division, although his force did service by occupying a large number of the enemy, who would otherwise have been free to act against the main column.

Between the 24th and 26th General Newdigate’s and Wood’s columns advanced but six miles. But Buller with his horse scouted ahead, and cut up a number of Zulus who were engaged in burning the grass, to hinder the advance of the horses and cattle. On the 26th Colonel Drury-Lowe, with the light cavalry, 450 of Buller’s men and two guns, went out and attacked and burnt five large military kraals. On the 27th the column advanced five miles towards Ulundi, leaving their tents behind them, and taking only 200 ammunition-waggons and ten days’ rations; 500 infantry were left to guard the stores.

On the afternoon of that day some messengers came in from Cetewayo, bringing 150 of the cattle captured at Isandula, together with a pair of elephant’s tusks, and a letter written in English by a trader captured at Isandula. The letter said that the king could not comply with all Lord Chelmsford’s commands, as the arms taken from us at Isandula were not brought to him, and that it was beyond his power as a king to order or compel any of his regiments to lay down their arms. He said the cannons should be sent in, and on the receipt of the cattle and these weapons the English must retire from Zululand. The trader had written in a corner of the letter, in pencil, a few words of warning, and an intimation that Cetewayo had with him at Ulundi a picked force of 20,000 men.

Lord Chelmsford refused to receive the tusks, and told the messengers to inform Cetewayo, that before he should think of retiring, all the conditions must be complied with, and the Zulu regiments lay down their arms. Late in the evening several large bodies of the enemy, amounting to some thousands, were noticed moving from the direction of Ulundi, passing by their left flank.

The next morning General Wood moved forward as far as the left bank of the White Umvolosi, and Newdigate’s column followed in the afternoon. Wood’s division bivouacked on the farther side of the river, Newdigate’s halted on the right. The most vigilant watch was kept, with pickets in every direction, and patrols of cavalry beyond these.

At daybreak on the 27th the main body crossed the river, and joined Wood on the left bank. They were now but fifteen miles from Ulundi, and the king’s five kraals were visible to the naked eye. Three days were given to Cetewayo to comply with the conditions, but the original terms were altered so far, that Lord Chelmsford consented to receive 1000 captured rifles instead of insisting upon the regiments laying down their arms. While waiting, the army remained on the Umvolosi, having retired to the right side, pending the decision of peace or war.

During these three days the Zulus had made many hostile demonstrations against us. On the first and second they kept up a scattered fire at distant ranges at our men, and on the third, growing bolder, pushed their skirmishers down to the rocks on the opposite side of the river, and fired upon the men, as they were watering their horses in the stream. One horse was killed and several men wounded.

Buller therefore asked and obtained permission to make a raid on the other side. A couple of guns were brought into requisition to defend his crossing, and two or three rounds of shrapnel sent a crowd of Zulus, who had approached the opposite heights, straggling in all directions. Buller’s horse, the mounted infantry, and Baker’s horse dashed over the river at once. At full speed they raced across the country; Baker’s men, guided by their leader, inclined to the left front, by Buller’s orders, to carry and hold a hillock which commanded the ford.

Colonel Raaff, with a portion of Buller’s horse, was halted near the kraal of Unodwingo to act as a reserve, and Buller, with 100 of his best mounted men, pushed on with the intention of exploring the ground as far as possible towards Ulundi. He knew that the bulk of the king’s army was away upon Lord Chelmsford’s right flank, and thought therefore that he might push on to Ulundi without opposition. The country consisted of a plain, across which ran some stony undulations, and at one point were two hollows, united at a right angle. The Zulu general disposed his men in shelter, and as Buller with his little band of horsemen rode up they rose and poured a very heavy fire into the ranks of the horsemen. Sudden and unexpected as was this attack, Buller’s men were too well used to native fighting to evince the slightest confusion. In the most perfect order they began to fall back in alternate ranks, keeping up a steady fire upon the enemy, who were eagerly advancing. Raaff and his men rode up to the assistance of the hotly-pressed party, and Baker’s horse, upon their hillock, opened a steady fire upon the Zulus. Gradually and steadily the cavalry fell back towards the river, the two guns on the opposite bank aiding them by their fire of grape and shrapnel upon the Zulus, who pressed forward with extreme bravery.

Many gallant deeds were done. Lord William Beresford, who had accompanied the party as a volunteer, distinguished himself by his bravery and coolness. Seeing upon the ground a dismounted and wounded trooper, surrounded by a dozen Zulus, he wheeled his horse and dashed down among them, knocking over three with the rush of his horse, and cutting down two with right and left strokes of his sabre; in another moment he had the wounded man on his horse behind him, and carried him off in safety.

Commander D’Arcy, also seeing a wounded man on the ground, tried to carry him off, but his horse, being restive, reared and fell back upon him, so that the unfortunate trooper was overtaken and assegaied; while D’Arcy, who was severely bruised by falling on his revolver, was able to get back safely, but was unable to take part in the next day’s fight.

A little before daybreak Wood with his flying column crossed the river, followed by the main army. The whole of the baggage was left in charge of the 24th, and nothing was taken, save the ammunition and water-carts, each man carrying four days’ supply of biscuits and preserved meat in his haversack. The crossing of the river was made without any opposition, but the movements of the troops were watched by a party of Zulus from a hillock on the left.

As soon as favourable ground had been reached, Wood was signalled to halt and wait for the main body, and when the junction was effected the order was given to form a large hollow square. Inside this square were two companies of engineers, together with the ammunition-carts, water-carts, and ambulance waggons, carts with intrenching tools, stretchers and bearers, together with two gatling-guns in a reserve. The front face of the square was formed by the 80th Regiment, with two gatling-guns in their centre and two 7-pounders on their right. The right face of the square was formed of seven companies of the 13th Regiment. Next to these came two 7-pounder and one 9-pounder guns; four companies of the 58th completed the line on this side. The rear face was composed of two companies of the 21st, and three companies of the 94th, with a 9-pounder gun. On the left or west flank were three companies of the 94th, two 7-pounder guns, eight companies of the 90th, and two 9-pounders. Buller’s cavalry were away, scouring the country on the flanks. Colonel Drury-Lowe, with two squadrons of the 17th Lancers and Captain Shepstone’s Basutos, formed the rearguard. The square moved forward for a few miles, when they began to near the smaller kraals. Towards the left front the Zulu columns could now be seen across the plain, with the sun glancing down upon their long lines of white shields. Upon reaching the first kraal the square was halted while it was fired. The next kraal was a very large one, called Unodwingo. This was also fired; but, as it was found that the smoke drifted across the plain so as to act as a screen to the Zulus, Lord Chelmsford ordered its extinction. Strong columns of the enemy could now be seen moving out in good order from Ulundi, and the square halted on some slightly-rising ground.

The Zulus soon opened a dropping fire on the right front, and from a strong force operating on some broken ground near Unodwingo on the left. By nine o’clock the Zulu attack was fairly developed. Buller’s men then made a strong demonstration on the left, driving the Zulus from the hollow where they were sheltered back to the Unodwingo kraal. This movement was well supported by Shepstone and the Basutos.

The Zulus now brought up a strong reinforcement from the right, so as to assist those engaged with the cavalry. Buller’s men fought in the Dutch fashion, in two ranks; the first mounted and ready to dash in a moment upon any weak point in the enemy’s line, the second on foot, using their saddles as a rest for their rifles. As soon as the front rank became too hardly pressed, they cantered to the rear and dismounted and opened fire, while the second rank mounted in readiness to charge. Gradually Buller and Shepstone fell back, the Zulu column pressing upon them until well within reach of the gatlings and Martinis. The cavalry then took refuge in the square, and over the ridges of the front and left the Zulu column with loud shouts swept down upon the square. The British infantry now opened fire. Gatlings and rifles poured in their deadly hail of fire, while the guns swept the Zulu ranks with shrapnel and grape. Terrible as the fire was, the Zulus pressed bravely forward, filling up the gaps made in their ranks, their wild war-cry rising even above the roll of the rifle-fire. The fiercest attack came from the Unodwingo kraal. Forming under cover of the kraal, a large body, led by a chief on a white horse, and formed in a hollow square, dashed at the right rear angle of the British formation. Tremendous as the fire was, they pressed forward until it seemed as if they would come to close quarters with the column; but, brave as the Zulus were, it was impossible to withstand the fire which the 21st, 94th, 58th, and Royal Engineers poured into them. The square was broken up, and after a moment’s pause the Zulus turned and sought shelter from the leaden hail.

While the fight was raging here, another Zulu column had attacked the front; but here the assault was speedily repulsed, the cool and steady fire of the 80th having so deadly an effect that the Zulus never attempted to make a rush upon them. It was now a quarter to ten—but a quarter of an hour from the firing of the first shot, but the combat was virtually at an end. The Zulus, astounded at the storm of fire by which they had been received, were everywhere wavering; Lord Chelmsford gave the order, and the two squadrons of lancers burst from the square, greeted with a loud cheer from the infantry, and with their pennons fluttering in the breeze, and their long lances in rest they dashed upon the flying Zulus, and drove them headlong into a little ravine. But flanking this, and hidden by the long grass, half a Zulu regiment had been posted to cover the retreat, and as the squadrons of lancers came on a volley was poured in, which emptied several saddles and killed Lieutenant Wyatt-Edgell, who was leading his men. In another moment the line of lancers dashed down upon the Zulu ranks, and before the level line of lances the enemy went down like grass. Shattered and broken in an instant, the Zulus fought in stubborn knots, stabbing at the horses, throwing themselves on the men, and trying to dismount them.

In a mêlée like this the lance was useless, and the troopers drew their swords and fought hand to hand with the foe; and now a troop of the King’s Dragoon Guards and Buller’s horse took up the charge, and the flying Zulus were cut down in scores before they could gain the crest of the hill. The Zulus here fought with far less determination than they had exhibited at Kambula. There for four hours they had striven in vain to carry General Wood’s strongly-intrenched position; here they made one great effort, and then all was over. Their force was estimated at 23,000, and of these they lost only about 1500, of whom at least one-third were killed in the retreat. The battle over, the remaining kraals were burnt. Most unfortunately, the day after the battle of Ulundi, the news of the arrival of Sir Garnet Wolseley reached the front, and the movements of the army were paralysed by the change of command. Instead therefore of a vigorous pursuit of the enemy, nothing was done, and the army halted until the new commander-in-chief should arrange his plans of action. Lord Chelmsford at once resigned command of his column, and left for England.

The two boys had been present at the battle of Ulundi. They had, during the weary weeks which preceded the advance, made the acquaintance of most of the officers of the cavalry, and Colonel Lowe had repeated the permission given them by General Marshall. They had therefore, when on the morning of the fight the column marched out, attached themselves to Shepstone’s mounted Basutos, and had fought in the ranks of that corps during the cavalry action which preceded the attack on the square.

After the action was over, great quantities of cattle and corn fell into the hands of the troops, and so large a transport-train was no longer necessary. Orders were therefore issued that a certain number of the waggons could take their discharge from the service, and the lads at once applied to be placed on the list of those whose services could be dispensed with.

Two days later they started for the rear with a convoy of sick and wounded, and in due time, without further adventure, arrived home, to the great delight of their parents.

The victory of Ulundi virtually put an end to the war; a great portion of the troops were sent home; the Zulu chiefs came in and surrendered with their followers, almost to a man. Cetewayo succeeded in concealing himself for some time, but after a long chase he was captured by Major Marter and Lord Gifford, and was sent a prisoner to the Cape.

Chapter Ten.

A Trading Expedition.

After dividing Zululand into districts and appointing a chief to rule over each, General Wolseley marched his force against Secoceni, the chief whose hostile attitude had caused the Boers to accept the protectorate of England. This chief had maintained his defiant attitude, and, relying upon the strength of his hill-stronghold, had kept up an irregular war upon them, aided by the Swazis who came down from the north to assist him.

Sir Garnet Wolseley attacked Secoceni’s mountain. His men fought bravely, but were altogether unable to resist the attack of the English. The place was carried, his warriors killed or dispersed, and his power altogether broken. As the lads were not present at this affair—being well contented to stay for a while and assist their fathers in the farm—it is not necessary to enter into further details of it.

A few months later three teams of waggons drove up to the farm. It was late in the evening, and their owner, who had met Mr Humphreys several times at Newcastle, knocked at the door.

“I have made a long march,” he said, “to-day, and the oxen are knocked up; so if you will take me in, I will halt here for the night instead of going on. The roads have proved heavier than I had expected, and I have done a very long day’s journey.”

Mr Humphreys at once invited the speaker to enter. Mr Harvey was a trader, one of those who are in the habit of taking long expeditions far into the interior, with his waggons laden with cotton, beads, tower-muskets, powder, lead, and toys prized by the natives, returning laden with ivory, ostrich feathers, and skins. He was now about to start upon such a journey, having stocked his waggons at Durban.

After supper was over, the trader told many stories of his adventures among the natives, and the profits which were gained by such journeys.

“Generally,” he said, “I go with six waggons, but I was very unlucky last time; the tze-tze-fly attacked my animals, most of which died, and the natives took advantage of my position to make an attack upon me. I beat them off, but was finally obliged to pack all my most valuable goods in one waggon, to make my way back with it, and abandon everything else to the natives. Now, Humphreys, why don’t you join me? You have got a waggon, and you can buy stores at Newcastle, not of course as cheap as at the seaside, but still cheap enough to leave a large marginal profit on the trip.”

“I cannot leave the farm,” Mr Humphreys said.

“Nor can his wife spare him, Mr Harvey,” Mrs Humphreys put in.

“Well, why don’t you send your son, here, with the waggon?” Mr Harvey asked. “The man who generally travels with me as partner broke his leg the other day, down at Durban, and I should be very glad of one or two white companions. Two or three white men together can do anything with the natives, but if there is only one, and he happens to knock up, it goes very hard with him.”

“Well, I don’t know,” Mr Humphreys said, as Dick looked eagerly towards him; “it is a sort of thing that wants thinking over.”

“Oh! father,” Dick exclaimed excitedly, “it would be a glorious trip, especially if Tom Jackson would go too. I heard Mr Jackson only yesterday say that his draught-oxen are eating their heads off, and that he must put them on the road to do some freighting. You see, if Mr Jackson did not care about going in for the trading himself—and I know, from what he said the other day, that his money is all employed on the farm—you might hire his waggon for the trip. In fact that and your own—”

“That sounds easy and satisfactory enough, Dick,” Mr Humphreys said, laughing; “but one does not jump into these things in a moment. There, you go off to bed, and I will talk the matter further over with Mr Harvey.”

Dick went to bed in high glee. When his father once said that he would talk a thing over, Dick felt that the chances were very strong that he would give in to his wishes. Mr Humphreys was less influenced by the idea of making a good trading speculation than by the consideration that a journey of this kind would not only give great pleasure to his son, but would be of real benefit to him. It was Mr Humphreys’ opinion that it is good for a lad to be placed in positions where he learns self-reliance, readiness, and promptness of action. For himself his farm-work occupied all his thoughts, and he needed no distraction; but for a lad change is necessary. Had Dick had—as would have been the case at home—a number of school-fellows and companions of the same age, he would have joined in their games and amusements, and no other change would have been necessary, or indeed desirable; but in the farm in Natal it was altogether different. The work of looking after a number of Kaffirs planting and watering trees was monotonous, and unbroken, as it generally was, by the sight of a strange face from the beginning to the end of the week, it was likely to become irksome to a boy.

Occasionally indeed Dick and Tom Jackson would meet and go out on a shooting expedition together; but Tom could seldom be spared, as his father, being shorter-handed than Mr Humphreys, found him of considerable use.

Soon after daylight Dick was aroused by his father.

“Jump up at once, Dick; I want you to ride over with a letter to Mr Jackson. We have pretty well settled that you shall go with Mr Harvey, and I am writing to make an offer to Mr Jackson for the use of his waggon for six months.”

Dick gave a shout of delight, and in a very short time had dressed himself, and, having saddled his horse, was dashing at full speed across the veldt. Early as the hour was when he arrived, Mr Jackson was already out in his fields. Dick soon found him, and handed him the letter, and while he was reading it explained in low, excited words to Tom the mission on which he had come.

“Well, I don’t know,” Mr Jackson said, when he had finished the letter; “your father makes me a very liberal offer, Dick, for my waggon and team for six months, on the condition that I allow Tom to accompany them, and he points out that in his opinion a journey of this kind will be likely to develop the boy’s character and teach him many things that may some day be of use to him. It comes upon me suddenly, and it seems he wants the waggon and team to be at Newcastle this evening, ready for a start in the morning. He himself is going to ride over there to purchase goods to freight it directly he receives my reply. I must go in and consult with mother before I come to any decided conclusion.”

So saying he strode off towards the house.

Dick, leading his pony, walked after, by the side of Tom, to whom he explained all he knew of the character of the proposed journey.

“Mr Harvey says, Tom, that of course he goes to trade, but that at the same time he does a lot of shooting, both for the sake of the skins and for the meat for the men. He says that he often meets with lions, hippopotami, and sometimes elephants—sometimes they meet with hostile natives.”

Altogether the expedition promised an immense variety of adventure. The boys remained chatting outside the house until Mr Jackson came to the door and called them in.

“So you are not contented to stop at home, Dick,” Mrs Jackson said, “and you want to take Tom rambling away with you again? Of course I cannot say no, when my husband is inclined to let him go, but I shall be terribly anxious until he is back again.”

“I won’t let him get into any scrapes, Mrs Jackson,” Dick said confidently.

“I have no faith whatever,” Mrs Jackson said, smiling, “in your keeping him out of scrapes, but I do think it possible that you may get him out of them after he is once in them. Do be careful, my boys, for the sakes of your fathers and mothers! I know Mr Harvey has been making these journeys for a good many years and has always got back safely, and I have great faith in his experience and knowledge,—but there, Dick, I must not keep you. Here is my husband with an answer to your father’s letter, and as you will have lots to do, and your father will be waiting for this letter before he starts for Newcastle, you had better ride off at once. Good-bye, my boy, for I shan’t see you again before you start. I trust that you will come back safe and well.”

Two minutes later Dick was again galloping across the country, arriving home in time for breakfast.

Mrs Humphreys was in better spirits than Dick had feared he should find her; but her health had improved immensely since her arrival in the colony, and she was more active and energetic than Dick ever remembered her to have been. She was able therefore to take a far more cheerful view of the proposed expedition than she could have done the year before, and her husband had had comparatively little difficulty in obtaining her consent to Dick’s accompanying Mr Harvey.

“Your father thinks that it will be for your good, my boy,” she said, “and I have no doubt that you will enjoy yourself greatly,—but be sure to be careful, and don’t let your high spirits get you into scrapes;—remember how valuable your life is to us!”

“While you are away, Dick,” his father said, “you will remember that you are absolutely under Mr Harvey’s orders. As the head of the expedition he stands in the position of the master, and he must receive ready and explicit obedience from all. He is not a man unnecessarily to curb or check you, and you may be sure that he will not restrain you unless for the good of the expedition. You must beware how far you stray from the caravan; the country you are going to is very different from this. Here, go where you will, you are sure in a short time to come upon some farmhouse, where you may get directions as to your way. There, once lost, it is upon yourself alone you must depend to recover the track. The beasts of prey are formidable opponents, and a lion or an elephant wounded, but not killed, could rend you into pieces in a moment; therefore you must be prudent as well as brave, obedient as well as enterprising. You have already shown that you have plenty of presence of mind, as well as of courage, and in nine cases out of ten the former quality is even the more necessary in a country such as that you are now going to. Courage will not avail you when a wounded leopard is charging down upon you, and your rifle is already discharged, but presence of mind may point out some means of escape from the danger. And now, if you have finished breakfast, you had better ride over with me to Newcastle—I have a very large number of goods to buy. Mr Harvey, who went on the first thing, will meet me there and show me the kind of goods most likely to take with the natives; it will be well that you should not only know the price of each article, but that you should see everything packed, so as to know the contents of each bale by its shape and markings—a matter which may save you much trouble when you begin to trade.”

The shopping did not take up so long a time as Mr Humphreys had anticipated; the large storekeepers all kept precisely the kind of goods required, as they were in the habit of selling to the Boers for barter with the natives.

In the afternoon the waggon was sent away, and an hour before daybreak next morning Dick, having bade farewell to his mother, started with Mr Humphreys.

Tom and Mr Jackson arrived there a few minutes later, and the work of loading the waggons at once commenced, and was concluded by nine o’clock; then they joined the waggons of Mr Harvey, which were already waiting outside the town.

Their fathers rode with them to the ford across the river, and then after a hearty farewell returned to their farms, while the caravan of five waggons crossed into the Transvaal.

Each waggon was drawn by sixteen oxen, with a native driver and leader to each. There were three Swazis who had accompanied Mr Harvey on previous expeditions, all good hunters and men who could be relied upon in every emergency. The eldest of these natives was a very tall and muscular man, of some five and forty years of age; the left side of his face, his shoulder, and side were deeply seamed with scars, the relics of a fight with a wounded lioness. He had a very long and difficult name, which had been Anglicised and shortened by Mr Harvey into “Jack.”

The second of the trio was a man so short as to be almost deformed, a very unusual circumstance among the natives. His head was set low between his shoulders, and his long sinewy arms reached almost to his ankles. Mr Harvey told the lads he was immensely strong, and the expression of his face was quick and intelligent. He was about twenty-four years of age; he had been found by Mr Harvey’s father, who had also been a trader, deserted and apparently dying, a baby of only a few months old. Among savage people infants who are in any way deformed are generally deserted and left to perish, and this was the fate evidently intended for the child when the mother became convinced he would not grow up tall and straight, like other men. Mr Harvey had picked it up, fed and cared for it, and it grew up full of a passionate attachment for him, following him everywhere, and ready at any moment to give his life for him. He was called Tony, and spoke English as fluently as the native language.

The third of the hunters was a tall, slight figure, a man of about five and thirty, with muscles like whipcord, who could, if it were needed, go for 100 miles without a halt, and tire out the swiftest horse. In addition to these were ten natives, who assisted with the cattle, pitched the tent, cooked and skinned the game, and did other odd jobs.

The road was fairly good, and two days after leaving Newcastle they arrived at Standerton, a rising place, inhabited principally by English traders and shopkeepers. Here three roads branched: the one led to Utrecht on the east; another to Pretoria, the capital, to the north-west; while the third, a track much less used than the others, led due north. This was the one followed by the caravan.

As they proceeded, the Dutch farmhouses became more sparsely sprinkled over the country, and several large native kraals were passed. Over the wide plains large herds of deer roamed almost, unmolested, and the lads had no difficulty in keeping the caravan well supplied with provisions. One or two of the Kaffirs generally accompanied them, to carry in the game; but Mr Harvey and the three hunters, accustomed to more exciting sport, kept along with the caravan, the former well content that the lads should amuse themselves with furnishing food for the party.

At Newcastle Mr Humphreys had purchased a couple of small pocket-compasses, one for each of the boys, and the possession of these gave them great confidence, as, with their guidance, they were always enabled to strike the trail of the caravan.

The road had now altogether ceased, and they were travelling across a bare, undulating country, dotted occasionally by herds and flocks of Dutch settlers, and by the herds of wandering deer, but unbroken by a tree of any size, and for the most part covered with tall grass. The deer met with were for the most part antelopes of one or other of three kinds, all of which abound on the higher plains. These are known as the “wilde-beest,” the “bless-buck,” and the “spring-buck.”

The venison which these creatures afforded was occasionally varied by the flesh of the “stump-pig,” which abounded in considerable numbers, and, as they ran at a great speed, afforded the boys many a good chase.

Generally the caravan halted for the night—while they were still in a country occupied here and there by Boers—near one of the farmhouses. It was not that these habitations added to the pleasure of the halting-place, for the Boers were generally gruff and surly, and their dogs annoyed them by their constant barking and growling, but for the most part it was only at these farmhouses that water could be obtained. A small sum was generally charged by the Boers for the privilege of watering the oxen of each waggon.

It would seem a churlish action to charge for water, but this fluid is very scarce upon the veldt. There are long periods of drought, of which, in a dry season, thousands of cattle perish; it is therefore only natural that each farmer should hoard his supply jealously, for he cannot tell how great his own need of it may shortly be. The water is for the most part stored in artificial ponds, made by damming up hollows through which the water runs in the wet season.

Sometimes, as the caravan made its slow way along, a young Boer would dash up upon his horse, and, reining in, ask a few questions as to their route, and then ride off again. Already the boys had admired the figures and riding of the Boers whom they had seen in action in Zululand, but they were much more struck by their appearance as they saw them now. There are no finer men in the world than the young Boers of the Transvaal; in after-life they often become heavy, but as young men their figures are perfect. Very tall and powerfully built, they sit their horses as if man and animal were one, and are such splendid marksmen that, while riding at full speed, they can, with almost absolute certainty, bring down an antelope at a distance of 150 yards.

But the abodes of the Boers, and their manner of living, impressed the boys far less favourably. However extensive the possessions and numerous the herds of a Boer, he lives in the same primitive style as his poorest neighbour. The houses seldom contain more than two, or at most three, rooms. The dress of the farmer, wife, and family is no better than that of labourers; whole families sleep in one room; books are almost unknown in their houses, and they are ignorant and prejudiced to an extreme degree. Upon his horse and his gun the Boer will spend money freely, but for all other purposes he is thrifty and close-fisted in the extreme. Water is regarded as useful for drinking purposes, but its utility for matters of personal cleanliness is generally altogether ignored. Almost all sleep in their clothes, and a shake and a stretch suffice for the morning toilet.

The power of a Boer over his sons and daughters is most unlimited, and he is the hardest and cruellest of masters to the unfortunate natives whom he keeps in slavery under the title of indentured apprentices, and whose lives he regards as of no more importance than those of his sheep, and as of infinitely less consequence than those of his horses or even of his dogs. To the unhappy natives the taking over of the Transvaal by England had been a blessing of the highest kind. For the first time the shooting of them in cold blood had come to be considered a crime, and ordinances had been issued against slavery, which, although generally evaded by the Boers, still promised a happy state of things in the future.

At the native kraals the travellers were always welcomed when it was known that they were English. The natives looked to Queen Victoria as a sort of guardian angel, and not a thought entered their heads that they would ere long be cruelly and basely abandoned to the mercies of the Dutch by the government of England.

Slowly and without incident the caravan made its way north, and at last encamped upon the banks of the great river Limpopo, the northern boundary of the Transvaal. This river was too wide and deep to be forded, but at the spot where they had struck it, there was a large native kraal. Here Mr Harvey, who had many times before followed the same route to this spot, was warmly welcomed, and preparations were made for effecting a crossing. The oxen were first taken across; these were steered by ropes attached to their horns and fastened to a canoe, which paddled ahead of them. The beasts were delighted to enter the water after their long dusty journey, and most of them, after reaching the opposite bank, lay down for a long time in the shallow water at the edge. Most of the stores were carried across in canoes. Inflated skins were then fastened to the waggons, and these also were towed across the stream by canoes. The passage had commenced at early morning, and by nightfall the whole of the caravan and its contents were safely across the stream.

“We are now,” Mr Harvey said, “in the Matabele country; the natives are for the most part friendly, as they know the advantage they derive from the coming of English traders, but there are portions of the tribe altogether hostile to us, and the greatest caution and care have to be exercised in passing through some portions of the country. To the east lies a land said to be very rich in gold, and there can be little doubt that it is so, for we frequently find natives who have traded with that country in possession of gold-dust, but they allow no white men to pass their frontier on any pretext whatever. They have become aware in some way how great is the value of gold in the eyes of Europeans, and fear that if the wealth of the country in that metal were but known a vast emigration of Europeans would take place, which would assuredly sooner or later end in the driving out or extirpation of the present inhabitants of the land.”

The news which they had learned at the village where they had crossed, of the state of affairs among the tribes of the north, was not encouraging. The natives said that there had been much fighting. Not only had eruptions taken place with tribes still further north, but the Matabele had also been quarrelling among themselves.

“This is bad news indeed,” Mr Harvey said; “these tribal wars make journeying very difficult; for, although none of the tribes may be hostile to Europeans at ordinary times, they view them with distrust when coming from a tribe with whom they are at war. In peace-time, too, when each section of the tribe is under some sort of control by the head chief, each will hesitate to rob or attack an European caravan, because the whole would consider themselves aggrieved and injured by such a proceeding. In war-time, on the other hand, each thinks, ‘If we do not rob this rich caravan some one else is sure to do so; we may as well have the plunder as another.’ War is injurious to us in other ways; instead of the tribes spending their time in hunting, they remain at home to guard their villages and women, and we shall find but little ivory and few ostrich feathers gathered to trade for our goods. I had not intended to have encumbered myself with a larger following, but I think, after what I have heard, it will be wise to strengthen our party before going further. I will therefore hire twenty men from the village here to accompany us; they will be useful in hunting, and will cost but little; their wages are nominal, and we shall have no difficulty in providing them with food with our rifles. In one respect they are more useful than men hired from time to time from among the people farther north for the purpose of driving game, for, as you see, many of them carry guns, while beyond the river they are armed only with bows and arrows.”

“I am surprised to see so many guns.” Dick said; “where could these people have got the money to buy them?”

“It is the result of a very bad system,” Mr Harvey replied. “The Cape authorities, in spite of all the representations which have been made to them, of the extreme danger of allowing the natives to possess firearms, allow their importation and sale to them, simply on account of the revenue which they derive from it, as a duty of a pound is charged on each gun imported into the colony. From all parts of South Africa the natives, Pondos, Basutos, Zulus, and other Kaffirs, go to the diamond-fields and work there for months; when their earnings suffice to enable them to buy a gun, a stock of ammunition, and a blanket, they return to their homes. All these fellows you see carrying guns have served their six or eight months in the diamond-mines; a dozen of them would be a strong reinforcement to our fighting power, in case of an attack.”

There was no difficulty in engaging the required number of men. Each was to be paid on the conclusion of the journey with a certain quantity of powder and lead, a few yards of cotton, some beads and other cheap trinkets, and was to be fed on the journey. Thus reinforced the Caravan proceeded on its way.

Chapter Eleven.

A Troop of Lions.

The country across which the waggons now made their way differed somewhat from that over which they had previously passed; it was not so undulating, and the herbage was shorter and more scanty; the soil was for the most part sandy; trees were much more abundant, and sometimes there were thick growths of jungle. Even before leaving the Transvaal they had at night often heard the roar of lions, but these had not approached the camp.

“We must look out for lions to-night,” Mr Harvey said, when the caravan encamped near a large pool which in the wet season formed part of a river, and was now for the most part dry. “We must laager our waggons, and get as many cattle inside as we can, and must keep the rest close together, with fires in readiness to light in case of an attack.”

“But surely the lions would never venture to attack so large a party?” Dick said in surprise.

“They will indeed,” Mr Harvey answered. “These brutes often hunt together, as many as twenty or thirty; they are nothing like such powerful beasts as the North African lions, but they are formidable enough, and the less we see of them the better. But there are numerous prints on the sand near the water, and probably large numbers of them are in the habit of coming to this pool to drink. I expect therefore that we shall have a stirring night.”

As soon as the oxen were unyoked, they were driven a short distance out to pasture. Five or six of the natives looked after them, while the remainder set to work to gather sticks and dried wood for the fires.

“I think,” Tom said, “that I will go and have a bathe in the pool.”

“You will do no such thing,” Mr Harvey remarked; “the chances are that there are half a dozen alligators in that pool—it is just the sort of place in which they lurk, for they find no difficulty in occasionally taking a deer or a wild hog, as he comes down to quench his thirst. There! don’t you see something projecting above the water on the other side of the pool?”

“I see a bit of rough wood, that looks as if it were the top of a log underneath the water.”

“Well, just watch it,” Mr Harvey said, as he took aim with his rifle.

He fired; the water instantly heaved and whirled at the spot the boy was watching; the supposed log rose higher out of the water, and then plunged down again; five or six feet of a long tail lashed the water and then disappeared, but the eddies on the surface showed that there was a violent agitation going on underneath it.

“What do you think of your log now?” Mr Harvey asked, smiling.

“Why, it was an alligator,” Tom said. “Who would have thought it?—it looked just like a bit of an old tree.”

“What you saw,” Mr Harvey said, “was a portion of the head; the alligator often lies with just his eyes and nostrils out of water.”

“Did you kill it, sir, do you think?” Dick asked.

“Oh! no,” Mr Harvey replied; “the ball would glance off his head, as it would from the side of an ironclad ship. It woke him up, and flustrated him a bit; but he is none the worse for it. So you see, Tom, that pool is hardly fit to bathe in.”

“No, indeed, sir,” Tom answered, turning a little pale at the thought of the danger which he had proposed to incur. “I would rather fight half a dozen lions than get into the water with those brutes.”

“I don’t know about half a dozen lions,” Mr Harvey said; “although certainly one lion is an easier foe to tackle than an alligator. But one can never be too careful about bathing in this country. In the smallest pools, only a few yards long and a few feet wide, an alligator may be lurking, especially if the weather is dry and the pools far apart. Even when only drawing water at such places it is well to be careful, and it is always the best plan to poke the bottom for a short distance round with a pole before dipping in a bucket. Remember, if you should ever happen to be seized by one of these animals, there is but one chance, and that is to turn at once and stick your thumbs into his eyes. It requires nerve when a brute has got you by the leg, but it is your only chance, and the natives, when seized by alligators, often escape by blinding their foes. The pain and sudden loss of sight always induces them to loose their hold.”

“I hope I shall never have to try,” Tom said, shivering.

“It is safer not, certainly,” Mr Harvey agreed; “but there, I see dinner is ready, and Jumbo has got a bucket of water, so you can douse your heads and wash your hands without fear of alligators.”

At nightfall the cattle were all driven in. The horses and a few of the most valuable oxen were placed in the laager formed by the waggons; the rest were fastened outside to them, side by side, by their horns; at each corner the natives had piled up a great heap of firewood. An hour after sunset the roar of a lion was heard out on the plain; it was answered simultaneously in six or eight directions, and the stamping of the oxen announced that the animals were conscious of danger.

“There are a troop of them about,” Mr Harvey said, “just as I feared. Put a little more wood on the fires, boys; it is as well to keep them burning briskly, but it will probably be some hours before they work themselves up to make an attack upon us.”

As the time went on, the roaring became louder and more continuous.

“There must be a score of them at least,” Mr Harvey said; “they are ranging round and round the camp; they don’t like the look of the fires.”

By ten o’clock the roaring had approached so closely that Mr Harvey thought that it was time to prepare for the defence; he took post at one side of the square, and placed the boys and Jumbo at the other three; Tony and the other hunter were to keep outside the cattle, and walk round and round. The armed natives were scattered round the square. The drivers and cattle-men were to move about among the animals, and do their best to pacify them, for already a perfect panic had seized upon the draught-cattle, and with starting eyes and coats ruffled by fear they were tugging and straining at their ropes.

“Quiet, you silly beasts,” Dick said, leaning out of the waggon in which he had taken his place; “you are safer where you are than you would be anywhere else. If you got away and bolted out into the plain, as you want to do, you would be pulled down and killed in no time.”

The fires were now blazing brightly, throwing a wide circle of light round the camp and making visible every object within fifty yards.

It had been arranged that so long as the lions kept at a distance and only approached singly the defenders of the various faces of the square should retain their positions; but that, should a formidable attack be made upon any one side, the white men with two of the natives with them should hasten to the point attacked.

Several times, as Dick stood in the waggon, rifle in hand, straining his eyes at the darkness, he fancied he saw indistinct shadowy forms moving at the edge of the circle of light. Two or three times he raised his rifle to take aim, but the objects were so indistinct that he doubted whether his fancy had not deceived him.

Presently the crack of Mr Harvey’s rifle was heard, followed by a roar of a sharper and more angry nature than those which had preceded it. As if a signal had been given, three or four creatures came with great bounds out of the darkness towards the side where Dick was posted. Taking a steady aim, he fired. Tony, who was outside with the cattle on that side of the square, did the same. The other natives had been ordered to retain their fire until the lions were close enough to ensure each shot telling. The lion at which Dick had aimed paused for a moment with a terrific roar, and then bounded forward again. When he came within twenty yards of the oxen, the four natives posted by Dick’s side fired. The lion for a moment fell; then, gathering itself together, it sprang on to the back of a bullock, just in front of where Dick was standing. The lad had a second rifle in readiness, and leaning forward he placed the muzzle within two yards of the lion’s head and fired. The animal rolled off the back of the bullock, who, with the one standing next to him, at once began to kick at it endeavouring to get their heads round to gore it with their horns. The lion, however, lay unmoved; Dick’s last shot had been fatal.

The other lions on this side had bounded back into the darkness. From the other sides of the square the sound of firing proclaimed that similar attacks had been made; but, as there was no summons for aid, Dick supposed that the attacks were isolated ones, and so, after recharging his rifles, he remained quietly at his post.

For some hours the attack was not renewed, though the continuous roaring showed that the lions were still close at hand. Mr Harvey went round and advised the boys to lie down at their posts and get a little sleep, as the natives would keep watch.

“I don’t think we have done with them yet,” he said; “we have killed three, but I think, by the roaring, the number has considerably increased within the last hour. It is probable that an attack will be made an hour or so before daybreak, and I expect it will be in earnest next time.”

Dick accordingly lay down to sleep, but he was too excited to close his eyes.

After a long time it seemed to him that the roaring was dying away, and a drowsiness was stealing over him, when suddenly Mr Harvey’s rifle was heard, and he shouted,—

“To this side—quick! they are upon us.”

Dick, Tom, and Jumbo, with the six natives, leapt from the waggons, and, running across the little enclosure, scrambled up into those on the other side. There was a momentary silence here, the whole of the defendants having discharged their pieces, and a number of lions bounding across the open were already close to the cattle.

The new-comers at once opened fire. Two or three of the lions sprang among the cattle; but the rest, intimidated by the noise and flash of the guns, and by the yelling and shouting of the natives, turned and made off again. Those among the cattle were soon disposed of, but not before they had killed three of the draught-oxen and seriously torn two others.

The roaring continued until daybreak, gradually, however, growing fainter and more distant, and it was evident that the attack had ceased.

“Are their skins worth anything?” Dick asked.

“Yes, they are worth a few dollars apiece, except in the case of old lions, who are apt to become mangy, and these are not worth skinning. We have killed eight of them, but their skins will not be worth anything like so much as the cattle they have killed; however, it is well that it is no worse. An attack by these troops of lions is no joke; they are by far the most formidable animals of South Africa I don’t say that an attack by a herd of wild elephants would not be more serious, but I never heard of such a thing taking place. They are timid creatures, and easily scared, and except in the case of wounded animals or of solitary bulls they can scarcely be considered as dangerous.”

When day broke, the natives set to work to skin the lions, with the exception of one whose skin was valueless. As soon as the operation was completed, the skins were packed in the waggons, the oxen were inspanned, and the caravan proceeded on its way, all being glad to leave so dangerous a locality.

The next evening they encamped upon a river, and the night passed without interruption. The following morning, just as they were about to start, Tony, who with the other hunters had gone out at daybreak, returned with the news that he had found the spoor of elephants, and that he believed a herd had passed along only a few hours before.

Mr Harvey at once decided to halt where he was for another day. The oxen were again unyoked, and six of the armed natives having been left to guard the camp, under the direction of Jumbo, the whole of the rest, with the white men, set off in pursuit of the elephants.

The spoor was quite distinct, and even had this failed, there would have been no difficulty in following the track, for there were scattered here and there trees, and the elephants in passing had broken off many boughs, which, stripped of their leaves, lay upon the ground they had traversed.

Tony and the other hunter, whose name was Blacking, a sobriquet gained from the extreme swarthiness of his skin, scouted ahead, and presently held up their hands to those following them to advance quietly. The trees were very thick here, and Mr Harvey and the boys dismounted and led their horses to the spot where the hunters had halted. They were standing at the edge of a large circular clearing, three quarters of a mile in diameter; it had probably at one time been the site of a native village, for there were signs of cultivation, and a number of scattered heads of maize rose here and there, the descendants of a bygone mealy plantation. Feeding upon these were a herd of some twenty elephants; of these the greater portion were females or young ones, but there were three fine males—one, a beast of unusual size.

“That is the master of the herd,” Mr Harvey said, “a savage-looking old customer; he has a splendid pair of tusks, although the tip of one,” he added, gazing at the elephant through his field-glass, “is broken off. I think that for the present we will leave him alone, and direct our attention to the other two males. I will take Tom and Jumbo with me; you, Dick, shall have Tony and Blacking. Three of the natives shall go with each party, but you must not rely upon them much; and, remember, the one fatal spot is the forehead. Fasten your horses up here, and leave two of the natives in charge. Let the other six go round to the opposite side of the clearing and advance slowly from that direction, showing themselves occasionally, so as to draw the attention of the herd towards them. The elephants will probably move leisurely in this direction. Take your station behind trees, moving your position carefully as they approach, so as to place yourselves as near as possible in the line of the elephant you have fixed on. We will take up our station a hundred yards to the right of where we are standing; do you go as far to the left. The natives will take the horses into a thicket some distance in the rear. Whichever of the two young male elephants comes nearest to you is your mark, ours is the other. If they keep near each other, we shall probably meet again here.”

The two parties moved off to the places assigned to them, and the natives whose duty it was to drive the elephants started to their positions. Keeping some little distance back among the trees, so that they could observe the movements of the elephants, while themselves unseen, Dick and his party moved to the spot indicated, and then sat down.

For three quarters of an hour the elephants continued to feed upon the heads of maize; then the big male suddenly wheeled round, extended his great ears, lifted his trunk, and trumpeted. At this signal the others all gathered together, and stood gazing in the direction from which danger threatened. Again the old bull gave an angry scream. The others moved slowly away from the danger, but he advanced in the direction in which he had seen the natives.

“Very bad elephant that,” Tony whispered to Dick; “he give heaps of trouble; you see him charge.”

A minute or two later the elephant, catching sight of his enemies, quickened his pace, and with his little tail switching angrily, uplifted trunk, and widespread ears, he charged down upon them at a pace of which Dick had not supposed so cumbersome a beast would be capable.

In a moment the distant natives were seen to rise from the grass and to run at full speed back towards the wood. The elephant pursued them until he reached the trees; here he halted, and gazed for some time into the wood. Then seeing no signs of the natives—for these knew better than to provoke so vicious a beast by firing at him—he trumpeted defiantly, and slowly retraced his steps towards the rest of the herd. These, led by the two males, were already approaching the trees behind which Dick and his party were lying concealed. Before they had arrived there Mr Harvey and his party came up.

Dick and Tom were both carrying heavy smooth-bore guns, similar to those used by the Boers. These their fathers had purchased at Newcastle on the day of their start; they were old weapons, but very strong and serviceable; they carried a heavy charge of powder and a large ball, of a mixture of lead and tin, specially made for elephant-shooting.

“Dick fire first,” Blacking whispered in his ear; “if he not kill him, then the rest of us fire.”

Dick was lying down behind the trunk of a tree, his rifle steadied against it; when the elephant was within a distance of twenty yards he fired, taking steady aim at the vital point. The recoil of the piece was tremendous, and the roar of its report almost stunned him; he gave, however, a shout of delight, for the elephant stood for half a minute swaying from side to side, and then fell heavily upon the ground.

Mr Harvey had given Tom the first shot at the other elephant; but, just at the moment when the lad was about to fire, the elephant gave a sudden start at the report of Dick’s rifle, and Tom’s shot struck it at the side of the head and glancing off passed through its ear. Throwing up its trunk, the elephant instantly charged. Mr Harvey fired, but the uplifted trunk prevented his getting an accurate aim at the vital spot. The bullet passed through the trunk, and then glanced off the forehead. The elephant swerved and showed its side, at which a general volley was fired by all the guns still loaded. The great beast stood still for an instant, stumbled forward a few strides, and then its legs seemed to bend beneath it, and it sank down quietly to the ground.

Just at this moment, as the affrighted cows were turning to fly across the plain, there was a thundering rush, and the great elephant charged through them, and passing between the dead males dashed into the wood. Its rush was so sudden and headlong that it carried the elephant past the men standing behind the trees; but it speedily checked itself, and turning round made a rush upon them. There was an instant stampede. Most of the natives at once threw away their guns; some climbed hastily up into the trees against which they were standing; others took to the bushes. The elephant charged in after these, but seeing no signs of them he speedily came out again and looked round for a fresh foe. His eye fell upon Dick, who had just recharged his rifle.

“Run, Dick! run!” shouted Mr Harvey.

But Dick saw that the elephant was upon him, while the tree near which he was standing was too thick to climb. The elephant was holding his head so high that Dick could not aim at the spot on the forehead, but, waiting until the animal was within ten yards of him, he fired into its open mouth, and then leapt behind the tree. With a scream of pain the elephant rushed on, but being unable to check himself he came full butt with tremendous force against the tree, which quivered under the blow, and Dick, thinking that it was going to fall upon him, sprang back a pace. Three or four more shots were fired before the elephant could turn, and then wheeling round it charged upon its new assailants.

Tom was one of those nearest to him; the boy had just discharged his rifle and advanced a few feet from the tree behind which he had been standing. Before he could regain it he felt something pass round him, there was a tremendous squeeze, which stopped his breath and seemed to press his life out of him, then he felt himself flying high into the air, and became insensible.

Apparently satisfied with what he had done, the elephant continued his rapid pace into the open again, and followed the retreating herd across the plain.

Dick had given a cry of horror, as he saw the elephant seize his friend, and his heart seemed to stand still when he saw him whirled high in the air. Tom fell into a thick and bushy tree, and there, breaking through the light foliage at the top, remained suspended in the upper boughs.

In an instant Jumbo climbed the tree, and making his way to the lad lifted him from the fork in which he was wedged, placed him on his shoulder as easily as if he had been a child, and descending the tree laid him on the ground by the side of Mr Harvey. The latter at once knelt beside him.

“Thank God, he is breathing!” he exclaimed at once. “Lift his head, Dick; open his shirt, Blacking; and give me some water out of your gourd. I trust he is only stunned; that brute was in such a hurry that he had not time to squeeze him fairly, and the tree has broken his fall. If he had come down to the ground from that height, it must have killed him.”

He sprinkled some water upon the lad’s face and chest, and to his and Dick’s delight Tom presently opened his eyes. He looked round in a surprised and half-stupid way, and then made an effort to rise, but a cry broke from him as he did so.

“Lie still, Tom,” Mr Harvey said; “you are hurt, but, I hope, not severely. Cut his shirt off, Dick; I expect some of his ribs are broken.”

Upon Mr Harvey carefully feeling Tom’s ribs, he found, as he had expected, that five of them were broken—three on one side and two on the other.

“Some of your ribs are damaged, Tom,” he said cheerfully; “but that is of no great consequence; they all seem pretty fairly in their places. Now I will bandage you tightly, so as to keep them there, and then we will carry you back to the waggons and nurse you until they grow together again; young bones soon heal, and in a week or ten days you will, I hope, be able to travel again; you had a close shave of it. I never met a more savage beast than that bull-elephant in all my experience.”

Chapter Twelve.

An Attack by Elephants.

A litter was speedily constructed from some boughs of trees, and Tom being placed in it was at once carried back to the camp, escorted by his friend. The hunters remained behind to cut out the tusks of the two elephants that had fallen. A portion of the trunks and feet, which are considered the most delicate portions of the elephant, was laid aside for the use of the white men, and a large quantity of meat was brought back to camp for the natives.

The sound of firing had brought up some people from a small village two or three miles away, and these to their immense joy were allowed to carry off enough meat to enable them to feast to the utmost extent of their ability for a week to come.

Mr Harvey had in the course of his wanderings frequently had occasion to dress wounds and bandage broken bones; he was therefore able to apply the necessary bandages to Tom, and the lad was soon lying in comparative ease on a bed formed of rags. Generally the boys slept in hammocks, but Mr Harvey insisted that Tom must lie perfectly straight on his back until the bones had begun to set again.

“We made a sad mess with that old bull to-day, Dick,” he said. “It is humiliating to think that he should have charged us all, injured Tom, and got away almost unscathed.”

“You see, sir,” Dick said, “he attacked us unexpectedly; our guns were all discharged, and he came on with such a rush that there was no getting a steady shot at him. The whole affair lasted little more than a minute, I should say.”

“I shall go out to-morrow morning,” Mr Harvey said, “and take up the track again, and see if I cannot get even with the beast. There is time enough to-day, for it is still early, but the herd will be so restless and suspicious that there will be no getting near them, and I should not care to face that old bull unless I had a fair chance of killing him at the first shot. He has a magnificent pair of tusks, and ivory sells so high that they would be worth a good deal of trouble and some risk to get.”

“Shall I go with you, sir?”

“No, Dick, I would rather you did not. The business will be more dangerous than usual, and I should not like the responsibility of having you with me. Tom had as narrow a shave yesterday as ever I saw, and I certainly do not want two of you on my hands.”

Dick was not sorry at Mr Harvey’s decision, for after the charge of the bull-elephant he felt just at present he should not care about encountering another. The next morning Mr Harvey, accompanied by the three native hunters and the greater portion of the others, started in pursuit of the elephants.

Dick, after sitting for some time with Tom, took his gun and wandered round near the camp, shooting birds. As the sun got high, and the heat became fiercer and fiercer, he returned to camp, and had just taken off his coat and sat down by the side of Tom when he heard shouts of terror outside the tent.

Running out to see what was the matter, he saw the natives in a state of wild terror. They pointed across the plain, and Dick, to his astonishment and alarm, saw a great elephant approaching at a rapid trot, with his trunk in the air and his ears extended to the fullest. He recognised at once the bull which had charged them on the previous day. The natives were now flying in all directions. Dick shouted to them to stand and get their muskets, but his words were unheeded; he ran to the tent, seized the long-bore gun which he had carried the day before and also that of Tom, and charged them both hastily, but coolly.

“What on earth is it all about?” Tom asked.

“It is the elephant again, Tom; lie quiet, whatever you do; you cannot run away, so lie just as you are.”

Then with a gun in each hand Dick ran out of the tent again. The elephant was now but a hundred yards away. Dick climbed into a waggon standing in the line on which he was coming, knelt down in the bottom and rested the muzzle on the side, standing up and waving his arm before he did so, so as to attract the attention of the elephant. The great beast saw him, and trumpeting loudly came straight down at him; Dick knelt, as steady as a rock, with the sight of the gun upon the elephant’s forehead.

When he was within twenty yards Dick drew the trigger, and, without waiting to see the result, snatched up and levelled the second gun. The elephant had staggered as he was hit, and then, as with a great effort, he pulled himself together and again moved forward, but with a stumbling and hesitating step; taking steady aim again, Dick fired when the elephant’s trunk was within a yard of the muzzle of his gun, and then springing to his feet, leapt on the opposite side of the waggon and took to his heels.

After running a few steps, he glanced back over his shoulder, and then ceased running; the elephant was no longer in sight above the waggon, but had fallen an inert mass by its side.

“All right, Tom!” Dick shouted loudly; “I have done for him.”

Before going to look at the fallen elephant Dick went to the spot where stood the piled muskets of the natives who had fled; dropping a ramrod into them, he found that two were loaded, and taking these in his hands he advanced towards the elephant. The precaution was needless; the great beast lay dead; the two heavy balls had struck within an inch or two of each other, and penetrated the brain. The first would have been fatal, and the elephant was about to fall when Dick had fired the second time.

Gradually the drivers and other natives returned to camp with shouts of triumph. These, however, Dick speedily silenced by a volley of abuse for their cowardice in running away and leaving Tom to his fate. A few minutes later Mr Harvey galloped in at full speed, closely followed by the swift footed Blacking.

“Thank God, you are safe, my boys,” Mr Harvey said, as he leapt from his horse. “I have had a terrible fright. We followed the spoor to the point where they had passed the night; here the trackers were much puzzled by the fact that the great elephant, whose tracks were easily distinguished from the others, seemed to have passed the night in rushing furiously about. Numbers of young trees had been torn up by the roots, and great branches twisted off the larger trees. They concluded that he must have received some wound which had maddened him with pain. We took up the track where the herd had moved on, but soon found that he had separated himself from it, and had gone off at full speed by himself. We set off in pursuit, observing a good deal of caution, for if he had turned, as was likely enough, and had come upon us while in such a frantic state, we should have had to bolt for our lives. I was thinking only of this when I saw the hunters talking together and gesticulating. I soon found out what was the matter. They told me that if the elephant kept on in the line he was taking, it would assuredly bring him in sight of the camp, if not straight upon it. As I had no doubt that he would in that case attack it, I put spurs to my horse at once, and dashed on at full speed in hopes of overtaking the elephant, and turning it, before it came within sight of the camp. I became more and more anxious as I neared the camp and found the elephant was still before me; then I heard two shots close together, and I could hear no others, and you may guess how relieved I was when I caught sight of the camp, and saw the natives gathered round something which was, I had no doubt, the elephant. I had feared that I should see the whole place in confusion, the waggons upset, and above all the tent levelled. Thank God, my dear boy, you are all safe! Now tell me all about it.”

Dick related the circumstances, and Mr Harvey praised him highly for the promptness, coolness, and courage with which he had acted. Then he roundly abused the natives in their own language for their cowardly conduct.

“Are you not ashamed of yourselves?” he asked; “what do you carry your arms for, if you are afraid to use them? Here are sixteen men, all with muskets, who run away in a panic, and leave one white lad to defend his wounded friend alone.”

The reproaches of Mr Harvey were mild by the side of the abuse which the three hunters—for by this time Tony and Jumbo had reached the camp—lavished upon their compatriots.

“What are you good for?” they asked scornfully; “you are fit only to be slaves to the Dutch; the master had better hire women to march with him; he ought to take your arms away, and to set you to spin.”

Crestfallen as the natives were at their own cowardice, they were roused by the abuse of the hunters, and a furious quarrel would have ensued, had not Mr Harvey interposed his authority and smoothed matters down, admitting that the attack of the enraged elephant was really terrifying, and telling the natives that now they saw how well the white men could fight, they would no doubt be ready to stand by them next time.

The hunters now proceeded to cut out the tusks of the elephant. When they did so the cause of the animal’s singular behaviour became manifest; a ball had struck him just at the root of the tusk, and had buried itself in one of the nerves there, no doubt causing excruciating pain.

The tusks were grand ones, Mr Harvey saying that he had seldom seen a finer pair. The news of the slaughter of three elephants drew together a considerable number of natives, who were delighted to receive permission to carry off as much meat as they chose. When the greater portion of the flesh of the old bull had been removed, ten oxen were harnessed to the remains of the carcass, and it was dragged to a distance from camp, as Mr Harvey was desirous of remaining where he was for some days longer on Tom’s account, and the effluvia from the carcass would in a very short time have rendered the camp uninhabitable had it remained in the vicinity.

In a week Tom was convalescent; he was still, however, very stiff and sore. A hammock was therefore slung under the tilt of one of the waggons, the sides were drawn up to allow of a free passage of air, and the caravan then went forward on its journey.

For the next fortnight nothing of importance happened; sometimes the journeys were short, sometimes extremely long, being regulated entirely by the occurrence of water. At many of the halting-places a good deal of trade was done, as the news of the coming of the caravan spread far ahead of it, and the natives for a considerable distance on each side of the line of route came down to trade with it. They brought with them skins of beasts and birds, small packets of gold-dust, ostrich feathers, and occasionally ivory. Mr Harvey was well content with his success so far.

For some time past, owing to the disturbed state of the country and the demand for waggons occasioned by the war, the number of traders who had made their way north had been very small, and the natives consequently were eager to buy cotton and cloth, and to get rid of the articles which they had been accumulating for the purpose of barter with the whites. Never before, Mr Harvey said, had he done so good a trade in so short a time.

At the end of the fortnight after starting Tom was again able to take his seat in the saddle and ride quietly along by the side of the caravan, Mr Harvey warning him on no account to go above a walking pace at present, as a jerk or a jar might break the newly-knit bones, and undo all the work that had been effected.

In the meantime Dick, accompanied by one or other of the hunters, always rode out from the line of march, and had no difficulty in providing an ample supply of game. He was careful, however, not to shoot more than was required, for both he and Mr Harvey viewed with abhorrence the taking of life unnecessarily, merely for the purpose of sport. He was able, nevertheless, to kill a great many deer without feeling that their flesh was wasted; for not only were the number of mouths in the caravan large, and their powers of eating wonderful, but the natives who came in to trade were always glad to eat up any surplus that remained—and indeed Mr Harvey found the liberal distribution of meat opened their hearts and much facilitated trade.

Two or three days after they had left the scene of the elephant-hunt some objects were seen far out on the plain, which the hunters at once pronounced to be ostriches. Dick would have started in pursuit, but Mr Harvey checked him.

“They can run,” he said, “faster than a horse can gallop. They can indeed be ridden down, as they almost always run in a great circle, and the pursuit can be taken up with fresh horses, but this is a long business. We will send the hunters out first, to get on the other side of them, and when they are posted we will ride out. Going quite slowly the attention of the birds will be directed to us; this will give the hunters an opportunity of creeping up on the other side and shooting or lassoing them. If I am not mistaken they have a good many young ones with them—this is about the time of year when this is usually the case. If we could catch a dozen of them, they would be prizes, for they fetch a good sum down in the colony, where ostrich-farming is carried on on a large scale. They are very easily tamed, and would soon keep with the caravan and give no trouble.”

After remaining quiet for some little time, to give the hunters time to make a wide circuit, Mr Harvey and Dick rode quietly forward towards the birds, who stood on a slight swell of ground at a distance of about half a mile, evidently watching the caravan with great interest.

By Mr Harvey’s instructions Dick unrolled the blanket which he always carried on his saddle, and taking an end in each hand held it out at arm’s length on a level with the top of his head. Mr Harvey doing the same.

“They are silly birds,” Mr Harvey said, “and their attention is easily caught by anything they don’t understand. Like all other wild creatures they are afraid of man; but by holding the blankets out like sails they do not see our outline, and cannot make out what the strange creatures advancing towards them can be.”

At a foot-pace they advanced towards the ostriches; these made no signs of retreat until the horsemen approached to within about seventy yards. Then from the brow behind the birds the three hunters suddenly rose up, and whirling the balls of their lassoes round their heads launched them among the ostriches. Three birds fell with the cords twisted round their legs, and two more were shot as the startled flock dashed off at full speed across the plain. Mr Harvey and Dick dropped their blankets, and started at full gallop.

“Bring down an old bird if you can, Dick, and then let the rest go, and give your attention to cutting off the young ones.”

Dick fired at one of the old birds, but missed; Mr Harvey brought one to the ground. The young ostriches, which were but a few weeks old, soon began to tail off in the race, and after ten minutes’ riding Mr Harvey and Dick had the satisfaction of getting ahead of them and turning them. A little more driving brought the frightened creatures to a standstill, and most of them dropped in a squatting position to the ground, huddled together like frightened chickens. They were sixteen in number, but one which had fallen and broken its leg was at once shot. The legs of the young ostrich are extremely brittle, and one of the troubles of the farmers who rear them is that they so frequently break their bones and have to be killed.

Blacking was sent off at his best speed to overtake the caravan and bring back a dozen men with him. The ostriches which had been lassoed had been at once killed by the hunters, and the feathers of the five killed by them and of that shot by Mr Harvey were pulled out. Three out of the six were in splendid plumage.

“How much are each of those feathers worth?” Dick asked.

“Those fine white ones will fetch from 1 pound to 1 pound 5 shillings apiece out here—some as high as 30 shillings. A perfect ostrich feather, fit for a court-plume, will sell in England for 3 pounds to 5 pounds. The small, dark-coloured feathers are worth from sixpence to one shilling apiece.”

The young birds, after their wings had been tied to their sides, were lifted and carried away, Dick being unable to help laughing at their long legs sticking out in front of the bearers, and at their long necks and beaks, with which from time to time they inflicted sharp pecks on the men who were carrying them.

When the caravan was overtaken, the birds were placed in a waggon, and in the evening were liberated inside the laager formed by the waggons. Some grain was thrown to them, and they soon began to pick this up. After this their expression was rather one of curiosity than fear, and they exhibited no alarm whatever when Dick, scattering some more corn, came in and moved quietly among them. For the first few days they were carried in a waggon, but at the end of that time they were completely domesticated. After the camp was formed they walked about, like barn-door fowls, picking up any scraps of food that were thrown to them, and indeed getting so bold as sometimes to attempt to snatch it from the men’s hands. When on the march, they stalked gravely along by the side of the waggons.

“What is the value of an ostrich?” Dick asked Mr Harvey one day.

“An ostrich of about three or four months old,” Mr Harvey replied, “is worth from 30 pounds to 50 pounds. A full-grown cock and two hens, the stock with which most small settlers begin ostrich-farming, are worth from 200 pounds to pounds. Each hen will lay about fifty eggs in a year, so that if only half are reared and sold at the rate of 20 pounds apiece, which is a low price, at three weeks old, there is a good profit upon them. The young birds increase in value at the rate of about 3 pounds per month. The feathers are generally sold by weight; fine plumes go from seventy to ninety to the pound, and fetch from 40 to 50 pounds. The feathers of the wild birds are worth a third more than those of the tame ones, as they are stronger. The quantity of feathers sold is astonishing. One firm in Port Elizabeth often buys 10,000 pounds’ weight of ostrich feathers per week. Of course these are not all first-class plumes, and the prices range down as low as 3 pounds, or 50 shillings for the poorest kind.”

“Where do they get water out here in the desert?”

“They have no difficulty here,” Mr Harvey replied, “for an ostrich thinks nothing of going twenty or thirty miles; but they require to drink very seldom.”

“How many feathers can be plucked from each bird a year?”

“About three quarters of a pound of first-class feathers, besides the inferior sorts. There are now such quantities of ostriches in the colony, that the price of feathers has gone down materially, and is now not so high as the figures I have given you. The highest class feathers, however, still maintain their price, and are likely to do so, for the demand for feathers in Europe increases at as rapid a rate as does the production.”

“I suppose they could not be kept in England?” Dick asked; “for there must be a splendid profit on such farming.”

“No,” Mr Harvey replied; “they want above all things a dry climate. Warmth is of course important, but even this is less essential than dryness. They may be reared in England under artificial conditions, but they would never grow up strong and healthy in this way, and would no doubt be liable to disease—besides, as even in their native country you see that the feathers deteriorate in strength and diminish in value in domesticated birds, there would probably be so great a falling off in the yield and value of feathers in birds kept under artificial conditions in England that the speculation would not be likely to pay.”

“Do the hens sit on their eggs, as ordinary hens?”

“Just the same,” Mr Harvey answered, “and very funny they look with their long legs sticking out. Not only does the hen sit, but the cock takes his turn at keeping the eggs warm when the mother goes out to feed.”

“I shall ask father,” Dick said, “when we get back, to arrange to take these fifteen ostriches as part of his share of the venture; it would be great fun to see them stalking about.”

“Ah! we have not got them home yet,” Mr Harvey replied, smiling; “we must not be too sanguine. We have certainly begun capitally, but there is no saying what adventures are before us yet. We have been particularly fortunate in seeing nothing of the tzetze fly. As you know, we have made several considerable détours to avoid tracts of country where they are known to prevail, still, occasionally they are met with in unexpected places, and I have seldom made a trip without losing some of my horses and cattle from them.”

“How is it that a fly can kill a horse? They are not larger than our blue-bottles at home, for I saw one in a naturalist’s window in Pieter-Maritzburg.”

“It is a mystery, Dick, which has not yet been solved; there are flies in other parts of the world, whose bite is sufficiently poisonous to raise bumps underneath the skins of animals, but nothing approaching the tzetze in virulence. It certainly appears unaccountable that the venom of so small a creature should be able to kill a great animal like a horse or an ox.”

“Is it found only in the south of Africa?”

“No, Dick, it extends more or less over the whole of the plateau-lands of Africa, and is almost as great a scourge in the highlands of Egypt as it is here.”

“I wonder,” Dick said thoughtfully, “why the tzetze was created; most insects are useful as scavengers, or to furnish food for birds, but I cannot see the use of a fly which is so terribly destructive as this.”

“I can’t tell you, my boy,” Mr Harvey said. “That everything, even the tzetze has a good purpose, you may be sure, even though it is hidden from us. Possibly, for example, it may be discovered some day that the tzetze is an invaluable medicine for some disease to which man is subject, just as blistering powder is obtained from the crest-body of the cantharides beetle. However, we must be content to take it on trust. We must leave our descendants something to discover, you know, Dick; for if we go on inventing and discovering as we are doing, it is clear that they must look out for fresh channels for research.”

Chapter Thirteen.

A Brush with the Natives.

One day Jumbo touched Dick’s arm, as he was riding along with the caravan, and, pointing to a clump of trees at some little distance, said,—

“Giraffe.”

Dick reined in his horse, and gazed at the trees.

“I don’t see it,” he said.

“They are very difficult to see,” Mr Harvey remarked; “they have a knack somehow of standing so as to look like a part of the tree. I don’t see him myself, but if Jumbo says he is there, you may be sure he is.”

“Is the skin valuable?” Dick asked.

“No, Dick, it would not be worth cumbering ourselves with. Nor is the flesh very good to eat—I do not say it cannot be eaten, but we have plenty of venison. I never like shooting a giraffe when I can help it. Clumsy and awkward as they are, they have wonderfully soft and expressive eyes, and I do not know anything more piteous than the look of a dying giraffe; however, if you ride up to the trees and set them scampering, you will get a good laugh, for their run is as awkward and clumsy as that of any living creature.”

Dick accordingly started at a gallop towards the trees; it was not until he was close to them that he saw three giraffes, two old ones and a young one. They started off, as he approached, at a pace which seemed to Dick to be slow, as well as extraordinarily clumsy. The two old ones kept themselves between their offspring and the pursuer, as if to shield it from a shot. Dick, however, had no idea of firing; he only wished to gallop up close, so as to get a nearer view of these singular beasts, but to his astonishment he found that, although his horse was going at its best speed, the apparently slow-moving giraffes were steadily gaining upon him. He could hardly at first believe his eyes. But he was gradually tailed off, and at last, reining in his horse, he sat in the saddle and enjoyed a good laugh at the strange trio in front of him, with their long, straggling legs and necks.

When he rejoined the caravan Mr Harvey, who had watched the pursuit, asked him laughingly if he managed to catch the giraffe.

“I might as soon have tried to catch an express train; they went right away from me,—and Tommy can gallop too; but he hadn’t a chance with them, although he did his best.”

“They do move along at a tremendous pace in their clumsy fashion. They take such immense strides with those odd long legs of theirs, that one has no idea of their speed until one chases them. I never knew a new hand who tried it, but he was sure to come back with a crestfallen face.”

Three weeks after leaving what they called the elephant-camp the caravan halted for two days. They had now arrived at the spot where their troubles with the natives might be expected to begin; they were at the border of the Matabele country, and here Mr Harvey intended to turn west, and after keeping along for some time to bend to the south and re-enter the colony north of Kimberley, and to journey down to Port Elizabeth, which is the principal mart for goods from the interior. Between the Matabele and the tribes on their border hostilities had for some time prevailed, and while they halted Mr Harvey sent forward Blacking with a few presents to the chief of the next tribe, saying that he was coming through his country to trade, and asking for a promise that he should not be interfered with in his passage.

At the end of the second day the messenger returned.

“The chief says come; he says he has been a long time without trade. But before he answered he talked with his chiefs, and I don’t know whether he means honestly. The tribe has a bad name; they are thieves and robbers.”

“Well, we will go on,” Mr Harvey said, “nevertheless; we have got the chief’s word, and he will not after that venture to attack us openly, for if he did he knows very well that no more traders would visit his country. His people may make attacks upon us, but we are strong enough to hold our own. We muster about thirty guns, and in our laager would be able to beat off his whole tribe, did they attack us; we will, however, while travelling through his country, be more careful than hitherto. The waggons shall, when it is possible, travel two abreast, so that the line will not be so long to guard, and you must not wander away to shoot. Fortunately we have a store of dried meat, which will last us for some time.”

On the following morning the caravans set out, and after travelling twelve miles halted on the bank of a stream. Soon after they had formed their camp five or six natives came in; they brought a few bunches of ostrich plumes and some otter skins; these they bartered for cotton, and having concluded their bargains wandered about in the camp, as was the custom of the natives, peeping into the waggons, examining the bullocks, and looking at all the arrangements with childish curiosity.

“I expect these fellows have come as spies rather than traders,” Mr Harvey said to the lads. “As a general thing the natives come in with their wives and children; but, you see, these are all men. I observed too that they have particularly examined the pile of muskets, as if reckoning up our means of defence. In future, instead of merely a couple of men to look after the cattle and keep off any marauders, I will put six every night on guard; they shall be relieved twice during the night, and one of the hunters shall be in charge of each watch,—if there are signs of trouble, we will ourselves take it by turns.”

Two or three times that night the sentries perceived moving objects near the camp, and challenged; in each case the objects at once disappeared; whether they were hyenas or crawling men could not be discerned.

At the halt next day a much larger number of natives came in, and a satisfactory amount of trade was done. Their demeanour, however, was insolent and overbearing, and some of them went away with their goods, declining to accept the exchange offered. After they had left the camp several small articles were missed.

The next day they passed across a plain abounding in game, and Mr Harvey said that the boys and the three hunters might go out and kill some fresh meat; but he warned Dick and Tom not to allow their ardour in the chase to carry them away from the hunters, but to keep as much as possible together. When they had killed as many animals as could be carried on their horses and the hunters’ shoulders, they were to return at once.

It was the first time that Tom had been out hunting since his accident; his bones had all set well, and beyond a little stiffness and occasional pain he was quite himself again.

“I am glad to be riding out again with you, Dick,” he said; “it has been awfully slow work jogging along by the side of the caravan.”

In addition to the three hunters they took as usual a native with them, to hold the horses should it be necessary to dismount and stalk the game, instead of chasing it and shooting it from the saddles, an exercise in which by this time the boys were efficient. They found more difficulty in getting up to the game than they had expected, and the hunters said confidently that the animals must have been chased or disturbed within a few hours. They had accordingly to go four or five miles across the plain before they could get a shot; but at last they saw a herd feeding in a valley. After the experience they had had that morning of the futility of attempting to get near the deer on horseback, they determined that the hunters should make a circuit, and come down upon the herd from different points. Tom and Dick were to stay on the brow where they were then standing, keeping well back, so as to be out of sight from the valley, until they heard the report of the first gun, when they were to mount and endeavour to cut off and head the deer back upon the others. The hunters then started—Jumbo and Blacking going to the right, Tony and the other to the left.

After an hour’s walking they reached their places at points about equidistant from each other, forming with Tom and Dick a complete circle round the deer. They were enabled to keep each other in sight, although hidden from the herd in the hollow. When each had gained his station they lay down and began to crawl towards the deer, and until they were within 150 yards of the herd the latter continued grazing quietly. Then an old buck gave a short, sharp cry, and struck the ground violently with his hoofs; the others all ceased feeding, and gazed with startled eyes to windward, and were about to dash off in a body when the four men fired almost simultaneously, and as many stags fell. The rest darted off at full speed in the direction in which Tom and Dick were posted, that being the only side open to them. An instant later Tom and Dick appeared on horseback on the brow, and dashed down towards the herd; these, alarmed at the appearance of a fresh enemy, broke into two bodies, scattering right and left, giving both lads an opportunity for a good shot. Both succeeded in bringing down their mark. They then dismounted, and giving their horses to the native joined the hunters. They had bagged six deer, and the hunters at once proceeded to disembowel them; one was to be slung behind each of the saddles, and the others would be carried by the hunters and native.

While they were so engaged they were startled by a shout, and saw the native running down towards them, leading the horses and gesticulating wildly.

“We are attacked,” Blacking said, and almost at the same moment three or four arrows fell among them.

They had collected the dead deer at one spot, and were standing in a group; looking round they saw a large number of natives crowning the low hills all round them, and saw that while they had been stalking the deer they themselves had been stalked by the natives. Without a moment’s hesitation the hunters disposed the bodies of the deer in a circle; seizing the two horses they threw them beside the deer, fastening their limbs with the lassoes which they carried, so that they could not move; then the six men threw themselves down in the circle.

All this had been done in a couple of minutes. The arrows were falling fast among them, but none had been hit, and as soon as the preparations were complete they opened a steady fire at the enemy. With the exception of the man who had come out with the horses all were good shots, and their steady fire at once checked the advance of the natives, whose triumphant yelling ceased, as man after man went down, and they speedily followed the example of their opponents, and, throwing themselves down on the grass, kept up a fire with their arrows in a circle of seventy or eighty yards round the hunters.

Gradually, however, their fire ceased, for to use their bows they were obliged to show their heads above the grass, and whenever one did so the sharp crack of a rifle was heard; and so often did the bullets fly true to their aim that the natives soon grew chary of exposing themselves.

“What will they do now?” Dick asked, as the firing ceased.

“They are cowards,” Jumbo said contemptuously. “If they had been Zulus, or Swazis, or Matabele, they would have rushed in upon us, and finished it at once.”

“Well, I am very glad they are not,” Dick said; “but what is to be done?”

“They will wait for night,” Tony answered; “then, when we cannot see them, they will creep up close and charge.”

“In that case,” Dick said, “the best thing will be for us to keep in a body, and fight our way through them, and make for the camp.”

Jumbo shook his head.

“They quiet now because they think they got us safe; if we try to get away, they rush down upon us; we shoot many, but we all get killed.”

“Then,” Dick said, “the best thing will be for me to jump on my horse and ride straight through them; if I get off alive, I will make for the caravan and bring back Mr Harvey and the rest to your assistance.”

“No good,” Blacking said; “your horse would be stuck full of arrows before you get away; he drop dead; they kill you. I go.”

“But it would be just as dangerous for you as for me, Blacking.”

“No,” the hunter said; “directly you stand up to get on horse they see you and get ready to shoot; the horse fall dead before he reach them. I will crawl through the grass; they will not see me till I get to them—perhaps I get through without them seeing at all; if not, I jump up sudden and run; they all surprised, no shoot straight; once through line they never catch me.”

Jumbo and Tony assented with a grunt, and Dick, seeing that no better plan could be suggested, offered no opposition to the young hunter undertaking the task.

Leaving his gun and ammunition behind him, the black at once without a word crawled out between the carcases of the deer, making his way, like a snake, perfectly flat on his stomach, and soon it was only by a very slight movement of the grass, which was nearly two feet high, that Dick could follow his progress. But he could not do this for long, an arrow whizzing close to his head warned him that he was exposing himself, and he lay down behind his stag and listened with intense eagerness for the outcry which would arise when Blacking was discovered.

It seemed a long time, so slow and cautious was the black’s advance. At last there was a sudden yell, and the little party, sure that the attention of their assailants would for the moment be diverted, raised their heads from the shelter and looked out. They saw Blacking bounding at full speed up the slope; a score of natives had sprung to their feet, and were discharging their arrows in the direction of the fugitive, who zigzagged, as he ran with rapid bounds, to unsteady and divert their aim. One arrow struck him in the side; they saw him break off the feather-head, pull it through the wound, and throw it away without a moment’s pause in his flight.

“Is it a serious wound?” Tom asked eagerly.

Jumbo shook his head.

“Not kill him,” he said; “too near skin.”

By this time Blacking’s pursuers had thrown their bows across their shoulders, and grasping their assegais had started in pursuit.

“They no catch him,” Tony said confidently; “Blacking clever man; he not run too fast; let them keep close behind him; they think they catch him, and keep on running all the way to camp. People here watch, not tink to attack us; then they wait again for the oders to come back; half of dem gone, a good many killed, they not like to attack us now.”

“What do you say, Tony?—shall we get up and follow in a body slowly?”

“That would be good plan,” Tony said, “if sure no more black men come; but if others come and join dem, dey attack us out on plain, we got no stags to lie behind. Dey fight hard ’caus they know that Blacking have got away, and that help come; make bad affair of it; better stop here.”

Presently two or three of the natives were seen coming back over the brow, having given up the pursuit. Dick’s rifle was a good one, and the brow was not more than 400 yards away; he took a steady aim and fired, and one of the natives fell. A yell of astonishment broke from the others, and they threw themselves instantly on the grass. This, however, although long enough to shelter them in the bottom, was shorter and scantier on the slope. The inclined position too enabled Dick to see them, and he again fired. He could not see where the ball struck, but it must have been close to the two natives, for these leapt to their feet and bounded back again over the brow.

“That was a capital shot of yours, Dick,” Tom said. “I will try next time. Our rifles will carry easily enough as far as that, although the hunters’ won’t. If we can but prevent any of these fellows who have gone after Blacking from coming down and rejoining those round us, we are safe enough, for if they did not dare to make a rush when there were about sixty of them they will not try now when there are not half that number.”

An hour later a party of some ten or twelve natives appeared again on the brow. Dick and Tom at once fired. One of them fell, and the rest again retired behind the brow, shouting something to those below, which Tony at once translated that Blacking had got away. The news, added to the effect of the fall of their comrades on the height, dispirited the natives below, and one or two were to be seen stealing up the slopes.

Dick and Tom were on the alert, and one of the natives fell with a broken leg; this completed the uneasiness of the party below. Creeping away from the deadly rifles to the foot of the slopes, they suddenly rose and bounded up it. A general volley was fired by the beleaguered party, and two more natives fell; the rest dashed up the slope, two of them on the way lifting and carrying off their wounded comrades.

“We all right now,” Jumbo said; “dey no attack us here any more; like enough dey wait and lie in ambush in grass, in case we move away; but we not do that; we sit here quietly till the caravan arrive.”

“Do you think Mr Harvey will bring the whole caravan?”

“Sure to do dat,” Jumbo said. “He no able to leave party to protect the waggons and to send party here to us; he bring the caravan all along together. If he attacked, he make laager; but me no tink dey attack. The people ready to cut off little party; den the chief say he not responsible, but if his people attack the caravan dat different thing.”

The hours passed slowly; the heat in the bottom, as the sun, almost overhead, poured its rays down into it, was very great. As the hours passed on the heat became less oppressive, but it was with intense pleasure that the boys saw Mr Harvey suddenly appear on the brow, and checking his horse gaze into the valley.

They leapt to their feet and gave a shout, which was answered by Mr Harvey.

“Are they round you still?” he shouted.

“No; they have all gone,” Dick replied; and Mr Harvey at once rode down.

By the time he reached them the hunters had freed the legs of the horses, and these struggled to their feet.

“You have given me a nice fright,” Mr Harvey said, as he rode up.

“We have had a pretty good fright ourselves,” Dick replied. “If it had not been for Blacking pluckily getting through them to take you the news, I don’t think we should have seen daylight. Is he much hurt, sir?”

“He has got a nasty wound,” Mr Harvey replied. “An arrow has gone between his ribs. He fell down from loss of blood when he reached us, and had we gone much farther he would have been overtaken. They were close upon his heels when he got in. Fortunately I halted the caravan soon after you started; when I saw the herds making way I thought it better to wait till you rejoined us. It was well I did so; we noticed him a couple of miles away, and when we saw he was pursued I went out with six men and met him half a mile from the caravan. He had just strength left to tell us what had happened. Then we went back to the caravan, and moved out towards you. We were obliged to come slowly, for there are a good many natives out on the plains, and twice they looked so threatening that I had to laager and treat them to a few distant shots. They evidently did not like the range of my rifle, and so I have come on without any serious fighting. I have been in a great fright about you; but Blacking, when he recovered from his faint, told me that he thought you were safe for a while, as nearly half the party which had been attacking you had followed him, and that you had already killed so many that he thought they would not venture to attack before nightfall. Now, you had better come up to the waggons at once; you can tell me all about it afterwards.”

The deer which had formed such useful shelter were now lifted, and in a quarter of an hour the party reached the waggons without molestation. A vigilant watch was kept all night, but no alarm was given.

In the morning Mr Harvey rode down with the lads and the hunters into the valley. Except that here and there were deep blood-stains, no signs of the conflict remained, the natives having carried off their dead in the course of the night. The hunters, after examining the ground, declared that fifteen of the enemy had fallen, including those shot on the slopes. The journey was now resumed.

At the next halt the natives came in to trade as usual, and when questioned professed entire ignorance of the attack on the hunters.

Three days later, without further adventure, they arrived at the kraal of the principal chief. It was a large village, and a great number of cattle were grazing in the neighbourhood. The natives had a sullen appearance, but exhibited no active hostility. Mr Harvey formed his waggons in a laager a few hundred yards outside the village, and then, accompanied by the boys, proceeded to the chief’s abode. They were at once conducted to his presence. He was seated in a hut of bee-hive form, rather larger than those which surrounded it. When the white men crawled in through the door, which like all in native structures was not more than three feet high, they were at first unable to see, so dark was the interior. The chief uttered the usual words of welcome.

“I have a complaint to make, chief,” Mr Harvey said, “against some of your people. They attacked my two friends and some of my followers when out hunting. Fortunately they were repulsed, with the loss of some fifteen of their number, but that does not make the attack upon them any the less inexcusable.”

“That is bad,” the chief said; “how does my friend, the white trader, know that they were my men?”

“They were inside your territory anyhow,” Mr Harvey said. “It was upon the third day after I had left the Matabele.”

“It must have been a party of Matabele,” the chief said; “they often come into my territory to steal cattle; they are bad men—my people are very good.”

“I can’t prove that they were your people,” Mr Harvey said, “whatever I may think; but I warn you, chief, that if there is any repetition of the attack while we are in your country you will have no more traders here. Those who attacked us have learned that we can defend ourselves, and that they are more likely to get death than plunder out of the attempt.”

Chapter Fourteen.

Trapped in a Defile.

“What do you think of affairs?” Dick asked Mr Harvey, as, on leaving the chief’s hut, they walked back to their waggons.

“For the moment I think we are perfectly safe; the chief would not venture to attack us while we are in his village. In the first place it would put a stop to all trade, and in the second, far as we are from the frontier, he would not feel safe were a massacre to take place in his village. He knows well enough that were a dozen white men to come out to avenge such a deed, with a few waggon-loads of goods to offer to his neighbours as pay for their assistance, he and his tribe would be exterminated. When we are once on our way again we must beware. The feeling among the tribe at the loss they have sustained must be very bitter, although they may repress all outward exhibition of it to us, and if they attack us just as we are on the line between their land and their neighbour’s they can deny all knowledge of it. However, they shall not catch us asleep.”

“I see the men have put the waggons in laager,” Tom said.

“Yes, I told them to do so,” Mr Harvey answered; “it is the custom always with traders travelling north of the Limpopo, and therefore will not be taken as a sign of suspicion of their good faith. A fair index to us of their disposition will be the amount of trade. If they bring their goods freely, we may assume that there is no fixed intention of attacking us; for if they are determined to seize our goods, those who have articles to trade would not care to part with them, when they would hope to obtain a share of our goods for nothing.”

The next morning Mr Harvey spread out a few of his goods, but hardly any of the natives came forward with articles for barter. In the afternoon Mr Harvey went across to the chief.

“How is it,” he asked, “that your people do not bring in their goods for sale? Among the tribes through which I have passed I have done much trade; they see that I give good bargains—your people bring nothing. If they do not wish to trade with the white men, let them say so, and I will tell my brethren that it is of no use to bring their waggons so far.”

“My people are very poor,” the chief said; “they have been at war with their neighbours, and have had no time to hunt the ostrich or to get skins.”

“They cannot have been fighting all the time,” Mr Harvey rejoined; “they must have taken furs and skins—it is clear that they do not wish to trade. Tomorrow morning I will go on my way; there are many other tribes who will be glad at the coming of the white trader.”

After Mr Harvey’s return to the waggons, it was evident that orders had been issued that some trade should be done, for several parcels of inferior kinds of ostrich feathers and skins were brought in. As it was clear, however, that no genuine trade was to be done, at daybreak the oxen were inspanned, and the caravan continued its journey.

For the next two days the track lay across an open country, and no signs of molestation were met with.

“We are now coming,” Mr Harvey said, “to the very worst part of our journey. The hills we have seen in front of us for the last two days have to be crossed. To-morrow we ascend the lower slopes, which are tolerably easy; but the next day we have to pass through a very wild gorge. The road, which is the bed of a stream, mounts rapidly; but the ravine is nearly ten miles in length. Once at its head we are near the highest point of the shoulder over which we have to cross, and the descent on the other side is comparatively easy. If I could avoid this spot, I would do so; but I know of no other road by which waggons could cross the range for a very long distance either way; this is the one always used by traders. In the wet season it is altogether impassable, for in some places the ravine narrows to fifteen yards, with perpendicular cliffs on either side, and at these points the river, when in flood, rushes down twenty or thirty feet deep. Even putting aside the danger of attack in going through it, I would gladly avoid it if I could, for the weather is breaking; we have already had some showers, and may get heavy thunderstorms and a tremendous downfall of rain any day.”

The next day the journey was an arduous one; the ground was rough and broken, and the valley up which the road lay was frequently thickly strewn with boulders, which showed the force with which the water in flood-time rushed down over what was now its empty bed.

After a long day’s work the caravan halted for the night at the spot where the valley narrowed to the ravine.

“It has been a pretty hard day’s work to-day!” Tom said.

“It is nothing to to-morrow’s, as you will see,” Mr Harvey replied. “Traders consider this defile to be the very hardest passage anywhere in South Africa, and there are plenty of other bad bits too. In many cases you will see we shall have to unload the waggons, and it will be all that a double team can do to pull them up empty. Sometimes of course the defile is easier than at others; it depends much upon the action of the last floods. In some years rocks and boulders have been jammed so thickly in the narrow parts that the defile has been absolutely impassable; the following year, perhaps, the obstruction has been swept away, or to a certain extent levelled by the spaces between the rocks being filled up with small stones and sand. How it is this season, I do not know; up to the time we left I had heard of no trader having passed along this way. I have spoken of it as a day’s journey, but it is only under the most favourable circumstances that it has ever been accomplished in that time, and sometimes traders have been three or four days in getting through.”

Directly the caravan halted Blacking and Jumbo started to examine the defile; it was already growing dusk, and they were only able to get two miles up before it was so dark that they could make their way no further. They returned, saying that the first portion of the defile, which was usually one of the most difficult, was in a bad condition; that many enormous boulders were lying in the bottom; but that it appeared to be practicable, although in some places the waggons would have to be unloaded.

At daybreak the oxen were inspanned, and in a quarter of an hour the leading waggon approached the entrance of the gorge; it seemed cut through a perpendicular cliff, 200 feet high, the gorge through which the river issued appearing a mere narrow crack rent by some convulsion of nature.

“It would be a fearful place to be attacked in,” Dick said, “and a few men with rocks up above could destroy us.”

“Yes,” Mr Harvey said; “but you see up there?”

Dick looked up, and on one side of the passage saw some tiny figures.

“The three hunters and ten of our men with muskets are up there; they started three hours ago, as they would have to go, Jumbo said, five miles along the face of the cliff before they reached a point where they could make an ascent so as to gain the edge of the ravine. They will keep along parallel with us, and their fire would clear both sides; it is not usual to take any precaution of this sort, but after our attack of the other day, and the attitude of the chief and his people, we cannot be too cautious. After passing through the first three miles of the defile, the ravine widens into a valley a hundred yards wide; here they will come down and join us. There are two other ravines, similar to the first, to be passed through, but the country there is so wild and broken that it would be impossible for them to keep along on the heights, and I doubt whether even the natives could find a point from which to attack us.”

They had now fairly entered the ravine. For thirty or forty feet up the walls were smooth and polished by the action of the winter torrents; above, jagged rocks overhung the path, and at some points the cliffs nearly met overhead. Although it was now almost broad daylight, in the depths of this ravine the light was dim and obscure.

The boys at first were awestruck at the scene, but their attention was soon called to the difficulties of the pass. The bed of the stream was covered with rocks of all sizes; sometimes great boulders, as big as a good-sized cottage, almost entirely blocked the way, and would have done so altogether had not the small boulders round them formed slopes on either side. The depths of the ravine echoed and re-echoed, with a noise like thunder, the shout of the driver and the crack of the whip, as the oxen struggled on. The waggons bumped and lurched along over the stones; the natives and whites all worked their hardest, clearing away the blocks as far as possible from the track required for the waggons. Armed with long wooden levers four or six together prized away the heavy boulders, or, when these were too massive to be moved by their strength, and when no other path could be chosen, piled a number of smaller blocks, so as to make a sort of ascent up which the wheels could travel. The waggons moved but one at a time, the united efforts of the whole party being required to enable them to get along. When the leading waggon had moved forward a hundred yards, the next in succession would be brought up, and so on until the six waggons were again in line; then all hands would set to work ahead, and prepare the path for another hundred yards.

In two places, however, no efforts sufficed to clear the way; the blocks rose in such jagged masses that it was absolutely impossible for the oxen to pull across them,—indeed it was with the greatest difficulty that when unyoked they were one by one got over; then tackles were fastened from the top of the rock to the waggons below—ropes and blocks being generally carried by travellers for such emergencies,—the oxen fastened to the ends of the ropes, and with the purchase so obtained the waggons were dragged bodily one by one over the obstacles.

It was not until late in the afternoon that the party passed safely through the defile and reached the valley beyond, men and animals worn out by the exertions they had undergone.

The day had not passed without excitement, for when they were engaged at the most difficult point of the journey the crack of rifles was heard far overhead, and for half an hour a steady fire was kept up there. Those below were of course wholly ignorant of what was passing there, and for some time they suffered considerable anxiety; for if their guard above had been overpowered they must have been destroyed by rocks cast down by their foes.

At the end of half an hour the firing ceased; but it was not until they camped for the night in the valley beyond the gorge that they learned from the hunters, who joined them there, what had happened. There were, Jumbo explained, three or four hundred natives, but fortunately these approached from the opposite side of the gorge; consequently the little party of defenders was in no danger of attack. The enemy had been disconcerted when they first opened fire, but had then pressed forward to get to the edge of the ravine. The superior weapons of the defenders had, however, checked them, and finding that there was no possibility of coming to close quarters with the little band, they had, after losing several of their number, abandoned the attempt and fallen back.

Soon after nightfall they were startled by a heavy crashing sound, and great rocks came bounding down the sides of the valley. The cattle and waggons were at once moved to the centre of the watercourse, and here they were safe, for the bottom of the valley was so thickly strewn with great boulders that, tremendous as was the force with which the rocks loosened far above came bounding down, these were either arrested or shivered into fragments by the obstacles before they reached the centre of the valley.

No reply to this bombardment of the position was attempted. The enemy were invisible, and there was no clue to their position far up on the hill-side. So long as the rolling down of the rocks was continued, it was certain that no attack at close quarters was intended; consequently, after posting four sentries to arouse them in case of need, the rest of the party, picking out the softest pieces of ground they could find between the stones, lay down to rest.

Before doing so, however, Mr Harvey had a consultation with the hunters. They said that the next narrow ravine was broken by several lateral defiles of similar character, which came down into it, and that it would therefore be quite impossible to keep along the top; whether there were any points at which the enemy could take post and assail them from above, they knew not.

There was, then, nothing to do but to push steadily on, and early next morning they resumed their way. On the preceding day a slight shower of rain had fallen, but this had been insufficient to increase notably the waters of the streamlet which trickled down among the rocks, for the most part hidden from view. The hunters were of opinion that heavier storms were at hand, and Mr Harvey agreed with them in the belief.

“We are in a very nasty position, boys,” he said, “and I wish now that I had turned south, and made my way down to the Limpopo again, and kept along its banks until past this mountain-range; it would have meant a loss of two months’ time, and the country which we shall reach when we get through this defile is a very good one for trade. Still, I am sorry now that I did not adopt that plan; for, what with the natives and the torrent, our position is an extremely serious one; however, there is nothing for it but to push on now. We have passed one out of the three gorges, and even if the other two are in as bad a condition as the one we came up yesterday, two more days’ labour will see us through it.”

As the caravan moved along the valley the yells of the natives, high up on the slopes, rose loud and menacing. They must have been disgusted at seeing that the labour upon which they had been engaged the whole night, of loosening and setting in motion the rocks, had been entirely thrown away, for they could see that the waggons and teams were wholly uninjured.

As the caravan reached the point where the valley narrowed again, a mile above the halting-place, they began to descend the slopes, as if they meditated an attack, and the rifles of the whites and the three hunters opened fire upon them and checked those on the bare sides of the hill. Many, however, went farther down, and descending into the valley crept up under the shelter of the stones and boulders, and as soon as they came within range opened fire with their bows and arrows. By this time, however, the waggons were entering the ravine which, although at its entrance less abrupt and perpendicular than that below, soon assumed a precisely similar character.

Once well within its shelter Mr Harvey posted Dick with the three hunters and four of the other natives to defend the rear. This was a matter of little difficulty. Two or three hundred yards up the ravine a barrier, similar to those met with on the previous day, was encountered, and the waggons had to be dragged up by ropes, an operation which took upwards of three hours.

While the passage was being effected, Dick with his party had remained near the mouth of the ravine, and had been busy with the enemy who pressed them; but after the last waggon had safely crossed the barrier they took their station at this point, which they could have held against any number of enemies.

The caravan proceeded on its way, men and animals labouring to the utmost; when, at a point where the sides of rock seemed nearly to close above them, a narrow line of sky only being visible, a great rock came crushing and leaping down, bounding from side to side with a tremendous uproar, and bringing down with it a shower of smaller rocks, which it had dislodged in its course. The bottom of the ravine was here about twelve yards wide, and happened to be unusually level. The great rock, which must have weighed half a ton, fell on one side of the leading waggon and burst into fragments which flew in all directions. Fortunately no one was hurt, but a scream of dismay broke from the natives.

“Steady!” Mr Harvey shouted; “push on ahead; but each man keep to his work—the first who attempts to run and desert the waggons I will shoot through the head.”

“Tom, go on a hundred yards in front, and keep that distance ahead of the leading waggon. Shoot down at once any one who attempts to pass you.”

Rock followed rock in quick succession; there was, however, fortunately a bulge in the cliff on the righthand side, projecting some twenty feet out, and as the blocks struck this they were hurled off to the left side of the path. Seeing this Mr Harvey kept the waggons close along on the right, and although several of the oxen and three or four of the men were struck by detached fragments from above, or by splinters from the stones as they fell, none were seriously injured.

Long after the caravan had passed the point the rocks continued to thunder down, showing Mr Harvey that those above were unable to see to the bottom of the gorge, but that they were discharging their missiles at random. A short distance farther a cross ravine, a mere cleft in the rock, some five feet wide at the bottom, was passed, and Mr Harvey congratulated himself at the certainty that this would bar the progress of their foes above, and prevent the attack being renewed from any point farther on.

At this point so formidable an obstacle was met with in a massive rock, some thirty feet high, jammed in the narrowest part of the ravine, that the waggons had to be emptied and hauled by ropes up the almost perpendicular rock, the oxen being taken through a passage, which with immense labour the men managed to clear of stones, under one of the angles of the rock. It was not until after dark that they reached the spot where the ravine again widened out into a valley, having spent sixteen hours in accomplishing a distance of only three miles. However, all congratulated themselves that two-thirds of their labour was over, and that but one more defile had to be surmounted.

The rear-guard remained encamped at the opening of the defile, but the night passed without interruption, the natives being doubtless disheartened by the failure to destroy the caravan by rocks from above.

“Do you think there is any chance of their attacking us to-night, down the slopes, as they did this morning?” Tom asked Mr Harvey.

“None whatever,” the latter replied, “as you will see in the morning. This valley does not resemble the last; the rocks rise almost perpendicularly on both sides, and it would not be possible for them to make their way down, even if they wanted to do so.”

With the first dawn of light the oxen were inspanned. Just as they were starting, one of the natives of Dick’s party came up to Mr Harvey, and reported that the natives in large numbers were showing in the ravine, and the sharp crack of the rifles, which almost at the same moment broke out, confirmed his statement.

“The defile must be held,” Mr Harvey said, “until we are well in the next pass. When the last waggon has entered I will send back word, and they must then follow us and hold the entrance. Tom, you had better take four more of the armed natives to strengthen the rear-guard. Tell Dick to come on and join me. You had your fair share of labour yesterday, and your hands are cut about so, by lifting and heaving rocks, that you would be able to do little to-day. It is rather a good sign that the natives are pressing forward in such force on our rear, as it shows that they have no great faith in any attempt they may make to-day to repeat their rock-throwing experiment of yesterday.”

As before two natives were sent on ahead to examine the defile, and Mr Harvey moved on with the caravan until he reached the upper edge of the valley, which was scarcely half a mile long. Just as he did so the natives came hurriedly down the defile; they reported that a short distance up they had met with another obstacle, to the full as difficult as that which they had got the waggons over on the preceding day, and that, as they turned an angle in the defile, and came in sight of it, they were saluted by a shower of arrows, and saw a crowd of natives on the top of the barrier. They had thrown themselves down behind the boulders, and had obtained a good view of the natives and the obstacle. It was some forty feet farther up, and was formed by three or four great boulders jambed in together. On the other side small boulders and stones seemed to have been piled up by the torrent to the level of the rocks; but on the lower side it was almost perpendicular, and they questioned if a man could climb it,—certainly there was no passage for oxen.

Chapter Fifteen.

A Mountain-Torrent.

The news brought by the scouts was very serious. The continued fire in the rear showed that the enemy were making a serious attack in that quarter. But Mr Harvey feared that his fighting force there must be weakened greatly, to enable him to attack so formidable a position as that which the enemy occupied in front. Before arriving at any decision as to his best course, he halted the caravan, and went forward himself, with the two natives, to inspect the position which they had discovered.

When he reached the turn in the defile he crawled forward among the boulders until he reached a spot where he could obtain a clear view of the barrier; it was to the full as formidable as it had been described by the scouts. It would have needed an active man to scale the rocks without any opposition from above, while on the top a dense body of natives were clustered, numbering at least fifty, and probably a considerable portion of their force was concealed from view.

Mr Harvey sent back one of the natives to tell Dick to come on and join him; after which he was to go back and bid Jumbo come up, as Mr Harvey had great confidence in the hunter’s shrewdness.

Dick presently arrived, and was much impressed with the formidable nature of the obstacle.

“We might creep forward,” he said, “among the stones and soon drive those fellows off the edge, but they would only lie down behind, and could easily destroy us, as we climbed one by one to the top. Each one, as he got up, would be riddled with assegais. What are you thinking of doing, sir?”

“I don’t know what is best, Dick. I quite agree with you, it is a tremendous position to storm, but on the other hand it would be almost as bad to retreat.”

Ten minutes later Jumbo arrived at a run; without a word he threw himself down by the side of Mr Harvey, and for two or three minutes gazed silently at the obstacle ahead; then, to Mr Harvey’s surprise, he turned over on to his back, and lay there with his eyes open.

“What on earth are you doing, Jumbo?”

“Look there, sir,” the native said, pointing to a glistening spot, the size of a crown-piece, on his stomach.

“Well, what of that?” Mr Harvey said; “that’s a drop of rain—there’s another fallen on my hat. What do you think of that place ahead?”

“Me no think nothing about him, sir; that place, sir, no consequence one way or the other. You hear him, sir?”

As he spoke a louder crash of thunder burst overhead. Mr Harvey looked up now. That portion of the sky which could be seen was inky black. Great drops of rain were falling with a pattering sound on the rock.

“Storm come, sir; very bad storm. I see him coming, and say to Massa Tom, ‘Two or tree hour fight over; now you see someting like a mountain-storm. In tree hours water come down twenty feet deep.’”

“You are right, Jumbo. It is lucky the storm has begun so early; if we had got far into the defile we should have been caught. Now, all we have got to do is to wait. Go back, Dick, and send up every man with fire-arms; we must at once engage those fellows in front and occupy their attention. If they once perceive their danger they will make a desperate rush down here, and it will go hard with us then. When you have sent the fighting-men up, see that the teamsters move all the waggons to the highest piece of ground you can find in the valley. Let them arrange the waggons there as closely as they will pack, and keep the animals well round them. A flood will destroy our enemy, but I am not sure that it may not destroy us too. Now hurry away, and tell the fighting-men to run up as quick as they can. When you have seen everything in readiness, join Tom, and warn him to be ready to fall back to the waggons as soon as the flood comes.”

Dick ran down the ravine. It was not until he issued from it that he was aware how tremendously the rain was pouring down. In the defile he had been conscious only of a slight mist, with an occasional drop of heavy rain, for very few of the rain-drops which entered the gap far above descended to the bottom, almost all striking against the sides. In the comparatively open valley, however, the rain was coming down in a perfect cataract. Dick at once sent all the fighting-men to the front, and three minutes later the report of musketry told that they were engaged with the enemy.

Dick now set to work with ten of the natives to select the spot on which to place the waggons. The bottom of the valley was very flat, and the sand between the boulders showed that when the water was high the whole was covered. He, however, found a spot on the left-hand side, about midway between the two defiles, which was some feet higher than the rest. The hill-side behind at this point rose somewhat less abruptly than elsewhere, and it was probable that the rise in the bottom was formed by a slip which had taken place at some past period. Here the waggons were arranged side by side in two rows, the wheels of the three inner waggons close against the slope above them. The cattle were gathered closely round.

Dick then joined Tom, whom he found in high spirits, the hunters having already told him that the flood would very soon come to their relief. The party was hotly engaged. About thirty or forty yards intervened between them and their enemy, who, crouching behind rocks, were shooting their arrows high into the air, so that they came down almost perpendicularly upon the defenders. One of these had been killed and three severely wounded by the missiles; while they themselves could only get an occasional shot at a limb exposed beyond the shelter of the boulders.

Not having received orders to stay by Tom, Dick retraced his steps up the valley to the party above. From the cliffs at the side of the valley waterfalls were leaping down, and a stream of water was already beginning to flow down its centre. The bed of the defile was perfectly dry, the stones being scarcely wetted by the fine mist from above. Dick found Mr Harvey and the natives engaged in keeping up a hot fire at the top of the obstacle, lying at a distance of forty or fifty yards from it among the rocks. One or two dead natives were stretched on the top of the rock; the rest were not to be seen, but the arrows whistled fast over his head, showing that they were lying down just behind it.

“The rain is tremendous outside,” Dick said, as he joined Mr Harvey. “You can have no idea what it is here. The water is pouring so fast into the valley that a stream is forming there already, and will soon be running two or three feet deep down the lower pass. I wonder it has not begun to make its way down from above.”

“It has begun, Dick; look at those little threads of water between the stones. When it comes, it will come with a rush; that is always the way with these gorges. Jumbo is listening; it will come with a roar like thunder. He has just told me I had better send most of the men back at once, keeping only four or five to continue firing to the last moment. You see the enemy, who are there on a sort of platform, will not notice the water that is making its way down. See how fast it rises; it is ankle-deep already—and, I tell you, we shall have to run when the time comes.”

All the natives, with the exception of Jumbo and two other men, were sent back.

“I don’t see anything to fire at,” Dick said.

“No,” Mr Harvey agreed; “it is a pure waste of ammunition, except that it occupies their attention. They can hardly be conscious yet how tremendously it is raining. If they were they would not remain where they are, but would make a rush upon us, however great the risk.”

“Listen!” Jumbo exclaimed suddenly.

They listened and were conscious of a dull, heavy, roaring sound. Jumbo leapt to his feet.

“Come!” he said; “run for your lives.”

They started up and took to their heels. A terrible yell was heard behind them, and, glancing over his shoulder, as he turned the corner, Dick saw the natives climbing down from their defence, and even leaping from the top in their terror. Fast as Dick was running, the roar behind rose louder and louder.

“Quick, Dick,” Mr Harvey shouted, “or you will be too late.”

Dick hurried to the utmost, but the stream was already rising rapidly, and was running knee-deep between the stones. Stumbling and slipping, and cutting himself against the rocks, Dick struggled on. The mighty roar was now close behind him, and seemed to him like that of a heavy train at full speed. He reached the mouth of the ravine; the water was already up to his waist. Mr Harvey and Jumbo dashed in, seized him by the arms, and dragged him out.

“Run!” they said.

They were not fifty yards from the mouth, when Dick, looking round, saw a mighty wall of water, fifteen feet high, leap from it, pouring as from huge sluice-gates into the valley. He did not stop running until he joined the rest gathered by the waggons.

Tom and his party were already there, for the rising water had soon warned their assailants of the danger, and the fire had suddenly ceased. Already the greater part of the valley was covered with water, down the centre of which a foaming torrent was flowing. Here and there could be seen numerous dark objects, which, he knew, were the bodies of the Indians who had defended the upper defile, caught before they could reach its mouth by the wall of water from above. They had instantly been dashed lifeless against the rocks and boulders, and not one could be seen to make towards the comparatively still waters on either side of the centre stream.

Driven back again by the narrow entrance to the lower defile the water in the valley rose rapidly, as with an ever-increasing violence it poured in from above. There it was rushing out in a solid, dark-brown cataract, which Dick judged to be fully forty feet in height. In a quarter of an hour from its first outburst the water had already reached the feet of those standing upon the little knoll of ground in the valley. The oxen lowing and stamping with terror pressed more and more closely together. The young ostriches were placed in one of the waggons, for although their height would have left their heads well above water, they would probably have succumbed to the effects of a prolonged submersion of their bodies.

“If it goes on like this for another quarter of an hour,” Mr Harvey said, “the oxen will be washed away, if not the waggons. Thank God, I think we can all manage to climb up the slope. Jumbo, tell the men each to load themselves with five or six days’ provisions. Let half a dozen take boxes of ammunition, and as many bales of the best cloth. Let the rest take as many bundles of the best ostrich feathers as they can carry. Let them lay them all on the slope, twenty or thirty yards up, wherever they can find place for them, and then come down again, and make as many trips with the best goods as they can.”

All hands worked hard; inch by inch the water rose; Mr Harvey, assisted by the boys and teamsters, fastened ropes together, and with these surrounded the closely-packed throng of cattle. The water was now more than waist-deep, and was still rising; soon the cattle on the outside were lifted off their feet. There was no current here, and they floated with their heads on the backs of those in front of them; higher and higher the water rose, till the whole of the cattle were afloat. At first a few struggled, but soon they subsided into quiet, and the whole mass floated together, with only their heads above water.

On every available ledge on the hillside were placed bundles and bales of all kinds, and here the whites and natives stood, watching the progress of the flood. The thunder-shower had ceased soon after the water first burst through the gorge, but Mr Harvey knew that some hours must elapse before the flood would begin to abate.

“I don’t see why the water should not run off as fast as it comes in,” Dick said.

“It all depends, Dick, upon the question whether in the lower defile there is any place narrower than the mouth, through which the water is rushing from above. According to appearances this is so; for, could the water escape faster than it comes in, the lake here would cease to rise. I think now the water has reached a level, where the outflow nearly equals the inflow. I have been watching the wheels of the waggons, and for the last ten minutes I do not think it has risen above an inch or two.”

“I will get down and watch,” Dick said, and he scrambled down to the water’s edge.

Two minutes later he shouted up,—

“It has not risen at all since I came here!” The teamsters had taken their station on the outside waggons, and continued to talk and shout to the oxen, exhorting these to be patient and quiet, as if the animals were capable of understanding every word they said.

For three hours there was no change in the situation. Then all thought that there was a slight decrease in the height of the torrent of water pouring from the defile, and half an hour later a slight but distinct subsidence in the level of the water could be perceived. In another hour it had fallen a foot, and after that the fall was rapid and steady. The deep roar caused by the rushing torrent and the rumbling of the huge boulders and rocks swept along in the narrow defile, gradually subsided, and soon the bullocks were again standing on their feet.

The natives set to work to wash away the thick sediment which the flood had left on the floor of the waggons, and before nightfall the goods were all repacked. But few signs of the recent flood now remained in the valley. A stream still rushed through the centre. Trunks and branches of trees lay here and there, as the water had left them, and the bodies of some twenty or thirty natives were lying amongst the rocks. In some places shallow pools remained; in others were sheets of glistening mud.

“We shall have no more trouble with the natives,” Mr Harvey said; “the fighting-men of that tribe must have been nearly annihilated.”

“Do you think that those below were caught, as well as those above?”

“Certainly,” Mr Harvey answered; “the water went down with the speed of a race-horse; they had only a few minutes’ start, and would have been overtaken before they could have even gained the lower bed of the gorge. We can journey on peacefully now. We have been fortunate indeed; we have only lost one man, and the three who were hit with stones are all likely to do well. We have not lost a single bullock, nor a bale of goods.”

“We shall have hard work to get the waggons up that place where the natives made the stand tomorrow.”

“It is quite likely,” Mr Harvey said, “that the obstacle there no longer exists. A flood like that of to-day would carry away anything. Look at those great blocks, some of which must weigh more than a hundred tons. Likely enough some of them have formed part of that great pile. I have already sent Tony and Blacking up the defile to see how the flood has left it, and in an hour they will be back to report.”

The hunters on returning brought the good news that the great block had been removed, and so far as they had explored no other of any importance had been found. They said indeed that the defile was now more open than either of the two gorges they had already passed through.

This was very satisfactory, for all had had enough of lifting and heaving rocks. Their hands were all cut and wounded, and every limb ached with the strains which they had undergone.

The next morning at daybreak the caravan started. The hunters’ report of the state of the roads was fairly borne out, and although some difficulties were met with it was unnecessary to unyoke the oxen, although of course many boulders had to be cleared away to allow them to pass. On emerging at the upper end of the defile they found they were in a valley which opened out to a great width, and rose in gradual slopes at its head to the crest of the hills. As the only egress at the lower end was by the defile, it was clear that the whole rainfall must make its way by this exit, which fully accounted for the tremendous torrent they had witnessed.

Two days’ travelling brought them to the foot of the slopes on the other side of the range of hills, and they were soon engaged in carrying on a considerable trade with the natives there.

For another three months they travelled slowly through the country, by the end of which time they had disposed of all their goods, and the waggons were filled to the tilts with skins and bales of ostrich feathers.

They now turned their faces to the south. After journeying for a fortnight they perceived one day, far across the country, the white tilts of another caravan. The three whites at once started at full gallop, eager to hear news of what had taken place in the colony during their absence. As they neared the caravan two white men rode out to meet them; both were known to Mr Harvey, and hearty greetings were exchanged.

The new-comers were halting for the day, and Mr Harvey and the boys were soon seated in tents, with three bottles of beer in front of them, a luxury which they heartily enjoyed, having been many months without tasting it.

“And now what is the news in the colony?” Mr Harvey asked, after having replied to their questions as to the state of trade, and the route which they had followed, as the new-comers would of course take another line, so as not to pass over the same ground.

“Things don’t look well,” they answered; “the Boers are growing so insolent that there is no getting on with them. Several English have been shot down in various places, without the smallest cause. They openly declare their intention of recovering their independence. The English stores are for the most part tabooed, and things altogether look very threatening. There is a mere handful of British troops in the Transvaal, and only a regiment or so in Natal. Those wretched duffers at home hurried every soldier out of the country the instant the fighting was over, and if the Boers really mean business we shall have no end of trouble. You see, we have crushed their two enemies, the Zulus and Secoceni, and now that we have done the work for them they want to get rid of us.”

“I thought we should have trouble with them,” Mr Harvey said; “they are an obstinate, pig-headed race; they never would pay taxes to their own government; they would not even turn out and fight when Secoceni threatened to overrun the country; and now, as likely as not, they will fight desperately for the independence they were glad enough to relinquish in the hour of danger. What you tell me is a nuisance. I had originally intended to go down through Kimberley to Port Elizabeth; but I changed my mind and decided to go back again through the Transvaal, and I have come so far to the east that I do not like to change my plans again. However, I don’t suppose we shall be interfered with. They can’t very well quarrel with us, if we won’t quarrel with them.”

“Perhaps not,” the trader said; “but I tell you I have found it precious difficult to keep my temper several times. The insolence and swagger of those fellows is amazing.”

The two caravans halted near each other for the day, and a pleasant evening was spent. The next morning each resumed its way.

No further adventure was met with until the Limpopo was reached; this was crossed on rafts. The natives who had accompanied them were now paid off, receiving a handsome present each, in addition to the sum agreed upon, and the caravan proceeded on its way.

At the first Dutch village at which they arrived, a week after leaving the Limpopo, they had evidence of a change of demeanour in the Boers. As they passed through the streets a group of five or six men were standing at the door of a store; one of them in a loud and insolent voice made a remark to the others, that before long they would not have any of these English dogs going through their country—a remark which was received with boisterous approval by the others. Mr Harvey’s face flushed, and he was on the point of reining in his horse, and riding up to chastise the insolent Boer, but the thought of the distance of country yet before him checked him. It was clearly the intention of the man to force a quarrel, and in this the English were sure to get the disadvantage finally. He therefore rode quietly on with the insolent laughter of the Dutchmen ringing in his ears. The lads were equally indignant, and it was only the example of Mr Harvey which had restrained them.

“Things have come to a pretty pass,” Mr Harvey said, as he dismounted, “that Englishmen should be openly insulted in this way. However, I suppose it will not do to resent it, for these scoundrels would clearly be only too glad of an excuse to shoot us down; but if this sort of thing is going on at every village we pass through, we shall have hard work in keeping our tempers until we are fairly out of the Transvaal. I pity our countrymen who have bought land or setup stores in this country. I was never fond of the Boers, though I am willing to allow that they are a splendid set of men, and that they are magnificent riders and good shots. I question if we shall ever retain them against their will. Of course if we had a government which worked with energy and decision it would be a different matter altogether. There are a considerable number of English and Scotch settlers already here, and the natives would rise against the Dutch to a man if called upon to do so; and if a couple of dozen of their ringleaders were promptly seized and shot, there would be an end to the whole matter. But I know what it will be: the natives will not be encouraged or even allowed to rise, our soldiers, who can hardly hit a haystack at a hundred yards, will be shot down at a distance by the Boers, and, likely enough, we shall meet with a serious disaster, and then the English government will get frightened and make any terms these fellows demand.”

Chapter Sixteen.

A Fight with the Boers.

For some time they continued their journey, meeting everywhere with the grossest incivility on the part of the Boers; in many places they were refused water at the farms, and warned at once off the land, and Mr Harvey had the greatest difficulty in keeping his own temper and restraining the boys from resenting the language of the Boers.

One day, as they were riding along, two Boers on horseback halted on an eminence near the road and addressed taunting remarks to them; they made no answer, but continued their way. They had not gone a hundred yards when one of the Boers deliberately took aim and fired at them; the ball passed between Dick and Mr Harvey and struck one of the natives walking just in front of them, killing him upon the spot. This was too much. Mr Harvey and the lads wheeled their horses, unslung their rifles, and fired at the Boers, who were galloping away. One of them at once dropped from his saddle, shot through the head; the other reeled, but, retaining his seat, galloped off at full speed.

“This is a bad business, boys,” Mr Harvey said; “we could not help it, but it will bring trouble upon us. Now let us branch off from the road we are following, and make for Leydenberg; we are within three days’ march of that place. There is an English garrison there, and justice will be done. If we push on straight for Standerton, we shall be overtaken and probably killed before we get there.”

The bullocks’ heads were turned towards the southeast, and at the best pace the teams were driven across the country. Several large native kraals were passed in the course of the day, and after a march of nearly double the ordinary length the caravan halted for the night on the banks of a stream. A sharp watch was kept all night, but nothing particular happened.

Just as they were about to inspan the oxen in the morning some fifteen or twenty men were seen approaching at a gallop. The oxen were at once driven again to the laager, and every man seized his arms. The Dutchmen halted at a distance of a hundred yards, and then three of them rode up to the caravan.

“What do you want?” Mr Harvey said, advancing on foot in front of the waggons, while the lads and the three hunters stood, rifles in hand, behind them.

“We summon you to surrender,” the Boers said; “you have murdered Mr Van Burer and wounded Mr Schlessihoff.”

“We have done nothing of the sort,” Mr Harvey answered. “We were going quietly along the road when those men insulted us; we passed on without answering. After we had gone a hundred yards they fired at us, narrowly missed me, and killed one of my men. We fired back, and with the result you have named. We are quite ready to answer for our conduct, and when we get to Leydenberg we shall at once deliver ourselves up to the magistrate, and report what has occurred, and you can then bring any charge you want to make against us.”

“You will never get to Leydenberg,” the Boers said scoffingly; “we are your magistrates and judges; we want no English law here. Once for all, will you surrender?”

“We certainly will not,” Mr Harvey replied, “and if you molest us it will be at your peril.”

Without another word the Boers turned their horses’ heads and rode back to their comrades; upon their joining them the whole rode some little distance to the rear, and then divided, half turning to the left, the other to the right.

“What on earth are they going to do?” Dick asked in surprise.

“They are going to surround us,” Mr Harvey said; “they will dismount and leave their horses in shelter. Now, lads, out with all the bales of skins and pile them up under the waggons.”

All hands set to work, and soon under each waggon a thick breastwork of bales was erected, reaching nearly up to the floor, leaving only enough space to see out of and fire; the three whites and the hunters took station, one under each waggon, the teamsters and other natives being distributed round the square. Quickly as they had laboured, the preparations were not complete, when from a brow, at the distance of about a hundred yards from the laager, a shot was fired, the bullet burying itself with a thud in one of the bales of skins; almost instantly from every point in a circle round other shots were fired, and the splintering of wood and the dull sounds, as the shots struck the barricade, told how accurate was their aim.

Mr Harvey’s orders had been, “Don’t throw away a shot. When you see the flash of a rifle, aim steadily at that point; the next time a head is lifted to take aim, hit it.” The natives were ordered on no account to fire, unless the Boers attempted to close, but to lie quietly under shelter of the defences. In consequence of these orders not a shot replied to the first volley of the Boers; but when the second round commenced, puffs of smoke darted from beneath the waggons. Dick and Tom knew that their shots had been successful, for the heads at which they had aimed lay clearly in view, and no discharge came from the rifles pointed towards them. The other shots must have passed near their marks, and after this first exhibition of the shooting powers of the defenders, the Boers became much more careful, firing only at intervals, and shifting their ground each time, before they raised their heads to take aim. So the whole day passed, a dropping fire being kept up on both sides. The defenders were convinced by the end of the day that seven or eight of the Boers had fallen, but their places had been more than filled by new-comers who had been seen galloping across the plain towards the scene of conflict. On the side of the defenders no casualties had occurred.

Towards evening the fire died away, and Tom and Dick joined Mr Harvey.

“What will they do next?”

“I don’t know, Dick; the Boers are by no means fond of exposing themselves to danger, as has been proved over and over again in their fights with natives. They must have suffered already a great deal more than they bargained for, and are no doubt heartily sick of the job. They may try a rush at night, though I question whether they will do so. I rather imagine that their tactics will be to besiege us until we are driven to make a move, and then to attack us by the way. Fortunately the stream is close at hand, and we can get water for our cattle. Still, there must be an end of it at some time or other.”

Blacking now crept under the waggon.

“Massa, what you say?—me think the best plan will be for me to crawl out and run to chief Mangrope; his place twenty miles away; he always hate the Dutch, and refuse to pay tribute; several times they have sent parties against him, but he always beat them off. Blacking tell him that de Boers attack English, and that if he come down and help drive them off you give him one team of fine oxen,—he come.”

“I think your plan is a very good one, Blacking; but do you think that you can get through?”

“Get through those stupid Boers? Easily,” Blacking said contemptuously.

“Very well, Blacking; then, as soon as it is dark, you had better start.”

Blacking nodded and withdrew, and an hour afterwards stole out from the camp.

As soon as night fell the Boers opened fire again, this time aiming entirely at the end of the waggons nearest the water, evidently with the intention of rendering it difficult to procure water from the stream.

Mr Harvey and his companions answered by firing at the flashes. As they hoped that rescue would arrive ere long, Mr Harvey did not permit any one to go outside shelter to fetch water, as the animals had been watered in the morning the first thing, and could, if necessary, hold out until the following night.

Just as daylight was breaking a tremendous yell was heard, followed by a hasty discharge of muskets; then there was the sound of horses’ hoofs galloping at full speed, and then, headed by Blacking, two to three hundred natives came up to the camp. The chief himself was among them. Mr Harvey had on several occasions traded with him, and now thanked him warmly for the welcome aid he had brought him.

The Boers were already far away, each man having run to his horse and galloped off, panic-stricken at the sudden attack. The oxen were at once inspanned, two being taken from each team and presented to the chief, together with a large bale of cotton in return for his assistance. The caravan then started, and after a march of sixteen hours arrived at Leydenberg.

“It is an awful nuisance,” Dick said to Tom on the march, “our being obliged to come round here. If everything had gone straight, I calculated that we might be at home by Christmas-eve. Now, goodness only knows when we shall arrive; for, as likely as not, we may be kept here for days over this row with the Boers.”

The moment they arrived at Leydenberg Mr Harvey, accompanied by the two lads and the three native hunters, went to the house of the magistrate. That gentleman had just finished his dinner; but on being told that his visitors’ business was urgent he asked them to be shown in. The hunters remained outside, and the lads followed Mr Harvey into the house.

“I have come to make a complaint against some Boers,” the trader said.

“Then I can tell you beforehand,” the magistrate put in, “that your mission is a vain one. Outside this town I have not at present the slightest authority. Complaints reach me on all sides of outrages perpetrated by the Boers upon English settlers and traders. Strong armed parties are moving about the country; and although I will of course hear anything that you have got to say, with a view of obtaining redress when things settle down again, I cannot hold out any hope of being able to take action at present.”

“I have scarcely come to you, sir, with the idea of obtaining redress, but rather of stating my case, in case the Boers should bring a complaint against me.”

The trader then proceeded to relate the circumstances which had occurred: the wanton attack upon them in the first place, the murder of one of their servants, the killing of one and the wounding of the other of the aggressors, the subsequent attack upon their camp, and their relief by Mangrope.

“I think you have got remarkably well out of the affair, and although the attack of the Boers has cost you the life of one of your followers and twelve oxen, as you have killed eight or ten of them you have made matters more than even, and have, moreover, given them a lesson which may be useful. I will take down your depositions, as it is as well that your friends here, and the hunters you speak of, should testify to it. It is hardly likely that I shall hear any more of the matter; the Boers were clearly in the wrong, and in any case they would not be likely at the present moment, when the country is in a state very closely approaching insurrection, to seek redress in an English court. Fortunately 250 men of the 94th Regiment leave here to-morrow morning, on the way to Pretoria. Their road will, for some distance, be the same as yours; their colonel is at the present moment in the next room with several of his officers, and I will request permission for your waggons to follow his baggage-train. Thus you can keep with him until the road separates, by which time you will be well out of the district of the Boers who attacked you. You will, I suppose, go through Utrecht and keep the eastern road, as that will be shorter than going round by Standerton and Newcastle. If you will wait here for a few minutes, I will speak to the colonel.”

In a short time the magistrate returned, saying that Mr Harvey’s six waggons might join the baggage-train of the 94th on the following morning.

At eight o’clock the 94th marched from Leydenberg, and Mr Harvey’s waggons fell in the rear of the column. As they had a considerable amount of baggage and stores, the column would not proceed at a faster rate than the ordinary pace of the bullock-train.

When the column was once on the march, the colonel rode down the line and entered into conversation with Mr Harvey and the lads, who were riding with him, and after having heard the narrative of the fight with the Boers, he said to the lads, “You have had a baptism of fire early.”

Mr Harvey smiled.

“They have had some very much more serious fighting in the country north of the Limpopo; besides, they were both present at Isandula, Kambula, and Ulundi.”

“Indeed!” the colonel said; “then they have seen fighting. Perhaps you will ride on with me to the head of the column again; we have a long day’s march before us, and if your young friends will give us some of their experiences it will while away the time.”

The four cantered together to the head of the column, where the doctor and one or two other officers were riding. After a word or two of introduction the colonel asked the lads to tell them how they came to be at Isandula, and how they escaped to tell the tale.

“You had better tell it, Dick,” Tom said; “you are a better hand at talking than I.”

Dick accordingly proceeded to relate their adventures during the Zulu war, and the story excited great interest among the officers. When the column halted for the day, the colonel invited Mr Harvey and the lads to dine at the mess, and would not listen to any excuse on the ground that their clothes were better suited for travelling among the native tribes than for dining at a regimental mess.

The dinner was a very pleasant one, and after the cloth had been removed and cigars were lit, Mr Harvey, at the colonel’s request, related their adventures north of the Limpopo.

“Your life is indeed an adventurous one,” he said, when the trader had finished. “It needs endurance, pluck, coolness, and a steady finger on the trigger. You may truly be said, indeed, to carry your lives in your hands.”

“Our present journey has been an exceptionally adventurous one,” Mr Harvey said, “and you must not suppose that we are often in the habit of fighting our way. I have indeed on several occasions been in very perilous positions, and some other evening, before we separate, I shall be glad, if it will interest you, to relate one or two of them.”

“By the way,” the colonel said, when they took their leave, “remember, the word for the night is, ‘Newcastle.’ You will probably be challenged several times by sentries before you get to your waggons, for, although there is no absolute insurrection at present, there is no saying when the Boers may break out. They will hardly think of attacking a body of troops marching peaceably along; still, it is as well to neglect no precautions. If you are challenged, ‘Who comes there?’ you will reply, ‘Friends.’ The sentry will then say, ‘Advance and give the word.’ You walk forward and say, ‘Newcastle,’ and you will pass all right.”

The march was continued for four days. At the end of this time they arrived at the spot where the direct road for Pieter-Maritzburg through Utrecht left that which they were following.

“Look here, lads,” Mr Harvey said; “this road will take you considerably out of your way. If you like you can follow the column for another couple of days. You will then cross the south road, and can there leave them and gallop on by yourselves to Standerton in one day, and home the next. That will take you back by the 23rd; whereas, if you go on with me, you will not be back by New Year’s Day. We are getting now to a part of the colony where the English element is pretty strong, and the Boers are not likely to be troublesome; so I shall have no difficulty in passing down with the waggons. You can tell your fathers that we have had a most satisfactory trip, and I expect when I have sold our goods at Durban they will have good reason to be content.”

The lads gladly accepted the offer; they were longing to be at home again, and especially wished to be back by Christmas.

The colonel on hearing of the arrangement heartily invited the lads to mess with the regiment for the time that they continued with them, and offered to have a spare tent pitched for their accommodation.

Chapter Seventeen.

A Terrible Journey.

That evening Mr Harvey and the lads were again invited to dine at mess, and after dinner the colonel asked Mr Harvey if he would be good enough to tell them some of his adventures in the interior.

“I have had so many,” the trader said, “that I hardly know which would be most interesting. I have been many times attacked by the natives, but I do not know that any of these affairs were so interesting as the fight we had in the defile the other day. Some of the worst adventures which we have to go through are those occasioned by want of water. I have had several of these, but the worst was one which befell me on one of my earliest trips up the country. On this occasion I did not as usual accompany my father, but went with a trader named Macgregor, a Scotchman, as my father was ill at the time. He considered me too young to go by myself, and when he proposed to Macgregor that I should join him with the usual number of waggons he sent up, Macgregor objected, saying,—I have no doubt with justice,—that the double amount of goods would be more than could be disposed of. He added, however, that he should be glad if I would accompany him with a couple of waggons. It was; as it turned out, a very good thing for my father that his venture was such a small one. Macgregor was a keen trader; he understood the native character well, and was generally very successful in his ventures. His failing was that he was an obstinate, pig-headed man, very positive in his own opinions, and distrusting all advice given him.

“Our trip had been a successful one. We penetrated very far in the interior, and disposed of all our goods. When we had done so, we started to strike down to Kimberley across a little-known and very sandy district. The natives among whom we were, endeavoured to dissuade Macgregor from making the attempt, saying that the season was a very dry one, that many of the pools were empty, and that there would be the greatest difficulty in obtaining water. Macgregor disregarded the advice. By taking the direct route south he would save some hundreds of miles. He said that other caravans had at different times taken this route in safety, and at the same time of the year. He insisted that the season had not been a particularly dry one, and that he was not going to be frightened by old women’s tales. The natives were always croaking about something, but he did not mean to lose a month of his time for nothing.

“Accordingly we started. The really bad part of our journey was about 150 miles across a sandy country, with low scrub. The bullocks, when driven to it, would eat the leaves of this scrub, so that we did not anticipate any difficulty in the way of forage. In the wet season many streams run across the country and find their way into the Limpopo. In summer they dry up, and water is only obtained in pools along their courses. There were twelve waggons in the caravan—ten belonging to Macgregor, and my two. I had with me a servant, a native, who had been for years in the employment of my father, a very faithful and trustworthy fellow.

“At the end of the first day’s march of fifteen miles we found water at the spot to which our native guide led us. The second day the pool was found to be dry. We got there early, having started before daybreak, for the heat was tremendous. On finding the pool empty I rode ten miles down the course of the stream, and Macgregor as far up it, but found no water, and on getting back to the camp the oxen were inspanned, and we made another march; here we found water, and halted next day.

“So we went on, until we were half-way across the desert. Several of the marches had been double ones, the track was heavy from the deep sand, some of the oxen had died, and all were much reduced in strength. Although Macgregor was not a man to allow that he had been wrong, I saw that he was anxious, and before advancing he sent on a horseman and the native guide two days’ journey to see how the water held out. On their return they reported that twenty miles in front there was a pool of good water, and that thirty miles farther there was a small supply, which was, however, rapidly drying up. Macgregor determined to push on. The first day’s march was got through, although five or six more oxen dropped by the way. The second was a terrible march; I have never known a hotter day in South Africa, and one felt blinded and crushed by the heat. The weakened teams could scarcely draw the waggons along, and by nightfall but half the journey had been performed. The oxen were turned loose and allowed for an hour or two to crop the bush; then they were inspanned again. All night long we continued our march; when, just at sunrise, we got to the place where water had been found, the pool was empty—the two days’ sun since the horseman had been there had completely dried it up. We set to work to dig a hole; but the sand was shallow, the rock lying but a foot or two below, and we only got a few buckets of water, but just enough to give a swallow to each of the oxen and horses. Again we searched far up and down the course of the stream, but without success; we dug innumerable holes in its bed, but without finding water.

“We were still fifty miles from safety; but in that fifty miles the natives said that they did not think a drop of water would be found, as this was notoriously the driest point on the route. Half the oxen had now died, and Macgregor determined to leave all but two of the waggons behind, to harness teams of the strongest of those remaining, and to drive the rest alongside. We halted till night to allow the animals to feed, and then started. We got on fairly enough until daybreak, then the sun rose, and poured down upon us. It was a terrible day. No one spoke, and the creaking of the wheels of the waggons was the only sound to be heard. Every mile we went the numbers lessened, as the bullocks lay down to die by the way. My tongue seemed to cleave to the roof of my mouth, and the sun to scorch up my brain. I hardly took notice of what was going on around me, but let the reins hang loose on my horse’s neck. Several times he stumbled, and at last fell heavily. I picked myself up from the sands, and saw that he was dying. The waggons had come to a standstill now, and I had, I saw, for the last quarter of a mile gone on alone. I looked at my watch; it was four o’clock, and I turned and walked slowly back to the waggons. The drivers had unroped the oxen, but most of them lay where they had halted, incapable of rising to their feet; others had tottered to the shade cast by the waggons, and had thrown themselves down there. The drivers were lying among them. As I came up Macgregor staggered towards me; he was chewing a handful of leaves. ‘I have been wrong, Harvey,’ he said, in a hoarse voice, ‘and it has cost us all our lives. Say you forgive me, my boy.’ ‘I forgive you heartily,’ I said; ‘you thought it was for the best.’ I don’t remember much more. I lay down and wondered vaguely what had become of my man, whom I had not seen since we started on the previous evening.

“The next thing I remember was that it was night. I got up on my feet and staggered to a bullock that I heard faintly groaning; I cut a vein in his neck and sucked the blood, and then started to walk; fortunately, as it turned out, I had not gone a hundred yards when a dizziness came over me, and I fell again to the ground. I must have lain there for some hours; when I became conscious, water was being poured between my lips. I soon recovered sufficiently to sit up, and found that it was my faithful man. When the caravan started from the last halting-place, he had seen that it was impossible for it to reach its journey’s end, and although, like the rest, he was exhausted and worn out, he had started at full speed alone, and by morning reached water, having travelled fifty miles in the night. It was midday before he succeeded in finding a native kraal; then by promise of a large reward he induced forty men, each laden with a heavy skin of water, to start with him, and at three in the morning reached the camp; fortunately he stumbled across me just before he got there.

“The assistance arrived in time. Two of the drivers were found to be dead, but Macgregor and the other hands, sixteen in number, were all brought round. The supply carried by the natives was sufficient to give an ample drink to the eighteen oxen which were still alive. A feed of maize was then given to each, but as they were too weak to drag even one of the waggons they were driven on ahead, and most of them got over the twenty-five miles which still separated them from water. We halted there a week, to allow the animals to recover; then, carrying skins of water for their supply on the way, they went back and brought in the two waggons, one at a time. With these I came down to the colony. Macgregor remained behind, and directly the rain set in went up with native cattle and brought down the other waggons, all the valuable contents of which, however, had in the intervening time been carried off by natives. It was a near squeak, wasn’t it? Macgregor was never the same man again, and shortly after his return to Natal he sold off his waggons and went back to Scotland. Being young and strong I soon recovered from my privation.”

“Lions are very abundant in some parts of the interior, are they not, Mr Harvey?” one of the officers asked, after they had thanked the trader for his story.

“Extraordinarily so,” Mr Harvey replied; “in fact it has long been a puzzle among us how such vast quantities could find food—in no other country in the world could they do so; but here the abundance of deer is so great that the lions are able to kill vast numbers, without making any great impression upon them.”

“But I should not have thought,” an officer said, “that a lion could run down a deer!”

“He cannot,” Mr Harvey said, “except for short distances. The South African lion is a lighter and more active beast than the northern lion, and can for the first hundred yards run with prodigious swiftness, taking long bounds like a cat. Stealing through the long grass, and keeping to leeward of the herd, he will crawl up to within a short distance unperceived, and then with half a dozen tremendous bounds he is among them before they have fairly time to get up their full speed. They hunt too in regular packs; twenty or thirty of them will surround a herd, and, gradually lessening their circle, close upon their affrighted prey, who stand paralysed with fear until the lions are fairly among them.

“I was once surrounded by them, and had a very narrow escape of my life. I had left my waggons at a large native village, and had ridden—accompanied only by my native servant—some fifty miles across the country to another tribe, to see whether they had lately been visited by any traders, and whether they had goods to dispose of. I reached the kraal in the morning, and the palaver with the chief as usual wasted the best part of the day; it was nearly dark when I started, but I was accustomed to ride by the light of the stars, and had no fear of missing my way. I had been only two hours on the road, when the sky became overcast, and half an hour later a tremendous storm burst. Having now no index for directing my way I found that it was useless to proceed; the plain was open, but I knew that a goodsized river ran a short distance to the north, so I turned my horse’s head in that direction, knowing that on a river-bank I was likely to meet with trees. Several times I missed my way in the driving rain, for the wind shifted frequently, and that was of course the only guide I had.

“At last, to my great satisfaction, I struck upon the river and kept along its bank until I came to a large clump of trees; here we unsaddled our horses, picked out a comparatively dry spot under a big tree, which stood just at the edge of the river, wrapped ourselves in our rugs, and prepared to pass the night as comfortably as we could. The river was high, and my only fear was that it might overflow its banks and set us afloat before morning. However, we had not been there long before the rain ceased, the sky cleared, and the stars came out again; but as the horses had done a long day’s work on the previous day, I determined to remain where I was until morning. Having been in the saddle all the previous night, I slept heavily. The wind was still blowing strongly, and I suppose that the noise in the trees, and the lapping of the water by the bank close by, prevented my hearing the stamping of the horses, which, under ordinary circumstances, would certainly have warned me of the approaching danger. Suddenly I awoke with a terrific uproar. I sprang to my feet, but was instantly knocked down, and a beast, I knew to be a lion, seized me by the left shoulder. My revolver was, as always, in my belt; I drew it out, and fired into the brute’s eye; his jaw relaxed, and I knew the shot was fatal. A terrible din was going on all round; there was light enough for me to see that both the horses had been pulled to the ground; two lions were rending the body of my servant, and others were approaching with loud roars. I sprang to my feet and climbed up into the tree, just as two more lions arrived upon the spot. My servant had not uttered a cry, and was, I have no doubt, struck dead at once. The horses ceased to struggle by the time I gained my tree. At least twenty lions gathered round, and growled and quarrelled over the carcases of the horses. When they had finished these, they walked round and round the tree, roaring horridly; some of them reared themselves against the trunk, as if they would try to climb it, but the lion is not a tree-climber, and I had not much fear that they would make the attempt. I hoped that in the morning they would move off; but they had clearly no intention of doing so, for, as it became daylight, they retired a short distance and then either lay down or sat upon their haunches in a semicircle fifty yards distant, watching me.

“So the whole day passed; I had only the four shots left in my revolver, for my spare ammunition was in the holster of my saddle, and even had I had a dozen revolvers I could have done nothing against them. At night they again came up to the tree, and in hopes of frightening them off I descended to the lower branches, and fired my remaining shots at brutes rearing up against it. As I aimed in each case at the eye, and the muzzle of my pistol was within four feet of their heads, the shots were fatal; but the only result was that the lions withdrew for a short distance, and renewed their guard round the tree.

“You will wonder perhaps why all this time I did not take to the water; but lions, although, like all the cat tribe, disliking water, will cross rivers by swimming, and they seemed so pertinacious that I feared they might follow me. Towards morning, however, I determined on risking it, and creeping out to the end of a branch which overhung the river I dropped in. The stream was running strong, and I kept under water, swimming down with it as hard as I possibly could. When I came up I glanced back at the tree I had quitted. The lions were gathered on the bank, roaring loudly and lashing their tails with every sign of excitement, looking at the water where they had seen me disappear. I have not the least doubt but that they would have jumped in after me, had I not dived. I took this in at a glance, and then went under again, and so continued diving until I was sure that I was beyond the sight of the lions; then I made for the bank as quickly as possible. The river swarmed with crocodiles, and had it not been for the muddiness of the water I should probably have been snapped up within a minute or two of entering it.

“It was with a feeling of deep thankfulness that I crawled out and lay down on a clump of reeds half a mile beyond the spot where the lions were looking for me. When the sun got high I felt sure that they would have dispersed as usual, and returned to their shelter for the day, and I therefore started on foot, and reached my camp late at night.

“The next day we got in motion, and when, three days later, we arrived at the kraal from which we had started, I rode over to the tree and recovered my revolver and saddles. Not even a bone remained of the carcases of the horses, or of my native attendant.”

“That was a very nasty adventure,” the colonel said. “Is it a common thing, caravans being attacked by lions?”

“A very common thing,” the trader replied; “indeed in certain parts of the country such attacks are constantly made, and the persistency with which the lions, in spite of the severe lessons they have received of the deadly effect of fire-arms, yet continue to attack caravans is a proof that they must often be greatly oppressed by hunger.”

“Which do they seem to prefer,” one of the officers asked, “human beings or cattle?”

“They kill fifty oxen to one human being; but this probably arises from the fact that in the lion-country the drivers always sleep round large fires in the centre of the cattle. I think that by preference the lions attack the horses, because these are more defenceless; the cattle sometimes make a good fight. I have seen them when loose forming a circle with their heads outside, showing such a formidable line of horns that the lions have not ventured to attack them. Once or twice I have seen single oxen when attacked by solitary lions, come out victors in the assault. As the lion walked round and round, the bullock continued to face him, and I have then often seen them receive the spring upon their horns, and hurl the lion wounded and half-stunned yards away. Once I saw both die together—the bullock with one of his horns driven into the lion’s chest, while the latter fixed his teeth in the bullock’s neck, and tore away with his claws at its side, until both fell dead together.”

“It must be a grand country for sport,” one of the officers said.

“It is that!” the trader replied. “I wonder sometimes that gentlemen in England, who spend great sums every year in deer-forests and grouse-moors, do not more often come out for a few months’ shooting here. The voyage is a pleasant one, and although the journey up country to the interior of course takes some time, the trip would be a novel one, and every comfort could be carried in the waggons; while the sport, when the right country was reached, would be more abundant and varied than in any other part of the world. Lions may be met, deer of numerous kinds, giraffes, hippopotami, crocodiles, and many other animals, not to mention an occasional gallop after ostriches. The expenses, moreover, would not be greater than the rental and keep of a deer-forest.”

“Yes, I am surprised myself that more sportsmen do not come out here. In odd times, too, they could get good fishing.”

“Excellent,” the trader replied; “some of the rivers literally swarm with fish.”

“When I get back to England,” the colonel said, “I must advise some of my friends to try it. As you say, there are scores of men who spend their thousands a year on deer-forests, grouse-shooting, and horseracing, and it would be a new sensation for them to come out for a few months’ shooting in the interior of Africa. I must not tell them too much of the close shaves that you and your friends have had. A spice of danger adds to the enjoyment, but the adventures that you have gone through go somewhat beyond the point.”

Chapter Eighteen.

The Boer Insurrection.

The next morning the lads bade farewell to Mr Harvey and the three hunters, and then rode on with the regiment. The day passed as quietly as the preceding ones had done.

On the 20th the column was marching along a road commanded on both sides by rising ground. The troops as usual were marching at ease; one company was ahead of the line of waggons, two companies marched in straggling order by the side of the long teams, and the fourth company formed the rearguard.

Suddenly, without the slightest warning, a flash of fire burst from the edge of the rise at either side. Numbers of the men fell, and a scene of the wildest confusion ensued. Some of the young soldiers ran for shelter underneath the waggons; others hastily loaded and fired in the direction of their unseen foes.

The colonel and officers strove to steady the men, and to lead them up the slope to attack the Boers; but so deadly was the fire of the latter, and the men fell in such numbers, that the colonel soon saw that resistance was hopeless. Many of the officers were killed or wounded by the first fire, and in five minutes after the first shot was fired 120 men were killed or wounded; and as the rest could not be got together to charge up the slope under the deadly fire of the Boers, the colonel, who was himself wounded, surrendered with the survivors to the Boers. Two or three mounted officers only succeeded in getting through.

When the fire opened, Dick and Tom at once threw themselves off their horses, and, unslinging their rifles, opened fire. When they saw the bewilderment and confusion, and how fast the men were dropping under the fire of the Boers, Dick said to his friend,—

“It is all up, Tom; it is simply a massacre. We will wait for a minute or two, and then mount and make a dash for it.”

Their horses were both lying down beside them, for the lads had taught them to do this at the word of command, as it enabled them often, when out hunting, to conceal themselves in a slight depression from the sight of an approaching herd of deer. Thus they, as well as their masters, remained untouched by the storm of bullets. The Boers almost concealed from view, steadily picked off the men.

“It is of no use, Tom; let us mount and make a bolt for it. They must surrender in a few minutes, or not a man will be left alive.”

They gave the word to their horses, and these leaped to their feet, and, as was their habit in the chase, dashed off at full speed the instant their masters were in the saddle. Bending low on the necks of their horses, the lads rode at the top of their speed. Several bullets came very close to them, but keeping closely side by side, to lessen the mark they presented to the enemy, they dashed on untouched. Looking round, when they had proceeded some little distance, they saw that four Boers had mounted and were in hot pursuit. Their horses were good ones, in capital condition, and had done easy work for the last few days. The Boers also were well mounted, and for three or four miles the chase continued, the Dutch from time to time firing; but the lads were a good four hundred yards ahead, a distance beyond that at which the Boers are accustomed to shoot, or which their guns will carry with any accuracy.

“We must stop this,” Dick said, as they breasted an ascent. “If they should happen to hit one of our horses, it would be all up with us. Dismount, Tom, as soon as you are over the rise.”

As soon as they were out of sight of their pursuers, they reined up their horses and dismounted. They again made the animals lie down, and, throwing themselves behind them, rested their rifles upon them.

The Boers, they had noticed, were not all together—two of them being about fifty yards ahead of the others. At full speed the leading pursuers dashed for the rise; as they came fairly in view, they were but fifty yards distant. The lads and their horses were almost hidden in the long grass, and the Boers did not for a moment notice them. When they did, they instantly reined in their horses, but it was too late.

The lads had their rifles fixed upon them, the two shots rang out together, both the Boers fell lifeless from the saddle, and the Dutch horses dashed back along the track by which they had come.

The lads instantly reloaded; but they waited in vain for the coming of the other pursuers; these on seeing the horses galloping towards them after the shots had been fired had at once turned and rode off. After waiting for a little time to be sure that they were not going to be attacked, the friends mounted and rode on. They did not retrace their steps to see what had become of the other pursuers, as it was possible that these had imitated their own tactics, and were lying down by their horses, waiting to get a shot at them, should they ride back. They now continued their journey at an easy canter, and late in the evening entered the little town of Standerton.

Standerton presented a scene of unusual excitement; teams of waggons filled its streets, armed men moved about and talked excitedly, numbers of cattle and horses under the charge of Kaffirs occupied every spare place near the town—it was an exodus. The loyal Boers, who were at that time in an absolute majority throughout the colony, were many of them moving across the frontier, to escape the conflict which they saw approaching.

The more enlightened among these people had been fully conscious of the short-comings of their own government, prior to the annexation to England.

Short as had been the period that had elapsed since that event, the benefits which had accrued to the country had been immense. The value of land had risen fourfold; English traders had opened establishments in every village, and the Dutch obtained far higher prices than before for their produce, with a corresponding reduction in that of the articles which they had to purchase. Peaceable men were no longer harassed by being summoned to take part in commandos or levies for expeditions against the natives. The feeling of insecurity from the threatening attitude of the Zulus and other warlike neighbours was at an end, as was the danger of a general rising among the natives in the colony, who outnumbered the Boers by ten to one.

Thus the wiser heads among the Boers bitterly regretted the movement which had commenced for the renewed independence of the country. They did not believe that it would be successful, because they could not suppose that England, having, by the repeated assertions of its representatives that the annexation was final and absolute, induced thousands of Englishmen to purchase land, erect trading establishments, and embark their capital in the country, could ever desert and ruin them. They foresaw, moreover, that even should the rebellion be successful it would throw the country back a century, the rising trade would be nipped in the bud, the English colonists would leave the country, the price of land would again fall to a nominal sum, the old difficulties of raising taxes to carry on the government would recur, and restless spirits would again be carrying out lawless raids upon the natives, and involving them in difficulties and dangers.

Farther north the loyal portion of the Dutch remained quiet during the trouble; but around Standerton, Utrecht, and other places near the frontier large numbers of them crossed into Natal, with their wives and families, their cattle and horses, and there remained until the end of the war. The English settlers, almost to a man, abandoned their farms, and either retired into Natal or assembled in the towns and formed themselves with the traders there into corps for their defence. The manner in which throughout the war these little bodies uniformly succeeded in repulsing every attempt of the Boers to capture the towns showed how easily the latter could have been defeated, had the British government acted with energy when a sufficient force had been collected on the frontier, instead of losing heart and surrendering at discretion. It is not too much to say that, had the British government stood altogether aloof, the colony of Natal, with the English settlers and loyal Boers, could single-handed have put down the insurrection in the Transvaal.

The news which the lads brought to Standerton of the unprovoked attack upon, and massacre of, the 94th caused a wild feeling of excitement. A crowd rapidly gathered round the lads, and so great was the anxiety to hear what had taken place that Dick was obliged to mount on a waggon, and to relate the whole circumstances to the crowd.

Englishmen living at home in the happy conviction that their own is the greatest of nations can form little idea of the feelings of men in a colony like the Cape, where our rule is but half-consolidated, and where a Dutch population, equal in numbers, are sullenly hostile, or openly insolent. The love of the old flag and the pride of nationality are there very different feelings from the dull and languid sentiment at home; and the news of this bloody massacre, at a time when hostilities had not commenced on either side, and when no overt act of rebellion had taken place, caused every eye to flash, and the blood to run hotly in men’s veins.

Those who had hitherto counselled that the English settlers should remain neutral in the contest were now as eager as the rest in their demands that the place should be defended. There was but one company of British troops in the town; but within an hour of the story of the massacre being known 150 men had put down their names to form a corps; officers were chosen, and these at once waited upon the captain in command of the troops, and placed themselves under his orders.

The next morning scores of men set to work throwing up a breastwork round the place, cutting holes in the walls and houses for musketry, and preparing to defend the little town to the last against any attack of the Boers.

The moment that he had heard from the lads of the disaster to the 94th, the officer in command despatched a horseman to carry the news at full speed to Sir G. Pomeroy Colley, who was advancing towards Newcastle with the troops from Natal.

The same night a messenger rode in, saying that the Boers had raised their flag at Pretoria, had killed several English there, and were preparing to attack the little British force encamped at a small distance from the town; that at Potchefstroom they had also attacked the troops; and that the insurrection was general.

The next morning the lads mounted and proceeded on their way, and reached home late that evening, to the immense delight of their parents.

The news of the rising created a fever of excitement throughout Natal. H.M.S. Boadicea landed a rocket-battery and a naval brigade, who at once marched up towards the front; and Sir G.P. Colley, who commanded the forces, hurried every available man towards Newcastle, as the Boers were advancing in force towards the frontier, and were preparing to invade Natal.

Every day brought fresh news from the Transvaal. The little towns where the British were centred, isolated and alone as they were in the midst of a hostile country, in every case prepared to defend themselves to the last; and at Potchefstroom, Wackerstroom, Standerton, Leydenberg, and other places the Boers, attempting to carry the towns were vigorously repulsed. The news that a large force of Boers was marching against Newcastle caused great excitement in that portion of Natal; here large numbers of Dutch were settled, and the colonists were consequently divided into hostile camps. Large numbers of British colonists sent in their names as ready to serve against the Boers; but the English military authorities unfortunately declined to avail themselves of their services, on the ground that they did not wish to involve the colonists in a struggle which was purely an imperial one. For, were they to do so, the Dutch throughout the colony and in the Orange Free State might also join in the struggle, and the whole of South Africa be involved in a civil war.

There was much in this view of the case; but had a strong corps of colonists been attached to the force of General Colley, it is pretty certain that it would have escaped the disaster which subsequently befell it; for, being for the most part excellent shots and accustomed to the chase, they would have met the Boers with their own tactics, and thus, as the English settlers in the garrisons in the Transvaal showed themselves far better fighters than their Dutch antagonists, so Natal, where large numbers of young colonists had served against the Zulus, Secoceni, Moirosi, and in other native troubles, could, if permitted, have furnished a contingent which would have entirely altered the complexion of the struggle.

Upon the very day after the return of their sons, Mr Humphreys and his friend Jackson, furious at the two attacks which had been made by the Boers upon the parties accompanied by their sons, rode into Newcastle and inscribed their names in the list of those willing to serve against the enemy. They also offered their waggons and cattle to the authorities, to facilitate the advance of the British troops.

This offer was at once accepted, and it was arranged that on the 26th the carts still on the farm should go down to Pieter-Maritzburg, and Mr Humphreys wrote a letter to Mr Harvey, telling him that he was, upon his arrival, after clearing the waggons of the goods that he had brought down from the interior, to place them at once at the disposal of the authorities for the transport of military stores to Newcastle. Bill Harrison was to go down with the carts, and to be in charge of them and the waggons on their upward march.

Christmas was held with great festivity, to celebrate the return of the lads. Mr and Mrs Jackson and Tom, and four or five young settlers in neighbouring farms were invited by Mr Humphreys to spend the day with him. At his request they came early, and after the service of the church had been read by him the day was spent in festivity. The young men rode races on their horses, shot at marks for prizes of useful articles, presented by Mr Humphreys, and at five o’clock sat down to a Christmas dinner.

The holly, the mistletoe, and above all the roaring fire were absent, but the great kitchen was decked with boughs. The roast beef, plum-pudding, and mince-pies were equal to the best at home, and no pains were spared to recall home customs on the occasion.

At one o’clock there had been an equally good dinner given to the labourers and their families belonging to the farms of Mr Humphreys and his guests, and in the evening all assembled in the great kitchen, and to the tunes of a violin, played by one of the young colonists, a merry dance was kept up for some hours. The next morning Harrison started with the remaining waggon and several carts for Pieter-Maritzburg, and the lads were supposed to resume regular work on the farms.

Chapter Nineteen.

The Garrisons in the Transvaal.

The excitement of the time was, however, too great to permit the lads to settle down quietly, and every day they rode over to Newcastle to gather the latest news. The towns which held out in the Transvaal were Pretoria, Potchefstroom, Standerton, Wackerstroom, Leydenberg, Rustenberg, and Marabastadt. At Pretoria, the capital, Mr Edgerton and Sergeant Bradley of the 94th Regiment, who escaped from the massacre, brought in the news, and on the following day the authorities proclaimed martial law. Colonel Bellairs, C.B., was commandant, and the military authorities at once decided that the town must be abandoned, as, with its gardens and scattered houses, the extent was too large to be defended. A military camp was therefore formed outside the town, and to this the whole of the loyal inhabitants moved out. The civilians consisted of 975 men, 676 women, 718 children, 1331 servants and natives,—total 3700. In addition to these were the British troops. All horses were at once taken for the volunteers, among whom most of the white residents were numbered. The effective fighting force was about 1000—made up of four companies of the 2nd battalion, 21st Fusiliers; three companies of the 94th; 140 mounted volunteers, known as the Pretoria Horse; 100 mounted volunteers, known as Norris’s Horse, and the Pretoria Rifles, an infantry volunteer corps, 500 strong. For the reception of the women and children intrenchments were thrown up, connecting the jail and loretto convent, and the defence of this point was intrusted to six companies of the Pretoria Rifles, under Major Le Mesurier. The camp was distant about a third of a mile from the jail and convent, and the approaches were commanded by three little forts erected on eminences around.

Several skirmishes took place in the last fortnight in December, but the first sharp engagement occurred on the 6th of January. Colonel Gildea took out a force of twenty officers, 450 men, a gun, and fifteen waggons to bring in some forage and attack a Boer position at Pienness River, about twelve miles off. Norris’s Horse scouted in front, and the Pretoria Pioneers were detached to cut off the retreat of the Boers. The Boers were easily turned out of their position. Their defence was feeble; but several English were killed, owing to the Boers treacherously hoisting a flag of truce, upon which the English skirmishers, who were creeping forward, stood up, thinking that the Boers surrendered; they then fired, and several of our men were killed or wounded. The Boers being largely reinforced came forward to the attack, but were smartly repulsed. Our loss was four men killed and one officer (Captain Sampson); fourteen men were wounded. On the 15th another force started to attack a Boer laager, but found the enemy in such strength that they retired without serious fighting.

On the 12th of February an ineffective attempt was made to take the Red Horse Kraal, seven miles from Pretoria, on the road towards Rustenberg. The force consisted of twenty-two officers and 533 men. The carabineers under Captain Sanctuary advanced and attacked a large stone building, 1000 yards from the kraal. They were received by a very heavy fire from the Boers, who advanced in such strength that Colonel Gildea thought it prudent to fall back. This movement, covered by the horse, was effected, the infantry taking no part in the fight. Captain Sanctuary and eight men were killed; Colonel Gildea and eight others severely wounded. No further sortie was made during the continuance of the war, but the Boers did not venture to attack the British position.

The town of Potchefstroom stood in the district most thickly inhabited by the Boers. On the 14th of December, when it was reported that a large number of Boers were approaching, Colonel Winsloe, who commanded, sent Captain Falls with twenty men of the 21st Fusiliers, twenty-six men of a corps commanded by Commandant Raaff, and sixteen civilian volunteers to hold the court-house. The jail was garrisoned by twenty fusiliers, and the fort and earthwork, of some thirty yards square, situated about 1000 yards from the court-house, was held by 140 men of the fusiliers and a detachment of artillerymen, with two 9-pounders, under Major Thornhill. The three posts were provisioned as well as circumstances permitted.

On the 15th 500 mounted Boers entered the town. On the 16th fighting began in earnest, and the firing was hot on both sides. A very heavy fire was kept up on the prison and court-house. Half an hour after it commenced Captain Falls was killed. For the next sixty hours the firing continued, night and day, and one of the little garrison was killed and nine wounded. During the night the Boers broke into a stable close to the court-house, and from a distance of eight yards a heavy fire was kept up. During this time Colonel Winsloe in the fort had given what aid he could to the garrison of the courthouse by shelling the building from which the Dutch were firing upon it. On the evening of the 17th he signalled to the garrison to retire on the fort; but, being completely surrounded, they were unable to do this. On the morning of the 18th the Boers attempted to set fire to the thatch roof of the court-house; and as nothing in that case could have saved the garrison, Major Clarke and Commandant Raaff agreed to surrender on the terms that the lives of all those in the court-house should be spared. This was agreed to; but two loyal Boers, who had been captured at an outpost, were tried, condemned to death, and shot. On the 21st of December the garrison of the prison, falling short of provisions, evacuated it, and succeeded in gaining the fort without loss. The Boers occupied the post, but were driven out by the shell-fire from the fort. Mr Nelson, the magistrate, was taken prisoner in the town by the Boers, and kept in close confinement. Three of his sons got into the fort, and took part in its defence. Two of them, on a dark night, on the 19th of February, got through the Boer lines, and carried despatches from Colonel Winsloe to Newcastle, arriving there on the 5th of March, after many perils, not the least of which was swimming the Vaal River when in full flood.

In the meantime the attack on the fort itself had been uninterrupted. The very first evening the watercourse from which the supply of water to the camp was taken was cut. A well had already been commenced and sunk to a depth of twenty feet, but no water had been obtained. Fortunately the water-barrels had been filled an hour or two before the supply was cut, but these only contained two quarts of water per man. The weather was terribly hot, and the work of the men in the intrenchments was very severe.

On the night of the 17th Lieutenant Lindsell, with some of the drivers of the Royal Artillery, acting as cavalry, and a company of the 21st, went out to fill the water-casks from a stream half a mile away from the camp, and fortunately succeeded in doing so, the Boers not being on the look-out in that direction. This gave a further supply of two quarts per man.

The work of sinking the well had been continued without intermission, and a depth of thirty-six feet had been attained, but still no water was met with. A reward of 5 pounds was offered to the first party who struck water, and the soldiers off duty commenced digging in several places. At last, to the intense relief of the garrison, a party of Royal Artillery men found water at a depth of nine feet. The well soon filled, and yielded plenty of water during the remainder of the siege.

A desultory fire was kept up until the 1st of January, when, the Boers being strongly reinforced, 2000 men surrounded the fort at a distance of 500 yards, and opened a heavy fire upon it. They did not, however, venture to attack the little garrison. On the 5th they occupied the cemetery, 300 yards from the fort, but Lieutenant Lindsell with a party of volunteers went out by moonlight and drove them out. The Boers then commenced making trenches, gradually approaching the fort; but on the 22nd Lieutenant Dalrymple Hay went out, carried the position from which the Boers had been most troublesome, and captured four prisoners, some guns, ammunition, and trenching-tools. From that time, although the Boers continued to throw up trenches, they contented themselves with a desultory fire.

The siege continued for three months and five days; at the end of that time the whole of the provisions were exhausted. Fever, dysentery, and scurvy had broken out, and many of the garrison had died. Out of 213 men eighty-three had been killed, wounded, or taken prisoners. In fact an armistice between the armies had at that time been proclaimed, but Cronje, the Boer who commanded the attack, treacherously concealed the fact from the garrison. When only three days’ quarter-rations remained the garrison surrendered the fort, on the condition that they should be allowed to march down to Natal.

Messengers had reached Cronje nine days before with news of the armistice, but although he was aware of this he continued the siege to the end, the firing during the last week being heavier than at any time during the siege,—on two days alone 150 round shot fell on the fort. The Boers were afterwards obliged to allow that the surrender of the fort had been obtained by treachery, and to agree to the garrison being reinstated.

Standerton is the first town of any size on the main road from Natal to Pretoria, and is situated on the north bank of the Vaal River. On the outbreak of hostilities two companies of the 94th and one of the 88th marched from Wackerstroom to this town, and Major Montague of the 94th Regiment arrived from Natal to take the command. The total strength of the garrison consisted of about 350 soldiers and seventy civilians. The Landdrost, J.C. Krogh, remained loyal and assisted in the defence, three forts were erected on eminences round the town, two outworks and many breastworks and rifle-pits were dug, houses interfering with the line of fire were pulled down, and other buildings in suitable positions were barricaded and loop-holed.

The centre point of defence was a building known as Fort Alice, 800 yards from the town, and a military camp was formed on a height one mile and a quarter from this point. Preparations were made to blow up some of the buildings, should the Boers carry the town, mines being dug and laid to the fort. A good store of provisions was collected.

On the 29th a scout on a hill signalled a large number of Boers were approaching Erasmus Farm, three miles distant from Standerton. Captain Cassell, with sixteen mounted volunteers, went out to reconnoitre. Two or three scouts were thrown out, and these arrived within 600 yards of the farm; suddenly a number of Boers made their appearance, and Mr G.B. Hall, one of the mounted volunteers, gallantly tried to cross their line to warn his comrades of the coming danger. Galloping in front of the Boers, his horse was shot under him; taking shelter behind it, he opened fire on the enemy, and so attracted the attention of his party. One man could not long resist 300, and Hall was soon killed. The alarm, however, had been given in time, and the mounted men fell back on the camp, exchanging shots with the enemy. The Boers now took up a position 600 yards from the camp, and kept up a heavy fire. Skirmishes occurred daily, and the enemy harassing the garrison from a height called Standerton Kop, Major Montague caused a dummy-gun, mounted on two waggon-wheels, to be placed in the intrenchments; the sight of this frightened the Boers off Standerton Kop.

On the 7th of January a Swazi, named Infofa, who had greatly distinguished himself by his bravery in the Secoceni War, but was now undergoing a term of penal servitude for culpable homicide, performed an act of singular bravery. The Boers had during the night erected a small earthwork on the outside of the Vaal River; 400 yards nearer the town stood a house, and fearing that this might be occupied by the Putch, it was determined to destroy it. Infofa with a party of Kaffirs volunteered for the duty; he crossed the river with his party, and the Kaffirs began to pull down the house. Infofa, however, took his gun, and marched boldly away to the Boer earthwork, 400 yards distant, to the astonishment of the lookers-on. It happened that at the moment no Boers were present in the works, and the man reached it without a shot being fired at him; inside he found some tools, and with these he deliberately set to work and levelled the breastwork; this accomplished, he returned to the party.

Until the end of the war the Boers were unable to make any impression upon Standerton, and whenever they approached too closely the garrison sallied out and drove them off.

At Leydenberg fifty men of the 94th, under Lieutenant Long, had been left, when the four companies under Colonel Anstruther had marched away. The people of the town, when the news of the rising arrived, offered to defend themselves with the troops against attacks; but Lieutenant Long declined to accept the offer. There were in the town 220 women and children, and only thirty-four white men who could be relied on; there were no defences and no water-supply, and as Lieutenant Long knew that three or four months must elapse before a relieving force could arrive, he decided that it would only cost the townspeople their lives and property were they to attempt to defend the place. He therefore advised them to remain neutral, while he with his fifty soldiers defended the fort. This they did, and the commandant of the Boer force, Piet Steyn, caused their property to be respected when he entered the town with his troops.

For three months Lieutenant Long defended the fort gallantly against all attacks. At one time the enemy set fire to the thatch roof of one of the buildings, but the soldiers succeeded in extinguishing it, although the Boers kept up a heavy fire; during the night the defenders stripped off the roofs of the remaining thatch buildings, and so prevented a renewal of this form of attack. The Boers cut off the water-supply, but the garrison sunk wells, and succeeded in reaching water in time. The casualties among the fifty men during the siege were three killed and nineteen wounded. At the end of the war a general order was published, conferring the highest praise upon Lieutenant Long and his little garrison, for the bravery and endurance which they had shown in maintaining for three months a close siege, and this without any hope of relief or succour. At the conclusion of the war Lieutenant Long was so disgusted at the humiliating terms of the treaty, and the surrender to the Boers, that he resigned his commission in the army.

Marabadstadt, though called a village, consists of only seven or eight houses. Sixty men of the 94th, under Captain Brook, formed the garrison which was stationed there to keep order after the Secoceni War, as no less than 500,000 natives inhabit the surrounding district. Fortunately the races were being held at the time when the news of the massacre of the 94th arrived, and the English inhabitants of the neighbourhood, who were present, at once responded to the call of Captain Brook to aid in the defence, and thirty white men and fifty half-castes enrolled themselves as volunteers. The Boers attacked in considerable force, having with them two cannons; but the fort held out until the end of the war, the garrison making many sorties when the Boers brought up their guns too close. At Rustenberg and Wackerstroom a successful defence was also maintained throughout the war by the British and loyalists; but no incidents of importance marked the siege of those places.

Chapter Twenty.

Laing’s Neck.

On the 24th of January General Colley’s little column, consisting of the 58th, a battalion of the 60th, a small naval brigade, 170 mounted infantry, and six guns, moved out from Newcastle; they took with them an amount of baggage-train altogether out of proportion to their force, as in addition to their own baggage and ammunition they were taking up a considerable amount of the latter for the use of the troops besieged in the various towns in the Transvaal.

Mr Humphreys and Jackson rode over to Newcastle to see them start, and the lads sat chatting to them on their horses, as the column filed by.

“I don’t like the look of things, father,” Dick said, “and if you had seen the way the Boers polished off the 94th, I am sure you wouldn’t like it either. If we are attacked by them, the troops would, for the most part, be wanted to guard this huge baggage-train, and I am sure, from what I have seen of the Boers, the only way to thrash them is to attack them quickly and suddenly. If you let them attack you, you are done for. Their shooting is ten times as good as that of the troops; they are accustomed, both in hunting and in their native wars, to depend each man on himself, and they would hang round a column like this, pick the men off at long distances, and fall upon them in hollows and bushes; while, whenever our fellows tried to take the offensive, they would mount their horses and ride away, only to return and renew the attack as soon as the troops fell back to the waggons. Besides, with such a train of waggons we can only crawl along, and the Boers will have time to fortify every position. I wonder, at any rate, that General Colley does not push forward in light marching-order and drive the Boers at once out of Natal, and cross the river into the Transvaal; then he would have a flat, open country before him, and could bring the waggons up afterwards.”

“What you say seems right enough, Dick,” his father answered; “but General Colley has the reputation of being an excellent officer.”

“I have no doubt that he is an excellent officer, father; but he has had no experience whatever in the Boers’ style of fighting; he knows that they have often been defeated by natives, and I fancy he does not value them highly enough. They cannot stand a quick, sudden attack, and that’s how the natives sometimes defeat them, but at their own game of shooting from behind rocks I believe that they are more than a match for regular troops. However, we shall see. As I am not going as a combatant I shall be able to look on quietly, and fortunately the Boers are not like Zulus, and there is no fear of non-combatants and prisoners being massacred. If there were, I tell you fairly, father, that I would cry off, and let the waggons go without me, for I do believe that things will not turn out well.”

“Well, I hope you are wrong, Dick. But you have seen so much fighting in this country, during the last two years, that your opinion is certainly worth something. However, there is one satisfaction, there are a number of troops now landing at Durban and on the march up; so that if this little force does get a check, it will soon be retrieved. Now, good-bye, lad; mind, if there is an attack on the waggons, take as little part in it as you can, and stick to the position of non-combatants. If they would have had us as volunteers, we would have done our best; but as they have declined to accept the offer of the colonists, let them fight it out their own way. If they get beaten and the Boers swarm into Natal, as in that case they certainly will do, the colonists will take the matter in hand by themselves, and if we don’t send the Dutchmen packing back faster than they come, I am a Dutchman myself.”

Had Sir George Colley pushed on rapidly with his column, he would have passed all the points at which the Boers could have taken up strong defensive positions, before they could gather in force to oppose him, as he had the choice of three or four different lines of advance, and until the one by which he would travel was known, the Boer army was forced to remain inactive, awaiting his disposition. As soon, however, as he had left Newcastle, and it was known by them that he had started along the line of road to the west of Newcastle, they moved their whole force to oppose him, and took post on a position known as Laing’s Neck, at a spot where the road had to cross over a steep and difficult ridge. Here they set to work to throw up intrenchments, and the leisurely, and indeed dilatory, advance of the British gave them ample time for this. Although the distance from Newcastle to Laing’s Neck was but twenty-five miles, and the column, unimpeded by baggage, could by a forced march have seized the position on the very day of their leaving Newcastle, and long before the Boers could have moved their army to reinforce the little body who occupied the position as corps of observation, no less than six days elapsed before Sir George Colley’s force arrived before Laing’s Neck.

This time was spent in frequent halts, in improving the roads, bridging the streams, and other similar operations, all useful enough in their way, but fatal to the success of a flying column, whose object was to strike a sudden blow at the enemy, and to secure the road and passes as far as the frontier, in order to facilitate the march of the main column of invasion, which was on its way up from the coast. Dick and Tom chafed under the long delays, and twice rode home and spent a day with their parents.

At last, however, the column was in front of the enemy’s position. The Boers, who were some 3000 strong, held a strong position on the line of the crest of the ridge, with breastworks thrown up in front. The total force of Sir George Colley consisted of but 870 infantry, together with the mounted men and guns; and to attack such a position, with a chance of success, every man should have been sent against the intrenchments. General Colley, however, seems at the last moment to have been alarmed for the safety of his baggage, which was menaced by parties of Boers on his left flank. He therefore prepared to attack with only five companies of the 58th—that is, but little more than 250 men, keeping the whole of the rest of the infantry in reserve, but ordering the mounted infantry to assist in the attack—a service which, upon such ground, they were altogether unfitted to perform. The result of such an arrangement as this was inevitable. Tom and Dick could scarcely believe their eyes when they saw this handful of men advancing up the steep hill, at whose summit was a force more than ten times as numerous, and composed of some of the finest marksmen in the world. The six English guns opened fire to cover the advance, and the 58th went gallantly up the hill As soon as they approached the crest, a tremendous fire of musketry was opened upon them by the Boers lying behind the intrenchments. The men were literally swept away by the fire. Gallantly led by their officers, they pressed forward until within a few yards of the breastworks; then the Boers leapt to their feet, sprang over the works and fell upon them. Colonel Deane, Major Poole, Lieutenant Elwes, and Lieutenant Bailey were killed, and no less than 180 of the little force were killed, wounded, or taken prisoners. Few even of the survivors would have escaped, had not the mounted infantry, who had ascended the spur at a point farther to the right, made a gallant charge along the crest of the hill and checked the pursuit. The main body of the British advanced a short distance to make a demonstration, and prevent the Boers from following up their success. The whole column then fell back four miles, to the ground which they had occupied the night before. The gallantry displayed by the 58th and mounted infantry was the sole redeeming feature in the discreditable affair of Laing’s Neck, where defeat had been rendered almost certain by the previous hesitation and delays, and was ensured by the folly of sending a mere handful of men to attack such a position. As the British fell back, the Boers advanced, and at nightfall placed themselves on the road between the camp and Newcastle, entirely cutting the force off from its base, and threatening both them and the town of Newcastle.

Several days passed, the attitude of the Boers became more and more threatening, and General Colley determined at all hazards to open the way back to Newcastle. On the morning of the 8th of February he moved out with five companies of the 60th rifles, two field and two mountain-guns, and a detachment of mounted infantry; Dick and Tom obtained leave to ride back with the mounted detachment. At a commanding post near the River Ingogo Sir George Colley left two mountain-guns and a company of rifles as a garrison, and moved forward with the rest of the column. The River Ingogo runs at the bottom of a deep ravine. Crossing this the English force mounted to the top of the opposite crest, but they had gone but a short distance farther when they were attacked on all sides by the Boers. The troops were ordered at once to take shelter among the boulders and bushes, while the two guns from the top of the eminence opened fire with shell upon the enemy.

Dick and Tom sought shelter with the rest, making their horses lie down beside them, and were soon as hotly engaged as the Rifles around them in answering the heavy fire of the Boers. The fight began at twelve o’clock, and raged without intermission for six hours; sometimes the Boers attacked on one side of the position, sometimes upon another. The ground was broken and thickly strewn with boulders and bushes, and favoured by these the Boers crept up sometimes close to the position held by the English. So accurate was their shooting that none of the defenders could show his head above shelter for a moment, and it was as much as they could do to prevent the enemy from carrying the position at a rush. The 60th fought with the greatest coolness and steadiness, and, numerous as were the enemy, they could not muster up courage for the rush which would have assuredly overwhelmed the little party that they were attacking. The two English guns could render but small service, the men being shot down as fast as they stood up to load, and every officer, driver, gunner, and horse was killed or wounded within half an hour after the action commenced. So incessant indeed was the rain of balls that the guns after the action were spotted with bullet-marks so thickly that it would have been difficult to place the tip of the finger upon a place unstruck by a ball.

When darkness put a stop to the fight 160 men—more than two-thirds of the force—were killed or wounded. Among the former were Captain MacGregor of the staff, Captain Green of the Royal Artillery, and Lieutenants Green and O’Connell of the 60th; while Lieutenants Pixney, Parsons, Twistlewaite and Haworth, all of the 60th, were wounded. Had the Boers taken advantage of the cover of darkness to steal forward, they must have annihilated the little force; but they believed that they had them in their power, for the rain had fallen heavily, the Ingogo had risen, and was, they thought, unfordable. General Colley ascertained, however, that it was stilt possible to cross, and with the greatest silence the survivors moved off from their position, the storm helping to conceal the movement from the Boers. Very quietly they moved down to the stream, and with the greatest difficulty succeeded in crossing; then picking up on their way the company and guns which had been left on the eminence beyond, the column reached camp in safety.

In the meantime reinforcements had been pushing forward from the sea as fast as possible, and on the 17th the column under Sir Evelyn Wood arrived at Newcastle, to the great joy of its inhabitants. For days an attack by the Boers had been expected, intrenchments had been thrown up round the great convoy which had been collected to advance with the force, and all the inhabitants who could bear arms, and many settlers from the surrounding country, had come in to aid in the defence, should the Boers attack it.

The arrival of the relieving column ensured the safety of the town, and the Boers between Newcastle and General Coney’s little camp at once fell back to their old position on Laing’s Neck, leaving the road open. General Colley and his staff rode in from Prospect Hill, the name of the camp, and had a consultation with General Wood. The 92nd Regiment marched out and reinforced General Colley’s column.

The Boers’ position at Laing’s Neck was commanded by a lofty and rugged mountain, called Majuba Hill, on its right, and the occupation of this hill by the British would render the position untenable. It would have been an admirable military movement to seize this hill when the whole force was collected at the camp in readiness to advance, as, with their flank turned and a force advancing for a direct attack, the Boers must at once have retreated, but General Colley most unfortunately desired to retrieve the two defeats he had suffered, by compelling the Boers to fall back, before the arrival on the scene of Sir Evelyn Wood with the main body. He believed, no doubt, and with reason, that Majuba Hill once captured would be impregnable against any attack which might be made against it.

Accordingly, on the night of the 26th, with twenty officers and 627 men drawn from the 58th, 60th, 92nd, and naval brigade, he started from the camp with the intention of seizing the hill. The night was a dark one, and the march across the unknown country difficult in the extreme. The intervening ground was cut up by steep valleys and rapid ascents, and for hours the troops struggled up and down these places, many of which would have been difficult to climb by daylight. At last, after immense labour, the force reached the foot of Majuba Hill, having taken six hours in accomplishing a distance which, as the crow flies, is little more than four miles. At a commanding point near the foot of the hill 200 men were left, to keep open the communication; the main body kept on until they reached the summit, just before daylight, the Boers being entirely in ignorance of the movement which had taken place. The position was of immense natural strength, as it was only at a few points that an ascent could be made. On the summit was a plateau, so that all the troops not actually engaged in repelling assaults could lie down perfectly secure from the fire from below. At sunrise the Boers could be seen moving about in their lines. An hour later a party of mounted vedettes were seen trotting out towards the hill, which during the day they used as a post of observation; as they approached the outlying pickets fired upon them. As the sound of the guns was heard by the Boers below, a scene of the greatest confusion and excitement was observed from the height to prevail. Swarms of men were seen rushing hither and thither; some to their arms, some to their horses, others to their waggons, to which the oxen were at once harnessed, ready for a retreat in case of necessity. Then a great portion of the Boers moved forward towards the hill, with the evident intention of attacking it.

At seven o’clock the enemy opened fire, and the bullets whistled up thickly round the edge of the plateau. The main body of the troops remained in the centre of the plateau, out of fire, small bodies being posted near the edge to answer the fire of the Boers and prevent their approaching the accessible points. For five hours the musketry duel continued. So far its effect had been trifling, a few men only being wounded. The position appeared perfectly safe. The Boers were indeed between the garrison of the hill and the camp, but the former had three days’ provisions with them, and could therefore hold out until Sir Evelyn Wood arrived with the main body for a direct attack upon the Boers’ position.

Between twelve and one o’clock the Boers’ fire slackened, and the besieged force thought that their assailants were drawing off; this, however, was not the case. Under cover of the shrubs and rocks the Boers were creeping quietly up, and at one o’clock a terrific fire suddenly broke out, and the enemy in great numbers rushed up the short intervening distance between themselves and the scanty line of defenders on the edge of the plateau; these, seized by panic, at once fled, and the exulting Boers poured up on to the plateau and opened a destructive fire upon the troops.

The scene which ensued was one of the most discreditable in the annals of the British army. Although armed with breech-loaders, and fully as numerous as the assailants who had gained the crest of the hill, the resistance offered was feeble in the extreme; had the troops charged the Boers, the advantages of discipline and of their vastly superior weapons would have been irresistible, and they could have cleared the plateau as speedily as it had been occupied. The great majority, however, were seized with a wild panic, and, in spite of the efforts of the officers, thought of nothing but seeking safety in flight. A few stood and fired, but how few these were can be judged from the fact that only one Boer was killed, one severely wounded, and four slightly so; while half the British force were killed, wounded, or taken prisoners, the remainder managing to escape down the sides of the hill, and to join the force left at its foot, or to hide in the bushes until night. Among the killed were General Colley, Captain the Hon. C. Maude, Surgeon-Major H. Cornish, Surgeon A. Landon, and Lieutenant Trower of the naval brigade; eight officers were killed, and seven taken prisoners; eighty-six men were killed, 125 wounded, fifty-one taken prisoners, and two missing. The fight, such as it was, lasted five minutes. The force which had been left at the bottom of the hill, under Captain Robertson, was also attacked; but, being admirably led by that officer, fought its way back to the camp with but small loss, the guns there assisting to cover its retreat.

The boys had not accompanied the expedition, and from the camp had watched the line of smoke round the hill, and had joined in the laughter of the officers at the idea of the Boers attacking so tremendously strong a position. Intense was the astonishment in camp when a wreath of smoke suddenly rose from the summit, and when this cleared away, and all was quiet, and it became evident that the Boers had carried the position, it was difficult to say whether the feeling of dismay or humiliation most prevailed.

With the defeat of Majuba Hill the war in the Transvaal virtually terminated. When the news reached England, the government declared that the honour of the British flag should be vindicated, and great numbers of troops were sent out to Natal; these marched up the country, and were in readiness to assault the Boers’ position, when the English government suddenly gave way, and granted to the Boers all that they demanded, the sole provision insisted upon being a purely nominal sovereignty on the part of the queen, and an equally nominal protection for the natives—a clause in the treaty which, from that time to this, no attempt whatever has been made to enforce. Not only were the natives practically abandoned to the mercy of the Boers, to be shot down or enslaved at their will, as in former times, but the English settlers, who had for months made such a noble defence in every town in the Transvaal, were abandoned, and the greater portion of them, ruined and plundered, have long since left the country where, relying upon the empty promises and vain guarantee of England, they had embarked their fortunes. A more disgraceful and humiliating chapter in English history than the war in the Transvaal, and the treaty which concluded it, is not to be found.

After the battle of Majuba Hill Dick and Tom returned to their farms, resolved to have nothing farther to do with the business; there they have remained steadily since that time. Mr Humphreys’ plantation of trees now covers a great extent of ground, and promises fully to answer his expectations of eventual profit. Those first-planted are attaining large size, and the thinning brings in a considerable annual income. His waggons are fully employed in taking down fruit to Pieter-Maritzburg. In another ten years Mr Humphreys expects that he will be a very wealthy man; he is thinking next year of paying a visit, with his wife and two sons, to England, where John will be left to finish his education and pass through college, with a view of eventually entering the Church. Dick is quite contented with his life; he has taken no farther part in trading expeditions into the interior, although the profit realised in the venture under Mr Harvey was considerable, but there is plenty of work on the farm to occupy his time. A large number of natives are employed in planting operations, and since the first year Mr Humphreys has raised all his own trees from seeds. The breeding of cattle and horses has been abandoned, only a small herd and a flock of sheep being kept for home requirements, as it is found that the ever-increasing plantation and the great orchards of fruit-trees are quite sufficient to occupy their attention.

Mr Jackson too is prospering greatly; influenced by the example of his neighbour, he too has gone in for planting, although on a much smaller scale than Mr Humphreys, his means being insufficient to carry out such extensive operations. Tom and Dick are as great friends as ever, and, when they can be spared, often go out together on a deer-hunting expedition. Tom is engaged to the daughter of a trader in Newcastle; Dick, laughing, says that he shall look out for a wife when he gets to England. The prospects would be altogether bright for the emigrants from Derbyshire, were it not for the trouble which the weakness of the British government, in sending back Cetewayo to Zululand, brought about, and from the increasingly bad feeling growing up between the Boers and the natives, owing to the constant aggressions of the latter, and their ill-treatment of the natives, in defiance of the agreements in the treaty with the British government. If the day should come when the natives at last rise and avenge upon the Boers the accumulated injuries of many years, neither Dick Humphreys nor Tom Jackson will be inclined to lift a hand to save the Boers from their well-merited fate. The example of the successful resistance offered by the Basutos to the whole power of the Cape government has had an immense effect among the native tribes of South Africa, and sooner or later the colonists there will have a very serious crisis to pass through. Dick hopes that this crisis will not occur in his time, for Mr Humphreys intends in another fifteen years, if he live so long, when his first-planted trees will have gained maturity, to divide his great forest into lots, to sell off, and to return to his native land. Dick quite agrees in the plan, and hopes some day to be settled with an abundant competency in Old England.

The End.

Table of Contents

With Kitchener in the Soudan

Preface.

Chapter 1: Disinherited.

Chapter 2: The Rising In Alexandria.

Chapter 3: A Terrible Disaster.

Chapter 4: An Appointment.

Chapter 5: Southward.

Chapter 6: Gregory Volunteers.

Chapter 7: To Metemmeh.

Chapter 8: Among The Dervishes.

Chapter 9: Safely Back.

Chapter 10: Afloat.

Chapter 11: A Prisoner.

Chapter 12: The Battle Of Atbara.

Chapter 13: The Final Advance.

Chapter 14: Omdurman.

Chapter 15: Khartoum.

Chapter 16: A Voice From The Dead.

Chapter 17: A Fugitive.

Chapter 18: A Hakim.

Chapter 19: The Last Page.

Chapter 20: A Momentous Communication.

Chapter 21: Gedareh.

Chapter 22: The Crowning Victory.

Chapter 23: An Unexpected Discovery.

With Kitchener in the Soudan

Preface.

The reconquest of the Soudan will ever be mentioned as one of the most difficult, and at the same time the most successful, enterprises ever undertaken. The task of carrying an army hundreds of miles across a waterless desert; conveying it up a great river, bristling with obstacles; defeating an enormously superior force, unsurpassed in the world for courage; and, finally, killing the leader of the enemy and crushing out the last spark of opposition; was a stupendous one.

After the death of Gordon, and the retirement of the British troops, there was no force in existence that could have barred the advance of the fanatical hordes of the Mahdi, had they poured down into Egypt. The native Egyptian army was, as yet, in the earliest stage of organization; and could not be relied upon to stand firm against the wild rush of the Dervishes. Fortunately, time was given for that organization to be completed; and when, at last, the Dervish forces marched north, they were repulsed. Assouan was saved, and Wady Halfa became the Egyptian outpost.

Gradually, preparations were made for taking the offensive. A railway was constructed along the banks of the Nile, and a mixed force of British and Egyptians drove the enemy beyond Dongola; then, by splendidly organized labour, a railroad was made from Wady Halfa, across the desert, towards the elbow of the great bend from Dongola to Abu Hamed. The latter place was captured, by an Egyptian brigade moving up from the former place; and from that moment, the movement was carried on with irresistible energy.

The railway was pushed forward to Abu Hamed; and then southward, past Berber, up to the Atbara river. An army of twenty thousand men, under one of the Khalifa's sons, was attacked in a strong position and defeated with immense loss. Fresh British troops were then brought up; and, escorted by gunboats and steamers carrying provisions, the army marched up the Nile, crushed the Khalifa's great host before Omdurman, and recovered possession of Khartoum.

Then, the moving spirit of this enterprise, the man whose marvellous power of organization had secured its success, was called to other work. Fortunately, he had a worthy successor in Colonel Wingate; who, with a native force, encountered that which the Khalifa had again gathered, near El Obeid, the scene of the total destruction of the army under Hicks Pasha; routed it with ease, killing the Khalifa and all his principal emirs. Thus a land that had been turned into a desert, by the terrible tyranny of the Mahdi and his successor, was wrested from barbarism and restored to civilization; and the stain upon British honour, caused by the desertion of Gordon by the British ministry of the day, was wiped out.

It was a marvellous campaign--marvellous in the perfection of its organization, marvellous in the completeness of its success.

G. A. Henty.

Chapter 1: Disinherited.

"Wanted, an active and intelligent young man, for general work, in a commercial house having a branch at Alexandria. It is desirable that he should be able to write a good hand; and, if necessary, to assist in office work. Wages, 2 pounds per week. Personal application to be made at Messieurs Partridge and Company, 453 Leadenhall Street."

This advertisement was read by a man of five or six and twenty, in a small room in the upper story of a house in Lupus Street, Pimlico. He was not the only inmate of the room, for a young woman, apparently not more than eighteen, was sitting there sewing; her work interrupted, occasionally, by a short, hacking cough. Her husband, for this was the relation in which he stood to her, put down the paper carelessly, and then got up.

"I am going out, dear, on my usual search. You know, we have agreed that it is of no use my trying to live by my pen. I get an article accepted, occasionally, but it's not enough to provide more than bread and cheese. I must look for something else."

"But you must succeed, presently, Gregory."

"Yes, dear; but while the grass grows, the horse starves. At any rate, I will try for something else. If I get anything, it won't prevent my writing; and when my genius is recognized, I can drop the other thing, and take to literature regularly, again.

"Well, I won't be away longer than I can help. Anyhow, I will be back to our midday banquet. I will bring a couple of rashers of bacon in with me. We have potatoes enough, I think."

So saying, he kissed his wife tenderly, and went out.

Gregory Hartley belonged to a good family. He was the second son of the Honorable James Hartley, brother of the Marquis of Langdale. He had been educated at Harrow and Cambridge; and, after leaving the university, had gone out to Egypt with a friend of his father's, who was an enthusiast in the exploration of the antiquities of that country. Gregory had originally intended to stay there a few months, at most, but he was infected by the enthusiasm of his companion, and remained in Egypt for two years; when the professor was taken ill and died, and he returned home.

A year later, he fell in love with the governess in a neighbouring family. His feeling was reciprocated, and they became engaged. His father was furious, when his son told him what had taken place.

"It is monstrous," he said, "after the education that you have had, and the place that I, if I survive him; or, if not, your brother, will take at the death of your uncle; that you should dream of throwing yourself away, in this manner. I have looked to your making a good marriage; for, as you know, I am not what may be called a rich man. Your brother's tastes are expensive; and what with his education, and yours, and the allowances I have made you both, it is as much as I have been able to do to keep up our position. And there are your sisters to be provided for. The idea of your falling in love with this young woman is monstrous."

"Young lady, Father. She is a clergyman's daughter."

"I won't hear of such a thing--I will not hear of it for a moment; and if you persist in this mad folly, I tell you, fairly, that from this moment I shall have nothing more to say to you! You have to choose between me, and this penniless beggar."

"I am sorry you put it in that way, sir. My choice is made. I am engaged to this young lady, and shall certainly marry her. I trust that, when your present anger has subsided, you will recognize that my honour was involved in the matter; and that even if I wished it, I could not, without showing myself to be a downright cad, draw back."

And so, Gregory Hartley married the girl of his choice. She had, for some time, refused to allow him to sacrifice himself; but when she found that he was as determined as his father, and absolutely refused to release her from the engagement, she had given way; and had, after a quiet marriage, accompanied him to London.

There he had endeavoured to get literary work, but had found it much harder than he had expected. The market was overcrowded, and they had moved from comfortable lodgings into small rooms; and so, step by step, had come to the attic in Lupus Street. He was doing a little better now, and had hopes that, ere long, he would begin to make his way steadily up.

But the anxiety had told on his wife. Never very strong, she had developed a short, hard cough; and he had drawn upon his scanty reserves, to consult a specialist.

"There is undoubtedly lung trouble," the latter said. "If you can manage it, I should say that she ought certainly to be taken to a warm climate. The damage is not extensive, as yet; and it is probable that, under favourable circumstances, she might shake it off; but I fear that, if she continues to live in London, her chances are not great."

This, Gregory felt, was almost equivalent to a death sentence; and he had begun to consult the advertisements in the papers, for some post abroad. He had, unknown to her, applied for several situations, but without success.

When he first read the advertisement that morning, he had hardly thought of applying for the situation. His pride revolted at the idea of becoming a mere messenger; but his wife's cough had decided him. What did it matter, so that he could save her life?

"I may not get it," he said to himself, as he went out; "but my knowledge of Arabic, and the native dialect, is all in my favour. And at least, in a year or two, she may have thoroughly shaken off the cough, and that is everything.

"At any rate, I have a better chance of getting this than I had of the other places that I applied for. There can hardly be a rush of applicants. When I am out there, I may hear of something better.

"However, I will take another name. Fortunately I have a second one, which will do very well. Hilliard will do as well as Hartley; and as I never write it in full as my signature, no one would recognize it as my name. There is nothing to be ashamed of, in accepting such a post.

"As for the marquis, as he has never been friendly with us, it does not matter. He is, I have heard, a very tough sort of man; and my father is not likely to survive him. But I do not think it would be fair to Geoffrey, when he comes into his peerage, that anyone should be able to say that he has a brother who is porter, in a mercantile house at Alexandria. We have never got on very well together. The fact that he was heir to a title spoilt him. I think he would have been a very good fellow, if it hadn't been for that."

On arriving at the office in Leadenhall Street, he was, on saying he wished to speak to Mr. Partridge, at once shown in. A good many of his personal belongings had been long since pledged; but he had retained one or two suits, so that he could make as good an appearance as possible, when he went out. The clerk had merely said, "A gentleman wishes to speak to you, sir," and the merchant looked up enquiringly at him, as he entered.

"I have come to see you, sir, with reference to that advertisement, for a man at your establishment at Alexandria."

A look of surprise came over the merchant's face, and he said:

"Have you called on your own account?"

"Yes; I am anxious to go abroad, for the sake of my wife's health, and I am not particular as to what I do, so that I can take her to a warm climate. I may say that I have been two years in Egypt, and speak Arabic and Koptic fluently. I am strong and active, and am ready to make myself useful, in any way."

Mr. Partridge did not answer, for a minute. Certainly this applicant was not at all the sort of man he had expected to apply for the place, in answer to his advertisement. That he was evidently a gentleman was far from an advantage, but the fact that he could speak the languages would add much to his value.

"Can you give me references?" he said, at last.

"I cannot, sir. I should not like to apply to any of my friends, in such a matter. I must ask you to take me on trust. Frankly, I have quarrelled with my family, and have to strike out for myself. Were it not for my wife's health, I could earn my living; but I am told it is essential that she should go to a warm climate, and as I see no other way of accomplishing this, I have applied for this situation, hoping that my knowledge of the language, and my readiness to perform whatever duties I may be required to do, might induce you to give me a trial."

"And you would, if necessary--say, in the case of illness of one of my clerks--be ready to help in the office?"

"Certainly, sir."

"Will you call again, in half an hour? I will give you an answer, then."

By the time Gregory returned, the merchant's mind was made up. He had come to the conclusion that the story he had heard was a true one. The way it had been told was convincing. The man was undoubtedly a gentleman. There was no mistake in his manner and talk. He had quarrelled with his family, probably over his marriage; and, as so many had done, found it difficult to keep his head above water. His wife had been ordered to a warm climate, and he was ready to do anything that would enable him to keep her there.

It would assuredly be a great advantage to have one who could act, in an emergency, as a clerk; of course, his knowledge of language would greatly add to his utility. It certainly was not business to take a man without a reference, but the advantages more than counterbalanced the disadvantages. It was not likely that he would stay with him long; but at any rate, the fact that he was taking his wife with him would ensure his staying, until he saw something a great deal better elsewhere.

When Gregory returned, therefore, he said:

"I have been thinking this matter over. What is your name?"

"Gregory Hilliard, sir."

"Well, I have been thinking it over, and I have decided to engage you. I quite believe the story that you have told me, and your appearance fully carries it out. You may consider the matter settled. I am willing to pay for a second-class passage for your wife, as well as yourself; and will give such instructions, to my agents there, as will render your position as easy for you as possible. In the natural course of things, your duties would have included the sweeping out of the offices, and work of that description; but I will instruct him to engage a native to do this, under your supervision. You will be in charge of the warehouse, under the chief storekeeper; and, as you say, you will, in case of pressure of work in the office, take a desk there.

"In consideration of your knowledge of the language, which will render you, at once, more useful than a green hand would be, I shall add ten shillings a week to the wages named in the advertisement, which will enable you to obtain comfortable lodgings."

"I am heartily obliged to you, sir," Gregory said, "and will do my best to show that your confidence in me has not been misplaced. When do you wish me to sail? I shall only require a few hours to make my preparations."

"Then in that case I will take a passage, for you and your wife, in the P. and O. that sails, next Thursday, from Southampton. I may say that it is our custom to allow fifteen pounds, for outfit. If you will call again in half an hour, I will hand you the ticket and a cheque for that amount; and you can call, the day before you go, for a letter to our agents there."

Gregory ascended the stairs to his lodging with a far more elastic step than usual. His wife saw at once, as he entered, that he had good news of some sort.

"What is it, Gregory?"

"Thank God, darling, that I have good news to give you, at last! I have obtained a situation, at about a hundred and thirty pounds a year, in Alexandria."

"Alexandria?" she repeated, in surprise.

"Yes. It is the place of all others that I wanted to go to. You see, I understand the language. That is one thing; and what is of infinitely more consequence, it is a place that will suit your health; and you will, I hope, very soon get rid of that nasty cough. I did not tell you at the time, but the doctor I took you to said that this London air did not suit you, but that a warm climate would soon set you up again."

"You are going out there for my sake, Gregory! As if I hadn't brought trouble enough on you, already!"

"I would bear a good deal more trouble for your sake, dear. You need not worry about that."

"And what are you going to do?" she asked.

"I am going to be a sort of useful man--extra clerk, assistant storekeeper, et cetera, et cetera. I like Egypt very much. It will suit me to a T. At any rate, it will be a vast improvement upon this.

"Talking of that, I have forgotten the rashers. I will go and get them, at once. We sha'n't have to depend upon them as our main staple, in future; for fruit is dirt cheap, out there, and one does not want much meat. We shall be able to live like princes, on two pounds ten a week; and besides, this appointment may lead to something better, and we may consider that there is a future before us.

"We are to sail on Thursday. Look! Here are fifteen golden sovereigns. That is for my outfit, and we can begin with luxuries, at once. We shall not want much outfit: half a dozen suits of white drill for myself, and some gowns for you."

"Nonsense, Gregory! I sha'n't want anything. You would not let me sell any of my dresses, and I have half a dozen light ones. I shall not want a penny spent on me."

"Very well; then I will begin to be extravagant, at once. In the first place, I will go down to that confectioner's, round the corner; and we will celebrate my appointment with a cold chicken, and a bottle of port. I shall be back in five minutes."

"Will it be very hot, Gregory?" she asked, as they ate their meal. "Not that I am afraid of heat, you know. I always like summer."

"No. At any rate, not at present. We are going out at the best time of the year, and it will be a comfort, indeed, to change these November fogs for the sunshine of Egypt. You will have four or five months to get strong again, before it begins to be hot. Even in summer, there are cool breezes morning and evening; and of course, no one thinks of going out in the middle of the day. I feel as happy as a schoolboy, at the thought of getting out of this den and this miserable climate, and of basking in the sunshine. We have had a bad beginning, dear, but we have better days before us."

"Thank God, Gregory! I have not cared about myself. But it has been a trial, when your manuscripts have come back, to see you sitting here slaving away; and to know that it is I who have brought you to this."

"I brought myself to it, you obstinate girl! I have pleased myself, haven't I? If a man chooses a path for himself, he must not grumble because he finds it rather rougher than he expected. I have never, for a single moment, regretted what I have done; at any rate, as far as I, myself, am concerned."

"Nor I, for my own sake, dear. The life of a governess is not so cheerful as to cause one regret, at leaving it."

And so, Gregory Hartley and his wife went out to Alexandria, and established themselves in three bright rooms, in the upper part of a house that commanded a view of the port, and the sea beyond it. The outlay required for furniture was small, indeed: some matting for the floors, a few cushions for the divans which ran round the rooms, a bed, a few simple cooking utensils, and a small stock of crockery sufficed.

Mr. Ferguson, the manager of the branch, had at first read the letter that Gregory had brought him with some doubt in his mind, as to the wisdom of his principal, in sending out a man who was evidently a gentleman. This feeling, however, soon wore away; and he found him perfectly ready to undertake any work to which he was set.

There was, indeed, nothing absolutely unpleasant about this. He was at the office early, and saw that the native swept and dusted the offices. The rest of the day he was either in the warehouse, or carried messages, and generally did such odd jobs as were required. A fortnight after his arrival, one of the clerks was kept away by a sharp attack of fever; and as work was pressing, the agent asked Gregory to take his place.

"I will do my best, sir, but I know nothing of mercantile accounts."

"The work will be in no way difficult. Mr. Hardman will take Mr. Parrot's ledgers; and, as you will only have to copy the storekeeper's issues into the books, five minutes will show you the form in which they are entered."

Gregory gave such satisfaction that he was afterwards employed at office work, whenever there was any pressure.

A year and a half passed comfortably. At the end of twelve months, his pay was raised another ten shillings a week.

He had, before leaving England, signed a contract to remain with the firm for two years. He regretted having to do this, as it prevented his accepting any better position, should an opening occur; but he recognized that the condition was a fair one, after the firm paying for his outfit and for two passages. At the end of eighteen months, Gregory began to look about for something better.

"I don't mind my work a bit," he said to his wife, "but, if only for the sake of the boy" (a son had been born, a few months after their arrival), "I must try to raise myself in the scale, a bit. I have nothing to complain about at the office; far from it. From what the manager said to me the other day, if a vacancy occurred in the office, I should have the offer of the berth. Of course, it would be a step; for I know, from the books, that Hardman gets two hundred a year, which is forty more than I do."

"I should like you to get something else, Gregory. It troubles me, to think that half your time is spent packing up goods in the warehouse, and work of that sort; and even if we got less I would much rather, even if we had to stint ourselves, that your work was more suitable to your past; and such that you could associate again with gentlemen, on even terms."

"That does not trouble me, dear, except that I wish you had some society among ladies. However, both for your sake and the boy's, and I own I should like it myself, I will certainly keep on the lookout for some better position. I have often regretted, now, that I did not go in for a commission in the army. I did want to, but my father would not hear of it. By this time, with luck, I might have got my company; and though the pay would not have been more than I get here, it would, with quarters and so on, have been as much, and we should be in a very different social position.

"However, it is of no use talking about that now; and indeed, it is difficult to make plans at all. Things are in such an unsettled condition, here, that there is no saying what will happen.

"You see, Arabi and the military party are practically masters here. Tewfik has been obliged to make concession after concession to them, to dismiss ministers at their orders, and to submit to a series of humiliations. At any moment, Arabi could dethrone him, as he has the whole army at his back, and certainly the larger portion of the population. The revolution could be completed without trouble or bloodshed; but you see, it is complicated by the fact that Tewfik has the support of the English and French governments; and there can be little doubt that the populace regard the movement as a national one, and directed as much against foreign control and interference as against Tewfik, against whom they have no ground of complaint, whatever. On the part of the army and its generals, the trouble has arisen solely on account of the favouritism shown to Circassian officers.

"But once a revolution has commenced, it is certain to widen out. The peasantry are, everywhere, fanatically hostile to foreigners. Attacks have been made upon these in various country districts; and, should Arabi be triumphant, the position of Christians will become very precarious. Matters are evidently seen in that light in England; for I heard today, at the office, that the British and French squadrons are expected here, in a day or two.

"If there should be a row, our position here will be very unpleasant. But I should hardly think that Arabi would venture to try his strength against that of the fleets, and I fancy that trouble will, in the first place, begin in Cairo; both as being the capital of the country, and beyond the reach of armed interference by the Powers. Arabi's natural course would be to consolidate his power throughout the whole of Egypt, leaving Alexandria severely alone, until he had obtained absolute authority elsewhere.

"Anyhow, it will be a satisfaction to have the fleet up; as, at the first rumour of an outbreak, I can get you and baby on board one of the ships lying in harbour. As a simple measure of precaution, I would suggest that you should go out with me, this evening, and buy one of the costumes worn by the native women. It is only a long blue robe, enveloping you from head to foot; and one of those hideous white cotton veils, falling from below the eyes. I will get a bottle of iodine, and you will then only have to darken your forehead and eyelids, and you could pass, unsuspected, through any crowd."

"But what are you going to do, Gregory?"

"I will get a native dress, too; but you must remember that though, if possible, I will come to you, I may not be able to do so; and in case you hear of any tumult going on, you must take Baby, and go down at once to the port. You know enough of the language, now, to be able to tell a boatman to take you off to one of the steamers in the port. As soon as I get away I shall go round the port, and shall find you without difficulty. Still, I do not anticipate any trouble arising without our having sufficient warning to allow me to come and see you settled on board ship; and I can then keep on in the office until it closes, when I can join you again.

"Of course, all this is very remote, and I trust that the occasion will never arise. Still, there is no doubt that the situation is critical, and there is no harm in making our preparations for the worst.

"At any rate, dear, I beg that you will not go out alone, till matters have settled down. We will do the shopping together, when I come back from the office.

"There is one thing that I have reason to be grateful for. Even if the worst comes to the worst, and all Christians have to leave the country, the object for which I came out here has been attained. I have not heard you cough, for months; we have laid by fifty pounds; and I have written some forty stories, long and short, and if we go back I have a fair hope of making my way, for I am sure that I write better than I used to do; and as a good many of the stories are laid in Egypt, the local colouring will give them a distinctive character, and they are more likely to be accepted than those I wrote before. Editors of magazines like a succession of tales of that kind.

"For the present, there is no doubt that the arrival of the fleet will render our position here more comfortable than it is, at present. The mere mob of the town would hesitate to attack Europeans, when they know that three or four thousand sailors could land in half an hour. But on the other hand, Arabi and his generals might see that Alexandria was, after all, the most important position, and that it was here foreign interference must be arrested.

"I should not be surprised if, on the arrival of the ships, Tewfik, Arabi, and all the leaders of the movement come here at once. Tewfik will come to get the support of the fleet. Arabi will come to oppose a landing of troops. The war in the beginning of the century was decided at Alexandria, and it may be so, again. If I were sure that you would come to no harm, and I think the chances of that are very small, I own that all this would be immensely interesting, and a break to the monotony of one's life here.

"One thing is fairly certain. If there is anything like a regular row, all commercial work will come to an end until matters are settled; in which case, even if the offices are not altogether closed, and the whole staff recalled to England, they would be glad enough to allow me to leave, instead of keeping me to the two years' agreement that I signed, before starting."

"I should hardly think that there would be a tumult here, Gregory. The natives all seem very gentle and peaceable, and the army is composed of the same sort of men."

"They have been kept down for centuries, Annie; but there is a deep, fanatical feeling in every Mussulman's nature; and, at any rate, the great proportion of the officers of the army are Mussulmans. As for the Kopts, there would be no danger of trouble from them; but the cry of 'death to the Christians' would excite every Mahomedan in the land, almost to madness.

"Unfortunately, too, there is a general belief, whether truly founded or not, that although the French representative here is apparently acting in concert with ours, he and all the French officials are secretly encouraging Arabi, and will take no active steps, whatever. In that case, it is doubtful whether England would act alone. The jealousy between the two peoples here is intense. For years, the French have been thwarting us at every turn; and they may very well think that, however matters might finally go, our interference would make us so unpopular, in Egypt, that their influence would become completely paramount.

"Supremacy in Egypt has always been the dream of the French. Had it not been for our command of the sea, they would have obtained possession of the country in Napoleon's time. Their intrigues here have, for years, been incessant. Their newspapers in Egypt have continually maligned us, and they believe that the time has come when they will be the real, if not the nominal, rulers of Egypt. The making of the Suez Canal was quite as much a political as a commercial move, and it has certainly added largely to their influence here; though, in this respect, a check was given to them by the purchase of the Khedive's shares in the canal by Lord Beaconsfield; a stroke which, however, greatly increased the enmity of the French here, and heightened their efforts to excite the animosity of the people against us.

"Well, I hope that whatever comes of all this, the question as to whose influence is to be paramount in Egypt will be finally settled. Even French domination would be better than the constant intrigues and trouble, that keep the land in a state of agitation. However, I fancy that it will be the other way, if an English fleet comes here and there is trouble. I don't think we shall back down; and if we begin in earnest, we are sure to win in the long run. France must see that, and if she refuses to act, at the last moment, it can only be because Arabi has it in his power to produce documents showing that he was, all along, acting in accordance with her secret advice."

A week later, on the 20th of May, the squadrons of England and France anchored off Alexandria. The British fleet consisted of eight ironclads and five gunboats, carrying three thousand five hundred and thirty-nine men and one hundred and two guns, commanded by Sir Frederick Seymour. Two days before the approach of the fleet was known at Cairo, the French and English consuls proposed that the Khedive should issue a decree, declaring a general amnesty, and that the president of the council, the minister of war, and the three military pashas should quit the country for a year. This request was complied with.

The ministry resigned, in a body, on the day the fleet arrived; on the ground that the Khedive acquiesced in foreign interference. A great meeting was held of the chief personages of state, and the officers and the representatives of the army at once told the Khedive that they refused to obey his orders, and only recognized the authority of the Porte.

At Alexandria all trade ceased at once, when it became known that the troops were busy strengthening the forts, mounting cannon, and preparing for a resistance. That this was done by the orders of Arabi, who was now practically dictator, there could be no question. The native population became more and more excited, being firmly of belief that no vessels could resist the fire of the heavy guns; and that any attempt on the part of the men-of-war to reduce the place would end in their being sunk, as soon as fighting began.

The office and stores were still kept open, but Gregory's duties were almost nominal; and he and Mr. Parrot, who was also married, were told by the manager that they could spend the greater portion of their time at their homes. Part of Gregory's duties consisted in going off to vessels that came into the port with goods for the firm, and seeing to their being brought on shore; and he had no difficulty in making arrangements, with the captain of one of these ships, for his wife and child to go on board at once, should there be any trouble in the town.

"If you hear any sounds of tumult, Annie, you must disguise yourself at once, and go down to the wharf. I have arranged with our boatman, Allen, whom you know well, as we have often gone out with him for a sail in the evening, that if he hears of an outbreak, he shall bring the boat to the steps at the end of this street, and take you off to the Simoon. Of course, I shall come if I can, but our house is one of those which have been marked off as being most suitable for defence. The men from half a dozen other establishments are to gather there and, as belonging to the house, I must aid in the defence. Of course, if I get sufficient warning, I shall slip on my disguise, and hurry here, and see you down to the boat; and then make my way back to our place. But do not wait for me. If I come here and find that you have gone, I shall know that you have taken the alarm in time, and shall return at once to the office.

"Of course, if the outbreak commences near here, and you find that your way down to the water is blocked, you will simply put on your disguise, stain your face, and wait till I come to you, or till you see that the way to the water is clear. Do not attempt to go out into a mob. There are not likely to be any women among them. However, I do not anticipate a serious riot. They may attack Europeans in the street, but with some fourteen or fifteen men-of-war in the port, they are not likely to make any organized assault. Arabi's agents will hardly precipitate matters in that way. Hard as they may work, it will take a month to get the defences into proper order, and any rising will be merely a spasmodic outbreak of fanaticism. I don't think the danger is likely to be pressing until, finding that all remonstrances are vain, the admiral begins to bombard the port."

"I will do exactly as you tell me, Gregory. If I were alone, I could not bring myself to leave without you, but I must think of the child."

"Quite so, dear. That is the first consideration. Certainly, if it comes to a fight, I should be much more comfortable with the knowledge that you and Baby were in safety."

The Egyptian soldiers were quartered, for the most part, outside the town; and for some days there was danger that they would enter, and attack the European inhabitants; but Arabi's orders were strict that, until he gave the command, they were to remain quiet.

The British admiral sent messages to Tewfik, insisting that the work upon the fortifications should cease, and the latter again issued orders to that effect, but these were wholly disobeyed. He had, indeed, no shadow of authority remaining; and the work continued, night and day. It was, however, as much as possible concealed from observation; but, search lights being suddenly turned upon the forts, at night, showed them to be swarming with men.

Things went on with comparative quiet till the 10th of June, although the attitude of the natives was so threatening that no Europeans left their houses, except on urgent business. On that day, a sudden uproar was heard. Pistols were fired, and the merchants closed their stores and barricaded their doors.

Gregory was in the harbour at the time and, jumping into his boat, rowed to the stairs and hurried home. He found that his wife had already disguised herself, and was in readiness to leave.

The street was full of excited people. He slipped on his own disguise, darkened his face, and then, seizing a moment when the crowd had rushed up the street at the sound of firearms at the other end, hurried down to the boat, and rowed off to the Simoon.

"I must return now, dear," he said. "I can get in at the back gate--I have the key, as the stores are brought in through that way. I do not think that you need feel any uneasiness. The row is evidently still going on, but only a few guns are being fired now. Certainly the rascals cannot be attacking the stores, or you would hear a steady musketry fire. By the sound, the riot is principally in the foreign quarter, where the Maltese, Greeks, and Italians congregate. No doubt the police will soon put it down."

The police, however, made no attempt to do so, and permitted the work of massacre to take place under their eyes. Nearly two hundred Europeans were killed. The majority of these dwelt in the foreign quarter, but several merchants and others were set upon, while making their way to their offices, and some seamen from the fleet were also among the victims. The British consul was dragged out of his carriage, and severely injured. The consulate was attacked, and several Frenchmen were killed in the streets.

The Khedive hurried from Cairo, on hearing the news. Arabi was now sending some of his best regiments to Alexandria, while pretending to be preparing for a raid upon the Suez Canal. He was receiving the assistance of Dervish Pasha, the Sultan's representative; and had been recognized by the Sultan, who conferred upon him the highest order of Medjidie.

In the meantime a conference had been held by the Powers, and it was decided that the Sultan should be entrusted with the work of putting down the insurrection, he being nominally lord paramount of Egypt. But conditions were laid down, as to his army leaving the country afterwards.

The Sultan sent an evasive reply. The Khedive was too overwhelmed at the situation to take any decisive course. France hesitated, and England determined that, with or without allies, she would take the matter in hand.

Chapter 2: The Rising In Alexandria.

The harbour was full of merchant ships, as there were, at present, no means of getting their cargoes unloaded. The native boatmen had, for the most part, struck work; and had they been willing to man their boats, they must have remained idle as, in view of the situation, the merchants felt that their goods were much safer on board ship than they would be in their magazines. It was settled, therefore that, for the present, Annie and the child should remain on board the Simoon, while Gregory should take up his residence at the office.

The fleet in the harbour was now an imposing one. Not only were the English and French squadrons there, but some Italian ships of war had arrived, and a United States cruiser; and on the 7th of July, Sir Beauchamp Seymour sent in a decisive message, that he should commence a bombardment of the fort unless the strengthening of the fortifications was, at once, abandoned. No heed was taken of the intimation and, three days later, he sent an ultimatum demanding the cessation of work, and the immediate surrender of the forts nearest to the entrance to the harbour; stating that, if these terms were not complied with in twenty-four hours, the bombardment would commence.

Already the greater part of the European inhabitants had left the town, and taken up their quarters in the merchant ships that had been engaged for the purpose. A few, however, of the bankers and merchants determined to remain. These gathered in the bank, and in Mr. Ferguson's house, to which the most valuable goods in other establishments were removed. They had an ample supply of firearms, and believed that they could hold out for a considerable time. They were convinced that the Egyptian troops would not, for an hour, resist the fire that would be opened upon them, but would speedily evacuate the town; and that, therefore, there would only be the mob to be encountered, and this but for a short time, as the sailors would land as soon as the Egyptian troops fled.

The Egyptians, on the other hand, believed absolutely in their ability to destroy the fleet.

Both parties were wrong. The Europeans greatly undervalued the fighting powers of the Egyptians, animated as they were by confidence in the strength of the defences, by their number, and by their fanaticism; while the Egyptians similarly undervalued the tremendous power of our ships.

That evening, and the next morning, the port presented an animated appearance. Boats were putting off with those inhabitants who had waited on, hoping that the Egyptians would at the last moment give in. Many of the merchantmen had already cleared out. Others were getting up sail. Smoke was rising from the funnels of all the men of war.

An express boat had brought, from France, orders that the French fleet were to take no part in the proceedings, but were to proceed at once to Port Said. This order excited the bitterest feeling of anger and humiliation among the French officers and sailors, who had relied confidently in taking their part in the bombardment; and silently their ships, one by one, left the port. The Italian and American vessels remained for a time; and as the British ships followed, in stately order, their crews manned the rigging and vociferously cheered our sailors, who replied as heartily.

All, save the British men of war, took up their stations well out at sea, in a direction where they would be out of the fire of the Egyptian batteries. It was not until nine o'clock in the evening that the two last British ships, the Invincible and Monarch, steamed out of port. At half-past four in the morning the ships got under weigh again, and moved to the positions marked out for them.

Fort Mex, and the batteries on the sand hills were faced by the Penelope, the Monarch, and the Invincible; the Alexandra, the Superb, and the Sultan faced the harbour forts, Ada, Pharos, and Ras-el-Teen; the Temeraire and Inflexible prepared to aid the Invincible in her attack on Fort Mex, or to support the three battleships engaged off the port, as might be required; and the five gunboats moved away towards Fort Marabout, which lay some distance to the west of the town.

At seven o'clock, the Alexandra began the engagement by firing a single gun. Then the whole fleet opened fire, the Egyptian artillerymen replying with great steadiness and resolution. There was scarcely a breath of wind, and the ships were, in a few instants, shrouded in their own smoke; and were frequently obliged to cease firing until this drifted slowly away, to enable them to aim their guns. The rattle of the machine guns added to the din. Midshipmen were sent aloft, and these signalled down to the deck the result of each shot, so that the gunners were enabled to direct their fire, even when they could not see ten yards beyond the muzzle of the guns.

In a short time, the forts and batteries showed how terrible was the effect of the great shells. The embrasures were torn and widened, there were great gaps in the masonry of the buildings, and the hail of missiles from the machine guns swept every spot near the Egyptian guns; and yet, Arabi's soldiers did not flinch but, in spite of the number that fell, worked their guns as fast as ever.

Had they been accustomed to the huge Krupp guns in their batteries, the combat would have been more equal; and although the end would have been the same, the ships must have suffered terribly. Fortunately, the Egyptian artillerymen had little experience in the working of these heavy pieces, and their shot in almost every case flew high--sometimes above the masts, sometimes between them, but in only a few instances striking the hull. With their smaller guns they made good practice, but though the shot from these pieces frequently struck, they dropped harmlessly from the iron sides, and only those that entered through the portholes effected any damage.

The Condor, under Lord Charles Beresford, was the first to engage Fort Marabout; and, for a time, the little gunboat was the mark of all the guns of the fort. But the other four gunboats speedily came to her assistance, and effectually diverted the fire of the fort from the ships that were engaging Fort Mex.

At eight o'clock the Monarch, having silenced the fort opposite to her, and dismounted the guns, joined the Inflexible and Penelope in their duel with Fort Mex; and by nine o'clock all the guns were silenced except four, two of which were heavy rifled guns, well sheltered. In spite of the heavy fire from the three great ships, the Egyptian soldiers maintained their fire, the officers frequently exposing themselves to the bullets of the machine guns by leaping upon the parapet, to ascertain the effect of their own shot.

The harbour forts were, by this time, crumbling under the shot of four warships opposed to them. The Pharos suffered most heavily, and its guns were absolutely silenced; while the fire from the other two forts slackened, considerably. At half-past ten, it was seen that the Ras-el-Teen Palace, which lay behind the fort, was on fire; and, half an hour later, the fire from that fort and Fort Ada almost died out.

The British Admiral now gave the signal to cease firing, and as the smoke cleared away, the effects of the five hours' bombardment were visible. The forts and batteries were mere heaps of ruins. The guns could be made out, lying dismounted, or standing with their muzzles pointing upwards.

The ships had not come out scatheless, but their injuries were, for the most part, immaterial; although rigging had been cut away, bulwarks smashed, and sides dinted. One gun of the Penelope had been disabled, and two of the Alexandra. Only five men had been killed, altogether, and twenty-seven wounded.

No sign was made of surrender, and an occasional fire was kept up on the forts, to prevent the Egyptians from repairing damages. At one o'clock, twelve volunteers from the Invincible started to destroy the guns of Fort Mex. Their fire had ceased, and no men were to be seen in the fort; but they might have been lying in wait to attack any landing party.

On nearing the shore, the surf was found to be too heavy for the boat to pass through it, and Major Tulloch and six men swam ashore and entered the fort. It was found to be deserted, and all the guns but two ten-inch pieces dismounted. The charges of gun cotton, that the swimmers brought ashore with them, were placed in the cannon; and their muzzles blown off. After performing this very gallant service, the little party swam back to their boat.

The British admiral's position was now a difficult one. There were no signs of surrender; for aught he could tell, fifteen thousand Egyptian troops might be lying round the ruined forts, or in the town hard by, in readiness to oppose a landing. That these troops were not to be despised was evident, by the gallantry with which they had fought their guns. This force would be aided by the mass of the population; and it would be hazardous, indeed, to risk the loss of fifteen hundred men, and the reversal of the success already gained.

At the same time, it was painful to think that the Europeans on shore might be massacred, and the whole city destroyed, by the exasperated troops and fanatical population. It was known that the number of Englishmen there was not large, two or three hundred at most; but there was a much larger number of the lower class of Europeans--port labourers, fishermen, petty shopkeepers, and others--who had preferred taking their chance to the certainty of losing all their little possessions, if they left them.

Anxiously the glasses of those on board the ships were directed towards the shore, in hopes of seeing the white flag hoisted, or a boat come out with it flying; but there were no signs of the intentions of the defenders, and the fleet prepared to resume the action in the morning. Fort Marabout, and several of the batteries on the shore, were still unsilenced; and two heavy guns, mounted on the Moncrieff system (by which the gun rose to a level of the parapet, fired, and instantly sank again), had continued to fire all day, in spite of the efforts of the fleet to silence them.

Next morning, however, there was a long heavy swell, and the ironclads were rolling too heavily for anything like accuracy of aim; but as parties of men could be seen, at work in the Moncrieff battery, fire was opened upon them, and they speedily evacuated it.

All night, the Palace of Ras-el-Teen burned fiercely. Another great fire was raging in the heart of the town, and anxiety for those on shore, for the time, overpowered the feeling of exultation at the victory that had been gained.

At half-past ten a white flag was hoisted at the Pharos battery, and all on board watched, with deep anxiety, what was to follow. Lieutenant Lambton at once steamed into the fort, in the Bittern, to enquire if the government were ready to surrender. It was three o'clock before he steamed out again, with the news that his mission was fruitless; and that the white flag had only been hoisted, by the officer in command of the fort, to enable himself and his men to get away unmolested. Lieutenant Lambton had obtained an interview with the military governor, on behalf of the government, and told him that we were not at war with Egypt, and had simply destroyed the forts because they threatened the fleet; that we had no conditions to impose upon the government, but were ready to discuss any proposal; and that the troops would be allowed to evacuate the forts, with the honour of war.

It was most unfortunate that the fleet had not brought with them two or three thousand troops. Had they done so they could have landed at once, and saved a great portion of the town from destruction; but as he had no soldiers, the admiral could not land a portion of the sailors, as the large Egyptian force in the town, which was still protected by a number of land batteries, might fall upon them.

At five o'clock the Helicon was sent in to say that white flags would not be noticed, unless hoisted by authority; and if they were again shown, the British admiral would consider them the signs of a general surrender. It was a long time before the Helicon returned, with news that no communication had been received from the enemy, that the barracks and arsenals seemed to be deserted and, as far as could be seen, the whole town was evacuated.

As evening wore on, fresh fires broke out in all parts of the town, and a steam pinnace was sent ashore to ascertain, if possible, the state of affairs. Mr. Ross, a contractor for the supply of meat to the fleet, volunteered to accompany it.

The harbour was dark and deserted. Not a light was to be seen in the houses near the water. The crackling of the flames could be heard, with an occasional crash of falling walls and roofs. On nearing the landing place the pinnace paused, for two or three minutes, for those on board to listen; and as all was quiet, steamed alongside. Mr. Ross jumped ashore, and the boat backed off a few yards.

A quarter of an hour later, he returned. That quarter of the town was entirely deserted, and he had pushed on until arrested by a barrier of flames. The great square was on fire, from end to end; the European quarter generally was in flames; and he could see, by the litter that strewed the streets, that the houses had been plundered before being fired.

When daylight broke, a number of Europeans could be seen, at the edge of the water, in the harbour. Boats were at once lowered; and the crews, armed to the teeth, rowed ashore. Here they found about a hundred Europeans, many of them wounded. When rioting had broken out they had, as arranged, assembled at the Anglo-Egyptian Bank. They were taken off to the merchant steamers, lying behind the fleet, and their information confirmed the worst forebodings of the fugitives there.

When the first gun of the bombardment was fired, Gregory had gone up, with the other employees, to the top of the house; where they commanded a view over the whole scene of action. After the first few minutes' firing they could see but little, for batteries and ships were, alike, shrouded in smoke. At first, there had been some feeling of insecurity, and a doubt whether a shot too highly aimed might not come into the town; but the orders to abstain carefully from injuring the city had been well observed, and, except to the Palace and a few houses close to the water's edge, no damage was done.

Towards evening, all those who had resolved to remain behind gathered at the Anglo-Egyptian Bank, or at Mr. Ferguson's. But a consultation was held later, and it was agreed that next morning all should go to the bank, which was a far more massive building, with fewer entrances, and greater facilities for defence. When the town was quiet, therefore, all were employed in transferring valuable goods there, and the house was then locked up and left to its fate. Against a mere rising of the rabble the latter might have been successfully defended; but there was little doubt that, before leaving the town, the troops would join the fanatics; and in that case, a house not built with a special eye for defence could hardly hope to hold out, against persistent attack.

The bank, however, might hope to make a stout defence. It was built of massive stone, the lower windows were barred, and a strong barricade was built against the massive doors. A hundred and twenty resolute men, all well armed, could hold it against even a persistent attack, if unsupported by artillery.

Early in the afternoon, all felt that the critical moment had approached. Throughout the night a fire had raged, from the opposite side of the great square; where several deserted houses had been broken into, and plundered, by the mob; but the soldiers stationed in the square had prevented any further disorder.

Now, however, parties of troops from the forts began to pour in. It was already known that their losses had been very heavy, and that many of the forts had been destroyed. Soon they broke up and, joining the mob, commenced the work of pillage. Doors were blown in, shutters torn off and, with wild yells and shouts, the native population poured in. The work of destruction had begun.

The garrison of the bank saw many Europeans, hurrying, too late, to reach that shelter, murdered before their eyes. In the Levantine quarter, the cracking of pistols and the shouts of men showed that the work of massacre was proceeding there. Soon every door of the houses in the great square was forced in, and ere long great numbers of men, loaded with spoil of all kinds, staggered out.

So far the bank had been left alone; but it was now its turn, and the mob poured down upon it. As they came up, a sharp fire broke out from every window, answered by a discharge of muskets and pistols from the crowd. Here men fell fast, but they had been worked up to such a pitch of excitement, and fanaticism, that the gaps were more than filled by fresh comers.

All the afternoon and evening the fight continued. In vain the mob endeavoured to break down the massive iron bars of the windows, and batter in the doors. Although many of the defenders were wounded, and several killed; by the fire from the windows of the neighbouring houses, and from the road; their steady fire, at the points most hotly attacked, drove their assailants back again and again.

At twelve o'clock the assault slackened. The soldiers had long left and, so far as could be seen from the roof of the house, had entirely evacuated the town; and as this fact became known to the mob, the thought of the consequences of their action cooled their fury; for they knew that, probably, the troops would land from the British ships next day. Each man had his plunder to secure, and gradually the crowd melted away.

By two o'clock all was quiet; and although, occasionally, fresh fires burst out in various quarters of the town, there could be little doubt that the great bulk of the population had followed the example of the army, and had left the city.

Then the besieged gathered in the great office on the ground floor; and, as it was agreed that there would be probably no renewal of the attack, they quietly left the house, locking the doors after them, and made their way down to the shore. They believed that they were the only survivors, but when they reached the end of the town, they found that the building of the Credit Lyonnais had also been successfully defended, though the Ottoman Bank had been overpowered, and all within it, upwards of a hundred in number, killed.

Gregory had done his full share in the defence, and received a musket ball in the shoulder. His wife had passed a terrible time, while the conflagration was raging, and it was evident that the populace had risen, and were undoubtedly murdering as well as burning and plundering; and her delight was indeed great when she saw her husband, with others, approaching in a man-of-war's boat. The fact that one arm was in a sling was scarcely noticed, in her joy at his return, alive.

"Thank God, you are safe!" she said, as he came up the gangway. "It has been an awful time, and I had almost given up hope of ever seeing you alive, again."

"I told you, dear, that I felt confident we could beat off the scum of the town. Of course it was a sharp fight, but there was never any real danger of their breaking in. We only lost about half a dozen, out of nearly a hundred and twenty, and some twenty of us were wounded. My injury is not at all serious, and I shall soon be all right again. It is only a broken collarbone.

"However, it has been a terrible time. The great square, and almost all the European quarter, have been entirely destroyed. The destruction of property is something frightful, and most of the merchants will be absolutely ruined. Fortunately, our firm were insured, pretty well up to the full value."

"But I thought that they could not break in there?"

"We all moved out, the evening before, to the Anglo-Egyptian Bank. The town was full of troops, and we doubted whether we could hold the place. As the bank was much stronger, we agreed that it was better to join the two garrisons and fight it out there; and I am very glad we did so, for I doubt whether we could have defended our place, successfully."

Mr. Ferguson and the clerks had all come off with Gregory to the Simoon, on board which there was plenty of accommodation for them, as it was not one of the ships that had been taken up for the accommodation of the fugitives. Among the party who came on board was a doctor, who had taken part in the defence of the bank, and had attended to the wounded as the fight went on. He did so again that evening, and told Gregory that in a month he would, if he took care of himself, be able to use his arm again.

The next morning there was a consultation in the cabin. Mr. Ferguson had gone on shore, late the previous afternoon; as five hundred sailors had been landed, and had returned in the evening.

"It is certain," he said, "that nothing can be done until the place is rebuilt. The sailors are busy at work, fighting the fire, but there are continued fresh outbreaks. The bulk of the natives have left; but Arabi, before marching out, opened the prisons and released the convicts; and these and the scum of the town are still there, and continue the destruction whenever they get a chance. A score or two have been caught red handed and shot down, and a number of others have been flogged.

"Another batch of sailors will land this morning, and order will soon be restored; unless Arabi, who is encamped, with some ten thousand men, two miles outside the town, makes an effort to recover the place. I don't think he is likely to do so, for now that the European houses have all been destroyed, there would be no longer any reluctance to bombard the town itself; and even if Arabi did recover it, he would very soon be shelled out.

"By the way, a larger number of people have been saved than was imagined. Several of the streets in the poor European quarters have escaped. The people barricaded the ends, and fought so desperately that their assailants drew off, finding it easier to plunder the better quarters. Even if the mob had overcome the resistance of the defenders of the lanes, they would have found little worth taking there; so some five hundred Europeans have escaped, and these will be very useful.

"Charley Beresford has charge of the police arrangements on shore, and he has gangs of them at work fighting the fire, and all the natives are forced to assist. The wires will be restored in a day or two, when I shall, of course, telegraph for instructions; and have no doubt that Mr. Partridge will send out orders to rebuild as soon as order is completely restored.

"I imagine that most of us will be recalled home, until that is done. Even if the place were intact, no business would be done, as our goods would be of little use to the navy or army; for no doubt an army will be sent. Arabi is as powerful as ever, but now that we have taken the matter in hand, it must be carried through.

"At any rate, there will be no clerks' work to be done here. The plans for a new building will naturally be prepared at home, and a foreman of works sent out. It is a bad job for us all, but as it is we must not complain; for we have escaped with our lives, and I hope that, in six months, we may open again. However, we can form no plans, until I receive instructions from home."

Gregory did not go ashore for the next week, by which time order had been completely restored, the fires extinguished, and the streets made, at least, passable. The sailors had been aided by a battalion of marines, which had been telegraphed for from Malta by the admiral, before the bombardment began. The Khedive had returned to Has-el-Teen, which had only been partly destroyed, as soon as the blue-jackets entered. His arrival put an end to all difficulties, as henceforward our operations were carried on, nominally, by his orders.

The American ships entered the harbour the next day and the naval officer in command landed one hundred and twenty-five men, to assist our blue-jackets; and, two days later, the 38th Regiment and a battalion of the 60th Rifles arrived.

The shops in the streets that escaped destruction gradually reopened, and country people began to bring in supplies. Many of the refugees on board the ships sailed for home, while those who found their houses still standing, although everything in them was smashed and destroyed, set to work to make them habitable. Soon temporary sheds were erected, and such portions of the cargoes on board the merchantmen as would be likely to find a sale, were landed.

Before the end of the week, Mr. Ferguson had received an answer to his telegram. Three days previously he had received a wire: "Have written fully." The letter came via Marseilles. After congratulations at the escape of himself and the staff, Mr. Partridge wrote:

"As you say that the house and warehouse are entirely destroyed, with all contents, there can be nothing for you and the clerks to do; and you had best return, at once, to England. I will make the best arrangements that I can for you all.

"As I have a plan of the ground, I have already instructed an architect to prepare a sketch for rebuilding, on a larger scale than before. The insurance companies are sending out agents to verify claims. Looking at your last report, it seems to me that the loss of goods, as well as that of buildings, will be fully covered. Should any of the staff determine to remain in Alexandria, and to take their chance of finding something to do, you are authorized to pay them three months' salary, and to promise to reinstate them, as soon as we reopen.

"I anticipate no further disturbances, whatever. A strong force is being sent out, and there can be no doubt that Arabi will be crushed, as soon as it is ready to take the field."

Other directions followed, but these were only amplifications of those mentioned.

"What do you think, Annie?" Gregory said, when Ferguson had read to his staff that portion of the letter that concerned them. "Shall we take the three months' pay and remain here, or shall we go back to England?"

"What do you think, yourself?"

"There are two lights in which to look at it, Annie. First, which would be best for us? And secondly, which shall we like best? Of course, the first is the more difficult point to decide. You see, Partridge doesn't say that we shall be kept on; he only says that he will do his best for us. I don't think that there is any chance of his keeping us on at full pay. If he intended to do so, it would have been cheaper for him to give us our pay here, in which case he would save our passages back to England and out again. I think we could not reckon on getting anything like full pay, while we were in England, and you know I have lost faith in my literary powers. I think I have improved, but I certainly should not like, after our last experience, to trust to that for keeping us, in England.

"The question is, what should I do here? There will be plenty of openings, for men who can speak the native language, as labour overseers. The contractors for food for the army will want men of that sort; and as I know several of them, through my work in the port and being in Partridge's house, I have no doubt I could get employment that way, and carry on very well till trade is open again, and obtain then a good deal better berth than they would offer me. No doubt, one could get employment in the transport or commissariat of the army, when it comes out. That will be a thing to think seriously of.

"My objections to that are personal ones. In the first place, it would lead to nothing when the affair is over. In the second place, I should be certain to meet men I knew at Harrow, or at the University, or since then; and I own that I should shrink from that. As Gregory Hilliard, I don't mind carrying a parcel or helping to load a dray; but I should not like, as Gregory Hartley, to be known to be doing that sort of thing. Personally I feel not the smallest humiliation in doing so, but I don't think it would be fair to Geoffrey. I should not like it myself, if I were an earl, for fellows who knew him to be able to say that my brother was knocking about in Egypt as an interpreter, or mule driver, or something of that sort. That certainly has to be taken into consideration.

"It is not likely that I should get any sort of berth that an officer would be appointed to, for every officer in the army, whose regiment is not coming out here, will be rushing to the War Office to apply for any sort of appointment that would enable him to come out to the war.

"Again, it is almost certain that, when this business is over--and I don't suppose it will last long, after we get an army out here--a fresh Egyptian force will be raised. You may be sure that the greater portion of our troops will be hurried back, as soon as it is over; and that, as the present Egyptian army will be altogether smashed up, it will be absolutely necessary that there should be a force, of some kind or other, that can put a stop to this Mahdi fellow's doings. He has overrun half the Soudan, and inflicted serious defeats on the Egyptian troops there. He has captured a considerable portion of Kordofan; and, of course, it is owing to his insurrection that those rows have occurred down at the Red Sea, where our men have been fighting.

"It is likely enough that they may appoint some British officers to the new force, and I might get a fair position on it. They will want interpreters there. Promotion will be sure to be rapid, and I might have opportunities of distinguishing myself, and get an appointment where I could, without discrediting it, take my own name again.

"These are only among the things that might be; but at the worst, I am certain to get some sort of post, at Alexandria, which would enable us to live without trenching upon the three months' pay that is offered me; and then, if I could see nothing better, I could return to Partridge's employment when they reopen here, and I have no doubt that they would improve my position.

"I don't think that Parrott is likely to come back again. The climate did not suit him, and he is always having attacks of fever. Ferguson has, I know, for he told me so, reported very favourably about my work to headquarters; and, as I have been wounded in defence of the house, I have an additional claim. The others will, of course, be moved up, and I should get the junior clerkship--no advance in the way of remuneration, but a great improvement in position.

"So I think we had better accept the three months' pay, and take our chances. At any rate, there will be no fear of another disturbance at Alexandria. The mob have had a lesson here that they are not likely to forget, and I should fancy that, although we may withdraw the army, two or three regiments will be left here, and at Cairo, for a long time to come. We should be fools, indeed, if we threw away the money that this business will cost, before it is over, and let Egypt slip altogether out of our fingers again. France has forfeited her right to have anything to say in the matter. In our hands it will be a very valuable possession, and certainly our stay here would be of inestimable advantage to the natives, as we should govern Egypt as we govern India, and do away with the tyranny, oppression, and extortion of the native officials."

Mrs. Hilliard quite agreed with her husband; and accordingly, the next day, Gregory informed Mr. Ferguson that he would accept the three months' pay, and his discharge; and should, at any rate for a time, remain in Alexandria.

"I think you are right, Hilliard. There will be lots of opportunities here for a man who knows the language as you do. If you like, I will speak to Mr. Ross. I saw him yesterday, in the town, and he said that two of his assistants had been killed. He has already obtained a fresh contract, and a very heavy one, for the supply of meat for the troops as they arrive; and I have no doubt he would be very glad to engage you, on good terms, though the engagement could only be made during the stay of the army here."

"Thank you, sir. I shall be much obliged to you if you will do so; and I would rather that the engagement should be a temporary one, on both sides, so that I should be free to leave, at a few days' notice."

The contractor, after a chat with Gregory Hilliard, was glad to secure his services. He saw the advantage that it would be to have a gentleman to represent him, with the army, instead of an agent of a very different kind. Other men would do to purchase animals from the Arabs, or to receive them at the ports when they were brought over from Spain and Italy; but it required a variety of qualities, difficult to obtain in the same person, to act as agent with the army. Gregory was exactly the man required, and he was soon on excellent terms, both with the officers of the quartermaster's department, and the contractors who brought in the cargoes of cattle.

As soon as the bulk of the army sailed from Alexandria to Ismailia, he made the latter town his headquarters; and by his power of work, his tact and good temper, he smoothed away all the difficulties that so often arise between contractors and army officials, and won the goodwill of all with whom he came in contact. When the army removed to Cairo, after the defeat and dispersal of Arabi's force at Tel-el-Kebir, Gregory established himself there, and was joined by his wife and child.

As soon as matters settled down, and a considerable portion of the troops had left Egypt, Mr. Ross said to him:

"Of course, our operations in the future will be comparatively small, Mr. Hilliard, and I must reduce my staff."

"I quite understand that," Gregory replied, "and I knew that I should have to look out for something else."

"I shall be very sorry to lose your services, which have indeed been invaluable, and I am sure have been appreciated, by the army men as much as by myself. I certainly should not think of your leaving me, until you get another berth; and it is only because I see an opening, if you like to take it, that might lead to something better, in the future, than anything I can offer you.

"You know that Colonel Hicks arrived here, a fortnight since, and is to take command of the Egyptian army, and to have the rank of pasha. Several officers have received appointments on his staff. He will shortly be going up to Khartoum. I was speaking to him yesterday, and as I was doing so, two of the officers of Wolseley's staff came in. A question of supplies came up, and I mentioned your name, and said that I thought that you were the very man for him, that you were master of Arabic, and an excellent organizer; and, a very important matter where there were so few English officers together, a gentleman.

"One of the officers, who knew the work that you had done, at once confirmed what I had said, and declared that Wolseley's quartermaster general would speak as warmly in your favour. Hicks told me that, until he got up to Khartoum, he could not say what arrangements would be made for the supplies; but that he would, at any rate, be very glad to have you with him, in the capacity of a first-class interpreter, and for general service with the staff, with the temporary rank of captain; with the special view of your services in organizing a supply train, when he moved forward. I said that I should speak to you, and ascertain your views."

"I am very much obliged to you, indeed. I must take twenty-four hours to think it over. Of course I shall be guided, to some extent, by the question whether the appointment would be likely to be a permanent one."

"That I have no doubt. Indeed, Hicks said as much. I asked him the question, and he replied, 'I can hardly make a permanent appointment now, as I am not quite in the saddle; but I have no doubt, from what you say, that Mr. Hilliard will make a valuable officer; and after our first campaign I shall, without difficulty, be able to obtain him a permanent appointment in the Egyptian army.'"

"I thank you, most heartily, Mr. Ross. It seems to me a grand opening. There is no doubt that, as our troops leave, the Egyptian army will be thoroughly reorganized; and there will be many openings for a man who knows the language, and is ready to work hard; and, no doubt, the regiments will be largely officered by Englishmen."

That evening, Gregory had a long talk with his wife.

"I don't like the thought of leaving you, even for a time; but no doubt, when the Mahdi is settled with, you will be able to join me at Khartoum; which, I believe, is by no means an unpleasant place to live in. Of course, I shall come down and take you up. It is a splendid chance, and will really be my reinstatement. Once holding a commission in the Egyptian army, I should resume my own name, and have the future to look forward to. Entering the service as the army is being reorganized, I should have a great pull, and should be sure to get on, and be able to write to my father and brother, without its appearing that I wanted help of any kind."

There were tears in Mrs. Hilliard's eyes, but she said bravely:

"I quite agree with you, Gregory. Of course, I shall be sorry that you should leave me, even for a time; but it seems to me, too, that it is a grand opportunity. You know what a pain it was to me, all the time that we were at Alexandria, that you should be working in such a subordinate position. Now there is an opening by which you will be in a position, ere long, more worthy of your birth and education. I have no doubt I shall get on very well, here. I believe that Hicks Pasha has brought his wife out with him here; and some of his officers will, no doubt, be married men also; and as the wife of one of his officers I shall, of course, get to know them. I should be selfish, indeed, to say a word to keep you back, and shall be delighted to think of you associating with other English gentlemen, as one of themselves."

And so it was settled. The next day, Gregory called on Hicks Pasha. The latter had made some more enquiries respecting him, and was well pleased with his appearance.

"I have already a gentleman named as staff interpreter, Mr. Hilliard, but I can appoint you, at once, interpreter to the quartermaster's department, attached to my personal staff for the present. I can tell you that the Egyptian army will be largely increased, and I shall be able, after a time, to procure you a better appointment. When we have once defeated the Mahdi, and restored order, there will be many appointments open for the reorganization of the Soudan. There are a good many preparations to be made, before I leave, which I expect to do in the course of three or four weeks; and I shall be glad of your assistance, as soon as you can join us."

"I shall be glad to do so, at once. Mr. Ross has kindly told me that I am at liberty to resign my post, under him, as soon as I like."

"Very well, then. You may consider yourself appointed, today. My intention is to go first to Suakim, and thence up to Berber, and so by water to Khartoum."

The next three weeks passed rapidly. Gregory was, on the following day, introduced to the various officers of Hicks Pasha's staff; and, on learning that he was married, the general asked him and his wife to dinner, to make the acquaintance of Lady Hicks, and the wives of three of his fellow officers.

At last, the time came for parting. Annie bore up well; and although, when alone, she had many a cry, she was always cheerful, and went with her husband and saw him off, at the station of the railway for Ismailia, without breaking down badly.

Chapter 3: A Terrible Disaster.

It was an anxious time for his wife, after Gregory started. He, and those with him, had left with a feeling of confidence that the insurrection would speedily be put down. The garrison of Khartoum had inflicted several severe defeats upon the Mahdi, but had also suffered some reverses. This, however, was only to be expected, when the troops under him were scarcely more disciplined than those of the Dervishes, who had always been greatly superior in numbers, and inspired with a fanatical belief in their prophet. But with British officers to command, and British officers to drill and discipline the troops, there could be no fear of a recurrence of these disasters.

Before they started, Mrs. Hilliard had become intimate with the wife of Hicks Pasha, and those of the other married officers, and had paid visits with them to the harems of high Turkish officials. Visits were frequently exchanged, and what with these, and the care of the boy, her time was constantly occupied. She received letters from Gregory, as frequently as possible, after his arrival at Omdurman, and until he set out with the main body, under the general, on the way to El Obeid.

Before starting, he said he hoped that, in another two months, the campaign would be over, El Obeid recovered, and the Mahdi smashed up; and that, as soon as they returned to Khartoum, Hicks Pasha would send for his wife and daughters, and the other married officers for their wives; and, of course, she would accompany them.

"I cannot say much for Omdurman,"

Chapter 4: An Appointment.

Soon after ten, next morning, Gregory took up his place near the entrance to Lord Cromer's house. It was just eleven when Mr. Murray came down.

"Come in with me," he said. "Lord Cromer will see you. He acknowledged at once, when I told him your story, that you had a strong claim for employment. The only point was as to your age. I told him that you were past sixteen, and a strong, active fellow, and that you had had a good physical training."

They had now entered the house.

"Don't be nervous, Hilliard; just talk to him as you would to me. Many a good man has lost an appointment, from being nervous and embarrassed when he applied for it."

"You want to go up to the Soudan?" Lord Cromer said. "Mr. Murray has told me your reasons for wanting to go. Though I fear it is hardly likely that any new light can be thrown upon the fate of Hicks Pasha, and his officers, I feel that it is a natural desire on your part."

"It was my mother's last wish, sir, and she took particular pains in my training, and education, to fit me for the work."

"You speak Arabic, and the tongue of the Negro blacks, almost as well as English?"

"Yes, sir. Arabic quite as well, and the other nearly as well, I think."

"What sort of post did you hope to get, Mr. Hilliard?"

"Any post for which I may be thought fit, sir. I do not care at all about pay. My mother saved sufficient to keep me for two or three years. I would rather enlist than not go up at all, though I fear I am too young to be accepted; but I am quite ready to turn my hand to anything."

"If it concerned the Egyptian government, or a civil appointment, I would certainly exert my influence in your favour; but this expedition is in the hands of the military. However, if you will take a seat in the anteroom, and do not mind waiting there for an hour or two, I will see what can be done."

"Thank you very much indeed, sir."

Mr. Murray, as they went out together, said:

"I think that you have made a good impression. He told me, before, that it was a matter for Sir Herbert Kitchener, and that he was expecting him in a quarter of an hour. Come and tell me the result, when you leave."

Ten minutes later, a tall man, whom Gregory recognized at once as Sir Herbert Kitchener, whose figure was well known in Cairo, passed through the room; all who were sitting there rising to their feet, as he did so. He acknowledged the salute mechanically, as if scarcely conscious of it. An hour later a bell was rung, and an attendant went into the room. He returned directly.

"Mr. Hilliard," he said.

Gregory rose, and passed through the door held open. Kitchener was sitting at the table with Lord Cromer. His keen glance seemed, to Gregory, to take him in from head to foot, and then to look at something far beyond him.

"This is Mr. Hilliard," Lord Cromer said, "the young gentleman I have spoken of."

"You want to go up?" the general said shortly, in Arabic.

"Yes, sir."

"You do not mind in what capacity you go?"

"No, sir; I am ready to do anything."

"To work on the railway, or in the transport?"

"Yes, sir. Though I would rather not be on the railway, for the railway cannot get on as fast as the troops; but I would enlist in one of the English regiments, if they would take me."

"And you speak the language of the Nubian blacks?"

The question was put in that language.

"Yes; I do not think I speak it quite as well as Arabic, but I speak it fairly."

"Do you think that you could stand the fatigue?--no child's play, you know."

"I can only say that I hope I can, sir. I have been accustomed to take long walks, and spend an hour a day in gymnastic exercises, and I have had lessons in fencing."

"Can you use a pistol?"

"Yes, fairly; I have practised a good deal with it."

"You are most fitted for an interpreter," the general said, speaking this time in English. "Now the North Staffordshire have come down, there are no British regiments up there, and of course the British officers in the Egyptian army all speak Arabic, to some extent. However, I will send you up to Dongola. Either General Hunter, or Colonel Wingate, of the Intelligence Department, may be able to find some use for you; and when the British troops go up, you can be attached to one of their regiments as their interpreter. You will have temporary rank of lieutenant, with, of course, the pay of that rank.

"Captain Ewart came with me, Lord Cromer. I left him in the anteroom. If you will allow me, I will call him in.

"Captain Ewart," he said, as that officer entered, "Mr. Hilliard here has just received the temporary rank of lieutenant, in the Egyptian army, and is going up to join General Hunter, at Dongola. You are starting in three days, are you not?

"I shall be glad if you will take him under your wing, as far as you go. He speaks the languages, Negro as well as Arabic. You can tell him what kit he had better take, and generally mother him.

"That is all, Mr. Hilliard. Call at my quarters, the day after tomorrow, for the letters for General Hunter and Colonel Wingate."

"I thank you most deeply, sir," Gregory began, but the Sirdar gave a little impatient wave with his hand.

"Thank you most deeply also, Lord Cromer!" Gregory said with a bow, and then left the room.

Captain Ewart remained there for another ten minutes. When he came out, he nodded to Gregory.

"Will you come with me?" he said. "I am going to the bank. I shall not be there many minutes, and we can then have a talk together."

"Thank you, sir! I am going to the bank too. It was Mr. Murray who first spoke to Lord Cromer about me."

"You could not have had a better introduction. Well, you won't have very long to get ready for the start--that is, if you have not begun to prepare for it. However, there is no rush at present, therefore I have no doubt you will be able to get your khaki uniforms in time. As for other things, there will be no difficulty about them."

"You have been up at the front before, sir?"

"Yes, my work is on the railway. I had a touch of fever, and got leave to come down and recruit, before the hot weather came in. I dare say you think it hot here, sometimes, but this is an ice house in comparison with the desert."

They talked until they arrived at the bank.

"You may as well go in first, and see Murray. I suppose you won't be above two or three minutes. I shall be longer, perhaps a quarter of an hour; so if you wait for me, we will go to Shepherd's, and talk your business over in some sort of comfort."

"I am pleased, indeed," Mr. Murray said, when Gregory told him of his appointment. "It is better than I even hoped. It is bad enough there, in the position of an officer, but it would be infinitely worse in any other capacity. Do you want to draw any money?"

"No, sir; I have fifty pounds by me, and that will be enough, I should think, for everything."

"More than ample. Of course, you have plenty of light underclothing of all sorts, and a couple of suits of khaki will not cost you anything like so much as they would, if you got them at a military tailor's in London. However, if you want more, you will be able to draw it."

"Thank you very much, sir! I will not detain you any longer, now; but will, if you will allow me, come in to say goodbye before I start. Captain Ewart is waiting to speak to you. He came with me from Lord Cromer's."

Captain Ewart then went in, and after settling the business on which he had come, asked Mr. Murray questions about Gregory, and received a sketch of his story.

"He seems to be a fine young fellow," he said, "well grown and active, not at all what one would expect from a product of Cairo."

"No, indeed. Of course, you have not seen him to advantage, in that black suit, but in his ordinary clothes I should certainly take him, if I had not seen him before, to be a young lieutenant freshly come out to join."

"Did you know the father?"

"No, I was not here at that time; but the mother was a lady, every inch. It is strange that neither of them should have friends in England. It may be that she preferred to earn her living here, and be altogether independent."

"She had a pension, hadn't she?"

"A small one, but she really earned her living by teaching. She gave lessons to the ladies in English, French, and music, and had classes for young boys and girls. I once asked her if she did not intend to go back and settle in England, and she said 'Possibly, some day.'

"I fancy that there must have been some mystery about the affair--what, I can't say; but at any rate, we may take it that such a woman would not have married a man who was not a gentleman."

"Certainly the boy looks a well-bred one," Captain Ewart said, "and I am sure that the Sirdar must have been taken with him. You don't know any more about his father than you have told me?"

"Very little. Once, in talking with his wife, she told me that her husband had been in a commercial house, in Alexandria, for a year; but the place was burned down at the time of the bombardment. Being thus out of harness, he became an assistant to one of the army contractors and, when things settled down at Cairo, obtained a berth as interpreter, with the temporary rank of captain, on Hicks Pasha's staff, as he also spoke Arabic fluently. I can tell you no more about him than that, as I never saw him; though no doubt he came here with his wife, when her account was opened.

"I was interested in her. I looked up the old books, and found that two hundred pounds was paid into her account, before he left. I may say that she steadily increased that amount, ever since; but a few years ago she had the sum then standing transferred to the boy's name, telling me frankly, at the time, that she did so to save trouble, in case anything happened to her. I fancy, from what she said, that for the last year or two she had been going downhill. I had a chat with her, the last time she came in. She told me that she had been consumptive, and that it was for the sake of her health they came out here."

"That accounts for it, Murray. By the date, they were probably only married a year or so before they came out; and a man who loved a young wife, and saw no other way of saving her, would throw up any berth at home, in order to give her the benefit of a warm climate. Still, it is a little curious that, if he had only been out here a year or so before Hicks started, he should have learned Arabic sufficiently well to get a post as interpreter. I have been in the country about three years, and can get on fairly well with the natives, in matters concerning my own work; but I certainly could not act as general interpreter.

"Well, I am glad to have heard this, for you know the sort of men interpreters generally are. From the lad's appearance and manner, there is no shadow of doubt that his mother was a lady. I thought it more than probable that she had married beneath her, and that her husband was of the ordinary interpreter class. Now, from what you have said, I see that it is probable he came of a much better family. Well, you may be sure that I shall do what I can for the lad."

Gregory joined him, as he left the bank.

"I think, Hilliard, we had best go to the tailor, first. His shop is not far from here. As you want to get your things in three days, it is as well to have that matter settled, at once."

The two suits, each consisting of khaki tunic, breeches, and putties, were ordered.

"You had better have breeches," he said. "It is likely you will have to ride, and knickerbockers look baggy."

This done, they went to Shepherd's Hotel.

"Sit down in the verandah," Captain Ewart said, "until I get rid of my regimentals. Even a khaki tunic is not an admirable garment, when one wants to be cool and comfortable."

In a few minutes he came down again, in a light tweed suit; and, seating himself in another lounging chair, two cooling drinks were brought in; then he said:

"Now we will talk about your outfit, and what you had best take up. Of course, you have got light underclothing, so you need not bother about that. You want ankle boots--and high ones--to keep out the sand. You had better take a couple of pairs of slippers, they are of immense comfort at the end of the day; also a light cap, to slip on when you are going from one tent to another, after dark. A helmet is a good thing in many ways, but it is cumbrous; and if there are four or five men in a tent, and they all take off their helmets, it is difficult to know where to stow them away.

"Most likely you will get a tent at Dongola, but you can't always reckon upon that, and you may find it very useful to have a light tente d'abri made. It should have a fly, which is useful in two ways. In the first place, it adds to the height and so enlarges the space inside; and in the next place, you can tie it up in the daytime, and allow whatever air there is to pass through. Then, with a blanket thrown over the top, you will find it cooler than a regimental tent.

"Of course, you will want a sword and a revolver, with a case and belt. Get the regulation size, and a hundred rounds of cartridges; you are not likely ever to use a quarter of that number, but they will come in for practice.

"Now, as to food. Of course you get beef, biscuit, or bread, and there is a certain amount of tea, but nothing like enough for a thirsty climate, especially when--which is sometimes the case--the water is so bad that it is not safe to drink, unless it has been boiled; so you had better take up four or five pounds of tea."

"I don't take sugar, sir."

"All the better. There is no better drink than tea, poured out and left to cool, and drunk without sugar. You might take a dozen tins of preserved milk, as many of condensed cocoa and milk, and a couple of dozen pots of jam. Of course, you could not take all these things on if you were likely to move, but you may be at Dongola some time, before there is another advance, and you may as well make yourself as comfortable as you can; and if, as is probable, you cannot take the pots up with you, you can hand them over to those who are left behind. You will have no trouble in getting a fair-sized case taken up, as there will be water carriage nearly all the way.

"A good many fellows have aerated waters sent up, but hot soda water is by no means a desirable drink--not to be compared with tea kept in porous jars; so I should not advise you to bother about it. You will want a water bottle. Get the largest you can find. It is astonishing how much water a fellow can get down, in a long day's march.

"Oh! As to your boots, get the uppers as light as you can--the lighter the better; but you must have strong soles--there are rocks in some places, and they cut the soles to pieces, in no time. The sand is bad enough. Your foot sinks in it, and it seems to have a sort of sucking action, and very often takes the sole right off in a very short time.

"I suppose you smoke?"

"Cigarettes, sir."

"I should advise you to get a pipe, in addition, or rather two or three of them. If they get broken, or lost in the sand, there is no replacing them; and if you don't take to them, yourself, you will find them the most welcome present you can give, to a man who has lost his.

"I should advise you to get a lens. You don't want a valuable one, but the larger the better, and the cheapest that you can buy; it will be quite as good as the best, to use as a burning glass. Matches are precious things out there and, with a burning glass, you will only have to draw upon your stock in the evening.

"Now, do you ride? Because all the white officers with the Egyptian troops do so."

"I am sorry to say that I don't, sir. I have ridden donkeys, but anyone can sit upon a donkey."

"Yes; that won't help you much. Then I should advise you to use all the time that you can spare, after ordering your outfit, in riding. No doubt you could hire a horse."

"Yes; there is no difficulty about that."

"Well, if you will hire one, and come round here at six o'clock tomorrow morning, I will ride out for a couple of hours with you, and give you your first lesson. I can borrow a horse from one of the staff. If you once get to sit your horse, in a workman-like fashion, and to carry yourself well, you will soon pick up the rest; and if you go out, morning and evening, for three hours each time, you won't be quite abroad, when you start to keep up with a column of men on foot.

"As to a horse, it would be hardly worth your while to bother about taking one with you. You will be able to pick one up at Dongola. I hear that fugitives are constantly coming in there, and some of them are sure to be mounted. However, you had better take up a saddle and bridle with you. You might as well get an Egyptian one; in the first place because it is a good deal cheaper, and in the second because our English saddles are made for bigger horses. You need not mind much about the appearance of your animal. Anything will do for riding about at Dongola, and learning to keep your seat. In the first fight you have with Dervish horsemen, there are sure to be some riderless horses, and you may then get a good one, for a pound or two, from some Tommy who has captured one."

"I am sure I am immensely obliged to you, Captain Ewart. That will indeed be an advantage to me."

On leaving the hotel Gregory at once made all his purchases, so as to get them off his mind; and then arranged for the horse in the morning. Then he went home, and told the old servant the change that had taken place in his position.

"And now, what about yourself, what would you like to do?"

"I am too old to go up with you, and cook for you."

"Yes, indeed," he laughed; "we shall be doing long marches. But it is not your age, so much. As an officer, it would be impossible for me to have a female servant. Besides, you want quiet and rest. I have been round to the landlord, to tell him that I am going away, and to pay him a month's rent, instead of notice. I should think the best way would be for you to take a large room for yourself, or two rooms not so large--one of them for you to live in, and the other to store everything there is here. I know that you will look after them, and keep them well. Of course, you will pick out all the things that you can use in your room. It will be very lonely for you, living all by yourself, but you know numbers of people here; and you might engage a girl to stay with you, for some small wages and her food. Now, you must think over what your food and hers will cost, and the rent. Of course, I want you to live comfortably; you have always been a friend rather than a servant, and my mother had the greatest trust in you."

"You are very good, Master Gregory. While you have been away, today, I have been thinking over what I should do, when you went away. I have a friend who comes in, once a week, with fruit and vegetables. Last year, you know, I went out with her and stayed a day. She has two boys who work in the garden, and a girl. She came in today, and I said to her:

"'My young master is going away to the Soudan. What do you say to my coming and living with you, when he has gone? I can cook, and do all about the house, and help a little in the garden; and I have saved enough money to pay for my share of food.'

"She said, 'I should like that, very well. You could help the boys, in the field.'

"So we agreed that, if you were willing, I should go. I thought of the furniture; but if you do not come back here to live, it would be no use to keep the chairs, and tables, and beds, and things. We can put all Missy's things, and everything you like to keep, into a great box, and I could take them with me; or you could have them placed with some honest man, who would only charge very little, for storage."

"Well, I do think that would be a good plan, if you like these people. It would be far better than living by yourself. However, of course I shall pay for your board, and I shall leave money with you; so that, if you are not comfortable there, you can do as I said, take a room here.

"I think you are right about the furniture. How would you sell it?"

"There are plenty of Greek shops. They would buy it all. They would not give as much as you gave for it. Most of them are great rascals."

"We cannot help that," he said. "I should have to sell them when I come back and, at any rate, we save the rent for housing them. They are not worth much. You may take anything you like, a comfortable chair and a bed, some cooking things, and so on, and sell the rest for anything you can get, after I have gone. I will pack my dear mother's things, this evening."

For the next two days, Gregory almost lived on horseback; arranging, with the man from whom he hired the animals, that he should change them three times a day. He laid aside his black clothes, and took to a white flannel suit, with a black ribbon round his straw hat; as deep mourning would be terribly hot, and altogether unsuited for riding.

"You will do, lad," Captain Ewart said to him, after giving him his first lesson. "Your fencing has done much for you, and has given you an easy poise of body and head. Always remember that it is upon balancing the body that you should depend for your seat; although, of course, the grip of the knees does a good deal. Also remember, always, to keep your feet straight; nothing is so awkward as turned-out toes. Besides, in that position, if the horse starts you are very likely to dig your spurs into him.

"Hold the reins firmly, but don't pull at his head. Give him enough scope to toss his head if he wants to, but be in readiness to tighten the reins in an instant, if necessary."

Each day, Gregory returned home so stiff, and tired, that he could scarcely crawl along. Still, he felt that he had made a good deal of progress; and that, when he got up to Dongola, he would be able to mount and ride out without exciting derision. On the morning of the day on which he was to start, he went to say goodbye to Mr. Murray.

"Have you everything ready, Hilliard?" the banker asked.

"Yes, sir. The uniform and the tent are both ready. I have a cork bed, and waterproof sheet to lay under it; and, I think, everything that I can possibly require. I am to meet Captain Ewart at the railway, this afternoon at five o'clock. The train starts at half past.

"I will draw another twenty-five pounds, sir. I have not spent more than half what I had, but I must leave some money with our old servant. I shall have to buy a horse, too, when I get up to Dongola, and I may have other expenses, that I cannot foresee."

"I think that is a wise plan," the banker said. "It is always well to have money with you, for no one can say what may happen. Your horse may get shot or founder, and you may have to buy another. Well, I wish you every luck, lad, and a safe return."

"Thank you very much, Mr. Murray! All this good fortune has come to me, entirely through your kindness. I cannot say how grateful I feel to you."

Chapter 5: Southward.

At the hour named, Gregory met Captain Ewart at the station. He was now dressed in uniform, and carried a revolver in his waist belt, and a sword in its case. His luggage was not extensive. He had one large bundle; it contained a roll-up cork bed, in a waterproof casing. At one end was a loose bag; which contained a spare suit of clothes, three flannel shirts, and his underclothing. This formed the pillow. A blanket and a waterproof sheet were rolled up with it. In a small sack was the tente d'abri, made of waterproof sheeting, with its two little poles. It only weighed some fifteen pounds. His only other luggage consisted of a large case, with six bottles of brandy, and the provisions he had been recommended to take.

"Is that all your kit?" Captain Ewart said, as he joined him.

"Yes, sir. I hope you don't think it is too much."

"No; I think it is very moderate, though if you move forward, you will not be able to take the case with you, The others are light enough, and you can always get a native boy to carry them. Of course, you have your pass?"

"Yes, sir. I received it yesterday, when I went to headquarters for the letter to General Hunter."

"Then we may as well take our places, at once. We have nearly an hour before the train starts; but it is worth waiting, in order to get two seats next the window, on the river side. We need not sit there till the train starts, if we put our traps in to keep our places. I know four or five other officers coming up, so we will spread our things about, and keep the whole carriage to ourselves, if we can."

In an hour, the train started. Every place was occupied. Ewart had spoken to his friends, as they arrived, and they had all taken places in the same compartment. The journey lasted forty hours, and Gregory admitted that the description Captain Ewart had given him, of the dust, was by no means exaggerated. He had brought, as had been suggested, a water skin and a porous earthenware bottle; together with a roll of cotton-wool to serve as a stopper to the latter, to keep out the dust. In a tightly fitting handbag he had an ample supply of food for three days. Along the opening of this he had pasted a strip of paper.

"That will do very well for your first meal, Hilliard, but it will be of no good afterwards."

"I have prepared for that," Gregory said. "I have bought a gum bottle, and as I have a newspaper in my pocket, I can seal it up after each meal."

"By Jove, that is a good idea, one I never thought of!"

"The gum will be quite sufficient for us all, up to Assouan. I have two more bottles in my box. That should be sufficient to last me for a long time, when I am in the desert; and as it won't take half a minute to put a fresh paper on, after each meal, I shall have the satisfaction of eating my food without its being mixed with the dust."

There was a general chorus of approval, and all declared that they would search every shop in Assouan, and endeavour to find gum.

"Paste will do as well," Ewart said, "and as we can always get flour, we shall be able to defy the dust fiend as far as our food goes.

"I certainly did not expect that old campaigners would learn a lesson from you, Hilliard, as soon as you started."

"It was just an idea that occurred to me," Gregory said.

The gum bottle was handed round, and although nothing could be done for those who had brought their provisions in hampers, three of them who had, like Gregory, put their food in bags, were able to seal them up tightly.

It was now May, and the heat was becoming intolerable, especially as the windows were closed to keep out the dust. In spite of this, however, it found its way in. It settled everywhere. Clothes and hair became white with it. It worked its way down the neck, where the perspiration changed it into mud. It covered the face, as if with a cake of flour.

At first Gregory attempted to brush it off his clothes, as it settled upon them, but he soon found that there was no advantage in this. So he sat quietly in his corner and, like the rest, looked like a dirty white statue. There were occasional stops, when they all got out, shook themselves, and took a few mouthfuls of fresh air.

Gregory's plan, for keeping out the dust from the food, turned out a great success; and the meals were eaten in the open air, during the stoppages.

On arriving at Assouan, they all went to the transport department, to get their passes for the journey up the Nile, as far as Wady Halfa. The next step was to go down to the river for a swim and, by dint of shaking and beating, to get rid of the accumulated dust.

Assouan was not a pleasant place to linger in and, as soon as they had completed their purchases, Captain Ewart and Gregory climbed on to the loaded railway train, and were carried by the short line to the spot where, above the cataract, the steamer that was to carry them was lying. She was to tow up a large barge, and two native craft. They took their places in the steamer, with a number of other officers--some newcomers from England, others men who had been down to Cairo, to recruit. They belonged to all branches of the service, and included half a dozen of the medical staff, three of the transport corps, gunners, engineers, cavalry, and infantry. The barges were deep in the water, with their cargoes of stores of all kinds, and rails and sleepers for the railway, and the steamer was also deeply loaded.

The passage was a delightful one, to Gregory. Everything was new to him. The cheery talk and jokes of the officers, the graver discussion of the work before them, the calculations as to time and distance, the stories told of what had taken place during the previous campaign, by those who shared in it, were all so different from anything he had ever before experienced, that the hours passed almost unnoticed. It was glorious to think that, in whatever humble capacity, he was yet one of the band who were on their way up to meet the hordes of the Khalifa, to rescue the Soudan from the tyranny under which it had groaned, to avenge Gordon and Hicks and the gallant men who had died with them!

Occasionally, Captain Ewart came up and talked to him, but he was well content to sit on one of the bales, and listen to the conversation without joining in it. In another couple of years he, too, would have had his experiences, and would be able to take his part. At present, he preferred to be a listener.

The distance to Wady Halfa was some three hundred miles; but the current was strong, and the steamer could not tow the boats more than five miles an hour, against it. It was sixty hours, from the start, before they arrived.

Gregory was astonished at the stir and life in the place. Great numbers of native labourers were at work, unloading barges and native craft; and a line of railway ran down to the wharves, where the work of loading the trucks went on briskly. Smoke pouring out from many chimneys, and the clang of hammers, told that the railway engineering work was in full swing. Vast piles of boxes, cases, and bales were accumulated on the wharf, and showed that there would be no loss of time in pushing forward supplies to Abu Hamed, as soon as the railway was completed to that point.

Wady Halfa had been the starting point of a railway, commenced years before. A few miles have been constructed, and several buildings erected for the functionaries, military and civil; but Gordon, when Governor of the Soudan, had refused to allow the province to be saddled with the expenses of the construction, or to undertake the responsibility of carrying it out.

In 1884 there was some renewal of work and, had Gordon been rescued, and Khartoum permanently occupied, the line would no doubt have been carried on; but with the retirement of the British troops, work ceased, and the great stores of material that had been gathered there remained, for years, half covered with the sand. In any other climate this would have been destructive, but in the dry air of Upper Egypt they remained almost uninjured, and proved very useful, when the work was again taken up.

It was a wonderful undertaking, for along the two hundred and thirty-four miles of desert, food, water, and every necessary had to be carried, together with all materials for its construction. Not only had an army of workmen to be fed, but a body of troops to guard them; for Abu Hamed, at the other end of the line, for which they were making, was occupied by a large body of Dervishes; who might, at any moment, swoop down across the plain.

Had the Sirdar had the resources of England at his back, the work would have been easier, for he could have ordered from home new engines, and plant of every description; but it was an Egyptian work, and had to be done in the cheapest possible way. Old engines had to be patched up, and makeshifts of all kinds employed. Fortunately he had, in the chief engineer of the line, a man whose energy, determination, and resource were equal to his own. Major Girouard was a young officer of the Royal Engineers and, like all white officers in the Egyptian service, held the rank of major. He was a Canadian by birth, and proved, in every respect, equal to the onerous and responsible work to which he was appointed.

However, labour was cheap, and railway battalions were raised among the Egyptian peasants, their pay being the same as that of the soldiers. Strong, hearty, and accustomed to labour and a scanty diet, no men could have been more fitted for the work. They preferred it to soldiering; for although, as they had already shown, and were still further to prove, the Egyptian can fight, and fight bravely; he is, by nature, peaceable, and prefers work, however hard. In addition to these battalions, natives of the country and of the Soudan, fugitives from ruined villages and desolated plains, were largely employed.

The line had now been carried three-quarters of the distance to Abu Hamed, which was still in the hands of the Dervishes. It had been constructed with extraordinary rapidity, for the ground was so level that only occasional cuttings were needed. The organization of labour was perfect. The men were divided into gangs, each under a head man, and each having its own special work to do. There were the men who unloaded the trucks, the labourers who did the earth work, and the more skilled hands who levelled it. As fast as the trucks were emptied, gangs of men carried the sleepers forward, and laid them down roughly in position; others followed, and corrected the distance between each. The rails were then brought along and laid down, with the fish plates, in the proper places; men put these on, and boys screwed up the nuts. Then plate layers followed and lined the rails accurately; and, when this was done, sand was thrown in and packed down between the sleepers.

By this division of labour, the line was pushed on from one to two miles a day, the camp moving forward with the line. Six tank trucks brought up the water for the use of the labourers, daily, and everything worked with as much regularity as in a great factory at home. Troops of friendly tribesmen, in our pay, scoured the country and watched the wells along the road, farther to the east, so as to prevent any bands of Dervishes from dashing suddenly down upon the workers.

At Wady Halfa, Captain Ewart and two or three other officers left the steamer, to proceed up the line. Gregory was very sorry to lose him.

"I cannot tell you, Captain Ewart," he said, "how deeply grateful I feel to you, for the immense kindness you have shown me. I don't know what I should have done, had I been left without your advice and assistance in getting my outfit, and making my arrangements to come up here."

"My dear lad," the latter said, "don't say anything more. In any case, I should naturally be glad to do what I could, for the son of a man who died fighting in the same cause as we are now engaged in. But in your case it has been a pleasure, for I am sure you will do credit to yourself, and to the mother who has taken such pains in preparing you for the work you are going to do, and in fitting you for the position that you now occupy."

As the officers who had come up with them in the train from Cairo were all going on, and had been told by Ewart something of Gregory's story, they had aided that officer in making Gregory feel at home in his new circumstances; and in the two days they had been on board the boat, he had made the acquaintance of several others.

The river railway had now been carried from Wady Halfa to Kerma, above the third cataract. The heavy stores were towed up by steamers and native craft. Most of the engines and trucks had been transferred to the desert line; but a few were still retained, to carry up troops if necessary, and aid the craft in accumulating stores.

One of these trains started a few hours after the arrival of the steamer at Wady Halfa. Gregory, with the officers going up, occupied two horse boxes. Several of them had been engaged in the last campaign, and pointed out the places of interest.

At Sarras, some thirty miles up the road, there had been a fight on the 29th of April, 1887; when the Dervish host, advancing strong in the belief that they could carry all before them down to the sea, were defeated by the Egyptian force under the Sirdar and General Chermside.

The next stop of the train was at Akasheh. This had been a very important station, before the last advance, as all the stores had been accumulated here when the army advanced. Here had been a strongly entrenched camp, for the Dervishes were in force, fifteen miles away, at Ferket.

"It was a busy time we had here," said one of the officers, who had taken a part in the expedition. "A fortnight before, we had no idea that an early move was contemplated; and indeed, it was only on the 14th of March that the excitement began. That day, Kitchener received a telegram ordering an immediate advance on Dongola. We had expected it would take place soon; but there is no doubt that the sudden order was the result of an arrangement, on the part of our government with Italy, that we should relieve her from the pressure of the Dervishes round Kassala by effecting a diversion, and obliging the enemy to send a large force down to Dongola to resist our advance.

"It was a busy time. The Sirdar came up to Wady Halfa, and the Egyptian troops were divided between that place, Sarras, and Akasheh. The 9th Soudanese were marched up from Suakim, and they did the distance to the Nile (one hundred and twenty miles) in four days. That was something like marching.

"Well, you saw Wady Halfa. For a month, this place was quite as busy. Now, its glories are gone. Two or three huts for the railway men, and the shelters for a company of Egyptians, represent the whole camp."

As they neared Ferket the officer said:

"There was a sharp fight out there on the desert. A large body of Dervishes advanced, from Ferket. They were seen to leave by a cavalry patrol. As soon as the patrol reached camp, all the available horse, two hundred and forty in number, started under Major Murdoch. Four miles out, they came in sight of three hundred mounted Dervishes, with a thousand spearmen on foot.

"The ground was rough, and unfavourable for a cavalry charge; so the cavalry retired to a valley, between two hills, in order to get better ground. While they were doing so, however, the Dervishes charged down upon them. Murdoch rode at them at once, and there was a hand-to-hand fight that lasted for twenty minutes. Then the enemy turned, and galloped off to the shelter of the spearmen. The troopers dismounted and opened fire; and, on a regiment of Soudanese coming up, the enemy drew off.

"Eighteen of the Dervishes were killed, and eighty wounded. Our loss was very slight; but the fight was a most satisfactory one, for it showed that the Egyptian cavalry had, now, sufficient confidence in themselves to face the Baggara.

"Headquarters came up to Akasheh on the 1st of June. The spies had kept the Intelligence Department well informed as to the state of things at Ferket. It was known that three thousand troops were there, led by fifty-seven Emirs. The ground was carefully reconnoitred, and all preparation made for an attack. It was certain that the Dervishes also had spies, among the camel drivers and camp followers, but the Sirdar kept his intentions secret, and on the evening of June 5th it was not known to any, save three or four of the principal officers, that he intended to attack on the following morning. It was because he was anxious to effect a complete surprise that he did not even bring up the North Staffordshires.

"There were two roads to Ferket--one by the river, the other through the desert. The river column was the strongest, and consisted of an infantry division, with two field batteries and two Maxims. The total strength of the desert column, consisting of the cavalry brigade, camel corps, a regiment of infantry, a battery of horse artillery, and two Maxims--in all, two thousand one hundred men--were to make a detour, and come down upon the Nile to the south of Ferket, thereby cutting off the retreat of the enemy.

"Carrying two days' rations, the troops started late in the afternoon of the 6th, and halted at nine in the evening, three miles from Ferket. At half-past two they moved forward again, marching quietly and silently; and, at half-past four, deployed into line close to the enemy's position. A few minutes later the alarm was given; and the Dervishes, leaping to arms, discovered this formidable force in front of them; and at the same time found that their retreat was cut off, by another large body of troops in their rear; while, on the opposite bank of the river, was a force of our Arab allies.

"Though they must have seen that their position was hopeless, the Dervishes showed no signs of fear. They fought with the desperation of rats in a trap. The Egyptians advanced with steady volleys. The Baggara horsemen attacked them furiously, but were repulsed with heavy loss. There was hand-to-hand fighting among their huts; and the second brigade carried, with the bayonet, that rough hill that you see over there.

"It was all over, by seven o'clock. Our loss was only twenty killed, and eighty wounded. About one thousand of the Dervishes were killed, including their chief Emir and some forty of the others, while five hundred were taken prisoners. It was a great victory, and a very important one; but it can hardly be said that it was glorious, as we outnumbered them by three to one. Still, it was a heavy blow to the Dervishes, and the fact that the Khalifa was obliged to send troops down to the Nile, to check an advance that had proved so formidable, must have greatly relieved the pressure on the Italians at Kassala.

"There was a pause, here. It was certain that we should have to meet a much stronger force before we got to Dongola. Well as the Egyptian troops had fought, it was thought advisable to give them a stronger backing.

"The heat was now tremendous, and cholera had broken out. We moved to Koshyeh, and there encamped. The only change we had was a terrific storm, which almost washed us away. In the middle of August, we managed to get the gunboats up through the cataract, and were in hopes of advancing, when another storm carried away twenty miles of the railway, which by this time had come up as far as the cataract."

At Ginnis, twenty miles from Ferket, they passed the ground where, on the 31st of December, 1885, on the retirement of General Wolseley's expedition, Generals Grenfel and Stevenson, with a force of Egyptian troops and three British regiments, encountered the Dervish army which the Khalifa had despatched under the Emir Nejumi, and defeated it. It was notable as being the first battle in which the newly raised Egyptian army met the Mahdists, and showed that, trained and disciplined by British officers, the Egyptian fellah was capable of standing against the Dervish of the desert.

From this point the railway left the Nile and, for thirty miles, crossed the desert. Another twenty miles, and they reached Fareeg.

"It was here," the officer said, "that the North Staffordshires came up and joined the Egyptians. The Dervishes had fallen back before we advanced, after a halt at Sadeah, which we sha'n't see, as the railway cuts across, to Abu Fetmeh. We bivouacked five miles from their camp, and turned out at three next morning. The orders were passed by mouth, and we got off as silently as an army of ghosts.

"I shall never forget our disgust when a small cavalry force, sent on ahead to reconnoitre, reported that the Dervishes had abandoned the place during the night, and had crossed the river in native boats. It was a very clever move, at any rate, on the part of fellows who did not want to fight. There were we facing them, with our whole infantry and cavalry useless, and we had nothing available to damage the enemy except our artillery and the gunboats.

"These opened fire, and the Dervishes replied heavily. They had earthworks, but the boats kept on, pluckily, till they got to a narrow point in the stream; when a couple of guns, which had hitherto been hidden, opened upon them at close range; while a strong force of Dervish infantry poured in such a hot fire that the boats had to fall back.

"After our field guns had peppered the enemy for a bit, the gunboats tried again, but the fire was too hot for them, and the leading boat had to retire.

"Things did not look very bright, till nine o'clock; when we found that, at one point, the river was fordable to a small island, opposite the enemy's lines. Four batteries, and the Maxims, at once moved over, with two companies of Soudanese, and opened fire. The distance across was but six hundred yards, and the fire was tremendous--shell, shrapnel, and rockets--while the Soudanese fired volleys, and the Maxims maintained a shower of bullets.

"It seemed that nothing could stand against it, but the Dervishes stuck to their guns with great pluck. However, their fire was so far kept down, that the three gunboats succeeded in forcing their way up; and, passing the Dervish works, sank a steamer and a number of native boats.

"The Dervishes now began to give way, and the gunboats steamed up the river, making for Dongola. The Dervishes, as soon as they had gone, reopened fire, and the duel continued all day; but the great mass of the enemy soon left, and also made their way towards Dongola.

"It was awfully annoying being obliged to remain inactive, on our side, and it was especially hard for the cavalry; who, if they could have got over, would have been able to cut up and disperse the enemy.

"The next morning the Dervishes were all gone, and that was practically the end of the fighting. The gunboats went up and shelled Dongola; and when we got there, two days later, the Dervishes had had enough of it. Of course, there was a little fighting, but it was the effort of a party of fanatics, rather than of an enemy who considered resistance possible.

"We were greeted with enthusiasm by the unfortunate inhabitants, who had been subject to the Dervish tyranny. As a whole, however, they had not been badly treated here, and had been allowed to continue to cultivate their land, subject only to about the same taxation as they had paid to Egypt. Of course, from what they have done elsewhere, the comparative mildness of the conduct of the Dervishes was not due to any feeling of mercy, but to policy. As the most advanced position, with the exception of scattered and temporary posts lower down the river, it was necessary that there should be food for the considerable body of tribesmen encamped at Dongola; especially as an army invading Egypt would provide itself, there, with stores for the journey. It was therefore good policy to encourage the cultivators of land to stay there."

"Thank you very much!" Gregory said, when the officer had concluded his sketch of the previous campaign. "Of course, I heard that we had beaten the Khalifa's men, and had taken Dongola, but the papers at Cairo gave no details. The Staffordshire regiment went down, directly the place was taken, did they not?"

"Yes. They had suffered heavily from cholera; and as there was now no fear that the Egyptians and Soudanese would prove unequal to withstanding a Dervish rush, there was no necessity for keeping them here."

At Abu Fetmeh they left the train, and embarked in a steamer. Of the party that had left Assouan, only four or five remained. The rest had been dropped at other stations on the road.

The boat stopped but a few hours at Dongola, which had for a time been the headquarters of the advanced force. Great changes had been made, since the place was captured from the Dervishes. At that time the population had been reduced to a handful, and the natives who remained tilled but enough ground for their own necessities; for they knew that, at any time, a Dervish force might come along and sweep everything clear. But with the advent of the British, the fugitives who had scattered among the villages along the river soon poured in.

Numbers of Greek traders arrived, with camels and goods, and the town assumed an aspect of life and business. The General established a court of justice, and appointed authorities for the proper regulation of affairs; and by the time Gregory came up, the town was showing signs of renewed prosperity.

But the steamer stopped at Dongola only to land stores needed for the regiment stationed there. The headquarters had, months before, been moved to Merawi, some eighty miles higher up, situated at the foot of the fourth cataract.

Although he had enjoyed the journey, Gregory was glad when the steamer drew up against a newly constructed wharf at Merawi. Now he was to begin his duties, whatever they might be.

At the wharf were a large number of Soudanese soldiers. A telegram, from the last station they touched at, had given notice of the hour at which the boat would arrive; and a battalion of native troops had marched down, to assist in unloading the stores. A white officer had come down with them, to superintend the operation, and the other officers at once went on shore to speak to him.

Gregory had got all his traps together and, as the Soudanese poured on board, he thought it better to remain with them; as, if his belongings once got scattered, there would be little chance of his being able to collect them again. After a short time, he went up to one of the native officers.

"This is my first visit here," he said in Arabic, "and as I have not brought up a servant with me, I do not like to leave my baggage here, while I go and report myself to General Hunter. Will you kindly tell me what I had better do?"

"Certainly. I will place one of my corporals in charge of your things. It would be as well to get them ashore at once, as we shall want the decks clear, in order that the men may work freely in getting the stores up from below. The corporal will see that your baggage is carried to the bank, to a spot where it will be out of the way, and will remain with it until you know where it is to be taken."

Thanking him for his civility, Gregory went on shore. The officer who had told him the story of the campaign was still talking, to the Major who had come down with the blacks. As Gregory came up, he said:

"I wondered what had become of you, Hilliard. I have been telling Major Sidney that a young lieutenant had come up, to report himself to the General for service."

"I am glad to see you, sir," the Major said, holding out his hand. "Every additional white officer is a material gain, and I have no doubt that General Hunter will find plenty for you to do. I hear you can speak the Negro language, as well as Arabic. That will be specially useful here, for the natives are principally Negro, and speak very little Arabic.

"How about your baggage?"

"One of the native officers has undertaken to get it ashore, and to put a corporal in charge of it, until I know where it is to go."

"Well, Fladgate, as you are going to the General's, perhaps you will take Mr. Hilliard with you, and introduce him."

"With pleasure.

"Now, Mr. Hilliard, let us be off, at once. The sun is getting hot, and the sooner we are under shelter, the better."

Ten minutes' walk took them to the house formerly occupied by the Egyptian Governor of the town, where General Hunter now had his headquarters. The General, who was a brevet colonel in the British Army, had joined the Egyptian Army in 1888. He had, as a captain in the Lancashire regiment, taken part in the Nile Expedition, 1884-85; had been severely wounded at the battle of Ginnis; and again at Toski, where he commanded a brigade. He was still a comparatively young man. He had a broad forehead, and an intellectual face, that might have betokened a student rather than a soldier; but he was celebrated, in the army, for his personal courage and disregard of danger, and was adored by his black soldiers.

He rose from the table at which he was sitting, as Captain Fladgate came in.

"I am glad to see you back again," he said. "I hope you have quite shaken off the fever?"

"Quite, General. I feel thoroughly fit for work again. Allow me to present to you Mr. Hilliard, who has just received a commission as lieutenant in the Egyptian Army. He has a letter from the Sirdar, to you."

"Well, I will not detain you now, Captain Fladgate. You will find your former quarters in readiness for you. Dinner at the usual time; then you shall tell me the news of Cairo.

"Now, Mr. Hilliard," and he turned to Gregory, "pray take a seat. This is your first experience in soldiering, I suppose?"

"Yes, sir."

"I think you are the first white officer who has been appointed, who has not had experience in our own army first. You have not been appointed to any particular battalion, have you?"

"No, sir. I think I have come out to make myself generally useful. These are the letters that I was to hand to you--one is from the Sirdar himself, the other is from his chief of the staff, and this letter is from Captain Ewart."

The General read the Sirdar's letter first. He then opened that from the chief of the staff. This was the more bulky of the two, and contained several enclosures.

"Ah! this relates to you," the General said as, after glancing over the two official despatches, he read through the letter of Captain Ewart, who was a personal friend of his.

The latter had given a full account of Gregory's history, and said that the Sirdar had especially asked him to put him in the way of things; that he had seen a great deal of him on the journey up, and was very greatly pleased with him.

"The lad is a perfect gentleman," he said, "which is certainly astonishing, he being a product of Cairo. I consider him in all respects--except, of course, a classical education--fully equal to the average young officer, on first joining. He is very modest and unassuming; and will, I feel sure, perform with credit any work that you may give him to do."

"I see," he said, laying it down, "you have only joined the army temporarily, and with a special purpose, and I am told to utilize your services as I think best. You have a perfect knowledge of Arabic, and of the Negro dialect. That will be very useful, for though we all speak Arabic, few speak the Negro language, which is more commonly used here.

"Your father fell with Hicks Pasha, I am told, and you have joined us with the object of obtaining news as to the manner in which he met his death?"

"That is so, sir. It was always my mother's wish that I should, when I was old enough, come up to the Soudan to make enquiries. As my father was a good Arabic scholar, my mother always entertained a faint hope that he might have escaped; especially as we know that a good many of the Egyptian soldiers were not killed, but were taken prisoners, and made to serve in the Mahdi's army."

"Yes, there are several of them among the Khalifa's artillerymen, but I am very much afraid that none of the officers were spared. You see, they kept together in a body, and died fighting to the last."

"I have hardly any hopes myself, sir. Still, as my father was interpreter, he might not have been with the others, but in some other part of the square that was attacked."

"That is possible; but he was a white man, and in the heat of the battle I don't think that the Dervishes would have made any exception. You see, there were two correspondents with Hicks, and neither of them has ever been heard of; and they must, I should think, have joined in that last desperate charge of his.

"Well, for the present I must make you a sort of extra aide-de-camp, and what with one thing and another, I have no doubt that I shall find plenty for you to do. As such, you will of course be a member of headquarters mess, and therefore escape the trouble of providing for yourself. You have not brought a servant up with you, I suppose?"

"No, sir. Captain Ewart, who most kindly advised me as to my outfit, said that, if I could find an intelligent native here, it would be better than taking a man from Cairo."

"Quite right; and the fellows one picks up at Cairo are generally lazy, and almost always dishonest. The men you get here may not know much, but are ready enough to learn; and, if well treated, will go through fire and water for their master.

"Go down to the stores, and tell the officer in charge there that I shall be glad if he will pick out two or three fellows, from whom you may choose a servant."

When Gregory had given his message, the officer said:

"You had better pick out one for yourself, Mr. Hilliard. Strength and willingness to work are the points I keep my eye upon; and, except for the foremen of the gangs, their intelligence does not interest me. You had better take a turn among the parties at work, and pick out a man for yourself."

Gregory was not long in making his choice. He selected a young fellow who, although evidently exerting himself to the utmost, was clearly incapable of doing his share in carrying the heavy bales and boxes, that were easily handled by older men. He had a pleasant face, and looked more intelligent than most of the others.

"To what tribe do you belong?" Gregory asked him.

"The Jaalin. I come from near Metemmeh."

"I want a servant. You do not seem to be strong enough for this work, but if you will be faithful, and do what I tell you, I will try you."

The young fellow's face lit up.

"I will be faithful, bey. It would be kind of you to take me. I am not at my full strength yet and, although I try my hardest, I cannot do as much as strong men, and then I am abused. I will be very faithful, and if you do not find me willing to do all that you tell me, you can send me back to work here."

"Well, come along with me, then."

He took him to the officer.

"I have chosen this man, sir. Can I take him away at once?"

"Certainly. He has been paid up to last night."

"Thank you very much! I will settle with him for today."

And, followed by the young tribesman, he went to the headquarters camp, near which an empty hut was assigned to him.

Chapter 6: Gregory Volunteers.

The hut of which Gregory took possession was constructed of dry mud. The roof was of poles, on which were thickly laid boughs and palm leaves; and on these a layer of clay, a foot thick. An opening in the wall, eighteen inches square, served as a window. Near the door the floor was littered with rubbish of all kinds.

"What is your name?"

"Zaki."

"Well, Zaki, the first thing is to clear out all this rubbish, and sweep the floor as clean as you can. I am going down to the river to get my baggage up. Can you borrow a shovel, or something of that sort, from one of the natives here? Or, if he will sell it, buy one. I will pay when I return. It will always come in useful. If you cannot get a shovel, a hoe will do. Ah! I had better give you a dollar, the man might not trust you."

He then walked down to the river, and found the black corporal sitting tranquilly by the side of his baggage. The man stood up and saluted, and on Gregory saying that he had now a house, at once told off two soldiers to carry the things.

Arriving at the hut, he found Zaki hard at work, shovelling the rubbish through the doorway. Just as he came up, the boy brought down his tool, with a crash, upon a little brown creature that was scuttling away.

"What is that, Zaki?"

"That is a scorpion, bey; I have killed four of them."

"That is not at all pleasant," Gregory said. "There may be plenty of them, up among the boughs overhead."

Zaki nodded.

"Plenty of creatures," he said, "some snakes."

"Then we will smoke them out, before I go in. When you have got the rubbish out, make a fire in the middle, wet some leaves and things and put them on, and we will hang a blanket over the window and shut the door. I will moisten some powder and scatter it among the leaves, and the sulphur will help the smoke to bring them down."

This was done, the door closed and, as it did not fit at all tightly, the cracks were filled with some damp earth from the watercourse.

"What did you pay for the shovel, Zaki?"

"Half a dollar, bey. Here is the other half."

"Well, you had better go and buy some things for yourself. Tomorrow I will make other arrangements. Get a fire going out here. There is a sauce pan and a kettle, so you can boil some rice or fry some meat."

Gregory then went again to the officer who was acting as quartermaster.

"I have been speaking to the General," the latter said. "You will mess with the staff. The dinner hour is seven o'clock. I am sure you will soon feel at home."

Gregory now strolled through the camp. The troops were in little mud huts, of their own construction; as these, in the heat of the day, were much cooler than tents. The sun was getting low, and the Soudanese troops were all occupied in cooking, mending their clothes, sweeping the streets between the rows of huts, and other light duties. They seemed, to Gregory, as full of fun and life as a party of schoolboys--laughing, joking, and playing practical tricks on each other.

The physique of some of the regiments was splendid, the men averaging over six feet in height, and being splendidly built. Other regiments, recruited among different tribes, were not so tall, but their sturdy figures showed them to be capable of any effort they might be called upon to make.

One of the officers came out of his tent, as he passed.

"You are a new arrival, I think, sir?" he said. "We have so few white officers, here, that one spots a fresh face at once."

"Yes, I only arrived two or three hours ago. My name is Hilliard. I am not attached to any regiment; but, as I speak the languages well, General Hunter is going, so he said, to make me generally useful. I only received my commission a few days before leaving Cairo."

"Well, come in and have a soda and whisky. The heat out here is frightful. You can tell me the last news from Cairo, and when we are going to move."

"I shall be happy to come in and have a chat," Gregory said, "but I do not drink anything. I have been brought up in Cairo, and am accustomed to heat, and I find that drinking only makes one more thirsty."

"I believe it does," the other said, "especially when the liquid is almost as hot as one is, one's self. Will you sit down on that box? Chairs are luxuries that we do not indulge in here. Well, have you heard anything about a move?"

"Nothing; but the officers I have spoken to all seem to think that it will soon begin. A good many came up with me, to Wady Halfa and the stations on the river; and I heard that all who had sufficiently recovered were under orders to rejoin, very shortly."

"Yes, I suppose it won't be long. Of course we know nothing here, and I don't expect we shall, till the order comes for us to start. This is not the time of year when one expects to be on the move; and if we do go, it is pretty certain that it is because Kitchener has made up his mind for a dash forward. You see, if we take Abu Hamed and drive the Dervishes away, we can, at once, push the railway on to that place; and, as soon as it is done, the troops can be brought up and an advance made to Berber, if not farther, during the cool season--if you can ever call it a cool season, here."

"Is there any great force at Abu Hamed?"

"No; nothing that could stand against this for a moment. Their chief force, outside Omdurman, is at Metemmeh under Mahmud, the Khalifa's favourite son. You see, the Jaalin made fools of themselves. Instead of waiting until we could lend them a hand, they revolted as soon as we took Dongola, and the result was that Mahmud came down and pretty well wiped them out. They defended themselves stoutly, at Metemmeh, but had no chance against such a host as he brought with him. The town was taken, and its defenders, between two and three thousand fighting men, were all massacred, together with most of the women and children.

"By the accounts brought down to us, by men who got away, it must have been an even more horrible business than usual; and the Dervishes are past masters in the art of massacre. However, I think that their course is nearly up. Of late, a good many fugitives from Kordofan have arrived here, and they say that there will be a general revolt there, when they hear that we have given the Dervishes a heavy thrashing."

"And where do you think the great fight is likely to take place?" Gregory asked.

"Not this side of Metemmeh. Except at Abu Hamed, we hear of no other strong Dervish force between this and Omdurman. If Mahmud thinks himself strong enough, no doubt he will fight; but if he and the Khalifa know their business, he will fall back and, with the forces at Omdurman, fight one big battle. The two armies together will, from what we hear, amount to sixty or seventy thousand; and there is no doubt whatever that, with all their faults, the beggars can fight. It will be a tough affair, but I believe we shall have some British troops here to help, before the final advance. We can depend now on both the Soudanese and the Egyptians to fight hard, but there are not enough of them. The odds would be too heavy, and the Sirdar is not a man to risk failure. But with a couple of brigades of British infantry, there can be no doubt what the result will be; and I fancy that, if we beat them in one big fight, it will be all up with Mahdism.

"It is only because the poor beggars of tribesmen regard the Dervishes as invincible, that they have put up so long with their tyranny. But the rising of the Jaalin, and the news we get from Kordofan, show that the moment they hear the Dervishes are beaten, and Khartoum is in our hands, there will be a general rising, and the Dervishes will be pretty well exterminated. We all hope that Mahmud won't fight, for if he does, and we beat him, the Khalifa and his lot may lose heart and retire before we get to Omdurman; and, once away, the tremendous business of trying to follow him will confront us. Here we have got the river and the railway, but we have no land carriage for an army, and he might keep on falling back to the great lakes, for anything that we could do to overtake him. So we all hope that Mahmud will retire to Omdurman without fighting, and with such a host as the Khalifa would then have, he would be certain to give battle before abandoning his capital."

"They are fine-looking fellows, these blacks," Gregory said.

"They are splendid fellows--they love fighting for fighting's sake. It is, in their opinion, the only worthy occupation for a man, and they have shown themselves worthy to fight by the side of our men. They have a perfect confidence in us, and would, I believe, go anywhere we led them. They say themselves, 'We are never afraid--just like English.'"

"There seem to be a good many women about the camps."

"Yes, their women follow them wherever they go. They cook for them, and generally look after them. They are as warlike as their husbands, and encourage them, when they go out to battle, with their applause and curious quavering cries. The men get very little pay; but as they are provided with rations, and draw a certain amount for the women, it costs next to nothing, and I fancy that having the wives with them pays well. I believe they would rather be killed than come back and face their reproaches.

"I could not wish to have more cheery or better fellows with me. They never grumble, they are always merry, and really they seem to be tireless. They practically give no trouble whatever, and it is good to see how they brighten up, when there is a chance of a fight."

"I hope I shall see them at it, before long," Gregory said. "Now I must be going, for I have to change, and put on my mess uniform before dinner. I am rather nervous about that, for I am not accustomed to dine with generals."

"You will find it all very pleasant," the other said. "Hunter is a splendid fellow, and is adored by his men. His staff are all comparatively young men, with none of the stiffness of the British staff officer about them. We are all young--there is scarcely a man with the rank of captain in the British Army out here. We are all majors or colonels in the Egyptian Army, but most of us are subalterns in our own regiments. It is good training for us. At home a subaltern is merely a machine to carry out orders; he is told to do this, and he does it; for him to think for himself would be a heinous offence. He is altogether without responsibility, and without initiative and, by the time he becomes a field officer, he is hidebound. He has never thought for himself, and he can't be expected to begin to do so, after working for twenty years like a machine.

"You will see, if we ever have a big war, that will be our weak point. If it wasn't for wars like this, and our little wars in India, where men do learn to think and take responsibility, I don't know where our general officers would get their training.

"Well, you must be going. Goodbye! We shall often meet. There are so few of us here, that we are always running against each other. I won't ask you to dine with us, for a few days. No doubt you would like to get accustomed to headquarters mess first. Of course, Hunter and the brigade staff dine together; while we have little regimental messes among ourselves, which I prefer. When there are only three or four of us, one can sit down in one's shirt sleeves, whereas at the brigade mess one must, of course, turn up in uniform, which in this climate is stifling."

The meal was a more pleasant one than Gregory had anticipated. On board the steamer he had, of course, dined with the other officers; and he found little difference here. Ten sat down, including the principal medical officer and a captain--the head of the station intelligence department, Major Wingate, being at present at Wady Halfa. Except for the roughness of the surroundings, it was like a regimental mess, and the presence of the General commanding in no way acted as a damper to the conversation.

General Hunter had, before sitting down, introduced him to all the members with a few pleasant words, which had put him at his ease. Gregory had, on his way up, learned a good deal as to the officers who were down at Cairo for their health; and he was able to say who were convalescent, and who had sailed, or were on the point of sailing, for England.

The table was formed of two long benches, and had been constructed by the engineers. It was laid under a large tent, of which the walls had been removed to give a free passage of air.

Although scarcely up to the standard of a mess dinner at home, it was by no means a bad one; consisting of soup, fish from the river, a joint of beef at one end and of mutton at the other, curried kidneys, sweet omelettes and cheese, whisky with water or soda to drink at dinner; and, after the meal, four bottles of claret were placed on the table, and cigars or pipes lit. Half an hour later four of the party sat down to whist, and the rest, going outside the tent, sat or threw themselves down on the sand, and smoked or chatted till it was time to turn in.

Gregory's first step, next morning, was to buy a horse. This he purchased from some fugitives, who had come down from Kordofan. It was a good animal, though in poor condition, and would soon pick up flesh, when well attended and fed. To accustom himself to riding, Gregory went out on it for a couple of hours every morning; getting up before daybreak, so as to take exercise before the work of the day began. He also followed the example of the officers of the Egyptian regiments, and purchased a camel for the conveyance of his own baggage.

"You will find it a great advantage," one of them said to him. "Of course, times may arrive when you will have to leave it behind; but, as a rule, there is no trouble about it at all. You hire a native driver, who costs practically nothing, and he keeps with the baggage. No one asks any questions, and when you halt for a day or two, you have comforts. Of course, with a British regiment you are cut down to the last ounce, but with us it is altogether different. There being only three or four white officers to each regiment, the few extra camels in the train make no appreciable difference. Besides, these black fellows consider it quite natural and proper that their white officers should fare in a very different way from themselves; whereas a British Tommy would be inclined to grumble if he saw his officers enjoying luxuries, while he himself had to rough it."

As the horse only cost three pounds, and the camel only five, Gregory's store of money was not seriously affected by the purchases. For both animals, although in poor condition from their journey from Kordofan, a fortnight's rest and good feeding did wonders.

Zaki had not much to do, but Gregory was well satisfied with the selection he had made. He looked after and groomed the horse, saw that the native with the camel took care of it, and went down regularly to the river to water it every evening, while he himself did the same with the horse. He always had a jug of cold tea ready for Gregory, whenever he came in, and the floor of the tent was kept scrupulously clean. Zaki's only regret was that he could not do more for his master, but he was consoled by being told that the time would soon come when he would be more actively engaged.

From the first day of his arrival, Gregory was kept fully employed. Sometimes he assisted the officer of the Intelligence Department, in interviewing fugitives who had arrived from Berber and other points on the river, from Kordofan, or from villages on the White Nile. Sometimes he carried messages from the General to the officers in command of the two Egyptian brigades. He had to listen to disputes between natives returning to their homes, from which they had been driven by the Dervishes, and those they found in possession of their land. He took notes of the arguments on both sides, and submitted them to the General for his decision.

The work would have been trifling in any other climate, but was exhausting in the sweltering heat of the day, and he was not sorry when the sun sank, and he could take off his khaki tunic and go down to the river for a swim.

One evening, as they were sitting after dinner, General Hunter said:

"It is very annoying that, while these natives making their way down the country are able to tell us a good deal of what is taking place on the Nile, from Omdurman down to Metemmeh; and while we also get news of the state of things at Berber and Abu Hamed; we know nothing whatever of Mahmud's intentions, nor indeed anything of what is doing at Metemmeh, itself, since it was captured by the Dervishes and, as we heard, the whole population destroyed.

"Of course, Mahmud has the choice of three courses. He can stay where he is, he can march his whole force to Berber, or he can advance against us here. I don't suppose that he has any idea of the progress the railway is making from Wady Halfa. He may have heard, and no doubt he has heard, that we are making a road of some sort across the desert in the direction of Abu Hamed; but of the capabilities of the railway he can form no idea, and may well believe that the march of an army, across what is practically a waterless desert, is a matter of impossibility.

"On the other hand, he knows that we are gathering a considerable force here; and, with his limited knowledge, doubtless supposes that we are going to cross the Bayuda desert, to Metemmeh, as the Gordon relief column did; or that, if we are not coming that way, we intend to follow the river bank up to Berber. Unquestionably his best course, if he considers, as we may be sure he does, that the force under his command is strong enough to crush us here, would be to push across the desert, and fall upon us before reinforcements arrive. But it is reported, and I believe truly, that the Khalifa, his father, has positively refused to let him do so; still, sons have disobeyed their fathers before now.

"There is, it is true, the difficulty of water; but that is not so serious, in the case of a Dervish force, as it is with us. In the first place, they can march twice as far as we can. In the second place, they are accustomed to go a long time without water, and are but little affected by the heat. Lastly, they have nothing to carry except their weapons, a few handfuls of dates, and their water gourds. Still, we know that the forces that have, one after another, arrived here have been greatly weakened by the journey. However, Mahmud may attempt it, for he must know, from his spies here, that we have at present no such land transport as would be required, were we intending to advance across the desert. He may, therefore, move at least a portion of his force to Berber; trusting to the fact that, even did we make an advance south from here, with the intention of cutting off his retreat to Khartoum, he would be able to reach Metemmeh before we could get there.

"Undoubtedly, a British general, if commanding a force constituted as Mahmud's is, would make a dash across the desert and fall upon us; unless, indeed, he felt certain that, after the difficulties we encountered last time we attempted to take the desert route, we should be certain to advance by the river, step by step, continuing the policy that we have followed since we began to push forward from Assouan.

"Mahmud is in a very difficult position. He is controlled by his father at Khartoum. Among those with him are many important Emirs, men of almost equal rank with himself; and he could hardly hope that whatever decision he might personally arrive at would be generally accepted by all; and those who opposed him would do so with all the more force, as they could declare that, in making any movement, he was acting in opposition to his father's orders.

"However, our total ignorance as to Mahmud's plans and intentions is most unfortunate; but it can hardly be helped, for naturally the natives coming down from Kordofan give Metemmeh a very wide berth. As to sending up any of the natives here, to find out what is going on, it is out of the question, for they would be detected at once, as their language is so different from that of the Baggara."

Later on, the General retired to his quarters. Gregory went there.

"Can I speak to you for a few minutes, sir?" he asked.

"Certainly, Mr. Hilliard. What can I do for you?"

"I have been thinking over what you were saying, regarding information as to Mahmud's intentions. With your permission, I am ready to undertake to go into his camp, and to find out what the general opinion is as to his plans."

"Impossible, Mr. Hilliard! I admire your courage in making the offer, but it would be going to certain death."

"I do not think so, sir. I talk Baggara better than the Negro dialect that passes here. It is among the Baggara that I am likely to learn something of my father's fate; and, as the old nurse from whom I learnt these languages had been for a long time among that tribe, she devoted, at my mother's request, more time to teaching me their Arab dialect than any other, and I am convinced that I could pass unsuspected among them, as far as language is concerned. There is no great difference between Arab features and European, and I think that, when I am stained brown and have my head partly shaved, according to their fashion, there will be little fear of my being detected.

"As to costume, that is easy enough. I have not seen any of the Dervishes yet, but the natives who have come in from El Obeid, or any other neighbourhood where they are masters, could give me an account of their dress, and the way in which they wear the patches on their clothes, which are the distinguishing mark of the Mahdists."

"I could tell you that. So could any of the officers. Their dress differs very little from the ordinary Arab costume. Nearly all wear loose white trousers, coming down to the ankles. In some cases these are the usual baggy Eastern articles, in others the legs are separate. They almost all wear the white garment coming down to the knee, with of course a sash round the waist, and sleeves reaching down to the elbow or an inch or two below it. Some wear turbans, but the majority simply skullcaps. I could get the dress made up in three or four hours. But the risk is altogether too great, and I do not think that I should be justified in allowing you to undertake it."

"I really do not think that there will be any great danger, sir. If there were no great object to be gained, it would be different; but in view of the great importance, as you said this evening, of learning Mahmud's intentions, the risk of one life being lost, even were it great, is nothing. As you say, the Sirdar's plans might be greatly affected by the course Mahmud adopts; and in such a case, the life of a subaltern like myself is a matter scarcely to be considered.

"From childhood I have been preparing to go among the Dervishes, and this is what I propose doing, as soon as Khartoum is recaptured. Therefore sir if, by anticipating my work by a few months, or possibly a year, I can render a service to the army, I would gladly undertake it, if you will give me permission to do so."

The General was, for a minute or two, silent.

"Well, Hilliard," he said at last, "on thinking it over as you put it, I do not know that I should be justified in refusing your offer. It is a very gallant one, and may possibly meet with success."

"Thank you, sir! I shall be really glad to enter upon the work I have looked forward to. Although it may have no direct bearing upon the discovery of my father's fate, it will be a start in that direction. Do you think that I had better go mounted, or on foot?"

"I should say certainly on horseback, but there is no occasion for any hasty determination. Every step should be carefully considered, and we should, as far as possible, foresee and provide for every emergency that may arise. Think it over well, yourself. Some time tomorrow I will discuss it again with you."

Gregory went straight back to his hut.

"Come in, Zaki, I want to speak to you.

"Light the lamp, and shut the door. Now sit down there. Do you know the country between this and Metemmeh?"

"Yes, master; I travelled there with my father, six years ago."

"Is it difficult to find the way?"

"It is not difficult. There are many signs of the passage of caravans. There are skeletons of the camels of the English expedition; there are very many of them. It would not be difficult, even for one who has never passed them, to find the way."

"And there are wells?"

"There are wells at Howeyat and Abu Halfa, at Gakdul and Abu Klea, also at Gubat."

"That is to say, water will be found nearly every day?"

"Quite every day, to one on horseback. The longest distance is from Gakdul to Abu Klea, but that would not be too long for mounted men, and could even be done by a native on foot, in a long day's march."

"Do you know whether Mahmud's army is in Metemmeh, or outside the town?"

"From what I have heard, most of the Dervish force is on the hills behind the town. They say Metemmeh is full of dead, and that even the Dervishes do not care to live there."

"The Baggara are mostly mounted, are they not?"

"Most of them are so, though there are some on foot. The leaders of the tribesmen who fight for the Khalifa are all on horseback, but most of the army are on foot."

"You do not speak the Baggara language, I suppose?"

Zaki shook his head.

"I know a little Arabic, but not much."

"I suppose most of the Arab tribes in the Soudan speak a dialect very much like the Baggara?"

"Yes; it is everywhere Arabic, and there is but little difference. They can all understand each other, and talk together. May your servant ask why you put these questions?"

"Yes, Zaki, but you must not mention what I tell you to a soul."

"Zaki will be as silent as the grave."

"Well, I am going up dressed as a Mahdist. I can speak the Baggara tongue well. I am going to try and find out what they are going to do: whether they will march to Berber, or come here, or remain at Metemmeh."

Zaki stared at his master, in speechless amazement. Gregory could not help smiling at the expression of his face.

"There does not seem much difficulty in it," he said. "I can speak with you in the dialect of Dongola, but the Baggara language is much easier to me, because I have been accustomed to speak Arabic since I was a child. Of course my skin will be dyed, and I shall wear the Dervish dress. There is no difficulty in this matter."

"But they would cut you in pieces, my lord, if they found out that you were a white."

"No doubt they would, but there is no reason why they should find that out. It would be much more dangerous for you to go into their camp than it would be for me. In the first place, you can scarcely speak any Arabic; and in the second, they would see by your features that you are one of the Jaalin. Whereas my features, when stained, would be much more like those of the Arabs than yours would.

"Where should I be most likely to meet the Dervishes first?"

"I do not think any of them are much this side of Metemmeh, at present. Sometimes parties ride down to Gakdul, and they have even passed on till they are within sight of this camp; but when they have found out that the wells are still unoccupied, and the army here quiet, they go back again."

"If I go on horseback, Zaki, I shall want someone with me who will act as a guide; and who will look after his horse and mine at some place near the river, where he can find a hiding place while I am away in the Dervish camp."

"Would you take me, my lord?" Zaki said quickly.

"I would much rather take you than anyone else, if you are willing to go, Zaki."

"Surely I will go with my lord," the native said. "No one has ever been so good to me as he has. If my lord is killed, I am ready to die with him. He may count on me to do anything that he requires, even to go with him into the Dervish camp. I might go as a slave, my lord."

"That would not do, Zaki. I do not wish to travel as a person who could ride attended by a slave. People might say, 'Who is this man? Where does he come from? How is it that no one knows a man who rides with a slave?'

"My great object will be to enter the camp quietly, as one who has but left half an hour before. When I have once entered it, and they ask whence I came, I must tell them some likely story that I have made up: as, for example, that I have come from El Obeid, and that I am an officer of the governor there; that, finding he could not get away himself, he yielded to my request that I might come, and help to drive the infidels into the sea."

Zaki nodded.

"That would be a good tale, my lord, for men who have escaped from El Obeid, and have come here, have said that the Khalifa's troops there have not been called to join him at Omdurman; for it is necessary to keep a strong force there, as many of the tribes of the province would rise in rebellion, if they had the chance. Therefore you would not be likely to meet anyone from El Obeid in Mahmud's camp."

"How is it, Zaki, that when so many in the Soudan have suffered at the hands of the Dervishes, they not only remain quiet, but supply the largest part of the Khalifa's army?"

"Because, my lord, none of them can trust the others. It is madness for one tribe to rise, as the Jaalin did at Metemmeh. The Dervishes wiped them out from the face of the earth. Many follow him because they see that Allah has always given victory to the Mahdists; therefore the Mahdi must be his prophet. Others join his army because their villages have been destroyed, and their fields wasted, and they see no other way of saving themselves from starvation.

"There are many who fight because they are fond of fighting. You see how gladly they take service with you, and fight against their own countrymen, although you are Christians. Suppose you were to conquer the Khalifa tomorrow, half his army would enlist in your service, if you would take them. A man who would be contented to till his fields, if he could do so in peace and quiet, fears that he may see his produce eaten by others and his house set on fire; and would rather leave his home and fight--he cares not against whom.

"The Mahdist army are badly fed and badly paid. They can scarce keep life together. But in the Egyptian Army the men are well taken care of. They have their rations, and their pay. They say that if they are wounded, or lose a limb, and are no more able to fight, they receive a pension. Is it wonderful that they should come to you and be faithful?"

"Well, Zaki, we won't talk any longer, now. It is agreed, then, that if I go on this expedition, you will accompany me?"

"Certainly, master. Wherever you go I am ready to go. Whatever happens to you will, I hope, happen to me."

On the following afternoon, Gregory was sent for.

"I have given the matter a good deal of thought, Mr. Hilliard," the General said, "and have decided to accept your offer. I suppose that you have been thinking the matter over. Do you decide to go on foot, or mounted?"

"On horseback, sir. My boy is perfectly willing to go with me. He knows the way, and the position of the wells on the road. My plan is that, when we get near Metemmeh, he shall remain with the horses somewhere near the river; and I shall enter the camp on foot. I am less likely to be noticed that way. If questioned, my story will be that my father was at El Obeid, and that the Governor there is, by the Khalifa's orders, holding his force in hand to put down any outbreaks there may be in the province; and that, wishing to fight against the infidel, I have come on my own account. If I am asked why I had not come on horseback, I shall say that I had ridden to within the last two or three miles, and that the horse had then died.

"But I do not expect to be questioned at all, as one man on foot is as nothing, in an army of twenty or thirty thousand, gathered from all over the Soudan."

"You quite understand, Mr. Hilliard, that you are taking your life in your hands? And that there is no possibility, whatever, of our doing anything for you, if you get into trouble?"

"Quite, sir. If I am detected, I shall probably be killed at once. I do not think that there is more risk in it than in going into battle. As I have told you, I have, so far as I know, no relatives in the world; and there will be no one to grieve, if I never come back again.

"As to the clothes, I can easily buy them from one of the natives here. Many of them are dressed in the garments of the Dervishes who were killed when we came up here; except, of course, that the patches were taken off. I will get my man to buy a suit for himself, and one for me. It would be better than having new clothes made; for, even if these were dirtied, they would not look old. When he has bought the clothes, he can give them a good washing, and then get a piece of stuff to sew on as patches.

"I am afraid, sir, that there will be little chance of my being able to obtain any absolute news of Mahmud's intentions; but only to glean general opinion, in the camp. It is not likely that the news of any intended departure would be kept a secret up till the last moment, among the Dervishes, as it would be here."

"Quite so," the General agreed. "We may take it as certain that the matter would be one of common talk. Of course, Mahmud and his principal advisers might change their minds, at any moment. Still I think that, were it intended to make a move against us, or to Berber, it would be generally known.

"I may tell you that we do not intend to cross the Bayuda desert. We shall go up the river, but this is a secret that will be kept till the last moment. And before we start, we shall do all in our power to spread a belief that we are going to advance to Metemmeh. We know that they are well informed, by their spies here, of our movements. We shall send a strong force to make a reconnaissance, as far as Gakdul. This will appear to be a preliminary step to our advance, and should keep Mahmud inactive, till too late. He will not dare advance to Berber, because he will be afraid of our cutting him off from Omdurman.

"You are satisfied with your horse? It is advisable that you should have a good one, and yet not so good as to attract attention."

"Yes; I could not want a better horse, General. He is not handsome, but I have ridden him a great deal, and he is certainly fast; and, being desert bred, I have no doubt has plenty of endurance. I shall, of course, get one for my boy."

"There are plenty in the transport yard. They have been bought up from fugitives who have come in here. I will write you an order to select any one you choose; and if you see one you think better than your own, you can take it also; and hand yours over to the transport, to keep until you return.

"You should take a Martini-Henri with you. I will give you an order for one, on one of the native regiments. They are, as you know, armed with them; and have, of course, a few cases of spare rifles. A good many have fallen into the hands of the Dervishes, at one time or another, so that your carrying such a weapon will not excite any remark. It would not do to take a revolver, but no doubt you will be able to buy pistols that have been brought down by the fugitives. You will certainly be able to get them at some of those Greek shops. They buy up all that kind of thing. Of course, you will carry one of the Dervish long knives.

"Is there anything else that you can think of?"

"Nothing, sir."

"When will you be ready, do you suppose?"

"By the day after tomorrow, sir. I shall start after dark, so that no one will notice my going. With your permission, I will come round before I set off, so that you can see whether the disguise is good enough to pass."

Chapter 7: To Metemmeh.

Zaki at once set to work to collect the articles needed for the journey; and Gregory obtained, from the transport, another horse and two native saddles. He was well satisfied with his own animal; and, even had he found in the transport yard a better horse, he would still have preferred his own, as they were accustomed to each other. He bought pistols for himself and Zaki, and a matchlock for the latter.

Everything was ready by the time Gregory went to the mess to lunch, on the day fixed for his departure. Nothing whatever had been said as to his leaving, as it was possible that some of the native servants, who waited upon them, might have picked up sufficient English to gather that something important was about to take place. When, however, the meal was over and he said carelessly, "I shall not be at mess this evening;" he saw, by the expression of the officers' faces, that they all were aware of the reason for his absence. One after another they either shook hands with him, or gave him a quiet pat on the shoulder, with the words "Take care of yourself, lad," or "A safe journey and a speedy return," or some other kind wish.

Going to his hut, he was shaved by Zaki at the back of the neck, up to his ears; so that the white, closely-fitting cap would completely cover the hair. Outside the tent a sauce pan was boiling with herbs and berries, which the lad had procured from an old woman who was considered to have a great knowledge of simples. At four in the afternoon, Gregory was stained from head to foot, two coats of the dye being applied. This used but a small quantity of the liquor, and the rest was poured into a gourd, for future use. The dresses were ready, with the exception of the Mahdi patches, which were to be sewn on at their first halting place.

Before it was dark, Gregory went across to the General's quarters. The black sentry stopped him.

"The General wants to speak to me," Gregory said, in Arabic.

The man called up the native sergeant from the guard tent, who asked what he wanted.

"I am here by the orders of the General."

The sergeant looked doubtful, but went in. He returned in a minute, and motioned to Gregory to follow him in. The General looked at him, from head to foot.

"I suppose it is you, Hilliard," he said, "but I certainly should not have recognized you. With that yellowish-brown skin, you could pass anywhere as a Soudan Arab. Will the colour last?"

"I am assured that it will last for some days, but I am taking enough with me to renew it, four or five times."

"Well, unless some unexpected obstacle occurs, I think you are safe from detection. Mind you avoid men from El Obeid; if you do not fall in with them, you should be safe. Of course, when you have sewn on those patches, your disguise will be complete.

"I suppose you have no idea how long you will be away?"

"It will take me five days to go there, and five days to come back. I should think that if I am three days in the camp, I ought to get all the information required. In a fortnight I should be here; though, of course, I may be longer. If I am not back within a few days of that time, you will know that it is because I have stayed there, in the hopes of getting more certain news. If I don't return in three weeks, it will be because something has gone wrong."

"I hope it will not be so, lad. As regards appearance and language, I have no fear of your being detected; but you must always bear in mind that there are other points. You have had the advantage of seeing the camps of the native regiments, when the men are out of uniform--how they walk, laugh uproariously, play tricks with each other, and generally behave. These are all natives of the Soudan, and no small proportion of them have been followers of the Mahdi, and have fought against us, so they may be taken as typical of the men you are going among. It is in all these little matters that you will have to be careful.

"Now, I will not detain you longer. I suppose your horses are on board?"

It had been arranged that Gregory should be taken down to Korti, in a native craft that was carrying some stores required at that camp.

"Yes, sir. My boy put them on board, two hours ago."

"Here is the pass by which you can enter or leave the British lines, at any time. The boat will be there before daylight, but the landing of the stores will not, of course, take place until later. Show this pass to the first officer who comes down. It contains an order for you to be allowed to start on your journey, at once.

"This other pass is for your return. You had better, at your first halt, sew it under one of your patches. It is, as you see, written on a piece of linen, so that however closely you may be examined, there will be no stiffness or crackling, as would be the case with paper.

"Now goodbye, Hilliard! It is a satisfaction to me that you have undertaken this journey on your own initiative, and on your own request. I believe that you have a fair chance of carrying it through--more so than men with wider shoulders and bigger limbs would have. If you come to grief, I shall blame myself for having accepted your offer; but I shall at least know that I thought it over seriously, and that, seeing the importance of the object in view, I did not feel myself justified in refusing."

With a cordial shake of the hand, he said goodbye to Gregory. The latter went off to his hut. He did not leave it until dusk, and then went down to the boat, where Zaki had remained with the horses.

As soon as it started they lay down alongside some bales, on the deck of the native craft, and were soon asleep. They did not wake until a slight bump told them they were alongside the wharf, at Korti.

Day was just breaking, so no move was made until an hour later. An officer came down, with the fatigue party, to unload the stores that she had brought down. When the horses were ashore, Gregory handed the pass to the officer, who was standing on the bank. He looked at it, with some surprise.

"Going to do some scouting," he muttered, and then called to a native officer, "Pass these two men beyond the outposts. They have an order from General Hunter."

"Will you be away long?" he asked Gregory, in Arabic.

"A week or more, my lord," the latter replied.

"Ah! I suppose you are going to Gakdul. As far as we have heard, there are no Dervishes there. Well, you must keep a sharp lookout. They may be in hiding anywhere about there, and your heads won't be worth much, if they lay hands on you."

"We intend to do so, sir;" and then, mounting, they rode on, the native officer walking beside them.

"You know the country, I suppose?" he said. "The Dervishes are bad, but I would rather fall into their hands than lose my way in the desert. The one is a musket ball or a quick chop with a knife, the other an agony for two or three days."

"I have been along the road before," Zaki said. "There is no fear of my losing my way; and, even if I did so, I could travel by the stars."

"I wish we were all moving," the native said. "It is dull work staying here, month after month."

As soon as they were beyond the lines, they thanked the officer and went off, at a pace native horses are capable of keeping up for hours.

"Korti is a much pleasanter camp to stay in than Merawi," Gregory said. "It really looks a delightful place. It is quite evident that the Mahdists have never made a raid here."

The camp stood on a high bank above the river. There were spreading groves of trees, and the broad avenues, that had been constructed when the Gordon relief expedition was encamped there, could still be seen. Beyond it was a stretch of land which had been partly cultivated. Sevas grass grew plentifully, and acacia and mimosa shrubs in patches.

They rode to the wells of Hambok, a distance of some five-and-thirty miles, which they covered in five hours. There they halted, watered their horses and, after giving them a good feed, turned them out to munch the shrubs or graze on the grass, as they chose. They then had a meal from the food they had brought with them, made a shelter of bushes, for the heat was intense, and afterwards sewed the Mahdi patches upon their clothes.

When the sun went down they fetched the horses in, gave them a small feed, and then fastened them to some bushes near. As there was plenty of water in the wells, they took an empty gourd down and, stripping, poured water over their heads and bodies; then, feeling greatly refreshed, dressed and lay down to sleep.

The moon rose between twelve and one; and, after giving the horses a drink, they mounted and rode to Gakdul, which they reached soon after daybreak. They had stopped a mile away, and Zaki went forward on foot, hiding himself as much as possible from observation. On his return he reported that no one was at the wells, and they therefore rode on, taking every precaution against surprise.

The character of the scenery had completely changed; and they had, for some miles, been winding along at the foot of the Jebel-el-Jilif hills. These were steep and precipitous, with spurs and intermediate valleys. The wells differed entirely from those at Hambok, which were merely holes dug in the sand, the water being brought up in one of the skin bags they had brought with them, and poured into shallow cisterns made in the surface. At Gakdul the wells were large pools in the rock, at the foot of one of the spurs of the hill, two miles from the line of the caravan route. Here the water was beautifully clear, and abundant enough for the wants of a large force.

"It is lucky I had you with me, Zaki, for I should certainly have gone straight on past the wells, without knowing where they were; and as there are no others this side of Abu Klea, I should have had rather a bad day."

The three forts which the Guards had built, when they came on in advance of General Stewart's column, were still standing; as well as a number of smaller ones, which had been afterwards added.

"It is rather a bad place for being caught, Zaki, for the ground is so broken, and rocky, that the Dervishes might creep up without being seen."

"Yes, sir, it is a bad place," Zaki agreed. "I am glad that none of the Dervishes were here, for we should not have seen them, until we were quite close."

Zaki had, on the road, cut a large faggot of dried sticks, and a fire was soon lighted.

"You must give the horses a good allowance of grain," Gregory said, "for they will be able to pick up nothing here, and it is a long ride to Abu Klea."

"We shall have to be very careful there, my lord. It is not so very far from Metemmeh, and we are very likely to find Baggaras at the wells. It was there they met the English force that went through to Metemmeh.

"I think it would be better for us to halt early, this evening, and camp at the foot of Jebel Sergain. The English halted there, before advancing to Abu Klea. We can take plenty of water in the two skins, to give the horses a drink and leave enough for tomorrow. There is grass in abundance there.

"When the moon rises, we can make our way round to avoid Abu Klea, and halt in the middle of the day for some hours. We could then ride on as soon as the sun is low, halt when it becomes too dark to ride, and then start again when the moon rises. In that way we shall reach the river, before it is light."

"I think that would be a very good plan, Zaki. We should find it very difficult to explain who we were, if we met any Dervishes at Abu Klea. I will have a look at my sketch map; we have found it very good and accurate, so far; and with that, and the compass the General gave me before starting, we ought to have no difficulty in striking the river, as the direction is only a little to the east of south."

He opened a tin of preserved meat, of which he had four with him, and placed it to warm near the fire.

"We should have had to throw the other tins away, if we had gone on to Abu Klea," he said. "It would never have done for them to be found upon us, if we were searched."

When the meat was hot they ate it, using some biscuits as plates. Afterwards they feasted on a melon they had brought with them, and were glad to hear their horses munching the leaves of some shrubs near.

When the moon rose, they started. It was slow work at first, as they had some difficulty in passing the rough country lying behind the hill. Once past it, they came upon a level plain, and rode fast for some hours. At ten o'clock they halted, and lay down under the shelter of the shrubs; mounting again at four, and riding for another three hours.

"How far do you think we are from the river now? By the map, I should think we cannot be much more than twenty miles from it."

"I don't know, my lord. I have never been along here before; but it certainly ought not to be farther than that."

"We have ridden nine hours. We travelled slowly for the first four or five, but we have come fast, since then. We must give the horses a good rest, so we will not move on till the moon rises, which will be about a quarter to two. It does not give a great deal of light, now, and we shall have to make our way through the scrub; but, at any rate, we ought to be close to the river, before morning."

When the sun was low they again lit a fire, and had another good meal, giving the greater portion of their stock of biscuits to the horses, and a good drink of water.

"We must use up all we can eat before tomorrow, Zaki, and betake ourselves to a diet of dried dates. There is enough water left to give the horses a drink before we start, then we shall start as genuine Dervishes."

They found that the calculation they had made as to distance was correct and, before daybreak, arrived on the bank of the Nile, and at once encamped in a grove. In the morning they could see the houses of Metemmeh, rising from the line of sandy soil, some five miles away.

"There seems to be plenty of bush and cover, all along the bank, Zaki. We will stay here till the evening, and then move three miles farther down; so that you may be handy, if I have to leave the Dervishes in a hurry."

"Could we not go into the camp, my lord?"

"It would be much better, in some respects, if we could; but, you see, you do not speak Arabic."

"No, master; but you could say I was carried off as a slave, when I was a boy. You see, I do speak a little Arabic, and could understand simple orders; just as any slave boy would, if he had been eight or ten years among the Arabs."

"It would certainly be a great advantage to have you and the horses handy. However, at first I will go in and join the Dervishes, and see how they encamp. They are, no doubt, a good deal scattered; and if we could find a quiet spot, where a few mounted men have taken up their station, we would join them. But before we did that, it would be necessary to find out whether they came from Kordofan, or from some of the villages on the White Nile. It would never do to stumble into a party from El Obeid."

They remained quiet all day. The wood extended a hundred and fifty yards back from the river, and there was little fear that anyone coming down from Omdurman would enter it, when within sight of Metemmeh. At dusk they rode on again, until they judged that they were within two miles of the town; and then, entering a clump of high bushes by the river, halted for the night.

Chapter 8: Among The Dervishes.

In the morning Gregory started alone, as soon as it was light. As he neared the town, he saw that there were several native craft on the river; and that boats were passing to and fro between the town and Shendy, on the opposite bank. From the water side a number of men were carrying what appeared to be bags of grain towards the hills behind the town, while others were straggling down towards the river.

Without being questioned, Gregory entered Metemmeh, but stopped there for a very few minutes. Everywhere were the bodies of men, women, and children, of donkeys and other animals. All were now shrivelled and dried by the sun, but the stench was almost unbearable, and he was glad to hurry away.

Once beyond the walls he made for the hill. Many tents could be seen there, and great numbers of men moving about. He felt sure that, among so many, no one would notice that he was a newcomer; and after moving among the throng, he soon sat down among a number of Dervishes who were eating their morning meal. Taking some dates out of his bag, he munched them quietly.

From the talk going on, he soon perceived that there was a considerable amount of discontent at the long delay. Some of the men were in favour of moving to Berber, on the ground that they would at least fare better there; but the majority were eager to march north, to drive the infidels from Merawi and Dongola.

"Mahmud would do that, I am sure," one of them said, "if he had but his will; but how could we march without provisions? It is said that Mahmud has asked for a sufficient supply to cross the Bayuda, and has promised to drive the infidels before him to Assouan; but the Khalifa says no, it would be better to wait till they come in a strong body, and then to exterminate them. If we are not to fight, why were we sent here? It would have been better to stay at Omdurman, because there we had plenty of food; or, if it ran short, could march to the villages and take what we wanted. Of course the Khalifa knows best, but to us it seems strange, indeed."

There was a general chorus of assent. After listening for some time Gregory rose and, passing over the ridge, came upon the main camp. Here were a number of emirs and sheiks, with their banners flying before the entrance of their tents. The whole ground was thickly dotted with little shelters, formed of bushes, over which dark blankets were thrown to keep out the rays of the sun. Everywhere women were seated or standing--some talking to each other, others engaged in cooking. Children played about; boys came in loaded with faggots, which they had gone long distances to cut. In some places numbers of horses were picketed, showing where the Baggara cavalry were stationed.

In the neighbourhood of the emirs' tents there was some sort of attempt at order, in the arrangement of the little shelters, showing where the men of their tribes were encamped. Beyond, straggling out for some distance, were small encampments, in some of which the men were still erecting shelters, with the bushes the women and boys brought in. Most of these were evidently fresh arrivals, who had squatted down as soon as they came up; either from ignorance as to where their friends had encamped, or from a preference for a quiet situation. This fringe of new arrivals extended along the whole semicircle of the camp; and as several small parties came up while Gregory wandered about, and he saw that no notice was taken of them by those already established, he thought that he could bring Zaki, and the horses up without any fear of close questioning. He therefore walked down again to the spot where he had left them; and, mounting, they rode to the camp, making a wide sweep so as to avoid the front facing Metemmeh.

"We could camp equally well, anywhere here, Zaki, but we may as well go round to the extreme left; as, if we have to ride off suddenly, we shall at least start from the nearest point to the line by which we came."

There was a small clump of bushes, a hundred yards or so from the nearest of the little shelters. Here they dismounted, and at once began, with their knives, to cut down some of the bushes to form a screen from the sun. They had watered the horses before they left the river, and had also filled their water skins.

"I don't think we could find a better place, Zaki," Gregory said, when, having completed their shelter and thrown their blankets over it, they lay down in the shade. "No doubt we shall soon be joined by others; but as we are the first comers on this spot, it will be for us to ask questions of them, and, after, for them to make enquiries of us.

"I shall go into the camp as soon as the heat abates, and people begin to move about again. Remember our story--You were carried off from a Jaalin village, in a raid. Your master was a small sheik, and is now with the force at El Obeid. You had been the companion of his son, and when the latter made up his mind to come and fight here your master gave you your freedom, so that you might fight by his son's side. You might say that I have not yet settled under whose banner I shall fight. All I wish is to be in the front of the battle, when we meet the infidels. That will be quite sufficient. There are men here from almost every village in the Soudan, and no one will care much where his neighbours come from.

"Mention that we intend to fight as matchlock men, not on horseback, as the animals are greatly fatigued from their long journey, and will require rest for some time; and, being so far from home, I fear that we might lose them if we went into the fight with them; and in that case might have to journey on foot, for a long time, before we could get others.

"I don't at all suppose that it will be necessary for you to say all this. People will be too much occupied with their own affairs to care much about others; still, it is well not to hesitate, if questioned."

Talk and laughter in the great camp ceased now, and it was not until the sun lost its power that it again began. Gregory did not move, till it began to get dusk.

"I shall be away some time," he said, "so don't be at all uneasy about me. I shall take my black blanket, so that I can cover myself with it and lie down, as if asleep, close to any of the emirs' tents where I hear talk going on; and so may be able to gather some idea as to their views. I have already learned that the tribesmen have not heard of any immediate move, and are discontented at being kept inactive so long. The leaders, however, may have their plans, but will not make them known to the men, until it is time for action."

The camp was thoroughly alive when he entered it. Men were sitting about in groups; the women, as before, keeping near their little shelters, laughing and chatting together, and sometimes quarrelling. From the manner of the men, who either sat or walked about, it was not difficult for Gregory to distinguish between the villagers, who had been dragged away from their homes and forced to enter the service of the Khalifa, and the Baggara and kindred tribes, who had so long held the Soudan in subjection. The former were quiet in their demeanour, and sometimes sullen in their looks. He had no doubt that, when the fighting came, these would face death at the hands of the infidels as bravely as their oppressors, for the belief in Mahdism was now universal. His followers had proved themselves invincible; they had no doubt that they would destroy the armies of Egypt, but they resented being dragged away from their quiet homes, their families, and their fields.

Among these the Baggara strode haughtily. Splendid men, for the most part, tall, lithe, and muscular; men with the supreme belief in themselves, and in their cause, carrying themselves as the Norman barons might have done among a crowd of Saxons; the conquerors of the land, the most trusted followers of the successor of the Mahdi, men who felt themselves invincible. It was true that they had, so far, failed to overrun Egypt, and had even suffered reverses, but these the Khalifa had taught them to consider were due to disobedience of his orders, or the result of their fighting upon unlucky days. All this was soon to be reversed. The prophecies had told that the infidels were about to be annihilated, and that then they would sweep down without opposition, and possess themselves of the plunder of Egypt.

Gregory passed wholly unnoticed among the crowd. There was nothing to distinguish him from others, and the thought that an Egyptian spy, still less one of the infidels, should venture into their camp had never occurred to one of that multitude. Occasionally, he sat down near a group of the Baggara, listening to their talk. They were impatient, too, but they were convinced that all was for the best; and that, when it was the will of Allah, they would destroy their enemy. Still, there were expressions of impatience that Mahmud was not allowed to advance.

"We know," one said, "that it is at Kirkeban that the last great destruction of the infidel is to take place, and that these madmen are coming to their fate; still, we might move down and destroy those at Dongola and along the river, and possess ourselves of their arms and stores. Why should we come thus far from Omdurman, if we are to go no farther?"

"Why ask questions?" another said contemptuously. "Enough that it is the command of the Khalifa, to whom power and knowledge has been given by the Mahdi, until he himself returns to earth. To the Khalifa will be revealed the day and the hour on which we are to smite the infidel. If Mahmud and the great emirs are all content to wait, why should we be impatient?"

Everywhere Gregory went, he heard the same feelings expressed. The men were impatient to be up and doing, but they must wait the appointed hour.

It was late before he ventured to approach the tents of the leaders. He knew that it was impossible to get near Mahmud himself, for he had his own bodyguard of picked men. The night, however, was dark and, enveloping himself from head to foot in his black blanket, he crawled out until well beyond the line of tents, and then very cautiously made his way towards them again. He knew that he should see the white figures of the Dervishes before they could make him out; and he managed, unnoticed, to crawl up to one of the largest tents, and lie down against it. He heard the chatter of the women in an adjoining tent, but there was no sound in that against which he lay.

For an hour all was quiet. Then he saw two white figures coming from Mahmud's camp, which lay some fifty yards away. To his delight, they stopped at the entrance of the tent by which he was concealed, and one said:

"I can well understand, Ibrahim Khalim, that your brother Mahmud is sorely vexed that your father will not let him advance against the Egyptians, at Merawi. I fully share his feelings; for could I not, with my cavalry, sweep them before me into the river, even though no footmen came with me? According to accounts they are but two or three thousand strong, and I have as many horsemen under my command."

"That is so, Osman Azrakyet. But methinks my father is right. If we were to march across the desert, we would lose very many men and great numbers of animals, and we should arrive weakened and dispirited. If we remain here, it is the Egyptians who will have to bear the hardships of the march across the desert. Great numbers of the animals that carry the baggage and food, without which the poor infidels are unable to march, would die, and the weakened force would be an easy prey for us."

"That is true," the other said, "but they may come now, as they came to Dongola, in their boats."

"They have the cataracts to ascend, and the rapid currents of the Nile at its full to struggle against. There is a strong force at Abu Hamed, and our Governor at Berber will move down there, with all his force, when he hears that the Egyptians are coming up the cataracts. Should it be the will of Allah that they should pass them, and reach Berber, we shall know how to meet them. Mahmud has settled this evening that many strong forts are to be built on the river bank here, and if the infidels try to advance farther by water, they will be all sunk.

"I agree with you and Mahmud, and wish that it had been otherwise, and that we could hurl ourselves at once upon the Egyptians and prevent their coming farther--but that would be but a partial success. If we wait, they will gather all their forces before they come, and we shall destroy them at one blow. Then we shall seize all their stores and animals, cross the desert to Dongola, march forward to Assouan, and there wait till the Khalifa brings his own army; and then who is to oppose us? We will conquer the land of the infidel. I am as eager for the day of battle as you are, but it seems to me that it is best to wait here, until the infidels come; and I feel that it is wise of the Khalifa thus to order. Now I will to my tent."

As soon as Ibrahim Khalim had entered his tent, Gregory crawled away, well satisfied that he had gained exactly the information he had come to gather. He had gone but a few paces when he saw a white figure striding along, in front of the tents. He stopped, and threw himself down.

Unfortunately, the path taken by the sheik was directly towards him. He heard the footsteps advancing, in hopes that the man would pass either in front or behind him. Then he felt a sudden kick, an exclamation, and a heavy fall. He leapt to his feet, but the Arab sheik was as quick and, springing up, also seized him, at the same time drawing his knife and uttering a loud shout.

Gregory grasped the Arab's wrist, and without hesitation snatched his own knife from the sash, and drove it deep into his assailant's body. The latter uttered another loud cry for help, and a score of men rushed from behind the tents.Gregory set off at the top of his speed, dashed over the brow of the bridge, and then, without entering the camp there, he kept along close to the crest, running at the top of his speed and wrapping his blanket as much as possible round him. He heard an outburst of yells behind, and felt sure that the sheik he had wounded had told those who had rushed up which way he had fled. With loud shouts they poured over the crest, and there were joined by others running up from the camp.When Gregory paused for a moment, after running for three or four hundred yards, he could hear no sound of footsteps behind him. Glancing round, he could not see white dresses in the darkness. Turning sharply off, he recrossed the crest of the hill and, keeping close to it, continued his flight until well past the end of the camp.The alarm had by this time spread everywhere, and a wild medley of shouts rose throughout the whole area of the encampment. He turned now, and made for the spot where he had left Zaki and the horses. In five minutes he reached it."Is that you, my lord?" Zaki asked, as he came up."Yes, we must fly at once! I was discovered, and had to kill--or at least badly wound--a sheik, and they are searching for me everywhere.""I have saddled the horses, and put the water skins on them.""That is well done, Zaki. Let us mount and be off, at once. We will lead the horses. It is too dark to gallop among these bushes, and the sound of the hoofs might be heard. We will go quietly, till we are well away."Not another word was spoken, till they had gone half a mile."We will mount now, Zaki. The horses can see better than we. We will go at a walk. I dare not strike a light to look at the compass, but there are the stars. I do not see the north star, it must be hidden by the mist, lower down; but the others give us the direction, quite near enough to go by."It is most unfortunate that the fellow who rushed against me was a sheik. I could see that, by the outline of his robe. If it had been a common man, there would not have been any fuss over it. As it is, they will search for us high and low. I know he wasn't killed on the spot, for he shouted after I had left him; and they are likely to guess, from his account, that I had been down at one of the emirs' tents, and was probably a spy."I know that I ought to have paused a moment, and given him another stab, but I could not bring myself to do it. It is one thing to stab a man who is trying to take one's life, but it is quite another when he has fallen, and is helpless."Zaki had made no reply. He could scarcely understand his master's repugnance to making matters safe, when another blow would have done so, but it was not for him to blame.They travelled all night and, when the moon rose, were able to get along somewhat faster; but its light was now feeble and uncertain. As soon as day broke, they rode fast, and at ten o'clock had left behind the range of hills, stretching between the wells of Abu Klea and Jebel Sergain."We ought to be safe now," Gregory said, as they dismounted. "At any rate, the horses must have a rest. We have done over forty miles.""We are safe for the present, my lord. It all depends whether or not they think you are a spy. If they come to that conclusion, they will send at once to Abu Klea; and if a strong body is stationed there, they may have sent a party on to Gakdul, or even to El Howeyat, for they will feel sure that we shall make for one of the wells.""How much water have you got in the bags?"Zaki examined them."Enough for ourselves for five or six days; but only enough for two drinks each, for the horses and for ourselves, for a couple of days.""That is bad. If we had had any idea of coming away so soon, we would have filled the large bags yesterday. I had intended to send down the horses in the morning, therefore left them only half full, and they must have leaked a good deal to get so low. See if one leaks more than the other."It was found that one held the water well, but from the other there was a steady drip. They transferred the water from this to the sound bag."We must drink as little as we can, Zaki, and give the horses only a mouthful, now and then, and let them munch the shrubs and get a little moisture from them. Do you think there is any fear of the Dervishes following our tracks?""No, my lord. In the first place, they do not know that there are two of us, or that we are mounted. When those who camped near us notice, when they get up this morning, that we have moved; they will only think that we have shifted our camp, as there was no talk of horsemen being concerned in this affair. No, I do not think they will attempt to follow us, except along the caravan road, but I feel sure they will pursue us on that line."They rested for some hours, in the shade of a high rock, leaving the horses to pick what herbage they could find. At four o'clock they started again. They had ridden two hours, when Zaki said:"See, my lord, there are two men on the top of Jebel Sergain!"Gregory gazed in that direction."Yes, I can notice them now, but I should not have done so, if you had not seen them.""They are on watch, my lord.""Well, they can hardly see us, at this distance.""You may be sure that they see us," Zaki said; "the eyes of an Arab are very keen, and could not fail to catch two moving objects--especially horsemen.""If they are looking for us, and have seen us, Zaki, they would not be standing stationary there.""Not if they were alone. But others may have been with them. When they first caught sight of us, which may have been half an hour ago, the others may have gone down to Abu Klea, while those two remained to watch which course we took. The Arabs can signal with their lances, or with their horses, and from there they would be able to direct any party in pursuit of us.""Well, we must keep on as hard as we can, till dark; after that, we can take it quietly. You see, the difficulty with us will be water. Now that they have once made out two horsemen riding north, they must know that we have some special object in avoiding them; and will, no doubt, send a party to Gakdul, if not farther."They crossed the rough country as quickly as they could, and then again broke into a canter. An hour later, as they crossed a slight rise, Zaki looked back."There are some horsemen in pursuit, my lord. They have evidently come from Abu Klea."Gregory looked round."There are about fifteen of them," he said. "However, they are a good three miles behind, and it will be dark in another half hour. As soon as it is so, we will turn off to the right or left, and so throw them off our track. Don't hurry your horse. The animals have made a very long journey, since we started, and we shall want them badly tomorrow."In another half hour the sun went down. Darkness comes on quickly in the Soudan, and in another quarter of an hour they had lost sight of their pursuers, who had gained about a mile upon them."Another five minutes, Zaki, to allow for their eyes being better than ours. Which way do you think we had better turn?""I should say to the left, my lord. There is another caravan route from Metemmeh to Ambukol. It cannot be more than fifteen miles to the west.""Do you know anything about it?""I have never been along there. It is a shorter route than the one to Korti, but not so much used, I believe, because the wells cannot be relied upon.""Well, I feel sure we shall not be able to get at the wells on the other line, so we had better take that. As we shall be fairly safe from pursuit, we may as well bear towards the northwest. By doing so we shall be longer in striking the track, but the journey will be a good bit shorter than if we were to ride due west."Now we can safely dismount. It is getting pitch dark, and we will lead our horses. I can feel that mine is nearly dead beat. In a few minutes we will halt, and give them half a gourd full of water, each. After that, we had better go on for another six or seven miles, so as to be well out of sight of anyone on the hills."Ten minutes later they heard the dull sound of horses' hoofs on the sand. They waited five minutes, until it died away in the distance, and then continued their course. It was slow work, as they had to avoid every bush carefully; lest, if their pursuers halted, they should hear the crackling of a dry stick in the still air. Zaki, who could see much better in the dark than his master, went on ahead; while Gregory led the two horses.A good hour passed before they stopped. They gave the horses a scanty drink, and took a mouthful or two each; and then, throwing themselves down, allowed the horses to crop the scanty herbage.After four hours' halt they pursued their way on foot for three hours, laying their course by the stars. They calculated that they must have gone a good fifteen miles from the point where they turned off, and feared that they might miss the caravan track, if they went on before daybreak.

Chapter 9: Safely Back.

As soon as the sun was up they pursued their journey, Gregory's compass being now available.

In half an hour, Zaki said, "There is a sign of the track, my lord," and he pointed to the skeleton of a camel.

"How many more miles do you think we have to go, Zaki?"

"We must be a good half way, my lord."

"Yes, quite that, I should think. Looking at the map, I should say that we must be about abreast of the line of Gakdul. This route is only just indicated, and there are no halting places marked upon it. Still, there must be water, otherwise caravans could not use it. We have about sixty miles farther to go, so that if the horses were fresh we might be there this evening; but as it is, we have still two, if not three days' journey before us.

"Well, we must hope that we shall find some water. Just let the horses wet their mouths; we can keep on for a bit, before we have a drink.

"How much more is there left?" he asked, after the lad had given a little water to each horse.

"Not above two gourdfuls."

"Well, we must ride as far as we can and, at any rate, must keep one gourdful for tomorrow. If we cover twenty-five miles today--and I don't think the horses can do more--we can manage, if they are entirely done up, to walk the other thirty-five miles. However, as I said, there must be wells, and even if they are dry, we may be able to scratch the sand out and find a little water. What food have we got?"

"Only about two pounds of dates."

"That is a poor supply for two days, Zaki, but we must make the best of them. We will only eat a few today, so as to have a fair meal in the morning. We shall want it, if we have to walk thirty-five miles over the sand."

"It will not be all sand," Zaki said; "there is grass for the last fifteen miles, near the river; and there were cultivated fields about ten miles out, before the Dervishes came."

"That is better. Now we will be moving."

The herbage the horses had cropped during the halt had served, to a certain degree, to supply the place of water; and they proceeded at a brisker pace than Gregory had expected.

"Keep a sharp lookout for water. Even if the wells are dry, you will see a difference in the growth of the bushes round them; and as it is certain that this route has not been used for some time, there may even be grass."

They rode on at an easy canter, and avoided pressing the horses in the slightest degree, allowing them to walk whenever they chose. The heat was very great, and after four hours' riding Gregory called a halt.

"We must have done twenty miles," he said. "The bushes look green about here, and the horses have got something of a feed."

"I think this must be one of the old halting places," Zaki said, looking round as they dismounted. "See, my lord, there are some broken gourds, and some rags scattered about."

"So there are," Gregory said. "We will take the bridles out of the horses' mouths, so that they can chew the leaves up better; and then we will see if we can find where the wells were."

Twenty yards farther away they found a deep hole.

"This was one of them," the lad said, "but it is quite dry. See, there is an old bucket lying at the bottom. I will look about; there may be some more of them."

Two others were discovered, and the sand at the bottom of one of them looked a somewhat darker colour than the others.

"Well, we will dig here," Gregory said. "Bring down those two half gourds; they will help us to shovel the sand aside."

The bottom of the hole was some six feet across, and they set to work in the middle of it. By the time they had got down two feet, the sand was soft and clammy.

"We will get to water, Zaki, if we have to stay here all day!" said Gregory.

It was hard work, and it was not until after four hours' toil that, to their delight, they found the sand wet under their feet. They had taken it by turns to use the scoop, for the labour of making the hole large enough for them both to work at once would have been excessive.

In another hour there was half an inch of water in the hole. Gregory took a gourd, and buried it in the soft soil until the water flowed in over the brim.

"Give me the other one down, Zaki. I will fill that, too, and then we will both start drinking together."

Five minutes later, the two took a long draught. The scoops were then refilled and carried to the horses, who drank with an eagerness that showed how great was their thirst. Three times the gourds were filled, and emptied.

"Now hand me down that water bag."

This was half filled, and then, exhausted with their work, they threw themselves down and slept for some hours. When they awoke, the sun was setting.

"Bring up the horses, Zaki. Let them drink as much as they like."

The gourds had each to be filled six times, before the animals were satisfied. The riders then took another deep drink, ate a handful of dates, and mounted.

"We are safe now, and only have to fear a band of marauding Arabs; and it would be hard luck, were we to fall in with them. We had better ride slowly for the first hour or so. We must not press the horses, after they have had such a drink."

"Very well, master."

"There is no particular reason for hurry, and even if we miss the trail we know that, by keeping straight on, we shall strike the river somewhere near Korti or Ambukol."

For an hour they went at a walk, and then the horses broke into their usual pace, of their own accord. It was getting dark, now, and soon even Zaki could not make out the track.

"The horses will keep to it, my lord," he said; "their sight is a great deal better than ours, and I dare say their smell may have something to do with it. Besides, the track is clear of bushes, so we should know at once, if they strayed from it."

They rode for five hours, and then felt that the horses were beginning to fag.

"We will halt here," Gregory said. "We certainly cannot be more than five-and-twenty miles from the river; and, if we start at dawn, shall be there before the heat of the day begins. We can have another handful of dates, and give the horses a handful each, and that will leave us a few for the morning."

The horses, after being given the dates, were again turned loose; and it was not long before they were heard pulling the leaves off bushes.

"Our case is a good deal better this evening than it was yesterday," Gregory said. "Then it looked as if it would be rather a close thing, for I am sure the horses could not have gone much farther, if we had not found the water. I wish we had a good feed to give them."

"They will do very well on the bushes, my lord. They get little else, when they are with the Arabs; a handful of durra, occasionally, when they are at work; but at other times they only get what they can pick up. If their master is a good one, they may get a few dates. They will carry us briskly enough to the river, tomorrow."

They did not talk long, and were soon sound asleep. Zaki was the first to wake.

"Day is just breaking, master."

"You don't say so!" Gregory grumbled, sleepily. "It seems to me that we have only just lain down."

They ate the remainder of their dates, took a drink of water, and gave two gourdfuls to the horses; and, in a quarter of an hour, were on their way again. They had ridden but two or three miles, when Zaki exclaimed:

"There are some horsemen!"

"Eight of them, Zaki, and they are evidently riding to cut us off! As far as I can see, only four of them have guns; the others have spears.

"I think we can manage them. With my breech-loader I can fire two shots to their one, and we have pistols, as well."

The Arabs drew up ahead of them, and remained quiet there until the others came to within fifty yards, and checked their horses. A man who appeared to be the leader of the party shouted the usual salutation, to which Gregory replied.

The leader said, "Where are my friends going and why do they halt?"

"We are on a mission. We wish to see if the infidels are still at Ambukol."

"For that you will not want guns," the man said, "and we need them badly. I beg of you to give them to us."

"They may be of use to us. We may come upon infidel scouts."

"Nevertheless, my friends, you must hand them over to us. We are, as you see, eight, and you are only two. The law of the desert is that the stronger take, and the weaker lose."

"It may be so, sometimes," Gregory said quietly, "but not in this case. I advise you to ride your way, and we will ride ours."

Then he said to Zaki, "Dismount and stand behind your horse, and fire over the saddle; but don't fire the first shot now."

He threw himself from his saddle. Scarcely had he done so when four shots were fired, and Gregory took a steady aim at the chief. The latter threw up his arms, and fell. With a yell of fury, the others dashed forward. Zaki did not fire until they were within twenty yards, and directly afterwards Gregory fired again. There were now but five assailants.

"Now for your pistols, Zaki!" he cried, glancing round for the first time.

He then saw why Zaki had not fired when he first did so--his horse was lying dead in front of him, shot through the head.

"Stand by me! Don't throw away a shot! You take the man on the other side of the horse. I will take the others."

Steadily the four pistols were fired. As the Arabs rode up, two of them fell, and another was wounded. Dismayed at the loss of so many of their number, the three survivors rode off at full speed.

"Are you hurt, Zaki?"

"A spear grazed my cheek, my lord; that is all. It was my own fault. I kept my last barrel too long. However, it tumbled him over.

"Are you hurt, master?"

"I have got a ball in the shoulder. That fellow without a spear has got pistols, and fired just as I did; or rather, an instant before. That shook my aim, but he has a ball in him, somewhere.

"Just see if they have got some dates on their saddles," for the horses of the fallen men had remained by the side of their masters' bodies.

"Yes, my lord," Zaki said, examining them. "Two bags, nearly full."

"That is satisfactory. Pick out the best horse for yourself, and then we will ride on. But before we go, we will break the stocks of these four guns, and carry the barrels off, and throw them into the bushes, a mile or two away."

As soon as this was done, they mounted and rode on. They halted in a quarter of an hour and, after Gregory's arm had been bound tightly to his side with his sash, both they and their horses had a good meal of dates. Then they rode on again, and in three hours saw some white tents ahead.

There was a slight stir as they were seen coming, and a dozen black soldiers sprang up and ran forward, fixing bayonets as they did so.

"We are friends!" Gregory shouted, in Arabic; and Zaki repeated the shout in his own language.

The soldiers looked doubtful, and stood together in a group. They knew that the Dervishes were sometimes ready to throw away their own lives, if they could but kill some of their enemy.

One of them shouted back, "Stay where you are until I call an officer!"

He went back to the tents, and returned with a white officer, whom Gregory at once recognized as one of those who had come up with him from Wady Halfa.

"Leslie," he shouted in English, "will you kindly call off your soldiers? One of their muskets might go off, accidentally. I suppose you don't remember me. I am Hilliard, who came up with you in the steamer."

The officer had stopped in astonishment, at hearing this seeming Dervish address him, by name, in English. He then advanced, giving an order to his men to fall back.

"Is it really you, Hilliard?" he said, as he approached the horsemen, who were coming forward at a walk. "Which of you is it? For I don't see any resemblance, in either of you."

"It is I, Leslie. I am not surprised that you don't know me."

"But what are you masquerading for, in this dress; and where have you come from?"

"Perhaps I had better not say, Leslie. I have been doing some scouting across the desert, with my boy here. We have had a long ride. In the first place, my arm wants attending to. I have a bullet in the shoulder. The next thing we need is something to eat; for the last three days we have had nothing but dates, and not too many of them.

"Is there any chance of getting taken up to Merawi? We came down from there to Korti, in a native vessel."

"Yes; a gunboat with some native craft will be going up this afternoon. I will give orders, at once, that your horses shall be put on board."

When the ball had been extracted from his shoulder, and the wound dressed and bandaged by the surgeon in charge, Gregory went up to the tents again, where he was warmly received by the three white officers of the Negro regiment. Breakfast already had been prepared, Zaki being handed over to the native officers. After having made a hearty meal, Gregory related the adventure with the Arabs in the desert, merely saying that they had found there were no Dervishes at Gakdul.

"But why didn't you go straight back, instead of coming down here?"

"I wanted to see whether this line was open, and whether there were any wells on it. We only found one, and it took us four or five hours' hard work to get at the water. It is lucky, indeed, that we did so; for our horses were getting very done up, and I had begun to think that they would not reach our destination alive."

In the afternoon, the adventurers started with the boats going up to Merawi and, the next morning, arrived at the camp. The Dervish patches had been removed from their clothes, as soon as they arrived at Ambukol. Gregory could have borrowed a white suit there; but as the stain on his skin, although somewhat lighter than when first put on, was too dark, he declined the offer.

"No one may notice me as I land, now," he said, "but everyone would stare at a man with a brown face and white uniform."

Leaving Zaki to get the horses on shore, Gregory went straight to the General's quarters. He told the sentry that he wished to see the General, on business.

"You cannot go in," the man said. "The General is engaged."

"If you send in word to him that his messenger has returned, I am sure he will see me."

"You can sit down here, then," the sentry said. "When the officer with him comes out, I will give your message to his orderly."

Gregory, however, was in no humour to be stopped; and in an authoritative voice called, "Orderly!"

A soldier came down directly from the guard room.

"Tell the General, at once, that Mr. Hilliard has returned."

With a look of wonder, the orderly went into the tent. Half a minute later, he returned.

"You are to come in," he said.

As the General had seen Gregory in his disguise, before starting, he of course recognized him.

"My dear Hilliard," he said, getting up and shaking him cordially by the hand, "I am heartily glad to see you back. You have been frequently in my thoughts; and though I had every confidence in your sharpness, I have regretted, more than once, that I allowed you to go.

"I suppose you failed to get there. It is hardly possible that you should have done so, in the time. I suppose, when you got to Gakdul, you learned that the Dervishes were at Abu Klea."

"They were at Abu Klea, General; but I made a detour, and got into their camp at Metemmeh."

"You did, and have returned safely! I congratulate you, most warmly.

"I told you, Macdonald," he said, turning to the officer with whom he had been engaged, "that I had the greatest hope that Mr. Hilliard would get through. He felt so confident in himself that I could scarce help feeling confidence in him, too."

"He has done well, indeed!" Colonel Macdonald said. "I should not have liked to send any of my officers on such an adventure, though they have been here for years."

"Well, will you sit down, Mr. Hilliard," the General said, "and give us a full account? In the first place, what you have learned? And in the second, how you have learned it?"

Gregory related the conversations he had heard among the soldiers; and then that of Mahmud's brother and the commander of the Dervish cavalry. Then he described the events of his journey there, his narrow escape from capture, and the pursuit by the Dervishes at Abu Klea; how he gave them the slip, struck the Ambukol caravan road, had a fight with a band of robber Arabs, and finally reached the Egyptian camp.

"An excellently managed business!" the General said, warmly. "You have certainly had some narrow escapes, and seem to have adopted the only course by which you could have got off safely. The information you have brought is of the highest importance. I shall telegraph, at once, to the Sirdar that there will assuredly be no advance on the part of Mahmud from Metemmeh; which will leave him free to carry out the plans he has formed. I shall of course, in my written despatch, give him full particulars of the manner in which I have obtained that information."

"It was a very fine action," Macdonald agreed. "The lad has shown that he has a good head, as well as great courage.

"You will make your way, Mr. Hilliard--that is, if you don't try this sort of thing again. A man may get through it once, but it would be just tempting providence to try it a second time."

"Now, Mr. Hilliard," the General said, "you had best go to your quarters. I will ask the surgeon to attend to you, at once. You must keep quiet, and do no more duty until you are discharged from the sick list."

Ten days later, orders were issued that the brigade under Macdonald; consisting of the 3rd Egyptians, and the 9th, 10th, and 11th Soudanese, together with a mule battery; were to move forward the next day to Kassinger, the advanced post some ten miles higher up the river. This seemed only a preliminary step, and the general opinion was that another fortnight would elapse before there would be a general movement.

A reconnaissance with friendly Arabs had, however, been made ahead towards Abu Hamed, and had obtained certain information that the garrison at that place was by no means a strong one. The information Gregory had gathered had shown that Mahmud had no intention of advancing against Merawi; and that no reinforcements had, as yet, started to join the force at Abu Hamed; the Dervish leader being convinced that the Nile was not yet high enough to admit of boats going up the cataract.

Thus, everything favoured the Sirdar's plan to capture Abu Hamed, and enable the railway to be constructed to that place before Mahmud could receive the news that the troops were in motion. He therefore directed General Hunter to push forward, with only one brigade, leaving the rest to hold Merawi; and ordered the camel corps, and the friendly Arabs, to advance across the desert as far as the Gakdul wells, where their appearance would lead Mahmud to believe that they were the advance guard of the coming army.

Two days later Gregory, on going to the headquarters tent, was told that General Hunter and his staff would start, in an hour's time, to inspect the camp at Kassinger.

"Do you think you are fit to ride?" the chief of the staff asked him.

"Perfectly, sir. The doctor discharged me yesterday as fit for duty, but advised me to keep my arm in a sling, for a time."

"In that case, you may accompany us.

"It is a little uncertain when we shall return," the officer said, with a smile; "therefore I advise you to take all your belongings with you. Have them packed up quietly. We do not wish any suspicions to arise that we are not returning this evening."

"Thank you, sir!" Gregory said, gratefully. "I shall be ready to start in an hour."

He returned in high glee to his hut, for he felt certain that an immediate advance was about to take place.

"Zaki," he said, "I am going to ride with the General; and, as it is possible I may be stationed at Kassinger for a short time, you had better get the camel brought up, and start as soon as you have packed the things on it. I am going to ride over with the staff, in an hour, and shall overtake you by the way. How long will you be?"

"Half an hour, bey."

"I will be there by that time, and will take my horse; then you can go on with the camel."

Behind the headquarter camp the work of packing up was also going on; the camels being sent off in threes and fours, as they were laden, so as to attract no attention. Half an hour later the General came out, and without delay started with the staff, Captain Fitton remaining behind to see that the rest of the stores were sent off, and a small tent for the use of the General. All heavy packages were to be taken up by water.

The arrival of the General at Kassinger excited no surprise, as he had ridden over the day before; but when, in the afternoon, orders were issued that the camels should all be laden, in preparation for a march that evening; the Soudanese could with difficulty be restrained from giving vent to their exuberant joy that, at length, their long halt was at an end, and they were to have another chance of getting at the enemy.

A large train of camels had been quietly collected at Kassinger, sufficient to carry the necessary supplies for the use of the column, for some three weeks' time; and it was hoped that, before long, the gunboats and many of the native craft, with stores, would join them at Abu Hamed.

The force started at sunset. The distance to be travelled was a hundred and eighteen miles, and the road was a very difficult one. The ground rose steeply, almost from the edge of the river; and at times had to be traversed in single file.

As night came on, the scene was a weird one. On one side the rocky ascent rose, black and threatening. On the other, the river rushed foaming, only broken by the rocks and little islands of the cataract.

Gregory had been ordered to remain with the camel train; to keep them, as much as possible, together, and prevent wide gaps from occurring in the ranks. It was tedious work; and the end of the train did not arrive, until broad daylight, at the spot where the infantry halted. He at once told Zaki to pitch his little tent, which he had already shown him how to do, while he went to see if there were any orders at headquarters.

He found the staff were just sitting down to a rough breakfast. Being told, after the meal, that he would not be wanted during the day; but that at night he was to continue his work with the camels; he went back to his tent, and threw himself on his bed. But, in spite of the fly being fastened up, and a blanket thrown over the tent, the heat was so great that he was only able to doze off occasionally.

He observed that even the black troops suffered from the heat. They had erected screens, with their blankets placed end to end, supported by their guns; and lay there, getting what air there was, and sheltered from the direct rays of the sun. Few slept. Most of them talked, or smoked.

There was some argument, among the officers, as to the relative advantages of night and day marches. All agreed that, if only one march had to be done, it was better to do it at night; but when, as in the present case, it would last for seven or eight days, many thought that, terrible as would be the heat, it would be better to march in the day, and permit the troops to sleep at night. This opinion certainly seemed to be justified; for, at the end of the third day, the men were so completely worn out from want of sleep that they stumbled as they marched; and were with difficulty restrained from throwing themselves down, to get the much-needed rest.

Gregory always went down, as soon as the column arrived at its halting place, as he did before starting in the evening, to bathe in some quiet pool or backwater; and, much as he had set himself against taking spirits, he found that he was unable to eat his meals, unless he took a spoonful or two with his water, or cold tea.

On the evening of the third day, they passed the battlefield of Kirkeban, where General Earle fell when the River Expedition was attacked by the Dervishes. Next day they halted at Hebbeh, where Colonel Stewart, on his way down with a number of refugees from Khartoum, was treacherously murdered. A portion of the steamer was still visible in the river.

Day after day the column plodded on, for the most part strung out in single file, the line extending over many miles; and, late on the evening of the 6th of August, they reached a spot within a mile and a half of Abu Hamed, the hundred and eighteen miles having been accomplished in seven days and a half.

So far as they knew, the enemy had, as yet, received no news of their approach. Three hours' rest was given the troops, and then they marched out, in order of battle.

A fair idea of the position had been obtained from the friendly natives. Abu Hamed lay on the river. The desert sloped gradually down to it, on all sides; with a sharp, deep descent within two hundred yards of the town. The houses were all loopholed, for defence.

When within a mile of the town, they must have been sighted by the Dervish sentries on a lofty watchtower. No movement, however, was visible, and there was a general feeling of disappointment, as the impression gained ground that the enemy had retreated. The 9th and 10th Soudanese made a sweep round, to attack from the desert side. The 11th, and half of the Egyptian battalion--the other half having been left to guard the baggage--followed the course of the river.

Major Kincaid rode forward, to the edge of the steep slope that looked down to the town. He could see no one moving about. The Dervish trenches, about eighty yards away, appeared empty; and he was about to write a message to the General, saying that the place was deserted, when a sharp fire suddenly opened upon him. He turned to ride back to warn the General, but he was too late; for, at the same moment, Hunter with his staff galloped up to the edge of the slope, and was immediately saluted by a heavy volley; which, however, was fired so wildly that none of the party was hit.

The artillery were now ordered to bombard the place. At first, they could only fire at the tops of the houses; but, changing their position, they found a spot where they could command the town. For half an hour this continued. The infantry were drawn up just beyond the brow, where they could not be seen by the defenders. The Dervishes gave no signs of life, and as the artillery could not depress their guns sufficiently to enable them to rake the trenches, the infantry were ordered to charge.

As soon as they reached the edge of the dip, a storm of musketry broke out from the Dervish trenches, but, fortunately, the greater portion of the bullets flew overhead. Macdonald had intended to carry the place at the point of the bayonet, without firing; but the troops, suddenly exposed to such a storm of musketry, halted and opened fire without orders; the result being that they suffered a great deal more than they would have done, had they crossed the eighty yards, which divided them from the trench, by a rush. Standing, as they did, against the skyline, the Dervishes were able to pick them off; they themselves showing only their heads above the trenches. Two of the mounted officers of the 10th were killed, and two had their horses shot under them.

Macdonald and his officers rushed along in front of the line, knocking up the men's muskets; and abusing them, in the strongest terms, for their disobedience to orders. The moment the fire ceased, the troops rushed forward; and the Dervishes at once abandoned their trenches, and ran back to the line of houses. These were crowded together, divided by narrow winding lanes, and here a desperate struggle took place.

The Dervishes defended themselves with the greatest tenacity, sometimes rushing out and hurling themselves upon their assailants, and defending the houses to the last, making a stand when the doors were burst open, until the last of the inmates were either shot or bayoneted. So determined was the defense of some of the larger houses, that it was necessary to bring up the guns and batter an entrance. Many of the houses were found, when the troops burst in, to be tenanted only by dead; for the Soudanese always heralded their attack by firing several volleys, and the bullets made their way through and through the mud walls, as if they had been paper.

About seventy or eighty horsemen and a hundred Dervish infantry escaped, but the rest were either killed or made prisoners, together with Mahomed Zein, the governor. A quantity of arms, camels, and horses were also captured. The loss on our side was two British officers killed, and twenty-one of the black troops; and three Egyptian officers, and sixty-one men wounded.

When the convoy halted, previous to the troops marching to the attack, Gregory, whose duties with the baggage had now ended, joined the General's staff and rode forward with them. Hunter had glanced round, as he rode up, and answered with a nod when he saluted, and asked if he could come.

He felt rather scared on the Dervishes opening fire so suddenly, when the General's impatience had led him to ride forward, without waiting for Major Kincaid's report. After the troops rushed into the town, the General maintained his position at the edge of the dip, for the narrow streets were so crowded with men that a group of horsemen could hardly have forced their way in, and it would be impossible to see what was going on, and to issue orders.

Mahomed Zein had not followed the example of some of his followers, and died fighting to the last. He was found hiding under a bed, and was brought before General Hunter; who asked him why he fought, when he must have known that it was useless; to which he replied:

"I knew that you had only three times as many as I had, and every one of my men is worth four of yours. You could not fire till you were quite close up, and at that range our rifles are as good as yours."

The General asked what he thought Mahmud would do, to which he replied:

"He will be down here in five days, and wipe you out!"

It was necessary to halt at Abu Hamed, until stores came up. Captain Keppel, Royal Navy, and the officers commanding the gunboats were toiling at the cataracts to bring them up. Nevertheless one of these was capsized, and only three got through safely. Major Pink, with a large number of troops from Merawi, succeeded in hauling the sailing boats through.

A large column of laden camels was, at the same time, being pushed forward by the caravan route from Korosko. It was a time of much anxiety, till stores began to arrive; for, had Mahmud advanced at once, the passage up the river would have been arrested, and the land column cut off; in which case the little force would have been reduced to sore straits, as they must have stood on the defensive until reinforcements reached them.

There was, too, some anxiety as to the safety of the forces at Ambukol and Korti; for Mahmud, on learning that the garrisons had been weakened by the despatch of troops to Abu Hamed, might have crossed the desert with all his force and fallen upon them. Mahmud had indeed, as it turned out, believed that the expedition to Abu Hamed was only undertaken to cover the flank of the Egyptian army from attack, from that quarter; and still believed that it was from Merawi that the main British force would advance against him.

Before the supplies had all arrived, the position changed; as news came that Berber was being evacuated by the Dervishes. The information was telegraphed to the Sirdar, who at once ordered that a force of the friendly Arabs, escorted by a gunboat, should go up to Berber to find if the news was true. One gunboat had already arrived, and General Hunter decided on going up in her himself. Two hundred of the Arabs, under Ahmed Bey, were to ride along the bank. They were to be mounted on the fastest camels that could be picked out; so that, if they encountered the Dervishes, they would have a fair chance of escaping, and getting under cover of the gunboat's fire.

"Mr. Hilliard," the General said, "I shall be obliged if you will accompany Ahmed Bey. The Arabs are always more steady, if they have an English officer with them. They will be ready to start in an hour. A signaller from the 11th Soudanese shall go with you; and you can notify, to us, the approach of any strong party of the enemy, and their direction; so that the gunboat can send a shell or two among them, as a hint that they had better keep out of range."

As his baggage camel was by no means a fast one, Gregory at first decided to leave it behind in charge of Zaki; but on going across to the Arab camp, Ahmed Bey at once offered to place a fast one at his disposal. He accordingly sent his own animal into the transport yard, committed the heavy wooden case, with the greater portion of his remaining stores, to the charge of the sergeant of the mess, retaining only three or four tins of preserved milk, some tea, four or five tins of meat, a bottle of brandy, and a few other necessaries. To these were added half a sheep and a few pounds of rice. These, with his tent and other belongings, were packed on the Arab camel; and Zaki rode beside it with great satisfaction, for he had been greatly cast down when his master first told him that he would have to remain behind. All the preparations were made in great haste, but they were completed just as Ahmed Bey moved out of his camp, with his two hundred picked men and camels.

Five minutes later, a whistle from the steamer told them that General Hunter, and the party with him, were also on the point of starting. The distance to be traversed to Berber was a hundred and thirty miles, and the expedition was undoubtedly a hazardous one. Even if the news was true, that the five thousand Dervishes who had been holding Berber had evacuated the town, it was quite possible that a part of the force had been sent down the river, to oppose any advance that might be made; or, if unable to do this, to carry the news of the advance to Mahmud. The Arabs were to keep abreast of the gunboat; and would, where the shores were flat, be covered by its guns. But at spots where the ground was high and precipitous, this assistance could scarcely avail them in case of an attack, unless the hundred soldiers on board the steamer could be landed.

As they rode along, Ahmed Bey explained to Gregory the plan that he should adopt, if they were attacked in such a position, and found their retreat cut off.

"The camels will all be made to lie down, and we shall fight behind them, as in an entrenchment. My men are all armed with rifles the government has given them, and we could beat off an attack by a great number; while, if we were on our camels and pursued, we should soon lose all order, and our shooting would be bad."

"I think that would be by far the best plan, sheik. Your two hundred men, and the hundred the gunboat could land, ought to be able to make a tough fight of it, against any number of the enemy.

"How long do you think we shall be, on the way?"

"About four days. The camels can easily travel thirty-five miles a day. We have six days' provisions with us, in case the gunboat cannot make its way up. Fortunately we have not to carry water, so that each camel only takes twenty pounds of food, for its rider; and forty pounds of grain, for itself. If we were pursued, we could throw that away, as we should only have to ride to some point where the gunboat could protect us. We could not hope to escape by speed, for the Dervishes could ride and run quite as fast as the camels could go."

Chapter 10: Afloat.

The first three days' journey passed without any adventure. From the natives who still remained in the little villages they passed, they learned that the report that the Dervishes had left Berber was generally believed; but whether they had marched for Metemmeh, or for some other point, was unknown. The people were delighted to see the gunboat; as, until its arrival, they had been in hourly fear of raiding parties. They had heard of the capture of Abu Hamed, by the British, from horsemen who had escaped; but all these had said, confidently, that Mahmud would speedily drive them out again; and they had been in hourly fear that the Dervishes would swoop down upon them, and carry off the few possessions still remaining to them.

When within thirty miles of Berber the Arabs had halted on the bank, watching the gunboat as, with great difficulty, it made its way up a cataract. Suddenly it was seen to stop, and a great bustle was observed on board. An exclamation of grief burst from the Arabs.

"She has struck on a rock!" Ahmed Bey exclaimed.

"I am afraid she has," said Gregory; who had, all along, ridden by his side at the head of the party. "I am afraid so. I hope she is not injured."

Unfortunately, the damage was serious. A hole had been knocked through her side, under water, and the water poured in, in volumes. A rush was made by those on board; and beds, pillows, and blankets were stuffed into the hole. This succeeded, to some extent, and she was brought alongside the bank.

The sheik and Gregory went down to meet her. General Hunter came to the side.

"A large hole has been knocked in her," he said, to the sheik. "We shall have to get the guns and stores on shore, to lighten her; and then heel her over, to get at the hole. It will certainly take two or three days; by that time, I hope, the other gunboat will be up.

"In the meantime, you must go on to Berber. I think there can be no doubt that the Dervishes have all left, but it is most important that we should know it, for certain. You must push straight on, and as soon as you arrive there, send word on to me by the fastest camel you have. If you are attacked, you will, of course, defend yourselves. Take up a position close to the river, and hold it until you are relieved. If you can send off news to me by a camel, do so; if not, seize a boat--there are some at every village--and send the news down by water. I will come on at once, with everyone here, to assist you."

"I will do as you order," the sheik said; "and if you see us no more, you will know that we died as brave men."

"I hope there is no fear of that," the General said, cheerfully. "You will defend yourselves as brave men if you are attacked, I am sure; but as I am convinced that the Dervishes have left Berber, I think there is little fear of your falling in with them."

Then he went on, in English, to Gregory.

"Keep them moving, Mr. Hilliard. Let them go as fast as they can. They are less likely to get nervous, if they are riding hard, than they would be if they dawdled along. If they press their camels, they will be in Berber this afternoon. See that a man starts at once, to bring me the news."

"Very well, sir. I will keep them at it, if I can."

The sheik rejoined his band, which gathered round to hear the result of his interview with the white general.

"The steamer is injured," he said, "but she will soon be made right, and will follow us. We are to have the honour of going on and occupying Berber, and will show ourselves worthy of it. There is little chance of our meeting the Dervishes. Had they been in Berber, we should have heard of them before this. If we meet them we will fight; and you, Abu, who have the fastest camel among us, will ride back here at all speed, and the General and his soldiers will come up to help us.

"Now, let us not waste a moment, but push forward. In five hours we shall be at Berber; and throughout your lives, you will be proud to say that you were the first to enter the town that the Dervishes have so long held."

A few of the men waved their guns, and shouted. The rest looked grave. However, they obeyed their chief's orders, and the cavalcade at once started. As they did so, Gregory drew his horse up alongside Zaki.

"Look here," he said, "if we see the Dervishes coming in force, I shall come to you, at once. You shall take my horse, it is faster than yours. I shall give you a note for the General, and you will ride back at full gallop, and give it to him. The horse is fast, and there will be no fear of their catching you, even if they chase; which they will not be likely to do, as they will be thinking of attacking us."

"Very well, master. I will do as you order me, but I would rather stop and fight, by your side."

"That you may be able to do some other time, Zaki. This time, you have got to fetch aid."

Then he rode on to join the chief. There was no talking along the line, every man had his rifle unslung and in his hand, every eye scanned the country. Hitherto, they had had unlimited faith in the power of the gunboat to protect them; now that they might have to face the Dervishes unaided, they felt the danger a serious one. They had come to fight the Dervishes, and were ready to do so, in anything like equal numbers; but the force they might meet would possibly be greatly stronger than their own--so strong that, although they might sell their lives dearly; they would, in the end, be overpowered.

For the first three hours, the camels were kept going at the top of their speed; but as they neared Berber, there was a perceptible slackness. Ahmed Bey and Gregory rode backwards and forwards along the line, keeping them together, and encouraging them.

"We shall get in without fighting," the Bey said. "We should have heard before this, had they been there. Do you think that they would have remained so long in the town, if they had learned that there are but two hundred of us, and one steamer? Mahmud would never have forgiven them, had they not fallen upon us and annihilated us. I only hope that two hundred will have been left there. It will add to our glory, to have won a battle, as well as taken the town. Your children will talk of it in their tents. Your women will be proud of you, and the men of the black regiments will say that we have shown ourselves to be as brave as they are.

"We will halt for half an hour, rest the camels, and then push on at full speed again; but mind, you have my orders: if you should see the enemy coming in force, you are to ride at once to the river bank, dismount, and make the camels lie down in a semicircle; then we have but to keep calm, and shoot straight, and we need not fear the Dervishes, however many of them there may be."

After the halt they again pushed forward. Gregory saw, with pleasure, that the Arabs were now thoroughly wound up to fighting point. The same vigilant watch was kept up as before; but the air of gloom that had hung over them, when they first started, had now disappeared; each man was ready to fight to the last. As the town was seen, the tension was at its highest; but the pace quickened, rather than relaxed.

"Now is the moment!" the Bey shouted. "If they are there, they will come out to fight us. If, in five minutes, they do not appear; it will be because they have all gone."

But there were no signs of the enemy, no clouds of dust rising in the town, that would tell of a hasty gathering. At last, they entered a straggling street. The women looked timidly from the windows; and then, on seeing that their robes did not bear the black patches worn by the Dervishes, they broke into loud cries of welcome.

"Are the Dervishes all gone?" Ahmed Bey asked, reining in his camel.

"They are all gone. The last left four days ago."

The sheik waved his rifle over his head; and his followers burst into loud shouts of triumph, and pressed on, firing their muskets in the air. As they proceeded, the natives poured out from their houses in wild delight. The Arabs kept on, till they reached the house formerly occupied by the Egyptian governor.

"I should say that you had better take possession of this, Bey. There seems to be a large courtyard, where you can put your camels. It is not likely that the Dervishes will return, but it is as well to be prepared. The house is strong, and we could hold out here against a host, unless they were provided with cannon.

"I have money, and you had better buy up as much food as possible, so that we could stand a siege for some time. I shall give my horse a good feed and an hour's rest, and then send my man down to the General, telling him that the Dervishes have deserted the town, and that we have taken possession of the place, and can defend it for a long time should they return."

An hour later, Zaki started with Gregory's report. The inhabitants, finding that they would be paid, brought out their hidden stores; and by evening, enough was collected to last the garrison ten days.

Zaki returned at noon next day, with a letter from General Hunter to the sheik, praising him highly for the energy and courage of his men and himself. He also brought a note for Gregory, saying that he hoped to get the repairs finished the next day; and that he expected, by that time, the other two steamers would be up, when he should at once advance to Berber.

On the third day the smoke of the steamers was seen in the distance; and an hour later the gunboats arrived, and were greeted with cries of welcome by the natives, who thronged the bank. The three boats carried between three and four hundred men. These were disembarked on an island, opposite the town, and the gunboats moored alongside.

General Hunter at once landed, with those of his staff who had accompanied him. He shook hands, very cordially, with the sheik.

"You have done well, indeed!" he said. "It was a dangerous enterprise and, had I not known your courage, and that of your men, I should not have ventured to send you forward. You have fully justified my confidence in you.

"In the first place, I will go and see the house you have occupied. I shall leave you still in possession of it, but I do not intend that you should hold it. In case Mahmud comes down upon you, at once embark in boats, and cross to the islands. It will be some time before I can gather, here, a force strong enough to hold the town against attack. Indeed, it will probably be some weeks; for, until the railway is finished to Abu Hamed, I can only get up stores sufficient for the men here; certainly we have no transport that could keep up the supply for the whole force. However, all this will be settled by the Sirdar, who will very shortly be with us."

It was now the 6th of September and, the same afternoon, two gunboats were sent up to Ed Damer, an important position lying a mile or two beyond the junction of Atbara river with the Nile. On the opposite bank of the Nile, they found encamped the Dervishes who had retired from Berber. The guns opened fire upon them, and they retired inland; leaving behind them fourteen large boats, laden with grain. These were at once sent down to Berber, where they were most welcome; and a portion of the grain was distributed among the almost starving population, nearly five thousand in number, principally women and children.

Supplies soon began to arrive from below, being brought up in native craft, from Abu Hamed, as far as the cataract; then unloaded and carried up past the rapids on camels; then again placed in boats, and so brought to Berber. Macdonald's brigade started a fortnight after the occupation, their place at Abu Hamed having been taken by a brigade from Kassinger, each battalion having towed up boats carrying two months' supply of provisions.

A fort was now erected at the junction of the two rivers, and occupied by a small force, under an English officer. Two small steamers were employed in towing the native craft from Abu Hamed to Berber. Still, it was evident that it would be impossible to accumulate the necessary stores for the whole force that would take the field; accordingly, as soon as the railway reached Abu Hamed, the Sirdar ordered it to be carried on as far as Berber. He himself came up with Colonel Wingate, the head of the Intelligence Department; and, diligently as all had worked before, their exertions were now redoubled.

On the morning after the Sirdar's arrival, an orderly came across to General Hunter's quarters, with a request that Mr. Hilliard should at once be sent to headquarters. Gregory had to wait nearly half an hour, until the officers who had been there before him had had their audience, and received their orders. He was then shown in.

"You have done very valuable service, Mr. Hilliard," the Sirdar said. "Exceptionally valuable, and obtained at extraordinary risk. I certainly did not expect, when I saw you a few months ago in Cairo, that you would so speedily distinguish yourself. I was then struck with your manner, and thought that you would do well, and you have much more than fulfilled my expectations. I shall keep my eye upon you, and shall see that you have every opportunity of continuing as you have begun."

That evening, General Hunter suggested to Colonel Wingate that Gregory should be handed over to him.

"There will be nothing for him to do with me, at present," he said; "and I am sure that you will find him very useful. Putting aside the expedition he undertook to Metemmeh, he is a most zealous young officer. Although his wound was scarcely healed, he took charge of the baggage animals on the way up from Merawi to Abu Hamed, and came forward here with Ahmed Bey and his followers, and in both cases he was most useful. But at the present, I cannot find any employment for him."

"I will have a talk with him," Colonel Wingate said. "I think I can make good use of him. Captain Keppel asked me, this morning, if I could furnish him with a good interpreter. He is going up the river in a day or two, and as neither he nor the other naval officers know much Arabic, Mr. Hilliard would be of considerable service to them, in questioning any prisoners who may be captured as to hidden guns, or other matters. I should think, from what you tell me, Mr. Hilliard will be very suitable for the post."

"The very man for it. He is a very pleasant lad--for he is not more than that--quiet and gentlemanly, and yet full of life and go, and will be certain to get on well with a naval man."

On returning to his quarters, General Hunter sent for Gregory.

"You will please go to Colonel Wingate, Mr. Hilliard. I have been speaking to him about you; and, as it may be months before things are ready for the final advance, and I am sure you would prefer to be actively employed, I proposed to him that he should utilize your services; and it happens, fortunately, that he is able to do so. The gunboats will be running up and down the river, stirring up the Dervishes at Metemmeh and other places; and as neither Keppel, nor the commanders of the other two boats can speak Arabic with anything like fluency, it is important that he should have an interpreter.

"I think you will find the berth a pleasant one. Of course, I don't know what arrangements will be made, or whether you would permanently live on board one of the boats. If so, I think you would be envied by all of us, as you would get away from the dust, and all the discomforts of the encampment."

"Thank you very much, sir! It would indeed be pleasant, and I was beginning to feel that I was very useless here."

"You have not been useless at all, Mr. Hilliard. The Sirdar asked me about you, and I was able to give him a very favourable report of your readiness to be of service, for whatever work I have found for you to do. I have told him that I had great doubts whether Ahmed Bey would have pushed forward to this place, after he had lost the protection of the gunboats, if you had not been with him."

Gregory at once went to the quarters of Colonel Wingate, and sent in his name. In two or three minutes he was shown in. A naval officer was in the room with the colonel.

"You have come at the right time, Mr. Hilliard. I was just speaking of you to Captain Keppel. I suppose General Hunter has told you how I proposed utilizing your services?"

"Yes, sir, he was good enough to tell me."

"You speak both Arabic and the Negro dialect perfectly, I am told?"

"I speak them very fluently, almost as well as English."

"Just at present, you could not be of much use to me, Mr. Hilliard. Of course, I get all my intelligence from natives, and have no occasion to send white officers out as scouts. Otherwise, from the very favourable report that I have received from General Hunter, I should have been glad to have you with me; but I have no doubt that you would prefer to be in one of the gunboats. They are certain to have a more stirring time of it, for the next few weeks, than we shall have here."

"I should like it greatly, sir, if Captain Keppel thinks I shall do."

"I have no doubt about that," the officer said, with a smile. "I shall rate you as a first lieutenant and midshipman, all in one; and I may say that I shall be very glad to have a white officer with me. There are one or two spare cabins, aft, and you had better have your traps moved in, at once. I may be starting tomorrow."

"Shall I take my servant with me, sir?"

"Yes, you may take him if you like. I suppose you have a horse?"

"Yes, sir, a horse and a camel; but I shall have no difficulty in managing about them. Excuse my asking, sir, but I have a few stores. Shall I bring them on board?"

"No, there is no occasion for that. You will mess with me. Thank goodness, we left naval etiquette behind us when we came up the Nile, and it is not imperative that I should dine in solitary state. Besides, you have been on Hunter's staff, have you not?"

"Yes."

"I know his staff all mess together. I shall be very glad to have you with me. It is lonely work, always messing alone.

"My boat is the Zafir, you know. You had better come on board before eight o'clock, tomorrow morning. That is my breakfast hour."

Gregory needed but little time to make his arrangements. The transport department took over Zaki's horse and camel, and gave him a receipt for them; so that, when he returned, those or others could be handed over to him. One of the staff, who wanted a second horse, was glad to take charge of his mount. The tent, and the big case, and his other belongings were handed over to the stores.

Zaki was delighted, when he heard that he was going up in a gunboat that would probably shell Metemmeh, and knock some of the Dervish fortifications to pieces.

"What shall I have to do, master?" he asked.

"Not much, Zaki. You will brush my clothes, and make my bed, and do anything that I want done; but beyond that I cannot tell you. I am really taking you, not because I think you will be of much use, but because I like to have you with me. Besides, I sha'n't have much to do, and the English officer who commands will have plenty to look after, so that I shall be glad to talk, occasionally, with you.

"However, as I know the gunboats carry Maxim guns, and each have two sergeants of the marine artillery, I will hand you over to them, and ask them to put you in the Maxim crew. Then you will have the satisfaction of helping to fire at your old enemies."

Zaki's eyes glistened at the prospect.

"They killed my mother," he said, "and carried off my sisters, and burned our house. It will be good to fire at them. Much better this, bey, than to load stores at Merawi."

Gregory was much gratified, that evening after mess, at the kindly manner in which the members of the staff all shook hands with him, and said that they were sorry that he was going to leave them. General Hunter was dining with the Sirdar. The next morning, when Gregory went to say "Goodbye" to him, he said:

"I was telling Sir Herbert Kitchener, yesterday evening, that you were transferred to the naval branch. He said:

"'The gunboats will all take up troops, and there will be native officers on board. It is a rule in our army, you know, that all white officers have the honorary rank of major, so as to make them senior to all Egyptian officers. Will you tell Mr. Hilliard that I authorize him to call himself Bimbashi? There is no occasion to put it in orders. My authorization is sufficient. As long as he was on your staff it did not matter; but as, presently, he may be attached to an Egyptian regiment, it is as well that he should bear the usual rank, and it may save misunderstanding in communicating with the natives. He will be much more respected, as Bimbashi, than he would be as lieutenant, a title that they would not understand.'

"A good many lieutenants in the British Army are Bimbashis, here, so that there is nothing unusual in your holding that honorary rank."

"I would just as soon be lieutenant, sir, so far as I am concerned myself; but of course, I feel honoured at receiving the title. No doubt it would be much more pleasant, if I were attached to an Egyptian regiment. I do not know whether it is the proper thing to thank the Sirdar. If it is, I shall be greatly obliged if you will convey my thanks to him."

"I will tell him that you are greatly gratified, Hilliard. I have no doubt you owe it, not only to your ride to Metemmeh, but to my report that I did not think Ahmed Bey would have ventured to ride on into Berber, had you not been with him; and that you advised him as to the defensive position he took up here, and prepared for a stout defence, until the boats could come up to his assistance. He said as much to me."

At the hour named, Gregory went on board the Zafir; Zaki accompanying him, with his small portmanteau and blanket.

"I see you are punctual, Mr. Hilliard," the commander said, cheerily; "a great virtue everywhere, but especially on board ship, where everything goes by clockwork. Eight bells will sound in two minutes, and as they do so, my black fellow will come up and announce the meal. It is your breakfast, as much as mine; for I have shipped you on the books this morning, and of course you will be rationed. Happily, we are not confined to that fare. I knew what it was going to be, and laid in a good stock of stores. Fortunately, we have the advantage over the military, that we are not limited as to baggage."

The breakfast was an excellent one. After it was over, Commander Keppel asked Gregory how it was that he had--while still so young--obtained a commission, and expressed much interest when he had heard his story.

"Then you do not intend to remain in the Egyptian Army?" he said. "If you have not any fixed career before you, I should have thought that you could not do better. The Sirdar and General Hunter have both taken a great interest in you. It might be necessary, perhaps, for you to enter the British Army and serve for two or three years, so as to get a knowledge of drill and discipline; then, from your acquaintance with the languages here you could, of course, get transferred to the Egyptian Army, where you would rank as a major, at once."

"I have hardly thought of the future yet, sir; but of course, I shall have to do so, as soon as I am absolutely convinced of my father's death. Really, I have no hope now; but I promised my mother to do everything in my power to ascertain it, for a certainty. She placed a packet in my hands, which was not to be opened until I had so satisfied myself. I do not know what it contains, but I believe it relates to my father's family.

"I do not see that that can make any difference to me, for I certainly should not care to go home to see relations to whom my coming might be unwelcome. I should greatly prefer to stay out here, for a few years, until I had obtained such a position as would make me absolutely independent of them."

"I can quite understand that," Captain Keppel said. "Poor relations seldom get a warm welcome, and as you were born in Alexandria, they may be altogether unaware of your existence. You have certainly been extremely fortunate, so far; and if you preferred a civil appointment, you would be pretty certain of getting one when the war is over.

"There will be a big job in organizing this country, after the Dervishes are smashed up; and a biggish staff of officials will be wanted. No doubt most of these will be Egyptians, but Egyptian officials want looking after, so that a good many berths must be filled by Englishmen; and Englishmen with a knowledge of Arabic and the Negro dialect are not very easily found. I should say that there will be excellent openings, for young men of capacity."

"I have no doubt there will," Gregory said. "I have really never thought much about the future. My attention, from childhood, has been fixed upon this journey to the Soudan; and I never looked beyond it, nor did my mother discuss the future with me. Doubtless she would have done so, had she lived; and these papers I have may give me her advice and opinion about it."

"Well, I must be going on deck," Captain Keppel said. "We shall start in half an hour."

The three gunboats were all of the same design. They were flat bottomed, so as to draw as little water as possible; and had been built and sent out, in sections, from England. They were constructed entirely of steel, and had three decks, the lower one having loophole shutters for infantry fire. On the upper deck, which was extended over the whole length of the boat, was a conning tower. In the after portion of the boat, and beneath the upper deck, were cabins for officers. Each boat carried a twelve-pounder quick-firing gun forward, a howitzer, and four Maxims. The craft were a hundred and thirty-five feet long, with a beam of twenty-four feet, and drew only three feet and a half of water. They were propelled by a stern wheel.

At half-past nine the Zafir's whistle gave the signal, and she and her consorts--the Nazie and Fatteh--cast off their warps, and steamed out into the river. Each boat had on board two European engineers, fifty men of the 9th Soudanese, two sergeants of royal marine artillery, and a small native crew.

"I expect that we shall not make many more trips down to Berber," the Commander said, when they were once fairly off. "The camp at Atbara will be our headquarters, unless indeed Mahmud advances; in which case, of course, we shall be recalled. Until then we shall be patrolling the river up to Metemmeh; and making, I hope, an occasional rush as far as the next cataract."

When evening came on, the steamer tied up to an island, a few miles north of Shendy. So far they had seen no hostile parties--indeed, the country was wholly deserted.

Next morning they started before daybreak. Shendy seemed to be in ruins. Two Arabs, only, were seen on the bank. A few shots were fired into the town, but there was no reply.

Half an hour later, Metemmeh was seen. It stood half a mile from the river. Along the bank were seven mud forts, with extremely thick and solid walls. Keeping near the opposite bank, the gunboats, led by the Zafir, made their way up the river. Dervish horsemen could be seen, riding from fort to fort, doubtless carrying orders.

The river was some four thousand yards wide and, at this distance, the gunboats opened fire at the two nearest forts. The range was soon obtained to a nicety, and the white sergeants and native gunners made splendid practice, every shell bursting upon the forts, while the Maxims speedily sent the Dervish horsemen galloping off to the distant hills, on which could be made out a large camp.

The Dervish gunners replied promptly, but the range was too great for their old brass guns. Most of the shot fell short, though a few, fired at a great elevation, fell beyond the boats. One shell, however, struck the Zafir, passing through the deck and killing a Soudanese; and a shrapnel shell burst over the Fatteh.

After an hour's fire, at this range, the gunboats moved up opposite the position; and again opened fire with shell and shrapnel, committing terrible havoc on the forts, whose fire presently slackened suddenly. This was explained by the fact that, as the gunboats passed up, they saw that the embrasures of the forts only commanded the approach from the north; and that, once past them, the enemy were unable to bring a gun to bear upon the boats. Doubtless the Dervishes had considered it was impossible for any steamer to pass up, under their fire; and that it was therefore unnecessary to widen the embrasures, so that the guns could fire upon them when facing the forts, or going beyond them.

Suddenly, as all on board were watching the effect of their fire, an outburst of musketry broke out from the bushes that lined the eastern bank, a hundred yards away. Fortunately, the greater part of the bullets flew overhead, but many rattled against the side. The Maxims were instantly turned upon the unseen enemy, the Soudanese fired volleys, and their rash assailants went at once into the thicker bush, many dropping before they gained it.

The gunboats now steamed slowly up the river; and then, turning, retired downstream again, shelling the enemy's position as they passed. As they were going down they came upon a number of Dervishes, who were busy unloading half a dozen native craft. The Maxim soon sent them flying; and the boats, which contained horses, donkeys, grain, and other goods, were taken in tow by the gunboats, which anchored at the same island as on the previous night.

"Well, Bimbashi," Captain Keppel said, when the work for the day was over, "so you have had your first brush with the enemy. What do you think of it?"

"I would rather that you did not call me Bimbashi, Captain Keppel. The title is ridiculous for me, and it was only given me that it might be useful when with Egyptian or Soudanese soldiers. I should feel really obliged, if you would simply call me Hilliard.

"I felt all right, sir, during the fight; except that I envied the gunners, who were doing something, while I had nothing to do but look on. It certainly made me jump, when that shell struck the boat, because I had quite made up my mind that their guns would not carry so far, and so it was a complete surprise to me."

"Yes, it was a very harmless affair. Still, it was good as a preparation for something more severe. You have got accustomed to the noise, now, and that is always as great a trial to the nerves as actual danger."

"I wish I could be doing something, sir. Everyone else had some duty, from yourself down to the black firemen--even my servant made himself useful, in carrying up shot."

"I tell you what I will do, Mr. Hilliard. I will get those marine sergeants to instruct you in the working of the Maxim, and in the duties of the men attending on it. Then next time we come up, I will put you in command of one of them. Your duties will not be severe, as you would simply direct the men as to the object at which they are to aim, watch the effect and direction of the bullets, and see that they change their aim, as circumstances may direct. The black gunners are well trained, and know their work; still, if by any chance the gun jams, it will be useful for you to be able to show them what to do; even though they know it as well as, or better than, you do yourself. The blacks like being commanded by a white officer, and will feel pleased, rather than otherwise, at your being appointed to command their gun. Your lessons cannot begin for a day or two, for I have not done with Metemmeh, yet."

"I am very much obliged to you, indeed," Gregory said warmly. "I will take care not to interfere with the men's working of the gun."

"No, you will not have to do that; but a word or two of commendation, when they make good practice, pleases them immensely; and they will work all the better, and faster, for your standing by them."

At daybreak next morning the gunboats went up again, and engaged the forts, as before. The Dervishes had placed more guns in position, but again the shells fell short, while those of the boats played havoc with the enemy's defences. Some ten thousand of the Dervish horse and foot came down near the town, in readiness to repel any attempt at a landing.

After some hours' bombardment, the gunboats retired. As they steamed away, the Dervish host were shouting and waving their banners, evidently considering that they had won a great victory.

Having fulfilled their object, which was to retain Mahmud at Metemmeh by showing him that, if he advanced against Merawi and Dongola, we had it in our power to occupy the town; and so cut off his retreat, and prevent reinforcements or stores from reaching him from Omdurman, the gunboats returned to Berber.

So far, Gregory had had no duties to perform in his capacity of interpreter, for no prisoners had been taken. On the way down the river, one of the artillery sergeants explained the working of the Maxim to him, taking the weapon to pieces, and explaining to him how each part acted, and then showing him how to put it together again. The sergeant having done this several times, Gregory was then told to perform the operation himself, and the lessons continued after their arrival at Berber.

In the course of a week he was able to do this smartly; and had learned, in case of a breakdown, which parts of the mechanism would most probably have given way, and how to replace broken parts by spare ones, carried up for the purpose.

There was no long rest at Berber, and on the 1st of November the gunboats again went up the river, reinforced by the Metemmeh, which had now arrived. Each boat, as before, carried fifty soldiers; and Major Stuart-Wortley went up, as staff officer. The evening before starting, they received the welcome news that the railway line had, that day, reached Abu Hamed.

This time there was but a short pause made opposite Metemmeh, and after shelling the forts, which had been added to since the last visit, they proceeded up the river. Shortly after passing the town, a large Dervish camp was seen in a valley, and this, they afterwards found, was occupied by the force that had returned from Berber. A heavy fire of shell and shrapnel was opened upon it, and it was speedily destroyed.

The gunboats then went up as high as the sixth cataract. The country was found to be absolutely deserted, neither a peasant nor a Dervish being visible. Having thus accomplished the object of their reconnaissance, the flotilla returned, exchanged fire with the Metemmeh batteries, and then kept on their way down to Berber.

Chapter 11: A Prisoner.

Rather than remain unoccupied on board the gunboat, Gregory went to Colonel Wingate's headquarters and said that he should be very glad if he would allow him, while the flotilla remained at Berber, to assist in interrogating the fugitives who arrived from the south, and the spies employed to gain early information of the intentions and movements of the enemy. The position of the Dervishes at Metemmeh was becoming critical. The Khalifa was desirous that Mahmud should return with his force to Omdurman, there to take part in the battle in which, as he was convinced, the invaders would be annihilated. Mahmud, who was of an eager and impetuous disposition, was anxious to take the offensive at once, and either to march upon Merawi and Dongola, or to drive the British out of Berber.

There could be no doubt that his view was a more sagacious one than that of his father; and that the best tactics to be adopted were to harass the British advance, fall upon their convoys, cut their communications, and so oblige them to fall back for want of supplies. The Khalifa's mistake was similar to that made by Theodore in Abyssinia, and Koffee Kalkalli in Ashanti. Had either of these leaders adopted the system of harassing the invaders, from the moment they left the coast, it would have been next to impossible for the latter to arrive at their destination. But each allowed them to march on, unmolested, until within striking distance; then hazarded everything on the fortune of a single battle, and lost.

Mahmud made no movement in obedience to the Khalifa's orders to retire to Omdurman, and the latter thereupon refused to send any further supplies to him, and Mahmud's army was therefore obliged to rely upon raids and plunder for subsistence. These raids were carried out with great boldness, and villages situated within a few miles of Berber were attacked. The Dervishes, however, met with a much warmer reception than they had expected, for rifles and ammunition had been served out freely to the villagers; and these, knowing the fate that awaited them were the Dervishes victorious, offered so obstinate a resistance that the latter fell back, discomfited.

Early in January, the Sirdar learned that the Khalifa had changed his mind, and had sent peremptory orders to Mahmud to advance and drive the British out of Berber, and destroy the railway. Mahmud had now been joined by Osman Digna, with five thousand men; and as the Egyptian troops, well as they had fought, had never yet been opposed to so formidable a force as that which Mahmud commanded, the Sirdar telegraphed to England for white troops.

His request was at once complied with. The Warwickshires, Lincolnshires, and Cameron Highlanders were ordered to proceed from Cairo and Alexandria to the front; and the Seaforth Highlanders at Malta, and the Northumberland Fusiliers at Gibraltar were also despatched, without delay. Major General Gatacre was appointed to the command of the brigade.

At the end of the third week in January, the three regiments from Lower Egypt had arrived at Wady Halfa, and the Seaforths at Assouan. At the beginning of February the British brigade was carried, by railway, to Abu Dis. Here they remained until the 26th, when they marched to Berber, and then to a camp ten miles north of the Atbara, where they arrived on the 4th of March, having covered a hundred and forty-four miles in six days and a half, a great feat in such a climate.

Mahmud had made no movement until the 10th of February, when he began to cross the Nile to Shendy. This movement had not been expected by the Sirdar, and was hailed by him with satisfaction. Had Mahmud remained at Metemmeh he could, aided by the forts, his artillery, and the walled town, have offered a very formidable resistance. Had he marched along the banks of the Nile, he would have been exposed to the fire of the gunboats, but these could not have arrested his course. The country round Berber was favourable to the action of his cavalry, and if defeated he could have fallen back, unmolested, through Metemmeh on Omdurman; but by crossing the river he practically cut himself off from the Dervish base, and now had only a desert behind him; for we had taken over Kassala from the Italians, and the Egyptian battalion there, and a large force of friendly Arabs, would prevent him from retiring up the banks of the Atbara.

Mahmud's plan was to march along the Nile to Ahab, then to cross the desert to Hudi, at an angle of the river; whence a direct march, of twenty-five miles, would take him to Berber, and in this way he would avoid our strong position at the junction of the Atbara and the Nile. It would have been easy for the gunboats to prevent Mahmud from crossing the Nile, but the Sirdar was glad to allow him to do so. The movement afforded him time to concentrate his force, and to get up large supplies. For, each day, the distance that these could be transported by the railway had increased; and he saw that, when the time for fighting came, the victory would be a decisive one; and that few, indeed, of Mahmud's men would ever be able to make their way to Omdurman, and swell the Khalifa's force there.

On one occasion, however, the gunboats went up to watch what was going on, and take advantage of any opportunity that might offer to destroy some of Mahmud's boats, and thus render the work of his getting his force over slower and more difficult. An entrenchment had been thrown up at the point where the Dervishes crossed, and this had been manned by two hundred and fifty riflemen. The Zafir steamed up close to the bank and opened fire with her Maxims. Another gunboat sank one large craft and captured two others, and the troops landed and, covered by the fire of the guns, captured a fourth which had grounded in shallow water.

A smaller boat was halfway across the river when the gunboats arrived. It was seen that there were several women on board, and as the capture would have been of no value, no regard was paid to it. As it would have been as dangerous to return as to keep on, the boatmen plied their hardest to get across, but the stream carried them down near the Zafir. The boat was quite unnoticed, all eyes being intent upon the shore. She was passing about thirty yards astern of the gunboat, when a badly aimed shell from a Dervish battery struck her, and she sank almost instantly.

Gregory, who was superintending the working of the Maxim nearest the stern, looked round at the sound of the explosion. Several of the occupants had evidently been killed, but two or three of the boatmen started to swim to shore. Only two of the women came to the surface, struggling wildly and screaming for help. With scarcely a thought of what he was doing, Gregory unclasped his sword belt, dropped his pistol, and sprang overboard.

One of the women had sunk before he reached them, the other was on the point of doing so, when he caught her by the arm. She at once clung to him, and he had hard work to disengage her arm from his neck; then, after turning her so that her face was above water, he looked round. The gunboat was already a hundred yards away. Her wheel was revolving, so as to keep her in her place facing the redoubt, and the stream was driving him fast away from her.

Within ten yards of him was a black head, and a moment later Zaki was beside him. He had been working at Gregory's Maxim, and had suddenly missed his master. Looking round, he had seen him struggling with the woman in the stream, and without hesitation had leapt overboard.

"I am sorry you came," Gregory said, "for it is only throwing away your life. It is of no use shouting, for they could not hear us in that din; and if they happened to catch sight of us, would take us for two of the black boatmen. I see the stream is taking us nearer to the bank."

Zaki had taken hold of the woman while he was speaking.

"We might swim a long way down, master, if we let go of her."

"I won't do that, Zaki. I know now that I was a fool to jump overboard; but now that I have done so, I will save her life. Besides, I could not swim very far even without her. I am feeling the weight of my boots and clothes.

"Will you swim with us till I can touch the ground, and then leave us? Strike right into the river again--I know that you are a good swimmer--and drop down the stream until you reach one of the islands, and then you can land and hail the gunboats as they come down. Tell Captain Keppel why I jumped over."

"I am not going to leave you, master. No doubt the Dervishes will shoot me, but my life is of no consequence, and I shall be glad to die by the side of so good a master."

The woman, who had ceased to struggle when Gregory shook off her grasp, was now conscious; as, with one of them supporting her on each side, her head was above water.

"They will not kill you," she said. "You have saved me, and they will be grateful."

Gregory had no faith whatever in Dervish gratitude.

"Well, Zaki," he said, "if you will not leave us, we will strike at once for the shore. The gunboats are nearly half a mile away now. There is just a chance that we may not have been noticed by the Dervishes, and may be able to hide in the bushes till the gunboats return. When they see me, they will at once send a boat ashore, under cover of their fire, and take us off."

"There is a good chance of that, master," Zaki said cheerfully, "and the Dervishes are busy up there fighting, and will not think much of a little boat."

Three or four minutes later they were in shallow water. As soon as they landed, Gregory threw himself down, utterly exhausted; and the woman sank down beside him, but not before hastily rearranging her veil. In a couple of minutes, Gregory roused himself.

"I can climb the bank, now," he said, "and the sooner we are hidden among the bushes, the better."

But as he spoke he heard the sound of galloping horsemen, and almost immediately an Emir, on a magnificent animal, followed by a dozen Dervishes, dashed up.

"Mahmud!" the woman cried, as she rose to her feet; "it is I, Fatma!"

Mahmud gave a cry of joy, and waved his hand to his followers, who had already pointed their rifles at Gregory.

"These have saved me, my lord," the woman went on. "They jumped from their boat, and reached me just as I was sinking, and have borne me up. For my sake you must spare their lives."

Mahmud frowned. He dismounted and went up to his wife.

"Have I not sworn, Fatma," he said, "that I would slay every unbeliever who falls into my hands? How, then, can I spare even one who has saved your life?"

"Others have been spared who have been of service, my lord," she said. "There are Greeks and Egyptians who work your guns, and they were spared because they were useful. There is Neufeld, who lives under the protection of the Khalifa. Surely these men have done far more to deserve, not only life, but honour at your hands. They risked their lives to save mine. What follower of the Prophet could do more? They could not have known who I was, a woman they saw drowning. Are there any among the bravest of the tribes who would have done the same?"

"I have sworn an oath," Mahmud said, gloomily.

"But you have not sworn to slay instantly. You can keep them, at least, until you can take them before the Khalifa, and say to him:

"'Father, I have sworn to kill unbelievers, but these men have saved Fatma's life; and I pray you to absolve me from the oath, or order them to be taken from me, and then do you yourself pardon them and set them free for the service that they have rendered me.'

"If he refuses, if these men are killed, I also swear that, as my life is due to them, I myself will perish by my own hands, if they die for saving it!"

"It needs not that, Fatma. You think that I am ungrateful, that I do not feel that these men have acted nobly, thus to risk their lives to save a strange woman whose face they have never seen. It is my oath that lies heavily upon me. I have never been false to an oath."

"Nor need you be now," Fatma said earnestly. "You swore to slay any unbeliever that fell into your hands. This man has not fallen into your hands. I have a previous claim to him. He is under my protection. I cover him with my robe"--and she swept a portion of her garment round Gregory--"and as long as he is under it he is, according to tribal laws, safe even from the vengeance of my husband!

"As to the other, he is not an unbeliever. Your oath concerns him not. Him you can honour and reward, according to the value you place upon my life."

The Arab's face cleared.

"Truly you have discovered a way out of it, Fatma, at any rate for the present."

He turned to Gregory for the first time.

"Do you speak our tongue?" he asked.

"Yes, Emir, as well as my own."

"Then you understand what we have said. Had I not been bound by my oath, I would have embraced you as a brother. We Arabs can appreciate a brave deed, even when it is done by an enemy. When one of the boatmen ran into the battery where I was directing the guns against your boat, and said that the boat in which my wife, with other women, were crossing had been sunk, by a shell from our batteries on the other side, I felt that my blood was turned to water. He said he believed that all had been killed or drowned, but that he looked back as he swam, and saw a white man jump overboard, and a short time after another followed him; and that, when he reached the shore, they were supporting a woman in the water.

"I rode hither, having but small hope indeed that it was my wife, but marvelling much that a white officer should thus risk his life to save a drowning woman. My oath pressed heavily upon me, as I rode. Even had it been but a slave girl whom you rescued, I should no less have admired your courage. I myself am said to be brave, but it would never have entered my mind thus to risk my life for a stranger. When I found that it was my wife who was saved, I still more bitterly regretted the oath that stood between me and her preserver, and truly glad am I that she has herself shown me how I can escape from its consequences.

"Now I see you, I wonder even more than before at what you have done; for indeed, in years, you are little more than a boy."

"What I did, Emir, I believe any white officer who was a good swimmer would have done. No Englishman would see a woman drowning without making an effort to save her, if he had it in his power. As to the fact that she was not of the same race or religion, he would never give it a thought. It would be quite enough for him that she was a woman."

"And you," Mahmud said, turning to Zaki, "you are a Jaalin, are you not?"

"I am."

"Jaalin or Baggara, you are my friend," Mahmud said, placing his hand on Zaki's shoulders. "And so you, too, leapt overboard to save a woman?"

"No, Emir," he replied, "I jumped over because my master jumped over. I had not thought about the woman. I jumped over to aid him, and it was to give him my help that I took my share in supporting the woman. The Bimbashi is a good master, and I would die for him."

Mahmud smiled at this frank answer.

"Nevertheless, whatever may have been your motive, you were enabled to save the life of my wife, and henceforth you are my friend."

Then he turned to the horsemen, who were still grouped on the bank above.

"You have heard what has been said? The white man is under the protection of my harem; the Jaalin is henceforth my friend."

Mahmud was a fine specimen of the tribesmen of the Soudan--tall, well built, and with pure Arab features. He was the Khalifa's favourite son; and was generous, with kindly impulses, but impatient of control. Of late, he had given way to outbursts of passion, feeling acutely the position in which he was placed. He had advanced from Omdurman confident that he should be able to drive the infidels before him, and carry his arms far into Egypt. His aspirations had been thwarted by the Khalifa. His requests for stores and camels that would have enabled him to advance had been refused, and he had been ordered to fall back. His troops had been rendered almost mutinous, from the want of supplies.

He had seen the invaders growing stronger and stronger, and accomplishing what had seemed an impossibility--the bringing up of stores sufficient for their sustenance--by pushing the railroad forward towards Berber. Now that their forces had been very greatly increased, and the issue of the struggle had become doubtful, he had received the order for which he had been craving for months; and had been directed to march down and attack the Egyptian army, drive them across the Nile, and destroy the railway.

By means of spies he had heard that, ere long, a large force of British soldiers would come up to reinforce the Egyptians; so that what might have been easy work, two months before, had now become a difficult and dangerous enterprise. The manner in which the Dervishes had been defeated in their attacks upon Wolseley's desert column, and in the engagements that had since taken place, showed how formidable was the fighting power, not only of the British troops, but of the native army they had organized; and his confidence in the power of the tribesmen to sweep all before them had been shaken.

The Dervishes scowled, when they heard that they were not to have the satisfaction of massacring this Englishman, whose countrymen were still keeping up a terrible fire on their redoubt. It was not one of their wives who had been rescued, and Gregory's act of jumping overboard seemed to them to savour of madness; and if that plea had been advanced, they would have recognized it as rendering the person of the man who had performed it inviolable. However, as he was under the protection of their leader's harem, there was nothing more to be said; and at an order from Mahmud all but four of them rode off, while the others fell in behind him.

Mahmud did not mount again, but walked with his wife to a deserted mud hut, two hundred yards away. There he left her, telling Gregory and Zaki to sit down outside, and placing the four men on guard.

"I must rejoin my men," he said, as he mounted. "When your vessels have gone, I will return."

Half an hour later, the fire ceased. Soon afterwards Mahmud rode up with a score of men, followed by some dozen women, and a slave leading a donkey. On this Fatma took her seat, and the women surrounded her. Gregory and Zaki walked close behind them. Mahmud, with his horsemen, rode in front.

After proceeding for a mile, they came upon a group of tents. Mahmud's banner was flying on a pole in front of the largest of these. Behind, and touching it, was another almost as large. This was the abode of the ladies of Mahmud's harem. The other tents were occupied by his principal Emirs. A hundred yards away was the encampment of the army, which was sheltered in hastily constructed huts, or arbours, made of bushes.

By Mahmud's order, a small tent was erected, with blankets, close to the after entrance into the harem tent, for Gregory's use; so that, should he be attacked by fanatics, he could at once take refuge in the harem, whose sanctity not even the most daring would dare to violate.

A handsome robe was brought for Zaki; and as Mahmud presented it to him, he said:

"You are my friend, but you must now go back to your vessels, or to Berber. My orders were to kill all the Jaalin, and we have spared none who fell into our hands, at Metemmeh or since. I cannot keep you here. As long as you stay by my side, you will be safe; but you could not leave me for a moment. It is as much as I can do to save the life of this infidel officer, and it is to him that I owe most, for it was he who first leapt into the river.

"The white men's boats have already fastened up, behind the island where they before stationed themselves. Make your way down there, at daybreak, and wave a white cloth. Doubtless they will send a boat ashore, thinking that you bear a message from me; or if you see they do not do this, you can swim out to them."

"I would rather stay with my master. Cannot you let him go, too?"

"That is impossible," Mahmud said shortly. "It is known throughout the camp that I have a white man here. The news will travel fast to the Khalifa. My actions have already been misrepresented to him, and were I to let this officer go, my father might recall me to Omdurman and send another to command here.

"He must stay, but you may go without harm. You can scarcely have been noticed yet, and I can well declare, should the Khalifa hear of you, that you have escaped."

"May I speak with my master?" Zaki said. "If he says stay, I shall stay, though it might cost me my life. If he says go, I must go."

"You may speak to him," Mahmud said.

Zaki went round to Gregory's tent, and told him what Mahmud had said.

"Go, certainly, Zaki. You can do me no good by remaining here, and might even do me harm; for if you were killed I also might be murdered. Moreover, I wish to send the news of my capture, and how it occurred. I do not think any, save yourself, noticed that I was missing; and when the fight was over, and they found that I was absent, they might suppose that I had been shot and had fallen overboard.

"I will write a note for you to carry. It is, in all respects, better that you should go. Were we to be seen talking together, it might be supposed that we were planning some way of escape, and I should be more closely watched. As it is, I see that Mahmud will have difficulty in protecting me. Were you to ride about with him, as he says, your presence would remind his followers that he has a white man a captive here; whereas, if I remain almost in concealment near the harem, the fact that there is a white man here will pass out of the minds of those who know it, and will not become the common talk of the camp.

"Mahmud is running some risk in having spared my life, and I do not wish to make it harder for him. Go, therefore, and tell him that you will leave tonight. I cannot write now; my pocketbook is soaked through. But I will tear out some leaves and dry them in the sun; and write what I have to say, before you start. I shall speak highly of you in my letter, and recommend you to Colonel Wingate; who will, I have no doubt, give you employment.

"I hope I shall see you again, before long. I am very sorry that we must part, but it is best for us both."

Very reluctantly, Zaki returned to Mahmud.

"My master says I must go, Emir; and I must obey his orders, though I would rather stay with him. Tonight, I will leave."

"It is well. I would that I could let him go, also, but my oath prevents me from giving him his freedom. I trust, however, that when the Khalifa hears of his noble action, and how he has made me his debtor, he will say that Allah himself would not blame me for that. Gratitude is even more binding than an oath.

"Still, until I hear from him, I can do nothing. We have not seen matters in the same light, for some time. When I wanted to strike, he was unwilling that I should do so. Now, when it seems to me that the time for that has passed, and that I had best retire on Omdurman, he says go forward and fight. It is not for me to question his commands, or his wisdom. But I may not give him cause for anger.

"My advice to you is, when you get to Berber, do not stay there. We shall assuredly be there before long, and as none would know that you were under my protection, you would be slain. Go straight to Abu Hamed; and when you hear that we have defeated the infidels, and have entered Berber, leave by this road they have made, upon which, as they tell me, carriages run without horses, and stay not until you reach Cairo.

"There you can live quietly, until you hear that the Khalifa's army is approaching. After that, fly. I cannot say whither, but seek a shelter until the black flag waves over the whole of the land. When there is no more fighting, then come to me and I will give you a post of honour."

"I will do so, Emir. When the time comes, I will remind you of your promise."

"I have neither silver nor gold with which I can reward you, now; but we shall gather these things in Egypt, and I will make you wealthy."

Zaki thought that it would be unwise to wander from Mahmud's encampment, and he accordingly sat down by his tent. Presently, one of the slaves came out, with a large dish of food that Mahmud had sent him. As evening approached, he went round to Gregory's little tent, with the intention of trying to persuade him to attempt to escape with him; but two of the tribesmen, with rifles in their hands, were stationed there. They offered no opposition to his entry, but their presence showed that Mahmud was determined that his master should appear to be a close prisoner; as, indeed, his escape might well jeopardize the Emir's position, even among his followers.

Gregory had a letter ready for him to carry to Captain Keppel. It ran as follows:

"Dear Captain Keppel,

"I am a prisoner in Mahmud's hands. This is the result of my own impetuosity--I will not say folly, for I cannot regret that I yielded to the sudden impulse that seized me. A boat containing some women was sunk by a shell, when but a few yards astern of the gunboat. Most of its occupants were killed, but I saw a woman struggling in the water and, without thinking of the consequences, jumped overboard to save her, my servant following me. When we reached her, we found that the current was too strong to regain the gunboat, and so landed about half a mile down, hoping to find shelter in the bushes until the boat came down the stream. What I did, however, had been observed by the Dervishes; and as soon as I landed a party rode up, headed by Mahmud himself, who was aware that his favourite wife was in the boat that had sunk.

"Most fortunately, it turned out that she was the woman I had saved. Upon her appeal Mahmud spared our lives. He has released my man, who will carry this to you; but, having sworn that he would spare no white man, he retains me in his hands as a prisoner, until he can lay the facts before the Khalifa and obtain his permission to let me go. I trust that all will be well, and that some day I may rejoin the army. However, there is no saying how matters may turn out.

"I am happy in knowing that there is no one who, if the worst comes to the worst, will grieve over my loss. I recommend my faithful servant to you. I should wish the balance of pay coming to me to be handed to him, as well as my camel and horse, and all other belongings. By the sale of these he would be able, at the end of the war, to buy a piece of land and settle down among his own people.

"Will you kindly report my capture to Colonel Wingate or General Hunter? Thanking you for your kindness to me, I remain,

"Yours faithfully,

"Gregory Hilliard.

"P. S. In my cabin is a tin box containing documents of importance to me. I shall be greatly obliged if you will take charge of these, until--as I hope will be the case--I rejoin you."

He handed the paper to Zaki, who took his hand and raised it to his forehead, with tears in his eyes.

"I go because you order me, master," he said, in a broken voice; "but I would a thousand times rather remain, and share your fate, whatever it might be."

Then he turned, and abruptly left the tent.

Twice that day, Gregory had received food from a female slave of the harem. Although he knew that he should miss Zaki greatly, he was very glad that he had been sent away; for he felt that, although for the time he had been reprieved, his position was very precarious, and that his servant's would have been still more so. A white prisoner was a personage of some consequence, but the death of a Jaalin was a matter that would disturb no one. Thousands of them had been massacred; and one, more or less, could not matter at all. But, however much the Dervishes might hate a white infidel, it would be a serious matter for even the most powerful Emir to harm a prisoner under the protection of the harem of the Khalifa's son.

Mahmud had been very popular among them, but his position had been gravely shaken by the events of the last six months. Having unlimited confidence in themselves; the Baggara had seen, with increasing fury, the unopposed advance of the Egyptians. They could not understand why they should not have been allowed, after the capture of Metemmeh, to march across the desert to Merawi, and annihilate the infidels assembled there. It was true that these had repulsed the force defending Dongola, but this was a comparatively small body; and it was the gunboats, and not the Egyptian troops, who had forced them to evacuate the town.

The fall of Abu Hamed had added to their discontent, and they were eager to march with all speed to Berber, to join the five thousand men comprising its garrison, and to drive the invaders back across the Nile.

But they had been kept inactive, by the orders of the Khalifa and by the want of stores. They had, for months, been suffering great privations; and while remaining in enforced inactivity, they had known that their enemy's strength was daily increasing; and that what could have been accomplished with the greatest of ease, in August, had now become a very serious business.

Mahmud had chafed at the situation in which he found himself placed, by his father's refusal to support him or to allow him to take any action. This had soured his temper, and he had taken to drinking heavily. He had become more harsh with his men, more severe in the punishment inflicted for any trifling disobedience of orders. Although no thought that the rule of the Khalifa could be seriously threatened entered their minds, fanatical as they were, they could not but feel some uneasiness at the prospect.

A great army was gathering at Berber. Kassala was in the hands of the British, and the forces that had been beleaguering it had been defeated, with heavy loss. Abyssinia had leagued itself against them. The insurrection of the Jaalin had been crushed, but there were signs of unrest in Kordofan, and other parts.

Of course, all this would be put right. An army of sixty thousand men was at Omdurman; and this, with Mahmud's command, would suffice to sweep away all their enemies. Their enthusiasm would never have wavered, had they been called upon for action; but these months of weary waiting, and of semi-starvation, without the acquisition of any booty or plunder--for little, indeed, had been obtained at the capture of Metemmeh--sapped their energy; and the force that crossed the Nile for an advance upon Berber was far less formidable than it would have been, had it been led forward against Merawi and Dongola directly after the capture of Metemmeh. Still, it needed only the prospect of a battle to restore its spirits.

A fortnight after Gregory's capture, the Dervish army was set in motion. A few thousand men had already been sent forward, along the banks of the river, to check any advance that might be made from Fort Atbara. Had it not been for this, Gregory might have attempted to escape. It would not have been very difficult for him to creep out at the back of his little tent, unperceived by his guards; but the dangers to be encountered in making his way to the British fort would have been immense.

It would have been necessary for him to keep by the river, for from this source alone could water be obtained. The country had been stripped of its crops, of all kinds, by the Dervishes; the villages had been razed to the ground; and the last head of maize, and other grain, gleaned by the starving people who had taken refuge in the bush and jungle.

Therefore, although by keeping near the river he could quench his thirst at will, he would assuredly have to face starvation. Moreover, he would have no chance of searching for any ears of corn which might have escaped the eyes of the searchers, for he must travel only by night and lie up by day, to avoid capture by one or other of the bands that had gone on; in which case he would at once be killed, being beyond the influence of Mahmud, and the protection of the harem.

On the other hand, he had nothing to complain of, except the monotony and uncertainty of his position. Fatma kept him well supplied with food; and, from the gossip of the slaves who brought this to him, he learnt how matters were progressing. He was longing for the Dervish army to make a move, for he felt that when they neared the British position, the greater would be the chance of escape; and none among the followers of Mahmud rejoiced more than he did, when he knew that the long-expected advance was about to take place.

Once in motion, the spirits of the Dervishes revived. At last they were going to meet these insolent invaders, and none doubted that they would easily defeat them. The greater portion of the harem and attendants were left behind, at Shendy, for but few camels were available. Fatma and another of Mahmud's wives rode on one. A tent was carried by another. Half a dozen slaves followed, and Gregory walked with these.

He could not help admiring the attitude of the tribesmen--tall, powerful men, inured to hardship, and walking or riding with an air of fierce independence, which showed their pride in themselves, and their confidence in their prowess.

The party always started early in the morning, so as to get the tents erected at the halting place before the main body of the Dervishes came up. On the march, they kept some distance from the river and, being but a small group, the gunboats did not waste their shot upon them; but each day there was a sharp exchange of fire between them and Mahmud's force.

Gregory supposed that Mahmud's plan was to cross the Atbara, which was fordable at several points, and to attack the fort there; in which case, he had no doubt the Arabs would be driven off, with much loss. The Sirdar was of the same opinion, and in order to tempt them to do so, he maintained only one Egyptian brigade in the fort, the remainder of the force being concentrated at Kennur, four miles away. From this point they would be able to advance and take the Dervishes in flank, while they were engaged in the attack of the fort.

Mahmud, however, was kept well informed of the movements of the troops, and instead of continuing his course down the river bank when he reached Gabati, he struck across the desert; and, after two days' march, crossed the Atbara at Nakheila. From this point, owing to the bend in the river, he would be able to march direct to Berber, avoiding the Atbara fort and the force gathered round it.

Altogether the desert march, although only lasting two days, was a trying one. The heat was overpowering, and even the ladies of the harem had the scantiest supply of water. They had, at starting, given Gregory a gourd of water for his own use. This he had taken sparingly, and it lasted him until they reached the Atbara.

It was now dead low water, and the river offered no obstacle to crossing, as the bed was for the most part dry, with pools here and there. The Arab encampment was formed in a thick grove of trees, which afforded some shelter from the sun.

Day after day passed. Mahmud was now informed as to the strength of the force he should have to encounter, and for the first time felt some doubt as to the issue of the fight. He determined, therefore, to stand on the defensive. This decision, however, he kept to himself. The Dervishes were burning to be led to the assault, and became almost mutinous, on account of the delay. Mahmud was obliged to take the strongest measures, and several of those who were loudest in their dissatisfaction were summarily executed. The rest were pacified with the assurance that he was only waiting for a fortunate day.

In the meantime, the men were employed in fortifying the position. Deep holes were dug along the edge of the wood, and behind these were trenches and pitfalls. Mahmud's own temper grew daily more sullen and fierce. His own fighting instinct was in favour of the attack his followers longed to deliver, but in his heart he was afraid that the result might be fatal. It was not the rifles of the infantry that he feared--of these he had no experience--but the artillery, which he had learned, already, could be used with terrible effect.

As Mahmud was drinking heavily, and as the fact that the white soldiers were near at hand added to the fanatical hatred of the emirs and tribesmen, Fatma sent a message by a slave to Gregory, warning him not to show himself outside the little shelter tent, composed of a single blanket, in which he now lived.

At length it became known that the English host was approaching. As soon as the gunboats brought down news that the Dervishes were no longer following the river bank, but were disappearing into the desert, the Sirdar guessed their intentions. Nothing could have suited him better. A battle now must be a decisive one. There was no way of retreat open to the Dervishes, except to cross the waterless desert; or to fly south, keeping to the course of the Atbara, which would take them farther and farther from the Nile with every mile they marched.

Bringing up all his force, therefore, from Kennur and the Atbara fort, which one battalion was left to guard, the Sirdar took up his post at Hudi. The position was well chosen. It lay halfway between Mahmud's camp at Nakheila and the Atbara fort, and left Mahmud only the option of attacking him; or of making a long detour, through the desert to the east, in order to reach Berber. The British, on the other hand, could receive their supplies by camels from the Atbara fort.

The cavalry went out to reconnoitre, and had constant skirmishes with the enemy's horse; but when day after day passed, and Mahmud did not come, as the Sirdar had expected, to attack him, it was determined to take the offensive. General Hunter was ordered to move forward, with the whole of the cavalry and a Maxim-gun battery, to discover the exact position of the enemy.

The camp had been well chosen; for, like Abu Hamed, it lay in a depression, and could not be seen until an enemy came within six hundred yards of it. Thus the superiority of range of the British rifles was neutralized, and their guns could not be brought into play until within reach of the Dervish muskets. The wood was surrounded by a high zareba, behind which a crowd of Dervishes were assembled. They had anticipated an attack, and held their fire until the cavalry should come nearer. This, however, General Hunter had no intention of doing, and he retired with the information he had gained. His account of the strength of the position showed the difficulty of taking it by assault.

Next day he again went out with the same force, but this time the Dervishes were prepared. Their mounted men dashed out from the wood, and galloped round to cut off the cavalry; while the footmen crowded out to attack them in front. The cavalry fell back in perfect order, and one squadron charged forty of the Dervish cavalry, who barred the line of retreat. These they drove off, but the main body still pressed forward, and the Maxims opened upon them. The hail of bullets was too much for the horsemen, and they drew off. Several times they gathered again for a charge, but on each occasion the Maxims dispersed them. The unmounted Dervishes were soon left behind, but the horsemen, in spite of the lesson they had received, followed almost to the camp.

On the afternoon of the 7th of April, the Anglo-Egyptian force marched out. They started at five in the afternoon, and halted at seven. The horses were first taken down to water, the infantry by half battalions; all then lay down to sleep. At one o'clock the word to advance was passed round quietly. The moon was full and high overhead, so there was no difficulty in avoiding obstacles. Each brigade marched in square, accompanied by the guns and the Maxims, and the camels with provisions and spare ammunition.

At four o'clock they halted again. They had been well guided, and were now but a short distance from the enemy's position. At sunrise the men were again on their feet, and advanced to within two hundred yards of the position from which they were to deliver their attack. The British brigade--the Camerons, Warwicks, Seaforths, and Lincolns--were on the left. Next to them came Macdonald's brigade--the three Soudanese regiments in front, the 2nd Egyptian in support. Farther still to the right, and touching the river, was Maxwell's brigade, comprising also three Soudanese regiments and an Egyptian one. Two of the three Egyptian battalions of Lewis's brigade were placed on the left rear of the British brigade, the third battalion was in square round the camels. Two field batteries were in front of the infantry, and two to the right of Maxwell's brigade.

Half a mile from the zareba the infantry halted, and the artillery and Maxims opened fire. For an hour a tremendous fire was poured into the enemy's position, but not a shot was fired in reply, although the Dervishes could be seen moving among the trees, apparently unconcerned at the storm of shell and bullets.

Gregory's position had been growing more critical every day. Food was extremely short; the scanty supplies that the force had brought with them had been long since exhausted, and they were now subsisting upon palm nuts. Of these, two were served out daily to each man, a quantity barely sufficient to keep life together. In spite of the vigilant watch kept by the more fanatical of Mahmud's followers, desertions had become frequent, notwithstanding the certain death that awaited those who were overtaken.

The evening after the cavalry made their first reconnaissance, the slave who brought Gregory's food told him that Fatma wished to speak to him. It was but three paces to the entrance of the tent, and his guards made no objection. The entrance was closed as the slave entered, but half a minute later it was opened an inch or two, and, without showing herself, Fatma said:

"Listen to me."

"I am listening," Gregory replied.

"I am in great fear for you. You are in much danger. The Emirs say to Mahmud that you ought to be killed; their followers are well-nigh starving--why should an infidel prisoner be eating? His friends are now close to us, and there will be a battle. None will be spared on either side--why should this man be spared?

"Mahmud has many cares. The men are furious because he will not lead them out to fight. Even the emirs are sullen; and Osman Digna, who was on bad terms with him a short time ago, and who, Mahmud suspects, is intriguing with them against him, is foremost in urging that an attack should take place; though everyone knows he is a coward, and never shows himself in battle, always running away directly he sees that things are going against him. Still, he has five thousand followers of his own.

"Mahmud told me today that he had done all in his power but, placed as he was, he could not withstand the words of the emirs, and the complaints of the tribesmen. When the battle comes--as it must come in a day or two--it will need all his influence and the faith of the men with him to win; and with so much at stake, how can he risk everything for the sake of a single life, and that the life of an infidel? If you would agree to aid in working his guns, as the Greeks and Egyptians do, it would content the emirs."

"That I cannot do," Gregory said. "If I am to be killed, it is the will of God; but better that, a thousand times, than turn traitor!"

"I knew that it would be so," Fatma said sorrowfully. "What can we do? At other times, the protection of the harem would cover even one who had slain a chief; but now that the Baggara are half starving, and mad with anger and disappointment, even that no longer avails. If they would brave the anger of the son of the Khalifa, they would not regard the sanctity of the harem. I wish now that I had advised you to try and escape when we left Shendy, or even when we first came here. It would have been difficult, but not impossible; but now I can see no chance. There is the thorn hedge round the wood, with few openings, and with men on watch all round to prevent desertion. Several tried to escape last night--all were caught and killed this morning. Even if it were possible to pass through, there are bands of horsemen everywhere out on the plain, keeping watch alike against the approach of the enemy and the desertion of cowards.

"I have been in despair, all day, that I cannot save the life of one who saved mine. I have told Mahmud that my honour is concerned, and that I would give my life for yours. Months ago, he would have braved the anger of all his army for me, but he has changed much of late. It is not that he loves me less, but that he has been worried beyond bearing, and in his troubles he drinks until he forgets them.

"My only hope is that your people will attack tomorrow. Mahmud says that they will assuredly be beaten; they will be shot down as they approach, and none will ever be able to get through the hedge. Then, when they fall back, the Baggara will pour out, horse and foot, and destroy them. They will then see how right he has been in not letting them go out into the plain to fight. His influence will be restored, and your life will be safe.

"We are to be removed to the farther side of the wood, when the fighting begins; and there all the women are to be gathered, and wait, till the infidels are utterly destroyed.

"If your people come tomorrow morning, you may be saved. Otherwise I fear the worst."

"I thank you for what you have done for me," replied Gregory, "and whatever comes of it, be sure that I shall feel grateful to you, and shall not blame you for not having been able to do what was impossible. I hope my friends may come tomorrow, for, whatever my fate may be, anything is better than uncertainty."

"May Allah protect you!" the woman said, with a sob; "and go now. I hear Mahmud calling me."

Chapter 12: The Battle Of Atbara.

Gregory had little sleep that night. It was clear to him that there was absolutely no chance of making his escape. Even were his two guards withdrawn, it would not improve his position. He had no means of disguise, and even if he had an Arab dress and could stain his face, he could not hope to make his way through the crowds of sleeping men, the pitfalls and trenches, and pass out through the jealously guarded zareba. There was nothing, for him, but to wait till the end.

He could not blame Mahmud. A leader on the eve of a great battle could not, for the sake of a single captive, risk his influence and oppose the wishes of his followers. It was much that he had, for his wife's sake, postponed the fulfilment of his oath; and had so long withstood the wishes of his most influential emirs. More could not be expected. At any rate, he was better off than others who had been in the same position. He had not, so far as he knew, a relation in the world--no one who would be anywise affected by his death; and at least he would have the satisfaction of knowing that it was a kind action which had brought him to his end. He prayed earnestly, not that his life might be spared, but that his death might be a painless one; and that he might meet it as an English officer should, without showing signs of fear.

The next day he heard orders given, and a great stir in camp; and he gathered, from those who passed near the tent, that the enemy's cavalry were again approaching; and that the mounted men were to ride out and cut them off from retreating, while the dismounted men were to pour out and annihilate them. Then, for a time, all was silence in the camp.

Suddenly an outburst of shouts and cries broke out and, almost simultaneously, he heard the rattle of Maxim guns--the fight had begun. Would the Egyptian horsemen stand firm, or would they give way to panic? If they broke and fled, none whatever would return to their camp through the host of Baggara horsemen.

For a time, the roll of the fire from the machine guns was incessant. Then there was a pause. Two or three minutes later it broke out again, but it was evidently somewhat farther off; and so it went on, with intervals of silence, but ever getting farther away. It was clear that the horsemen had not been able to bring the cavalry to a standstill, and that these were steadily falling back, covered by the fire of the Maxims. At last the sound grew faint in the distance and, soon afterwards, the noise in the camp showed that the infantry were returning.

It was not till two hours later that he heard the mounted men ride in; and gathered, from the talk outside, that they had lost nearly two hundred men, and had been unable to prevent the Egyptian cavalry from returning to camp. Towards evening he heard angry talking, and could distinguish Mahmud's voice. Then the blanket was pulled off its supports, and two men ordered him to follow them.

This was doubtless the end, and he nerved himself for what was to come; and, with head erect and a steady face, he accompanied the men to the front of Mahmud's tent. The chief was standing, with frowning face; and several Emirs were gathered in front of him, while a number of tribesmen stood a short distance away.

"Now," Mahmud said, "let one of you speak."

One of the Emirs stepped forward.

"I, Osman Digna, demand that this infidel be put to death. His countrymen have slain many of my men, and yours."

Feeling now that Mahmud, after doing his best, had ceased to struggle for him, and that his death was certain, Gregory took a step forward towards the speaker, and said scornfully:

"So you are Osman Digna! I am one of the first of my countrymen to see your face, though many have seen your back, at a distance."

Instead of provoking a pistol shot, as he had intended, his remark was followed by a roar of laughter from the emirs; for Osman's cowardice was a byword among them, and his nickname was "One who always runs."

Osman, indeed, had put his hand on the stock of one of the pistols in his belt, but Mahmud said imperiously:

"The man's life is mine, not yours, Osman Digna. If you shoot him, I shoot you!"

The fearlessness of the lad had pleased the other emirs; for, recklessly brave themselves, the Baggara appreciated and esteemed courage and honour. One of the others said:

"This is a brave young fellow and, infidels as his people are, we admit that they are brave. Were it for ourselves only, we would say let him live, until we see what comes of it. But our people complain. They say his folk, with whom we had no quarrel, come here and aid the Egyptians against us. They slew many yesterday. It is not right that this man should be living among us, when his countrymen are fighting against us."

There was a murmur of assent among the others, then Mahmud spoke.

"I have promised that he should not be killed, unless by order of the Khalifa. But this I will do: he shall be placed in the front rank. If Allah wills it, he will be killed by the bullets of his countrymen. If, when the fight is over, he is unharmed, you shall all agree that the matter be left for the Khalifa to decide. But, mind, I wash my hands of his death. On the eve of a battle, it is not for me to set my wishes above those of my emirs and my tribesmen; and I yield to your demands, because it is necessary that all be of one mind. If he is killed, which surely he will be, unless Allah protects him, his blood be upon your heads!"

He waved his hand, and the men came forward and again took Gregory to his tent.

The latter was well contented with the decision that he should be killed. He had no doubt that, at least, his death would be swift and sudden; he would not be speared, or cut to pieces with knives. He would see his countrymen advancing. He would know that he would be speedily avenged.

Two days passed, when the news came that the Egyptians had advanced to Umdabieh, seven miles nearer; and, on the following morning, the Dervish camp was disturbed early. There was joy in every face, and renewed vigour in the bearing of the men. Scouting Dervishes had brought in word that the infidels had marched, during the night, and were now halting but a mile and a half away.

The hour had come, at last. They were confident in themselves, and their trust in their leader was renewed. The fight, two days before, had shown them that the guns of the white men were terrible on the plain; and that it was, after all, wise to await them in the position which had been made impregnable, and against which the foe would hurl themselves in vain; then they were to pour out, and annihilate them.

The slave came to Gregory's tent, at daybreak.

"Fatma is praying to Allah for your safety," he said.

There was no time for more, for already the tents were being pulled down, and soon the women were hurried away to the rear. Four men surrounded Gregory, and led him to the edge of the camp, and there fastened him to the stump of a tree that had been cut off six feet from the ground, the upper portion being used in the construction of the zareba. Ten or twelve men were similarly fastened, in a line with him. These had been detected in trying to sneak away.

Gregory had not seen anything of the camp before and, as he was taken along, he was astounded at the amount of work that had been done. Everywhere the ground was pitted with deep holes, capable of sheltering from fifteen to twenty men. The hedge was a high one, and was formed for the most part of prickly bushes. The position was, indeed, a formidable one; manned, as it was, by nearly twenty thousand desperate fighters.

At six o'clock the first gun was fired; and, for an hour and a half, the camp was swept with shell, shrapnel, and Maxim bullets. Most of the Baggara were lying in the pits. Many, however, walked about calmly, as if in contempt of the fire. More than half of the wretched men bound to the trees were killed.

At last the fire of the guns slackened and, on the crest of the position, in a semicircle round the wood, a long line of steadily marching men appeared. The assault was about to begin.

The Dervishes sprang from their hiding places, and lined the trenches behind the zareba. The troops halted, and waited. The Maxims moved in front of the British brigade, and then opened fire. A bugle sounded, and the whole line, black and white, advanced like a wall. When within three hundred yards, the men knelt down and opened fire, in volleys of sections. At the same instant the Dervishes, with difficulty restrained until now, opened fire in return.

The Maxims, and the storm of British bullets swept the wood, filling the air with a shower of falling leaves. Gregory murmured a prayer, shut his eyes, and awaited death.

Suddenly he felt his ropes slacken and fall from him, and a voice said, "Drop on your face, master!"

Almost mechanically he obeyed, too astonished even to think what was happening; then a body fell across him.

"Lie still and don't move, master. They must think you are dead."

"Is it you, Zaki?" Gregory said, scarcely able, even now, to believe that it was his faithful follower.

"It is I, master. I have been in the camp three days, and have never had a chance of getting near you, before."

"Brave fellow! good friend!" Gregory said, and then was silent.

Speech was almost inaudible, amid the roar of battle. The pipes of the Camerons could, however, be heard above the din. The men advanced steadily, in line, maintaining their excellent volley firing. The three other regiments, in close order, followed; bearing away farther to the right, so as to be able to open fire and advance. On that side the black regiments were advancing no less steadily, and the half brigade of Egyptians were as eager as any. Steadily and well under control, all pushed forward at a run; firing occasionally, but thirsting to get hand to hand with those who had desolated their land, destroyed their villages, and slain their friends.

The British were suffering, but the blacks suffered more; for the volleys of the Camerons kept down the fire of those opposed to them, better than the irregular fire of the Soudanese. The latter, however, first reached the zareba; and, regardless of thorns or of fire, dashed through it with triumphant shouts, and fell upon the defenders.

It was but a minute or two later that the Camerons reached the hedge. Formidable as it looked, it took them but a short time to tear down gaps, through which they rushed; while close behind them the Seaforths, the Lincolns, and the Warwicks were all in, bursting through the low stockade and trenches behind it, and cheering madly.

Now, from their holes and shelters, the Dervishes started up. Brave though they were, the storm that had burst upon them with such suddenness scared them, and none attempted to arrest the course of the Highlanders and red coats. Firing as they ran, the Dervishes made for the river. Many remained in their pits till the last, firing at the soldiers as they rushed past, and meeting their death at the point of the bayonet.

Hotly the troops pursued, often falling into the pits, which were half hidden by thorns and long grass. There was no attempt at regularity in these holes--nothing to show where they were. It was a wild and confused combat. The officers kept their men as well together as it was possible, on such ground; but it was sharp work, for from flank and rear, as well as in front, the shots rang out from their hidden foes, and these had to be despatched as they pushed forward.

As the troops burst through, Gregory sprang to his feet, seized a rifle that had dropped from the hands of a Dervish who had fallen close by and--shouting to Zaki "Lie still as if dead!"--joined the first line of troops. No questions were asked. Every man's attention was fixed on the work before him, and no thought was given to this white officer, who sprang from they knew not where. He had no cartridges, and the Dervishes did not carry bayonets; but, holding the rifle club-wise, he kept in the front line, falling into pits and climbing out again, engaged more than once with desperate foemen.

Striking and shouting, he fought on until the troops reached the river bank; and, having cleared all before them, poured volleys into the mass of fugitives crossing its dry bed. Other hordes were seen away to the left, similarly driven out by Lewis's Egyptians, by whom a terrible fire was kept up until the last of the fugitives disappeared in the scrub on the opposite bank, leaving the river bed thickly dotted with dead bodies; while, on the right, Macdonald's and Maxwell's blacks similarly cleared the wood.

Then the Soudanese and whites alike burst into cheers. Men shook each other by the hand, while they waved their helmets over their heads. The Soudanese leapt and danced like delighted children. Presently an officer left a group of others, who had been congratulating each other on their glorious victory, and came up to Gregory.

"May I ask who you are, sir?" he said, courteously but coldly.

"Certainly, sir. My name is Hilliard. I have been a captive in the hands of the Dervishes; who, when you attacked, tied me to the stump of a tree as a target for your bullets; and I should certainly have been killed, had not a faithful servant of mine, a black, taken the opportunity, when the Dervishes rushed into the trenches and opened fire upon you, to cut my ropes.

"I have no doubt, sir," he went on, as he saw the officer look somewhat doubtful, "that General Hunter is here. I am known personally to him, and served for a time on his staff."

"That is quite sufficient," the officer said, more cordially. "I congratulate you on your escape. I confess it astonished us all, when a strange white officer, whom none of us knew, suddenly joined us. You will find General Hunter somewhere over on the left. He is certain to have led the charge of the Soudanese."

"Thank you! I will go and find him; but first, I must return to where I left my man. He had, of course, the Mahdist's patch on his clothes; and I told him to lie still, as if dead, till I came for him; as, in the melee, it would have been impossible for me to have protected him."

Gregory found Zaki still lying where he left him, head downward and arms thrown forward; in so good an imitation of death that he feared, for a moment, the lad had been shot after he left him. At the sound of his master's voice, however, the native sprang to his feet.

"You have saved my life, Zaki," Gregory said, taking his hand. "I must have fallen--every man tied to a tree is, as you see, dead; but before we say anything else, cut that patch off your clothes, or you might be shot as a Dervish by the first man you come across.

"Keep close to me. I am going to General Hunter. At present, I know none of the officers of the white regiments. When I get among the Soudanese, I shall be more at home."

In ten minutes, he came to where General Hunter was speaking to the Sirdar. Gregory stopped at a short distance, before the general's eyes fell upon him, and he gave an exclamation of pleasure.

"That is Hilliard, General; the young fellow who jumped from one of the gunboats, off Metemmeh, to rescue the woman. The act was unnoticed at the time, but a black he had with him was released, and brought word that his master was a prisoner in their camp."

"I heard of it, at the time," the Sirdar said, and motioned to Gregory to come up. "I am glad to find that you have escaped the fate we feared had befallen you, but your action was altogether wrong. An officer's life is no longer his own, but belongs to the country he serves; and you had no right whatever to risk it when on duty, even in an action which, at any other time, would do you great credit."

He spoke sharply and sternly. Gregory again saluted.

"I knew afterwards that I had done wrong, sir; but I did not stop to think, and acted on the impulse of the moment."

"That may be," the Sirdar said; "but officers should think, and not act on the impulse of the moment."

Gregory again saluted, and fell back. Three or four minutes later, the two generals separated. General Hunter came up to him, and shook him warmly by the hand.

"You must not mind what the Sirdar said, Hilliard. It was a very noble action, and did you credit, and I can assure you that that was the opinion of all who knew you; but to the Sirdar, you know, duty is everything, and I think you are lucky in not being sent down, at once, to the base. However, he said to me, after you had left him:

"'I shall be too busy this evening, but bring the young fellow with you, tomorrow evening. I must hear how it was that Mahmud spared him.'

"I told him that I understood, from your black, that the woman was Mahmud's favourite wife, and that she took you under her care.

"By the way, have you heard that Mahmud is captured? Yes, he is caught, which is a great satisfaction to us; for his being sent down, a prisoner, will convince the tribesmen that we have gained a victory, as to which they would otherwise be incredulous. I hear that the Egyptian brigade, which was to the extreme left, has captured Mahmud's wife, and a great number of women."

"With your permission, sir, I will go over there at once, and ask Colonel Lewis that she may receive specially good treatment. She has been extremely kind to me, and it is to her influence over Mahmud that I owe my life. Up to this morning Mahmud would have spared me, but Osman Digna insisted that I should be killed, and he was obliged to give way. They fastened me to a tree behind the trench, just inside the zareba, and I should certainly have been killed by our own musketry fire, had not my boy, who had come into the camp in disguise, cut my cords. I fell as if shot, and he threw himself down on me; until the Camerons burst in, when I at once joined them, and did what little I could in the fight."

"I will give you a line to Colonel Lewis, to tell him that Mahmud's wife, whom you will point out, is to be treated with respect; and that her people may be allowed to make her an arbour of some sort, until the Sirdar decides what is to be done with her. Probably she will be sent down to Berber. No doubt we shall all fall back."

"Then you will not pursue, sir?"

"No. The cavalry have already gone off in pursuit of their horsemen, but they are not likely to catch them; for we hear that Osman Digna is with them, and he seems to enjoy a special immunity from capture. As for the other poor beggars, we could not do it if we wanted to. I expect the campaign is over, for the present. Certainly, nothing can be done till the railway is completed; then the gunboats can tow the native craft, abreast of us, as we march along the river bank.

"Shendy has been captured, and we found twelve thousand Jaalin prisoners there, women and children, and a large quantity of stores. That is what makes the position of the Dervish fugitives so hopeless. There is nothing before them but to find their way across the desert to Omdurman, and I fancy that few of them will get there alive.

"No doubt some will keep along by the Atbara, and others by the Nile. The latter will have the best chance, for the friendlies at Kassala will be on the lookout for fugitives. I am sorry for the poor wretches, though they richly deserve the worst that can befall them. They have never shown mercy. For twenty years they have murdered, plundered, and desolated the whole land, and have shown themselves more ferocious and merciless than wild beasts."

He took out his pocketbook, wrote the order to Colonel Lewis; and then, tearing the leaf out, handed it to Gregory, who at once made his way, followed closely by Zaki, to the spot where two Egyptian battalions had halted. They had no difficulty in finding Colonel Lewis, who was receiving a report, from the officers of the two battalions, of the casualties they had sustained. Gregory had met the Colonel several times, at Berber, and the latter recognized him at once.

"Ah! Major Hilliard," that officer said, as he came up; "I am glad to see you. I heard that you had been captured by the Dervishes, and killed; but I suppose, as I see you here, that it was only the usual canard."

"No, sir. I was captured; but, as you see, not killed, though it has been a pretty close thing. This is a note, sir, that General Hunter requested me to give you."

Colonel Lewis read the order.

"The women are down over there, a couple of hundred yards away," he said. "I will send a sergeant and four men with you. If you will point out Mahmud's wife, I will see that she is made as comfortable as possible."

"Thank you, sir! It is to her I owe my life, and I am most anxious to do all I can to repay the debt."

"You came along through the other brigades. Do you know what their losses have been?"

"The British losses are not heavy, sir, considering the fire they have been exposed to. Macdonald's brigade suffered most, I believe."

"Yes; I saw one of the officers just now. It seems they came down upon Mahmud's picked bodyguard, and these fought desperately. They found Mahmud in the usual attitude in which the Dervish emirs await death, when they are conquered. He was sitting quietly on his mat, with his arms laid down beside him; and was, I should imagine, somewhat surprised at finding that he was not cut to pieces, at once."

"I am glad he was not, sir, for he certainly behaved well to me. It was through the influence of his wife, I admit; but in sparing me he really risked serious disaffection among his followers, and at last gave way only to coercion."

The sergeant and men had now come up, and Gregory went off with them. Three or four hundred women were seated on the ground together, with half a dozen Egyptian soldiers standing as sentry over them. More or less closely veiled as they were, Gregory could not distinguish Fatma among them; and indeed, except when he first reached her in the water, he had not got a glimpse of her features. The question, however, was speedily settled when a woman rose, in the middle of the group, with a cry of gladness.

"So you are saved!" she exclaimed, "I have feared so that you were killed. Have you news of Mahmud?"

"Yes, lady. He is a prisoner, but well and unharmed. I have obtained an order, from the General, that you are to be treated with honours, as his wife. We cannot do much for you, at present, but all that is possible will be done. I have represented your kindness to me, and these soldiers will at once erect an arbour for you, and food will be brought for you all, as soon as matters have settled down a little."

The Egyptian soldiers had already begun to cut down saplings. Accustomed as they were to the work, in half an hour they had erected an arbour. Fatma was then assisted into it, with the other women of the harem. The sergeant gave orders, to the sentries, that no one was to be allowed to interfere in any way with them; and then Gregory took his leave, saying that he would return, later on.

He again joined General Hunter, who seemed to be his natural chief, now that his service in the gunboat was over.

The list of casualties was now being brought in. The Camerons, who had led the attack in line, had lost most heavily. They had fifteen killed and forty-six wounded, among them being two officers killed, and one mortally wounded. The Seaforths had one officer killed and one mortally wounded, and four others less severely; in all, six killed and twenty-seven wounded. The Lincolns had one killed and eighteen wounded; the Warwicks two killed and eighteen wounded. Many of the wounded afterwards died.

The Egyptians had lost more heavily. The casualties among them were fifty-seven killed; and four British and sixteen native officers, and three hundred and sixty-seven non-commissioned officers and men, wounded.

The Dervish loss was terrible. Three thousand men were killed, among whom were nearly all the emirs; and two thousand were taken prisoners. The rest were hopeless fugitives, and a vast number of these must have been wounded.

There was but a short rest for the troops. When the wounded had been collected, and carried to a neighbouring palm grove, where the surgeons did all that could then be done for them; and the trophies of the fight--banners and spears, guns of all sorts, swords and knives--had been gathered, principally by the exultant Soudanese and Egyptians, the force prepared for a start.

"May I ask, General, what is to be done with the women?" Gregory said.

"I have been speaking to the Sirdar about them, and I was just going to ask you to go with me to them. They are, of course, not to be considered as prisoners. They cannot stay here, for they would die of hunger. Therefore they had best follow the troops, at any rate as far as the Atbara camp. They will have food given them, and must then decide for themselves what they are to do. It is a difficult question, altogether. The only thing that can, at present, be settled is that they mustn't be allowed to die of hunger, and they must be protected against molestation.

"The troops will march at four o'clock. The Egyptian brigade have volunteered to carry the wounded. They will start later. The women had better follow them. No doubt, some of them will find their husbands among the prisoners, so that there will be no trouble about them."

"What will be done with the men, sir?"

The General smiled.

"Tomorrow they will probably enlist in our service, to a man, and will fight just as sturdily as the other Soudanese battalions, against their brethren in Khartoum. All the prisoners we have hitherto taken who are fit for the work have done so; and, as has been shown today, are just as ready to fight on our side as they were against us. They are a fighting people, and it is curious how they become attached to their white officers, whom formerly they hated as infidels."

When the matter was explained to them, the women accepted the situation with the resignation that is natural to the Mahometan woman. Gregory was able to assure Fatma that, in a short time, she would undoubtedly be allowed to join Mahmud, and accompany him wherever he was sent.

"But will they not kill him?" she said.

"We never kill prisoners. Even the bitterest enemy that may fall into our hands is well treated. Mahmud will doubtless be sent down to Cairo, and it will then be settled where he is to be taken to; but you may be sure that, wherever it may be, he will be well treated and cared for."

"In that case, I shall be happy," she said. "When you saved me, I saw that the ways of you Christians were better than our ways. Now I see it still more. To be always raiding, and plundering, and killing cannot be good. It used to seem to me natural and right, but I have come to think differently."

At four o'clock the troops marched. At Gregory's request, he was allowed to remain behind and accompany the Egyptians. He had bought for a few shillings, from the soldiers, a dozen donkeys that had been found alive in some of the pits. These he handed over to Fatma, for her conveyance and that of the wives of some of the emirs, who were of the party.

The Egyptians started at half-past eight, carrying their own wounded and those of the British. By the route by which the army had marched, the night before, the distance was but nine miles; but there had been some rough places to pass, and to avoid these, where the wounded might have suffered from jolting, they made a circuit, thereby adding three miles to the length of the march; and did not reach Umdabieh camp until two o'clock in the morning. General Hunter, who never spared himself, rode with them and acted as guide.

During the fight he, Colonel Macdonald, and Colonel Maxwell had ridden at the head of their brigades, the white regimental officers being on foot with the men, as was their custom; and it was surprising that the three conspicuous figures had all come through the storm of fire unscathed.

The next morning was a quiet one, and in the afternoon all marched off to the old camp, at Abadar. On Sunday they rested, and on Monday the British brigade marched to Hudi, and then across the desert to Hermali, where they were to spend the summer. The Sirdar rode, with the Egyptian brigades, to Fort Atbara. Macdonald's brigade was to go on to garrison Berber, Maxwell's to Assillem, and that of Lewis to remain at Atbara.

The question of the prisoners was already half solved. Almost all of them willingly embraced the offer to enlist in the Egyptian army. Many of the women found their husbands among the prisoners. Others agreed, at once, to marry men of the Soudanese battalion. The rest, pending such offers as they might receive in the future, decided to remain at Atbara. At Berber their lot would have been a hard one, for they would have been exposed to the hatred and spite of the Jaalin women there, whose husbands had been massacred at Metemmeh.

Fatma, with two attendants only, accompanied Macdonald's brigade to Berber. On arriving outside the town, the force encamped. Next day the Sirdar, with his staff and General Hunter, came up; and, on the following morning, made a triumphant entry into the town, followed by the Soudanese brigade.

Berber was prepared to do honour to the occasion. Flags waved, coloured cloths and women's garments hung from the windows, and the whole population lined the streets, and received the conquerors with cries of welcome and triumph. They had anticipated a very different result, and had fully expected that the army would have been well-nigh annihilated; and that, again, the triumphant Dervishes would become their masters. But the sight of Mahmud walking, a prisoner, with two guards on each side of him, convinced them that the reports that had reached them were true, that the Dervishes had been signally defeated, and that there was no fear of their ever again becoming lords of Berber.

The Sirdar, by whose side General Hunter rode, headed the procession, followed by his staff. Then, leading his brigade, came Macdonald--stern and hard of face, burnt almost black with years of campaigning in the desert--and his staff, followed by the black battalions, erect and proud, maintaining their soldierly bearing amid the loud quavering cries of welcome from the women.

Gregory had, on his arrival with the brigade the day before, gone into the town; and engaged a small house, in its outskirts, as the abode of Fatma and her two attendants, purchased suitable provisions, and made what arrangements he could for her comfort. Late in the evening he had escorted her there, and left Zaki to sleep in an outhouse attached to it, to secure them from all intrusion.

Then he went down to the river and, finding the Zafir lying there, went on board. He was received as one returned from the dead by Captain Keppel, Lieutenant Beatty, and Lieutenant Hood--the commanders of the other gunboats--who had been dining on board. He had become a general favourite, during the time he had spent with them, and their congratulations on his safe return were warm and hearty.

"You may imagine our surprise when, after the fight was over," said Captain Keppel, "it was discovered that you were missing. No one could imagine what had become of you. One of the blacks who had been working your Maxim said they had not noticed your leaving them; and that, when they found you were not there, they supposed you had come to confer with me. Then I sent for your man; but he, too, was missing. We searched everywhere, but no signs of you, dead or alive, and no marks of blood were to be found. So it seemed that the matter must remain a mystery. Early the next morning, however, we saw a white rag waving on the bank, and then a black entered the water and swam out towards us. I sent the boat to meet him, and when he came on board I found that he was your man, and the mystery was explained. I fancy I used some strong language; for I never before heard of a man being so hare-brained as to spring overboard, in the middle of a battle, and pick up a woman, without saying a word to anyone of what he was doing, and that with the boat still steaming ahead. Of course, your man told us that it was Mahmud's wife you had saved, and that she had taken you under her protection; but I did not expect that, among those fanatics, your life would be spared.

"Now, tell us all about your adventures, and how you got down here just in time to see our fellows enter, in triumph. I suppose you managed to give them the slip, somehow?"

Gregory then told his story. When he had concluded, Captain Keppel said:

"Well, you have the luck of the old one! First, you have got hold of as faithful a fellow as is to be found in all Egypt, or anywhere else; and, in the second place, you have been in the battle of Atbara, while we have been kicking our heels here, and fuming at being out of it altogether, except for our bloodless capture of Shendy.

"So you say the Sirdar blew you up? I am not surprised at that. You know the story of the man who fell overboard, in the old flogging days, and the captain sentenced him to two dozen lashes, for leaving the ship without orders."

"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 gunboats 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 13: The Final Advance.

A few days after the return of headquarters 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 gunboats 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 gunboats arrived in sections, and these were put together. They were stronger, and much better defended by steel plates than the first gunboats; 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 gunboats 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 gunboats, 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 were 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 gunboat 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 closely 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 despatched 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 clockwork. 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, tomorrow. 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 dust. He was now halfway 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 newcomers looked white and exhausted with the heat. Numbers had already 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 gunboats," 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 eyeglass 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 everyone 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 went in disguise into the Dervish camp at Metemmeh, before Hunter's advance began, and obtained invaluable information. He jumped overboard from a gunboat 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 gunboat 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 gunboats 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 gunboats, 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 Colville'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 gunboats 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 headquarters, after having seen everything off, went up in a gunboat, 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 gunboats, however, was missing--the Zafir, 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 ship-wrecked 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 gunboats 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 rainstorms 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 Um 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 a year, 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 gunboats 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 night, 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 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 gunboats 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 halfway 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 gunboats had arrived opposite Omdurman, and had opened fire upon the Dervish riverside forts. These were 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 gunboats 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 way 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 14: 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 Broadwood, 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 position, 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 gunboats 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 away, 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 standstill 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 for, 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 southwest, 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 crossfire 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 was 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 Macdonald. 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. Collinson'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 wounded. 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 southeastern corner of Macdonald'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 gunboats 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, Gregory 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 drill 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 15: 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 light. 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 midday, 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 gunboats 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 bodyguard 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, for 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 gunboats' 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 some 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 Halfa.

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 flagstaffs 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 gunboats fired a salute, the Guards' 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 was avenged. Of the Dervish host, the remnant were scattered fugitives. The Mahdi's cause, the foulest and most bloodstained tyranny that had ever existed, transforming as it did a flourishing province into an almost uninhabited desert, was crushed forever; 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, forever, 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 battlefield, 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 meeting."

"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 tomorrow--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 headquarters, 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 Dongola. 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 went 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 tomorrow 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 would 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, at 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 riverside."

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.

Returning to Omdurman, 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 called 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 Kirkeban. 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 Brackenbury'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 tomorrow. 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 gunboats 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 woodwork, 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 small-bore 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 16: A Voice From The Dead.

That afternoon, Gregory heard that orders had been issued for five of the gunboats 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 gunboats, 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, tonight. 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 tomorrow, 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 all 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 steamboat ran ashore. I took no hand in the business; the white men had done me no harm, while the followers of 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 steamboat 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. Bloodstained 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 riverside.

"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 Kirkeban; 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 tomorrow," 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 Kirkeban, I came straight home and, seeing the pocketbook, 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 they had all gone."

"And where is the pocketbook, 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 pocketbook, 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 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, tonight, 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 gunboat 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 had 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 gunboats 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 his 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 pocketbook 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 notebook 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 me 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, tomorrow 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 today to General Rundle, 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 safe 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 despatches 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 Remingtons, 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?"

"Tomorrow 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 pocketbook, which he had had no opportunity to do, since it came into his possession.

Chapter 17: 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, someday, 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 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 Egyptians, 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 tomorrow, 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 Mahometans 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. They 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 pocketbook. Both of these I buried in the sand; the pocketbook 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 waited. 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 they 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 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 up, and fasten his arm firmly to his side. Then I said to him:

"'My horse, after three 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 onto 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 onto 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?' 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 the 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 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 battlefield, 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 my 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 dared 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 like it, so as to put one down each side of the bullet. You see, 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 we 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 18: 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 any 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 battlefield. 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 has 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 be 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, tomorrow, 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 would 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.'

"The hakims were immensely pleased, and both told me, afterwards, that both these medicines had done wonders. I told them that I thought there were some more bottles of these medicines in the chest, and that when they had finished those I had now given them, I would look out for the others. I had, in fact, carried off a bottle both of quinine and zinc powder for my own use, and with the latter I greatly benefited several of the Emir's children and grandchildren, all of whom were suffering from ophthalmia; or from sore eyes, that would speedily have developed that disease, if they had not been attended to.

"I had only performed one operation, which was essentially a minor one. Abu told me that his wife, of whom he was very fond, was suffering very great pain from a tooth--could I cure her?

"I said that, without seeing the tooth, I could not do anything, and he at once said:

"'As it is for her good, Mudil, I will bring her into this room, and she shall unveil so that you can examine the tooth.'

"She was quite a girl, and for an Arab very good looking. She and the Emir's wife were continually sending me out choice bits from their dinner, but I had not before seen her face. She was evidently a good deal confused, at thus unveiling before a man, but Abu said:

"'It is with my permission that you unveil, therefore there can be no harm in it. Besides, has not Mudil saved my life, and so become my brother?'

"He opened her mouth. The tooth was far back and broken, and the gum was greatly swelled.

"'It is very bad,' I said to Abu. 'It would hurt her terribly, if I were to try and take it out; but if she will take the sleeping medicine I gave you, I think that I could do it.'

"'Then she shall take it,' he said at once. 'It is not unpleasant. On the contrary, I dreamt a pleasant dream while you were taking off my arm. Please do it, at once.'

"I at once fetched the chloroform, the inhaler, and a pair of forceps which looked well suited for the purpose, and probably were intended for it. I then told her to lie down on the angareb, which I placed close to the window.

"'Now, Abu,' I said, 'directly she has gone off to sleep, you must force her mouth open, and put the handle of your dagger between her teeth. It will not hurt her at all. But I cannot get at the tooth unless the mouth is open, and we cannot open it until she is asleep, for the whole side of her face is swollen, and the jaw almost stiff.'

"The chloroform took effect very quickly. Her husband had some difficulty in forcing the mouth open. When he had once done so, I took a firm hold of the tooth, and wrenched it out.

"'You can withdraw the dagger,' I said, 'and then lift her up, and let her rinse her mouth well with the warm water I brought in. She will have little pain afterwards, though of course it will take some little time, before the swelling goes down.'

"Then I went out, and left them together. In a few minutes, Abu came out.

"'She has no pain,' he said. 'She could hardly believe, when she came round, that the tooth was out. It is a relief, indeed. She has cried, day and night, for the past three days.'

"'Tell her that, for the rest of the day, she had better keep quiet; and go to sleep if possible, which I have no doubt she will do, as she must be worn out with the pain she has been suffering.'

"'I begin to see, Mudil, that we are very ignorant. We can fight, but that is all we are good for. How much better it would be if, instead of regarding you white men as enemies, we could get some of you to live here, and teach us the wonderful things that you know!'

"'Truly it would be better,' I said. 'It all depends upon yourselves. You have a great country. If you would but treat the poor people here well, and live in peace with other tribes; and send word down to Cairo that you desire, above all things, white hakims and others who would teach you, to come up and settle among you, assuredly they would come. There are thousands of white men and women working in India, and China, and other countries, content to do good, not looking for high pay, but content to live poorly. The difficulty is not in getting men willing to heal and to teach, but to persuade those whom they would benefit to allow them to do the work.'

"Abu shook his head.

"'That is it,' he said. 'I would rather be able to do such things as you do, than be one of the most famous soldiers of the Mahdi; but I could never persuade others. They say that the Mahdi himself, although he is hostile to the Turks, and would conquer Egypt, would willingly befriend white men. But even he, powerful as he is, cannot go against the feelings of his emirs. Must we always be ignorant? Must we always be fighting? I can see no way out of it. Can you, Mudil?'

"'I can see but one way,' I said, 'and that may seem to you impossible, because you know nothing of the strength of England. We have, as you know, easily beaten the Egyptian Army; and we are now protectors of Egypt. If you invade that country, as the Mahdi has already threatened to do, it is we who will defend it; and if there is no other way of obtaining peace, we shall some day send an army to recover the Soudan. You will fight, and you will fight desperately, but you have no idea of the force that will advance against you. You know how Osman Digna's tribes on the Red Sea have been defeated, not by the superior courage of our men, but by our superior arms. And so it will be here. It may be many years before it comes about, but if you insist on war, that is what will come.

"'Then, when we have taken the Soudan, there will come peace, and the peasant will till his soil in safety. Those who desire to be taught will be taught; great canals from the Nile will irrigate the soil, and the desert will become fruitful.'

"'You really think that would come of it?' Abu asked, earnestly.

"'I do indeed, Abu. We have conquered many brave peoples, far more numerous than yours; and those who were our bitterest enemies now see how they have benefited by it. Certainly, England would not undertake the cost of such an expedition lightly; but if she is driven to it by your advance against Egypt, she will assuredly do so. Your people--I mean the Baggaras and their allies--would suffer terribly; but the people whom you have conquered, whose villages you have burned, whose women you have carried off, would rejoice.'

"'We would fight,' Abu said passionately.

"'Certainly you would fight, and fight gallantly, but it would not avail you. Besides, Abu, you would be fighting for that ignorance you have just regretted, and against the teaching and progress you have wished for.'

"'It is hard,' Abu said, quietly.

"'It is hard, but it has been the fate of all people who have resisted the advance of knowledge and civilization. Those who accept civilization, as the people of India--of whom there are many more than in all Africa--have accepted it, are prosperous. In America and other great countries, far beyond the seas, the native Indians opposed it, but in vain; and now a great white race inhabit the land, and there is but a handful left of those who opposed them.'

"'These things are hard to understand. If, as you say, your people come here some day to fight against us, I shall fight. If my people are defeated, and I am still alive, I shall say it is the will of Allah; let us make the best of it, and try to learn to be like those who have conquered us. I own to you that I am sick of bloodshed--not of blood shed in battle, but the blood of peaceful villagers; and though I grieve for my own people, I should feel that it was for the good of the land that the white men had become the masters.'"

Chapter 19: The Last Page.

"Khartoum, September 3rd, 1884.

"It is a long time since I made my last entry. I could put no date to it then, and till yesterday could hardly even have named the month. I am back again among friends, but I can hardly say that I am safer here than I was at El Obeid. I have not written, because there was nothing to write. One day was like another, and as my paper was finished, and there were no incidents in my life, I let the matter slide.

"Again and again I contemplated attempting to make my way to this town, but the difficulties would be enormous. There were the dangers of the desert, the absence of wells, the enormous probability of losing my way, and, most of all, the chance that, before I reached Khartoum, it would have been captured. The Emir had been expecting news of its fall, for months.

"There had been several fights, in some of which they had been victorious. In others, even according to their own accounts, they had been worsted. Traitors in the town kept them well informed of the state of supplies. They declared that these were almost exhausted, and that the garrison must surrender. Indeed, several of the commanders of bodies of troops had offered to surrender posts held by them.

"So I had put aside all hope of escape, and decided not to make any attempt until after Khartoum fell, when the Dervishes boasted they would march down and conquer Egypt, to the sea.

"They had already taken Berber. Dongola was at their mercy. I thought the best chance would be to go down with them, as far as they went, and then to slip away. In this way I should shorten the journey I should have to traverse alone; and, being on the river bank, could at least always obtain water. Besides, I might possibly secure some small native boat, and with the help of the current get down to Assouan before the Dervishes could arrive there. This I should have attempted; but, three weeks ago, an order came from the Mahdi to El Khatim, ordering him to send to Omdurman five hundred well-armed men, who were to be commanded by his son Abu. Khatim was to remain at El Obeid, with the main body of his force, until further orders.

"Abu came to me at once, with the news.

"'You will take me with you, Abu,' I exclaimed. 'This is the chance I have been hoping for. Once within a day's journey of Khartoum, I could slip away at night, and it would be very hard if I could not manage to cross the Nile into Khartoum.'

"'I will take you, if you wish it,' he said. 'The danger will be very great, not in going with me, but in making your way into Khartoum.'

"'It does not seem to me that it would be so,' I said. 'I should strike the river four or five miles above the town, cut a bundle of rushes, swim out to the middle of the river, drift down till I was close to the town, and then swim across.'

"'So be it,' he said. 'It is your will, not mine.'

"Khatim came to me afterwards, and advised me to stay, but I said that it might be years before I had another chance to escape; and that, whatever risk there was, I would prefer running it.

"'Then we shall see you no more,' he said, 'for Khartoum will assuredly fall, and you will be killed.'

"'If you were a prisoner in the hands of the white soldiers, Emir,' I said, 'I am sure that you would run any risk, if there was a chance of getting home again. So it is with me. I have a wife and child, in Cairo. Her heart must be sick with pain, at the thought of my death. I will risk anything to get back as soon as possible. If I reach Khartoum, and it is afterwards captured, I can disguise myself and appear as I now am, hide for a while, and then find out where Abu is and join him again. But perhaps, when he sees that no further resistance can be made, General Gordon will embark on one of his steamers and go down the river, knowing that it would be better for the people of the town that the Mahdi should enter without opposition; in which case you would scarcely do harm to the peaceful portion of the population, or to the troops who had laid down their arms.'

"'Very well,' the Emir said. 'Abu has told me that he has tried to dissuade you, but that you will go. We owe you a great debt of gratitude, for all that you have done for us, and therefore I will not try to dissuade you. I trust Allah will protect you.'

"And so we started the next morning. I rode by the side of Abu, and as all knew that I was the hakim who had taken off his arm, none wondered. The journey was made without any incident worth recording. Abu did not hurry. We made a long march between each of the wells, and then halted for a day. So we journeyed, until we made our last halt before arriving at Omdurman.

"'You are still determined to go?' Abu said to me.

"'I shall leave tonight, my friend.'

"'I shall not forget all that you have told me about your people, hakim. Should any white man fall into my hands, I will spare him for your sake. These are evil times, and I regret all that has passed. I believe that the Mahdi is a prophet; but I fear that, in many things, he has misunderstood the visions and orders he received. I see that evil rather than good has fallen upon the land, and that though we loved not the rule of the Egyptians, we were all better off under it than we are now. We pass through ruined villages, and see the skeletons of many people. We know that where the waterwheels formerly spread the water from the rivers over the fields, is now a desert; and that, except the fighting men, the people perish from hunger.

"'All this is bad. I see that, if we enter Egypt, we shall be like a flight of locusts. We shall eat up the country and leave a desert behind us. Surely this cannot be according to the wishes of Allah, who is all merciful. You have taught me much in your talks with me, and I do not see things as I used to. So much do I feel it, that in my heart I could almost wish that your countrymen should come here, and establish peace and order.

"'The Mohamedans of India, you tell me, are well content with their rulers. Men may exercise their religion and their customs, without hindrance. They know that the strong cannot prey upon the weak, and each man reaps what he has sown, in peace. You tell me that India was like the Soudan before you went there--that there were great conquerors, constant wars, and the peasants starved while the robbers grew rich; and that, under your rule, peace and contentment were restored. I would that it could be so here. But it seems, to me, impossible that we should be conquered by people so far away.'

"'I hope that it will be so, Abu; and I think that if the great and good white general, Governor Gordon, is murdered at Khartoum, the people of my country will never rest until his death has been avenged.'

"'You had better take your horse,' he said. 'If you were to go on foot, it would be seen that there was a horse without a rider, and there would be a search for you; but if you and your horse are missing, it will be supposed that you have ridden on to Omdurman to give notice of our coming, and none will think more of the matter.'

"As soon as the camp was asleep, I said goodbye to Abu; and took my horse by the reins and led him into the desert, half a mile away. Then I mounted, and rode fast. The stars were guide enough, and in three hours I reached the Nile. I took off the horse's saddle and bridle, and left him to himself. Then I crept out and cut a bundle of rushes, and swam into the stream with them.

"After floating down the river for an hour, I saw the light of a few fires on the right bank, and guessed that this was a Dervish force, beleaguering Khartoum from that side. I drifted on for another hour, drawing closer and closer to the shore, until I could see walls and forts; then I stripped off my Dervish frock, and swam ashore.

"I had, during the time we had been on the journey, abstained from staining my skin under my garments, in order that I might be recognized as a white man, as soon as I bared my arms.

"I lay down till it was broad daylight, and then walked up to the foot of a redoubt. There were shouts of surprise from the black soldiers there, as I approached. I shouted to them, in Arabic, that I was an Englishman; and two or three of them at once ran down the slope, and aided me to climb it. I was taken, at my request, to General Gordon, who was surprised, indeed, when I told him that I was a survivor of Hicks's force, and had been living nine months at El Obeid.

"'You are heartily welcome, sir,' he said; 'but I fear that you have come into an even greater danger than you have left, for our position here is well-nigh desperate. For months I have been praying for aid from England, and my last news was that it was just setting out, so I fear there is no hope that it will reach me in time. The government of England will have to answer, before God, for their desertion of me, and of the poor people here, whom they sent me to protect from the Mahdi.

"'For myself, I am content. I have done my duty as far as lay in my power, but I had a right to rely upon receiving support from those who sent me. I am in the hands of God. But for the many thousands who trusted in me, and remained here, I feel very deeply.

"'Now the first thing is to provide you with clothes. I am expecting Colonel Stewart here, every minute, and he will see that you are made comfortable.'

"'I shall be glad to place myself at your disposal, sir,' I said. 'I speak Arabic fluently, and shall be ready to perform any service of which I may be capable.'

"'I thank you,' he said, 'and will avail myself of your offer, if I see any occasion; but at present, we have rather to suffer than to do. We have occasional fights, but of late the attacks have been feeble, and I think that the Mahdi depends upon hunger rather than force to obtain possession of this town.

"This evening, I will ask you to tell me your story. Colonel Stewart will show you a room. There is only one other white man--Mr. Power--here. We live together as one family, of which you will now be a member.'

"I felt strange when I came to put on my European clothes. Mr. Power, who tells me he has been here for some years, as correspondent of the Times, has this afternoon taken me round the defences, and into the workshops. I think the place can resist any attacks, if the troops remain faithful; but of this there is a doubt. A good many of the Soudanese have already been sent away. As Gordon said at dinner this evening, if he had but a score of English officers, he would be perfectly confident that he could resist any enemy save starvation.

"September 12th:

"It has been settled that Colonel Stewart and Mr. Power are to go down the river in the Abbas, and I am to go with them. The General proposed it to me. I said that I could not think of leaving him here by himself, so he said kindly:

"'I thank you, Mr. Hilliard, but you could do no good here, and would only be throwing away your life. We can hold on to the end of the year, though the pinch will be very severe; but I think we can make the stores last, till then. But by the end of December our last crust will have been eaten, and the end will have come. It will be a satisfaction to me to know that I have done my best, and fail only because of the miserable delays and hesitation of government.'

"So it is settled that I am going. The gunboats are to escort us for some distance. Were it not for Gordon, I should feel delighted at the prospect. It is horrible to leave him--one of the noblest Englishmen!--alone to his fate. My only consolation is that if I remained I could not avert it, but should only be a sharer in it.

"September 18th:

"We left Khartoum on the 14th, and came down without any serious trouble until this morning, when the boat struck on a rock in the cataract, opposite a village called Hebbeh. A hole has been knocked in her bottom, and there is not a shadow of hope of getting her off. Numbers of the natives have gathered on the shore. I have advised that we should disregard their invitations to land, but that, as there would be no animosity against the black crew, they would be safe; and that we three whites should take the ship's boat, and four of the crew, put provisions for a week on board, and make our way down the river. Colonel Stewart, however, feels convinced that the people can be trusted, and that we had better land and place ourselves under the protection of the sheik. He does not know the Arabs as well as I do.

"However, as he has determined to go ashore, I can do nothing. I consider it unlikely, in the extreme, that there will be any additions to this journal. If, at any time in the future, this should fall into the hands of any of my countrymen, I pray that they will send it down to my dear wife, Mrs. Hilliard, whom, I pray, God may bless and comfort, care of the Manager of the Bank, Cairo."

Chapter 20: A Momentous Communication.

Gregory had, after finishing the record, sat without moving until the dinner hour. It was a relief to him to know that his father had not spent the last years of his life as he had feared, as a miserable slave--ill treated, reviled, insulted, perhaps chained and beaten by some brutal taskmaster; but had been in a position where, save that he was an exile, kept from his home and wife, his lot had not been unbearable. He knew more of him than he had ever known before. It was as a husband that his mother had always spoken of him; but here he saw that he was daring, full of resource, quick to grasp any opportunity, hopeful and yet patient, longing eagerly to rejoin his wife, and yet content to wait until the chances should be all in his favour. He was unaffectedly glad thus to know him; to be able, in future, to think of him as one of whom he would have been proud; who would assuredly have won his way to distinction.

It was not so that he had before thought of him. His mother had said that he was of good family, and that it was on account of his marriage with her that he had quarrelled with his relations. It had always seemed strange to him that he should have been content to take, as she had told him, an altogether subordinate position in a mercantile house in Alexandria. She had accounted for his knowledge of Arabic by the fact that he had been, for two years, exploring the temples and tombs of Egypt with a learned professor; but surely, as a man of good family, he could have found something to do in England, instead of coming out to take so humble a post in Egypt.

Gregory knew nothing of the difficulty that a young man in England has, in obtaining an appointment of any kind, or of fighting his way single handed. Influence went for much in Egypt, and it seemed to him that, even if his father had quarrelled with his own people, there must have been many ways open to him of maintaining himself honourably. Therefore he had always thought that, although he might have been all that his mother described him--the tenderest and most loving of husbands, a gentleman, and estimable in all respects--his father must have been wanting in energy and ambition, deficient in the qualities that would fit him to fight his own battle, and content to gain a mere competence, instead of struggling hard to make his way up the ladder. He had accounted for his going up as interpreter, with Hicks Pasha, by the fact that his work with the contractor was at an end, and that he saw no other opening for himself.

He now understood how mistaken he had been, in his estimate of his father's character; and wondered, even more than before, why he should have taken that humble post at Alexandria. His mother had certainly told him, again and again, that he had done so simply because the doctors had said that she could not live in England; but surely, in all the wide empire of England, there must be innumerable posts that a gentleman could obtain. Perhaps he should understand it better, some day. At present, it seemed unaccountable to him. He felt sure that, had he lived, his father would have made a name for himself; and that it was in that hope, and not of the pay that he would receive as an interpreter, that he had gone up with Hicks; and that, had he not died at that little village by the Nile, he would assuredly have done so, for the narrative he had left behind him would in itself, if published, have shown what stuff there was in him.

It was hard that fate should have snatched him away, just when it had seemed that his trials were over, that he was on the point of being reunited to his wife. Still, it was a consolation to know he had died suddenly, as one falls in battle; not as a slave, worn out by grief and suffering.

As he left his hut, he said to Zaki:

"I shall not want you again this evening; but mind, we must be on the move at daylight."

"You did not say whether we were to take the horses, Master; but I suppose you will do so?"

"Oh, I forgot to tell you that we are going to have camels. They are to be put on board for us, tonight. They are fast camels and, as the distance from the point where we shall land to the Atbara will not be more than seventy or eighty miles, we shall be able to do it in a day."

"That will be very good, master. Camels are much better than horses, for the desert. I have got everything else ready."

After dinner was over, the party broke up quickly, as many of the officers had preparations to make. Gregory went off to the tent of the officer with whom he was best acquainted in the Soudanese regiment.

"I thought that I would come and have a chat with you, if you happened to be in."

"I shall be very glad, but I bar Fashoda. One is quite sick of the name."

"No, it was not Fashoda that I was going to talk to you about. I want to ask you something about England. I know really nothing about it, for I was born in Alexandria, shortly after my parents came out from England.

"Is it easy for anyone who has been well educated, and who is a gentleman, to get employment there? I mean some sort of appointment, say, in India or the West Indies."

"Easy! My dear Hilliard, the camel in the eye of a needle is a joke to it. If a fellow is eighteen, and has had a first-rate education and a good private coach, that is, a tutor, he may pass through his examination either for the army, or the civil service, or the Indian service. There are about five hundred go up to each examination, and seventy or eighty at the outside get in. The other four hundred or so are chucked. Some examinations are for fellows under nineteen, others are open for a year or two longer. Suppose, finally, you don't get in; that is to say, when you are two-and-twenty, your chance of getting any appointment, whatever, in the public service is at an end."

"Then interest has nothing to do with it?"

"Well, yes. There are a few berths in the Foreign Office, for example, in which a man has to get a nomination before going in for the exam; but of course the age limit tells there, as well as in any other."

"And if a man fails altogether, what is there open to him?"

The other shrugged his shoulders.

"Well, as far as I know, if he hasn't capital he can emigrate. That is what numbers of fellows do. If he has interest, he can get a commission in the militia, and from that possibly into the line; or he can enlist as a private, for the same object. There is a third alternative, he can hang himself. Of course, if he happens to have a relation in the city he can get a clerkship; but that alternative, I should say, is worse than the third."

"But I suppose he might be a doctor, a clergyman, or a lawyer?"

"I don't know much about those matters, but I do know that it takes about five years' grinding, and what is called 'walking the hospitals,' that is, going round the wards with the surgeons, before one is licensed to kill. I think, but I am not sure, that three years at the bar would admit you to practice, and usually another seven or eight years are spent, before you earn a penny. As for the Church, you have to go through the university, or one of the places we call training colleges; and when, at last, you are ordained, you may reckon, unless you have great family interest, on remaining a curate, with perhaps one hundred or one hundred and fifty pounds per annum, for eighteen or twenty years."

"And no amount of energy will enable a man of, say, four-and-twenty, without a profession, to obtain a post on which he could live with some degree of comfort?"

"I don't think energy would have anything to do with it. You cannot drop into a merchant's office and say, 'I want a snug berth, out in China;' or 'I should like an agency, in Mesopotamia.' If you have luck, anything is possible. If you haven't luck, you ought to fall back on my three alternatives--emigrate, enlist, or hang yourself. Of course, you can sponge on your friends for a year or two, if you are mean enough to do so; but there is an end to that sort of thing, in time.

"May I ask why you put the question, Hilliard? You have really a splendid opening, here. You are surely not going to be foolish enough to chuck it, with the idea of returning to England, and taking anything that may turn up?"

"No, I am not so foolish as that. I have had, as you say, luck--extraordinary luck--and I have quite made up my mind to stay in the service. No, I am really asking you because I know so little of England that I wondered how men who had a fair education, but no family interest, did get on."

"They very rarely do get on," the other said. "Of course, if they are inventive geniuses they may discover something--an engine, for example, that will do twice the work with half the consumption of fuel that any other engine will do; or, if chemically inclined, they may discover something that will revolutionize dyeing, for example: but not one man in a thousand is a genius; and, as a rule, the man you are speaking of--the ordinary public school and 'varsity man--if he has no interest, and is not bent upon entering the army, even as a private, emigrates if he hasn't sufficient income to live upon at home."

"Thank you! I had no idea it was so difficult to make a living in England, or to obtain employment, for a well-educated man of two or three and twenty."

"My dear Hilliard, that is the problem that is exercising the minds of the whole of the middle class of England, with sons growing up. Of course, men of business can take their sons into their own offices, and train them to their own profession; but after all, if a man has four or five sons, he cannot take them all into his office with a view to partnership. He may take one, but the others have to make their own way, somehow."

They chatted now upon the war, the dates upon which the various regiments would go down, and the chance of the Khalifa collecting another army, and trying conclusions with the invaders again. At last, Gregory got up and went back to his hut. He could now understand why his father, having quarrelled with his family, might have found himself obliged to take the first post that was offered, however humble, in order to obtain the advantage of a warm climate for his wife.

"He must have felt it awfully," he mused. "If he had been the sort of man I had always thought him, he could have settled down to the life. But now I know him better, I can understand that it must have been terrible for him, and he would be glad to exchange it for the interpretership, where he would have some chance of distinguishing himself; or, at any rate, of taking part in exciting events.

"I will open that packet, but from what my mother said, I do not think it will be of any interest to me, now. I fancy, by what she said, that it contained simply my father's instructions as to what she was to do, in the event of his death during the campaign. I don't see what else it can be."

He drew the curtains he had rigged up, at the doorway and window, to keep out insects; lighted his lantern; and then, sitting down on the ground by his bed, opened the packet his mother had given him. The outer cover was in her handwriting.

"MY DEAREST BOY:

"I have, as I told you, kept the enclosed packet, which is not to be opened until I have certain news of your father's death. This news, I trust, you will some day obtain. As you see, the enclosed packet is directed to me. I do not think that you will find in it anything of importance, to yourself. It probably contains only directions and advice for my guidance, in case I should determine to return to England. I have been the less anxious to open it, because I have been convinced that it is so; for of course, I know the circumstances of his family, and there could be nothing new that he could write to me on that score.

"I have told you that he quarrelled with his father, because he chose to marry me. As you have heard from me, I was the daughter of a clergyman, and at his death took a post as governess. Your father fell in love with me. He was the son of the Honorable James Hartley, who was brother to the Earl of Langdale. Your father had an elder brother. Mr. Hartley was a man of the type now, happily, less common than it was twenty years ago. He had but a younger brother's portion, and a small estate that had belonged to his mother; but he was as proud as if he had been a peer of the realm, and owner of a county. I do not know exactly what the law of England is--whether, at the death of his brother, your grandfather would have inherited the title, or not. I never talked on this subject with your father, who very seldom alluded to matters at home. He had, also, two sisters.

"As he was clever, and had already gained some reputation by his explorations in Egypt; and was, moreover, an exceptionally handsome man--at least, I thought so--your grandfather made up his mind that he would make a very good marriage. When he learned of your father's affection for me, he was absolutely furious, told his son that he never wished to see him again, and spoke of me in a manner that Gregory resented; and as a result, they quarrelled.

"Your father left the house, never to enter it again. I would have released him from his promise, but he would not hear of it, and we were married. He had written for magazines and newspapers, on Egyptian subjects, and thought that he could make a living for us both, with his pen; but unhappily, he found that great numbers of men were trying to do the same; and that, although his papers on Egyptian discoveries had always been accepted, it was quite another thing when he came to write on general subjects.

"We had a hard time of it, but we were very happy, nevertheless. Then came the time when my health began to give way. I had a terrible cough, and the doctor said that I must have a change to a warmer climate. We were very poor then--so poor that we had only a few shillings left, and lived in one room. Your father saw an advertisement for a man to go out to the branch of a London firm, at Alexandria. Without saying a word to me, he went and obtained it, thanks to his knowledge of Arabic.

"He was getting on well in the firm, when the bombardment of Alexandria took place. The offices and stores of his employers were burned; and, as it would take many months before they could be rebuilt, the employees were ordered home; but any who chose to stay were permitted to do so, and received three months' pay. Your father saw that there would be many chances, when the country settled down, and so took a post under a contractor of meat for the army.

"We moved to Cairo. Shortly after our arrival there he was, as he thought, fortunate in obtaining the appointment of an interpreter with Hicks Pasha. I did not try to dissuade him. Everyone supposed that the Egyptian troops would easily defeat the Dervishes. There was some danger, of course; but it seemed to me, as it did to him, that this opening would lead to better things; and that, when the rebellion was put down, he would be able to obtain some good civil appointment, in the Soudan. It was not the thought of his pay, as interpreter, that weighed in the slightest with either of us. I was anxious, above all things, that he should be restored to a position where he could associate with gentlemen, as one of themselves, and could again take his real name."

Gregory started, as he read this. He had never had an idea that the name he bore was not rightly his own, and even the statement of his grandfather's name had not struck him as affecting himself.

"Your father had an honourable pride in his name, which was an old one; and when he took the post at Alexandria, which was little above that of an ordinary office messenger, he did not care that he should be recognized, or that one of his name should be known to be occupying such a station. He did not change his name, he simply dropped the surname. His full name was Gregory Hilliard Hartley. He had always intended, when he had made a position for himself, to recur to it; and, of course, it will be open to you to do so, also. But I know that it would have been his wish that you, like him, should not do so, unless you had made such a position for yourself that you would be a credit to it.

"On starting, your father left me to decide whether I should go home. I imagine that the packet merely contains his views on that subject. He knew what mine were. I would rather have begged my bread, than have gone back to ask for alms of the man who treated his son so cruelly. It is probable that, by this time, the old man is dead; but I should object as much to have to appeal to my husband's brother, a character I disliked. Although he knew that his father's means were small, he was extravagant to the last degree, and the old man was weak enough to keep himself in perpetual difficulties, to satisfy his son. Your father looked for no pecuniary assistance from his brother; but the latter might, at least, have come to see him; or written kindly to him, when he was in London. As your father was writing in his own name for magazines, his address could be easily found out, by anyone who wanted to know it. He never sent one single word to him, and I should object quite as much to appeal to him, as to the old man.

"As to the sisters, who were younger than my husband, they were nice girls; but even if your grandfather is dead, and has, as no doubt would be the case, left what he had between them, it certainly would not amount to much. Your father has told me that the old man had mortgaged the estate, up to the hilt, to pay his brother's debts; and that when it came to be sold, as it probably would be at his death, there would be very little left for the girls. Therefore, certainly I could not go and ask them to support us.

"My hope is, my dear boy, that you may be able to make your way, here, in the same manner as your father was doing, when he fell; and that, someday, you may attain to an honourable position, in which you will be able, if you visit England, to call upon your aunts, not as one who has anything to ask of them, but as a relative of whom they need not feel in any way ashamed.

"I feel that my end is very near, Gregory. I hope to say all that I have to say to you, before it comes, but I may not have an opportunity; and in that case, some time may elapse before you read this, and it will come to you as a voice from the grave. I am not, in any way, wishing to bind you to any course of action, but only to explain fully your position to you, and to tell you my thoughts.

"God bless you, my dear boy, prosper and keep you! I know enough of you to be sure that, whatever your course may be, you will bear yourself as a true gentleman, worthy of your father and of the name you bear.

"YOUR LOVING MOTHER."

Gregory sat for some time before opening the other enclosure. It contained an open envelope, on which was written "To my Wife;" and three others, also unfastened, addressed respectively, "The Hon. James Hartley, King's Lawn, Tavistock, Devon"; the second, "G. Hilliard Hartley, Esquire, The Albany, Piccadilly, London;" the third, "Miss Hartley," the address being the same as that of her father. He first opened the one to his mother.

"MY DEAREST WIFE,

"I hope that you will never read these lines, but that I shall return to you safe and sound--I am writing this, in case it should be otherwise--and that you will never have occasion to read these instructions, or rather I should say this advice, for it is no more than that. We did talk the matter over, but you were so wholly averse from any idea of ever appealing to my father, or family, however sore the straits to which you might be reduced, that I could not urge the matter upon you; and yet, although I sympathize most thoroughly with your feelings, I think that in case of dire necessity you should do so, and at least afford my father the opportunity of making up for his treatment of myself. The small sum that I left in your hands must soon be exhausted. If I am killed, you will, perhaps, obtain a small pension; but this, assuredly, would not be sufficient to maintain you and the boy in comfort. I know that you said, at the time, that possibly you could add to it by teaching. Should this be so, you may be able to remain in Egypt; and when the boy grows up, he will obtain employment of some sort, here.

"But should you be unsuccessful in this direction, I do not see what you could do. Were you to go to England, with the child, what chance would you have of obtaining employment there, without friends or references? I am frightened at the prospect. I know that, were you alone, you would do anything rather than apply to my people; but you have the child to think of, and, painful as it would be to you, it yet seems to me the best thing that could be done. At any rate, I enclose you three letters to my brother, father, and sisters. I have no legal claim on any of them, but I certainly have a moral claim on my brother. It is he who has impoverished the estate, so that, even had I not quarrelled with my father, there could never, after provision had been made for my sisters, have been anything to come to me.

"I do not ask you to humiliate yourself, by delivering these letters personally. I would advise you to post them from Cairo, enclosing in each a note saying how I fell, and that you are fulfilling my instructions, by sending the letter I wrote before leaving you. It may be that you will receive no reply. In that case, whatever happens to you and the child, you will have nothing to reproach yourself for. Possibly my father may have succeeded to the title and, if for no other reason, he may then be willing to grant you an allowance, on condition that you do not return to England; as he would know that it would be nothing short of a scandal, that the wife of one of his sons was trying to earn her bread in this country.

"Above all, dear, I ask you not to destroy these letters. You may, at first, scorn the idea of appealing for help; but the time might come, as it came to us in London, when you feel that fate is too strong for you, and that you can struggle no longer. Then you might regret, for the sake of the child, that you had not sent these letters.

"It is a terrible responsibility that I am leaving you. I well know that you will do all, dear, that it is possible for you to do, to avoid the necessity for sending these letters. That I quite approve, if you can struggle on. God strengthen you to do it! It is only if you fail that I say, send them. My father may, by this time, regret that he drove me from home. He may be really anxious to find me, and at least it is right that he should have the opportunity of making what amends he can. From my sisters, I know that you can have little but sympathy; but that, I feel sure, they will give you, and even sympathy is a great deal, to one who has no friends. I feel it sorely that I should have naught to leave you but my name, and this counsel. Earnestly I hope and pray that it may never be needed.

"Yours till death,

"GREGORY HILLIARD HARTLEY."

Gregory then opened the letter to his grandfather.

"DEAR FATHER,

"You will not receive this letter till after my death. I leave it behind me, while I go up with General Hicks to the Soudan. It will not be sent to you, unless I die there. I hope that, long ere this, you may have felt, as I have done, that we were both somewhat in the wrong, in the quarrel that separated us. You, I think, were hard. I, no doubt, was hasty. You, I think, assumed more than was your right, in demanding that I should break a promise that I had given, to a lady against whom nothing could be said, save that she was undowered. Had I, like Geoffrey, been drawing large sums of money from you, you would necessarily have felt yourself in a position to have a very strong voice in so important a matter. But the very moderate allowance I received, while at the University, was never increased. I do not think it is too much to say that, for every penny I have got from you, Geoffrey has received a guinea.

"However, that is past and gone. I have been fighting my own battle, and was on my way to obtaining a good position. Until I did so, I dropped our surname. I did not wish that it should be known that one of our family was working, in an almost menial position, in Egypt. I have now obtained the post of interpreter, on the staff of General Hicks; and, if he is successful in crushing the rebellion, I shall be certain of good, permanent employment, when I can resume my name. The fact that you receive this letter will be a proof that I have fallen in battle, or by disease.

"I now, as a dying prayer, beg you to receive my wife and boy; or, if that cannot be, to grant her some small annuity, to assist her in her struggle with the world. Except for her sake, I do not regret my marriage. She has borne the hardships, through which we have passed, nobly and without a murmur. She has been the best of wives to me, and has proved herself a noble woman, in every respect.

"I leave the matter in your hands, Father, feeling assured that, from your sense of justice alone, if not for the affection you once bore me, you will befriend my wife. As I know that the Earl was in feeble health, when I left England; you may, by this time, have come into the title, in which case you will be able, without in any way inconveniencing yourself, to settle an annuity upon my wife, sufficient to keep her in comfort. I can promise, in her name, that in that case you will never be troubled in any way by her; and she will probably take up her residence, permanently, in Egypt, as she is not strong, and the warm climate is essential to her."

The letter to his brother was shorter.

"MY DEAR GEOFFREY,

"I am going up, with General Hicks, to the Soudan. If you receive this letter, it will be because I have died there. I leave behind me my wife, and a boy. I know that, at present, you are scarcely likely to be able to do much for them, pecuniarily; but as you will someday--possibly not a very distant one--inherit the title and estate, you will then be able to do so, without hurting yourself.

"We have never seen much of each other. You left school before I began it, and you left Oxford two years before I went up to Cambridge. You have never been at home much, since; and I was two years in Egypt, and have now been about the same time, here. I charge my wife to send you this, and I trust that, for my sake, you will help her. She does not think of returning to England. Life is not expensive, in this country. Even an allowance of a hundred a year would enable her to remain here. If you can afford double that, do so for my sake; but, at any rate, I feel that I can rely upon you to do at least that much, when you come into the title. Had I lived, I should never have troubled anyone at home; but as I shall be no longer able to earn a living for her and the boy, I trust that you will not think it out of the way for me to ask for what would have been a very small younger brother's allowance, had I remained at home."

The letter to his sisters was in a different strain.

"MY DEAR FLOSSIE AND JANET,

"I am quite sure that you, like myself, felt deeply grieved over our separation; and I can guess that you will have done what you could, with our father, to bring about a reconciliation. When you receive this, dears, I shall have gone. I am about to start on an expedition that is certain to be dangerous, and which may be fatal; and I have left this with my wife, to send you if she has

Chapter 21: Gedareh.

"Abdul Azim was right about the camels," Gregory said, as soon as they were fairly off. "I have never ridden on one like this, before. What a difference there is between them and the ordinary camel! It is not only that they go twice as fast, but the motion is so pleasant, and easy."

"Yes, Master, these are riding camels of good breed. They cost twenty times as much as the others. They think nothing of keeping up this rate for twelve hours, without a stop."

"If they do that, we shall be near the Atbara before it is dark. It is ten o'clock now, and if General Hunter's map is right, we have only about eighty miles to go, and I should think they are trotting seven miles an hour."

They carried their rifles slung behind them and across the shoulders, rather than upright, as was the Arab fashion. The spears were held in their right hands.

"We must see if we can't fasten the spears in some other way, Zaki. We should find them a nuisance, if we held them in our hands all the way. I should say it would be easy to fasten them across the saddle in front of us. If we see horsemen in the distance, we can take them into our hands."

"I think, Master, it would be easier to fasten them behind the saddles, where there is more width, and rings on the saddle on both sides."

A short halt was made, and the spears fixed. Gregory then looked at his compass.

"We must make for that rise, two or three miles away. I see exactly the point we must aim for. When we get there, we must look at the compass again."

They kept steadily on for six hours. They had seen no human figure, since they started.

"We will stop here for half an hour," Gregory said. "Give the animals a drink of water, and a handful or two of grain."

"I don't think they will want water, Master. They had as much as they could drink, before starting, and they are accustomed to drink when their work is over."

"Very well. At any rate, we will take something."

They opened one of the water skins, and poured some of the contents into a gourd. Then, sitting down in the shadow of the camels, they ate some dates and bread. They had only brought native food with them so that, if captured and examined, there should be nothing to show that they had been in contact with Europeans. Gregory had even left his revolver behind him as, being armed with so good a weapon as a Remington, it was hardly likely that it would be needed; and if found upon them, it would be accepted as a proof that he was in the employment of the infidels.

It was dusk when they arrived at the bank of the river. No incident had marked the journey, nor had they seen any sign that Dervishes were in the neighbourhood. The Atbara was in full flood, and was rushing down at six or seven miles an hour.

"Colonel Parsons must have had great difficulty in crossing, Zaki. He is hardly likely to have brought any boats across, from Kassala. I don't know whether he has any guns with him, but if he has, I don't think he can have crossed, even if they made rafts enough to carry them."

They kept along the bank, until they reached a spot where the river had overflowed. Here the camels drank their fill. A little grain was given to them, and then they were turned loose, to browse on the bushes.

"There is no fear of their straying, I suppose, Zaki?"

"No, Master. They are always turned loose at night. As there are plenty of bushes here, they will not go far."

After another meal, they both lay down to sleep; and, as soon as it was light, Zaki fetched in the camels and they continued their journey. In an hour, they arrived at a village. The people were already astir, and looked with evident apprehension at the seeming Dervishes.

"Has a party of infidels passed along here?" Gregory asked the village sheik, who came out and salaamed humbly.

"Yes, my lord, a party of soldiers, with some white officers, came through here three days ago."

"How many were there of them?"

"There must have been more than a thousand of them."

"Many more?"

"Not many; perhaps a hundred more. Your servant did not count them."

"Had they any cannon with them?"

"No, my lord. They were all on foot. They all carried guns, but there were no mounted men, or cannon."

"Where is Fadil and his army, that they thus allowed so small a force to march along, unmolested?"

"They say that he is still near the Nile. Two of his scouts were here, the day before the Turks came along. They stayed here for some hours, but as they said nothing about the Turks coming from Kassala, I suppose they did not know they had crossed the river."

"Well, we must go on, and see where they are. They must be mad to come with so small a force, when they must have known that Fadil has a large army. They will never go back again."

Without further talk, Gregory rode farther on. At each village through which they passed, they had some news of the passage of Colonel Parsons' command. The camels had been resting, from the time when Omdurman was taken; and, having been well fed that morning, Gregory did not hesitate to press them. The troops would not march above twenty-five miles a day, and two days would take them to Mugatta, so that if they halted there but for a day, he should be able to overtake them that night.

The character of the country was now greatly changed. The bush was thick and high, and a passage through it would be very difficult for mounted men. There was no fear, therefore, that they would turn off before arriving at Mugatta; from which place there would probably be a track, of some sort, to Gedareh. It was but a thirty-mile ride and, on arriving near the village, Gregory saw that a considerable number of men were assembled there. He checked his camel.

"What do you make them out to be, Zaki? Your eyes are better than mine. They may be Colonel Parsons' force, and on the other hand they may be Dervishes, who have closed in behind him to cut off his retreat."

"They are not Dervishes, master," Zaki said, after a long, steady look. "They have not white turbans. Some of their clothes are light, and some dark; but all have dark caps, like those the Soudanese troops wear."

"That is good enough, Zaki. We will turn our robes inside out, so as to hide the patches, as otherwise we might have a hot reception."

When they were a quarter of a mile from the village, several men started out from the bushes, rifle in hand. They were all in Egyptian uniform.

"We are friends!" Gregory shouted in Arabic. "I am an officer of the Khedive, and have come from Omdurman, with a message to your commander."

A native officer, one of the party, at once saluted.

"You will find the bey in the village, Bimbashi."

"How long have you been here?"

"We came in yesterday, and I hear that we shall start tomorrow, but I know not whether that is so."

"Are there any Dervishes about?"

"Yes; forty of them yesterday afternoon, coming from Gedareh, and ignorant that we were here, rode in among our outposts on that hill to the west. Three of them were killed, and three made prisoners. The rest rode away."

With a word of thanks, Gregory rode on. He dismounted when he reached the village, and was directed to a neighbouring hut. Here Colonel Parsons and the six white officers with him were assembled. A native soldier was on sentry, at the door.

"I want to speak to Parsons Bey."

The Colonel, hearing the words, came to the door.

"Colonel Parsons," Gregory said in English, "I am Major Hilliard of the Egyptian Army, and have the honour to be the bearer of a message to you, from General Rundle, now in command at Omdurman."

"You are well disguised, indeed, sir," the Colonel said with a smile, as he held out his hand. "I should never have taken you for anything but a native. Where did you spring from? You can never have ridden, much less walked, across the desert from Omdurman?"

"No, sir. I was landed from one of the gunboats in which General Hunter, with fifteen hundred Soudanese troops, is ascending the Blue Nile, to prevent Fadil from crossing and joining the Khalifa."

"Have you a written despatch?"

"It was thought better that I should carry nothing, so that even the strictest search would not show that I was a messenger."

"Is your message of a private character?"

"No, sir, I think not."

"Then will you come in?"

Gregory followed Colonel Parsons into the hut, which contained but one room.

"Gentlemen," the former said with a smile, "allow me to introduce Bimbashi Hilliard, who is the bearer of a message to me from General Rundle, now in command at Omdurman.

"Major Hilliard, these are Captain MacKerrel, commanding four hundred and fifty men of the 16th Egyptians; Captain Wilkinson, an equal number of the Arab battalion; Major Lawson, who has under his command three hundred and seventy Arab irregulars; Captain the Honorable H. Ruthven, who has under him eighty camel men; also Captain Fleming of the Royal Army Medical Corps, who is at once our medical officer, and in command of the baggage column; and Captain Dwyer. They are all, like yourself, officers in the Egyptian Army; and rank, like yourself, as Bimbashis.

"Now, sir, will you deliver your message to me?"

"It is of a somewhat grave character, sir, but General Rundle thought it very important that you should be acquainted with the last news. The Sirdar has gone up the White Nile, with some of the gunboats and the 11th Soudanese. He deemed it necessary to go himself, because a body of foreign troops--believed to be French--have established themselves at Fashoda."

An exclamation of surprise broke from all the officers.

"In the next place, sir, Fadil, who had arrived with his force within forty miles of Khartoum, has retired up the banks of the Blue Nile, on hearing of the defeat of the Khalifa. Major General Hunter has therefore gone up that river, with three gunboats and another Soudanese battalion, to prevent him, if possible, from crossing it and joining the Khalifa, who is reported to be collecting the remains of his defeated army.

"It is possible--indeed the General thinks it is probable--that Fadil, if unable to cross, may return with his army to Gedareh. It is to warn you of this possibility that he sent me here. Gedareh is reported to be a defensible position, and therefore he thinks that, if you capture it, it would be advisable to maintain yourself there until reinforcements can be sent to you, either from the Blue Nile or the Atbara. The place, it seems, is well supplied with provisions and stores; and in the event of Fadil opposing you, it would be far safer for you to defend it than to be attacked in the open, or during a retreat."

"It is certainly important news, Mr. Hilliard. Hitherto we have supposed that Fadil had joined the Khalifa before the fight at Omdurman, and there was therefore no fear of his reappearing here. We know very little of the force at Gedareh. We took some prisoners yesterday, but their accounts are very conflicting. Still, there is every reason to believe that the garrison is not strong. Certainly, as General Rundle says, we should be in a much better position there than if we were attacked in the open. No doubt the Arabs who got off in the skirmish, yesterday, carried the news there; and probably some of them would go direct to Fadil, and if he came down upon us here, with his eight thousand men, our position would be a desperate one. It cost us four days to cross the river at El Fasher, and would take us as much to build boats and recross here; and before that time, he might be upon us.

"It is evident, gentlemen, that we have only the choice of these alternatives--either to march, at once, against Gedareh; or to retreat immediately, crossing the river here, or at El Fasher. As to remaining here, of course, it is out of the question."

The consultation was a short one. All the officers were in favour of pushing forward, pointing out that, as only the 16th Egyptians could be considered as fairly disciplined, the troops would lose heart if they retired; and could not be relied upon to keep steady, if attacked by a largely superior force; while, at present, they would probably fight bravely. The Arab battalion had been raised by the Italians, and were at present full of confidence, as they had defeated the Mahdists who had been besieging Kassala. The Arab irregulars had, of course, the fighting instincts of their race, and would assault an enemy bravely; but in a defensive battle, against greatly superior numbers, could scarcely be expected to stand well. As for the eighty camel men, they were all Soudanese soldiers, discharged from the army for old age and physical unfitness. They could be relied upon to fight but, small in number as they were, could but have little effect on the issue of a battle. All therefore agreed that, having come thus far, the safest, as well as the most honourable course, would be to endeavour to fight the enemy in a strong position.

Although it may be said that success justified it, no wilder enterprise was ever undertaken than that of sending thirteen hundred only partly disciplined men into the heart of the enemy's country. Omdurman and Atbara, to say nothing of previous campaigns, had shown how desperately the Dervishes fought; and the order, for the garrison of Kassala to undertake it, can only have been given under an entire misconception of the circumstances, and of the strength of the army under Fadil, that they would almost certainly be called upon to encounter. This was the more probable, as all the women and the property of his soldiers had been left at Gedareh, when he marched away; and his men would, therefore, naturally wish to go there, before they made any endeavour to join the Khalifa.

Such, indeed, was the fact. Fadil concealed from them the news of the disaster at Omdurman, for some days; and, when it became known, he had difficulty in restraining his troops from marching straight for Gedareh.

"Do you go on with us, Mr. Hilliard?" Colonel Parsons asked, when they had decided to start for Gedareh.

"Yes, sir. My instructions are to go on with you and, if the town is besieged, to endeavour to get through their lines, and carry the news to General Hunter, if I can ascertain his whereabouts. If not, to make straight for Omdurman. I have two fast camels, which I shall leave here, and return for them with my black boy, when we start."

"We shall be glad to have you with us," the Colonel said. "Every white officer is worth a couple of hundred men."

As they sat and chatted, Gregory asked how the force had crossed the Atbara.

"It was a big job," Colonel Parsons said. "The river was wider than the Thames, below London Bridge; and running something like seven miles an hour. We brought with us some barrels to construct a raft. When this was built, it supported the ten men who started on it; but they were, in spite of their efforts, carried ten miles down the stream, and it was not until five hours after they embarked that they managed to land. The raft did not get back from its journey till the next afternoon, being towed along the opposite bank by the men.

"It was evident that this would not do. The Egyptian soldiers then took the matter in hand. They made frameworks with the wood of the mimosa scrub, and covered these with tarpaulins, which we had fortunately brought with us. They turned out one boat a day, capable of carrying two tons; and, six days after we reached the river, we all got across.

"The delay was a terrible nuisance at the time, but it has enabled you to come up here and warn us about Fadil. Fortunately no Dervishes came along while we were crossing, and indeed we learned, from the prisoners we took yesterday, that the fact that a force from Kassala had crossed the river was entirely unknown, so no harm was done."

The sheik of the little village took charge of Gregory's camels. Some stores were also left there, under a small guard, as it was advisable to reduce the transport to the smallest possible amount.

The next morning the start was made. The bush was so thick that it was necessary to march in single file. In the evening, the force halted in a comparatively open country. The camel men reconnoitred the ground, for some little distance round, and saw no signs of the enemy. They camped, however, in the form of a square; and lay with their arms beside them, in readiness to resist an attack.

The night passed quietly, and at early dawn they moved forward again. At six o'clock the camel men exchanged a few shots with the Dervish scouts, who fell back at once. At eight a village was sighted, and the force advanced upon it, in fighting order.

It was found, however, to have been deserted, except by a few old people. These, on being questioned, said that the Emir Saadalla, who commanded, had but two hundred rifles and six hundred spearmen, and had received orders from Fadil to surrender. Subsequent events showed that they had been carefully tutored as to the reply to be given.

The force halted here, as Gedareh was still twelve miles away; and it was thought better that, if there was fighting, they should be fresh. At midnight, a deserter from the Dervishes came in, with the grave news that the Emir had three thousand five hundred men, and was awaiting them two miles outside the town. There was another informal council of war, but all agreed that a retreat, through this difficult country, would bring about the total annihilation of the force; and that there was nothing to do but to fight.

Early in the morning, they started again. For the first two hours, the road led through grass so high that even the men on camels could not see above it. They pushed on till eight o'clock, when they reached a small knoll. At the foot of this they halted, and Colonel Parsons and the officers ascended it, to reconnoitre.

They saw, at once, that the deserter's news was true. A mile away four lines of Dervishes, marching in excellent order, were making their way towards them. Colonel Parsons considered that their numbers could not be less than four thousand, and at once decided to occupy a saddle-back hill, half a mile away; and the troops were hurried across. The Dervishes also quickened their movements, but were too late to prevent the hill from being seized.

The Arab battalion had been leading, followed by the Egyptians; while the irregulars, divided into two bodies under Arab chiefs, guarded the hospital and baggage. The Dervishes at once advanced to the attack of the hill, and the column wheeled into line, to meet it. Even on the crest of the hill, the grass was breast high, but it did not impede the view of the advancing lines of the Dervishes. Into these a heavy and destructive fire was at once poured. The enemy, however, pushed on, firing in return; but being somewhat out of breath, from the rapidity with which they had marched; and seeing nothing of the defenders of the hill, save their heads, they inflicted far less loss than they were themselves suffering.

The fight was continuing, when Colonel Parsons saw that a force of about three hundred Dervishes had worked round the back of the hill, with the intention of falling upon the baggage. He at once sent one of the Arab sheiks to warn Captain Fleming; who, from his position, was unable to see the approaching foe. Colonel Parsons had asked Gregory to take up his position with the baggage, as he foresaw that, with their vastly greater numbers, it was likely that the Dervishes might sweep round and attack it.

Scarcely had the messenger arrived with the news, when the Dervishes came rushing on through the high grass. In spite of the shouts of Doctor Fleming and Gregory, the escort of one hundred and twenty irregular Arabs, stationed at this point, at once broke and fled. Happily, a portion of the camel corps, with its commander, Captain Ruthven, a militia officer, was close at hand. Though he had but thirty-four of these old soldiers with him, he rushed forward to meet the enemy. Doctor Fleming and Gregory joined him and, all cheering to encourage the Soudanese, made a determined stand.

Gregory and Zaki kept up a steady fire with their Remingtons, and picked off several of the most determined of their assailants. The fight, however, was too unequal; the Dervishes got in behind them, and cut off the rear portion of the transport; and the little band, fighting obstinately, fell back, with their faces to the foe, towards the main body.

One of the native officers of the Soudanese fell. Captain Ruthven, a very powerful man, ran back and lifted the wounded soldier, and made his way towards his friends. So closely pressed was he, by the Dervishes, that three times he had to lay his burden down and defend himself with his revolver; while Gregory and Zaki aided his retreat, by turning their fire upon his assailants. For this splendid act of bravery, Captain Ruthven afterwards received the Victoria Cross.

Flushed by their success, the Dervishes pushed on. Fortunately, at this time the main force of the Dervishes was beginning to waver, unable to withstand the steady fire of the defenders of the hill; and as they drew back a little, the Egyptian and Arab battalions rushed forward.

Shaken as they were, the Dervishes were unable to resist the attack; and broke and fled, pursued by the Arab battalion. The Egyptians, however, obeyed the orders of Captain MacKerrel and, halting, faced about to encounter the attack from the rear. Their volleys caused the Dervishes to hesitate, and Captain Ruthven and his party reached the summit of the hill in safety.

The enemy, however, maintained a heavy fire for a few minutes; but the volleys of the Egyptians, at a distance of only a hundred yards, were so deadly that they soon took to flight.

The first shot had been fired at half-past eight. At ten, the whole Dervish force was scattered in headlong rout. Had Colonel Parsons possessed a cavalry force, the enemy would have been completely cut up. As it was, pursuit was out of the question.

The force therefore advanced, in good order, to Gedareh. Here a Dervish Emir, who had been left in charge when the rest of the garrison moved out, surrendered at once, with the two hundred black riflemen under him. He had long been suspected of disloyalty by the Khalifa, and at once declared his hatred of Mahdism; declaring that, though he had not dared to declare himself openly, he had always been friendly to Egyptian rule.

The men with him at once fraternized with the Arabs of Colonel Parsons' force, and were formally received into their ranks. The Emir showed his sincerity by giving them all the information in his power, as to Fadil's position and movements, and by pointing out the most defensible positions.

None of the British officers had been wounded, but fifty-one of the men had been killed, and eighty wounded. Five hundred of the Dervishes were left dead upon the field, including four Emirs.

Not a moment was lost in preparing for defence, for it was certain that Fadil, on hearing the news, would at once march to retake the town. The position was naturally a strong one. Standing on rising ground was Fadil's house, surrounded by a brick wall, twelve feet high. Here the Egyptian battalion and camel corps were placed, with the hospital, and two brass guns which had been found there.

A hundred yards away was another enclosure, with a five-foot wall, and two hundred yards away a smaller one. The Arab battalion was stationed to the rear of this, in a square enclosure with a brick wall, twelve feet high, in which was situated a well. These four buildings were so placed, that the fire from each covered the approaches to the other. Two hundred yards from the well enclosure was a fortified house, surrounded by a high wall. As the latter would need too many men for its defence, the wall was pulled down, and a detachment placed in the house.

No time was lost. The whole force was at once employed in pulling down huts, clearing the ground of the high grass, and forming a zareba round the town. The greatest cause for anxiety was ammunition. A large proportion of that carried in the pouches had been expended during the battle, and the next morning Colonel Parsons, with a small force, hurried back to Mugatta to fetch up the reserve ammunition, which had been left there under a guard. He returned with it, three days later.

An abundant supply of provisions had been found in Gedareh, for here were the magazines, not only of the four thousand men of the garrison and the women who had been left there, but sufficient for Fadil's army, on their return. There were three or four wells, and a good supply of water.

The ammunition arrived just in time; for, on the following morning, Captain Ruthven's camel men brought in news that Fadil was close at hand. At half-past eight the Dervishes began the attack, on three sides of the defences. Sheltered by the long grass, they were able to make their way to within three hundred yards of the dwellings occupied by the troops. But the intervening ground had all been cleared, and though time after time they made rushes forward, they were unable to withstand the withering fire to which they were exposed.

After an hour's vain efforts their musketry fire ceased; but, half an hour later, strong reinforcements came up, and the attack recommenced. This was accompanied with no greater success than the first attack, and Fadil retired to a palm grove, two miles away. Of the defenders five men were killed, and Captain Dwyer and thirteen men wounded.

For two days, Fadil endeavoured to persuade his troops to make another attack; but although they surrounded the town, and maintained a scattered fire, they could not be brought to attempt another assault, having lost over five hundred men in the two attacks the first day. He then fell back, eight miles.

Three days later, Colonel Parsons said to Gregory:

"I think the time has come, Mr. Hilliard, when I must apply for reinforcements. I am convinced that we can repel all attacks, but we are virtually prisoners here. Were we to endeavour to retreat, Fadil would probably annihilate us. Our men have behaved admirably; but it is one thing to fight well, when you are advancing; and another to be firm in retreat.

"But our most serious enemy, at present, is fever. Already, the stink of the unburied bodies of the Dervishes is overpowering, and every day it will become worse. Doctor Fleming reports to me that he has a great many sick on his hands, and that he fears the conditions that surround us will bring about an epidemic. Therefore I have decided to send to General Rundle, for a reinforcement that will enable us to move out to attack Fadil."

"Very well, sir, I will start at once."

"I will write my despatch. It will be ready for you to carry in an hour's time. You had better pick out a couple of good donkeys, from those we captured here. As it is only nine o'clock, you will be able to get to Mugatta this evening. I don't think there is any fear of your being interfered with, by the Dervishes. We may be sure that Fadil is not allowing his men to roam over the country, for there can be little doubt that a good many of them would desert, as soon as they got fairly beyond his camp."

"I don't think there is any fear of that, sir; and as my camels will have had ten days' rest, I should have very little fear of being overtaken, even if they did sight us."

"We are off again, Zaki," Gregory said. "We will go down to the yard where the animals we captured are kept, and choose a couple of good donkeys. I am to carry a despatch to Omdurman, and as time is precious, we will make a straight line across the desert; it will save us fifty or sixty miles."

"I am glad to be gone, Master. The smells here are as bad as they were at Omdurman, when we went in there."

"Yes, I am very glad to be off, too."

An hour later they started, and arrived at Mugatta at eight o'clock in the evening. The native with whom the camels had been left had taken good care of them; and, after rewarding him and taking a meal, Gregory determined to start at once. The stars were bright, and there was quite light enough for the camels to travel.

The water was emptied from the skins, and filled again. They had brought with them sufficient food for four days' travel, and a sack of grain for the camels. An hour after arriving at the village they again started.

"We will follow the river bank, till we get past the country where the bushes are so thick, and then strike west by north. I saw, by Colonel Parsons' map, that that is about the line we should take."

They left the river before they reached El Fasher, and continued their journey all night, and onward till the sun was well up. Then they watered the camels (they had, this time, brought with them a large half gourd for the purpose), ate a good meal themselves; and, after placing two piles of grain before the camels, lay down and slept until five o'clock in the afternoon.

"We ought to be opposite Omdurman, tomorrow morning. I expect we shall strike the river, tonight. I have kept our course rather to the west of the direct line, on purpose. It would be very awkward if we were to miss it. I believe the compass is right, and I have struck a match every hour to look at it; but a very slight deviation would make a big difference, at the end of a hundred and fifty miles."

It was just midnight when they saw the river before them.

"We can't go wrong now, Zaki."

"That is a comfort. How many miles are we above its junction with the White Nile?"

"I don't know."

They rode steadily on, and day was just breaking when he exclaimed:

"There are some buildings opposite. That must be Khartoum. We shall be opposite Omdurman in another hour."

Soon after six o'clock, they rode down to the river bank opposite the town; and, in answer to their signals, a large native boat was rowed across to them. After some trouble the camels were got on board, and in a quarter of an hour they landed.

"Take the camels up to my house, Zaki. I must go and report myself, at headquarters."

General Rundle had not yet gone out, and on Gregory sending in his name, he was at once admitted.

"So you are back, Mr. Hilliard!" the General said. "I am heartily glad to see you, for it was a very hazardous mission that you undertook. What news have you?"

"This is Colonel Parsons' report."

Before reading the long report, the General said, "Tell me, in a few words, what happened."

"I overtook Colonel Parsons at Mugatta, on the third morning after leaving. We were attacked by nearly four thousand Dervishes, five miles from Gedareh. After a sharp fight they were defeated, and we occupied the town without resistance. Four days later, Fadil came up with his army and attacked the town; but was driven off, with a loss of five hundred men. He is now eight miles from the town. The place is unhealthy and, although it can be defended, Colonel Parsons has asked for reinforcements, to enable him to attack Fadil."

"That is good news, indeed. We have all been extremely anxious, for there was no doubt that Colonel Parsons' force was wholly inadequate for the purpose. How long is it since you left?"

"About forty-six hours, sir."

"Indeed! That seems almost impossible, Mr. Hilliard."

"We started at eleven o'clock in the morning, sir, and rode on donkeys to Mugatta, where I had left my camels; arrived there at eight, and started an hour later on the camels. We rode till nine o'clock the next day, halted till five, and have just arrived here. The camels were excellent beasts, and travelled a good six miles an hour. I did not press them, as I knew that, if we arrived opposite the town at night, we should have difficulty in getting across the river."

"It was a great ride, a great achievement! You must be hungry, as well as tired. I will tell my man to get you some breakfast, at once. You can eat it, while I read this despatch. Then I may have a few questions to ask you. After that, you had better turn in till evening."

Gregory enjoyed his breakfast, with the luxuries of tinned fruit, after his rough fare for the past fortnight. When he went to the General's room again, the latter said:

"Colonel Parsons' despatches are very full, and I think I quite understand the situation. No praise is too high for the conduct of his officers and troops. All seemed to have behaved equally well, and he mentions the gallant part you took in the defence of the baggage, with Captain Ruthven and the doctor, and only some thirty-four soldiers of the camel corps.

"Now, I will not detain you longer. I hope you will dine with me this evening. I should like to hear more of the affair."

Returning to his hut, Gregory found that Zaki had already got his bed, and other things, from the store; and he was just about to boil the kettle.

"I have breakfasted, Zaki. Here is a dollar. Go to one of those big shops, and buy anything you like, and have a good meal. Then you had better take the camels across to Azim's camp. I shall not want you then, till evening."

No time was lost. Three battalions and a half of Soudanese were sent up the Blue Nile, in steamers, and the garrisons stationed at several points on the river were also taken on board. Three companies of camel corps marched along the bank, and arrived at Abu Haraz, a hundred and thirty miles up the river, in fifty-six hours after starting. Five hundred baggage camels were also sent up. As the distance from Gedareh to this point was a hundred miles, and as water was only to be found at one point, it was necessary to carry up a supply for the troops.

Colonel Collinson, who was in command, pushed forward at once with the 12th Soudanese and the camel corps. When Fadil heard of their approach, he made a night attack on Gedareh. This, however, was easily repulsed by the garrison. He then broke up his camp and marched away, intending to cross the Blue Nile, and join the Khalifa.

His troops were greatly demoralized by their failures, and in spite of the precautions he took, the Darfur Sheik, with five hundred of his men, succeeded in effecting his escape; and at once joined us, actively, in the further operations against Fadil. As there was no further danger, the Soudanese marched back again and joined the other battalions, the garrisons on the river were re-established, and part of the force returned to Omdurman.

The Sirdar had returned from Fashoda before Gregory came back, and had left almost immediately for Cairo. On the day after Gregory's return, he had a sharp attack of fever; the result partly of the evil smells at Gedareh, heightened by the fact that the present was the fever season, in the Blue Nile country.

Chapter 22: The Crowning Victory.

It was eight weeks before he recovered, and even then the doctor said that he was not fit for any exertion. He learned that on the 22nd of October, Colonel Lewis, with two companies of the camel corps and three squadrons of Lancers, had started from Omdurman to visit the various villages between the White and Blue Niles; to restore order, and proclaim that the authority of the Khedive was established there. On the 7th of November, following the Blue Nile up, he reached Karkoj, but a short distance below the point at which the navigation of the river ceased. He had come in contact with a portion of Fadil's force, but nothing could be done, in the thick undergrowth in which the latter was lurking; and he therefore remained, waiting for the next move on the part of the Dervish commander, while the gunboats patrolled the Blue river up to Rosaires.

Six weeks passed. His force, and all the garrisons on the river, suffered severely from heat, thirty percent of the troops being down together. The cavalry had suffered particularly heavily. Of the four hundred and sixty men, ten had died and four hundred and twenty were reported unfit for duty, a month after their arrival at Karkoj; while of the thirty white officers on the Blue Nile, only two escaped an attack of fever.

At the end of the month, Colonel Lewis was joined by the Darfur Sheik and three hundred and fifty of his men. He had had many skirmishes with Dervish parties, scouring the country for food, and his arrival was very welcome.

Gregory was recommended to take a river trip, to recover his health; and left on a steamer going up with stores, and some small reinforcements, to Colonel Lewis. They arrived at Karkoj on the 14th of December, and learned that the little garrison at Rosaires had been attacked by the Dervishes.

The fifty fever-stricken men who formed the garrison would have had no chance of resisting the attack, but fortunately they had, that very morning, been reinforced by two hundred men of the 10th Soudanese, and two Maxims; and the Dervishes were repulsed, with considerable loss. Two companies of the same battalion had reinforced Colonel Lewis, who marched, on the day after receiving the news, to Rosaires. The gunboat went up to that point, and remained there for some days.

Gregory went ashore, as soon as the boat arrived, and saw Colonel Lewis, to whom he was well known.

"I am supposed to be on sick leave, sir; but I feel quite strong now, and shall be glad to join you, if you will have me."

"I can have no possible objection, Mr. Hilliard. I know that you did good service with Colonel Parsons, and it is quite possible that we shall find ourselves in as tight a place as he was. So many of our white officers have been sent down, with fever, that I am very short-handed, and shall be glad if you will temporarily serve as my assistant."

On the 20th, the news came that Fadil was crossing the river at Dakhila, twenty miles farther to the south. He himself had crossed, and the women and children had been taken over on a raft. On the 22nd, the Darfur Sheik was sent off up the west bank, to harass the Dervishes who had already crossed. On the 24th two gunboats arrived, with two hundred more men of the 10th Soudanese, and a small detachment of the 9th.

On the following day the little force started, at five in the afternoon; and, at eleven at night, halted at a little village. At three in the morning they again advanced, and at eight o'clock came in contact with the Dervish outposts. Colonel Lewis had already learned that, instead of half the Dervish force having crossed, only one division had done so, and that he had by far the greater part of Fadil's army opposed to him.

It was a serious matter to attack some four or five thousand men, with so small a force at his disposal; for he had but half the 10th Soudanese, a handful of the 9th, and two Maxim guns. As to the Darfur irregulars, no great reliance could be placed upon them.

As the force issued from the wood through which they had been marching, they saw the river in front of them. In its midst rose a large island, a mile and a quarter long, and more than three-quarters of a mile wide. There were clumps of sand hills upon it. They had learned that the intervening stream was rapid, but not deep; while that on the other side of the island was very deep, with a precipitous bank.

It was upon this island that Fadil's force was established. The position was a strong one--the sand hills rose from an almost flat plain, a thousand yards away; and this would have to be crossed by the assailants, without any shelter whatever. The Dervishes were bound to fight their hardest, as there was no possibility of escape, if defeated.

At nine o'clock the Soudanese and irregulars lined the bank and opened fire, while the two Maxims came into action. The Dervishes replied briskly, and it was soon evident that, at so long a range, they could not be driven from their position. Several fords were found, and the irregulars, supported by a company of the 10th, crossed the river, and took up a position two hundred yards in advance, to cover the passage of the rest. These crossed with some difficulty, for the water was three and a half feet deep, and the current very strong; and they were, moreover, exposed to the fire of Fadil's riflemen, from the high cliff on the opposite bank.

Colonel Lewis, determined to turn the left flank of the Dervishes, kept along the river's edge until he reached the required position; then wheeled the battalion into line, and advanced across the bare shingle against the sand hills. Major Ferguson, with one company, was detached to attack a knoll on the right, held by two hundred Dervishes. The remaining four companies, under Colonel Mason, kept straight on towards the main position.

A very heavy fire was concentrated upon them, not only from the sand hills, but from Fadil's riflemen. The Soudanese fell fast, but held on, increasing their pace to a run; until they reached the foot of the first sandhill, where they lay down in shelter to take breath. A quarter of the force had already fallen, and their doctor, Captain Jennings, remained out in the open, binding up their wounds, although exposed to a continuous fire.

This halt was mistaken by the Dervishes, who thought that the courage of the Soudanese was exhausted; and Fadil, from the opposite bank, sounded the charge on drum and bugle; and the whole Dervish force, with banners waving and exultant shouts, poured down to annihilate their assailants.

But the Soudanese, led by Colonels Lewis and Mason, who were accompanied by Gregory, leapt to their feet, ran up the low bank behind which they were sheltering, and opened a terrible fire. The Dervishes were already close at hand, and every shot told among them. Astonished at so unlooked-for a reception, and doubtless remembering the heavy loss they had suffered at Gedareh, they speedily broke. Like dogs slipped from their leash, the black troops dashed on with triumphant shouts, driving the Dervishes from sandhill to sandhill, until the latter reached the southern end of the island.

Here the Soudanese were joined by the irregulars who had first crossed, and a terrible fire was maintained, from the sand hills, upon the crowded mass on the bare sand, cut off from all retreat by the deep river. Some tried to swim across, to join their friends on the west bank. A few succeeded in doing so, among them the Emir who had given battle to Colonel Parsons' force, near Gedareh.

Many took refuge from the fire by standing in the river, up to their necks. Some four hundred succeeded in escaping, by a ford, to a small island lower down; but they found no cover there, and after suffering heavily from the musketry fire, the survivors, three hundred strong, surrendered.

Major Ferguson's company, however, was still exposed to a heavy fire, turned upon them by the force on the other side of the river. He himself was severely wounded, and a third of his men hit. The Maxims were accordingly carried over the river to the island, and placed so as to command the west bank, which they soon cleared of the riflemen.

Over five hundred Arabs lay dead on the two islands. Two thousand one hundred and seventy-five fighting men surrendered, and several hundred women and children. Fadil, with the force that had escaped, crossed the desert to Rung, on the White Nile, where on the 22nd of January they surrendered to the English gunboats; their leader, with ten or twelve of his followers only, escaping to join the Khalifa.

Our casualties were heavy. Twenty-five non-commissioned officers and men were killed; one British officer, six native officers, and one hundred and seventeen non-commissioned officers and men wounded of the 10th Soudanese, out of a total strength of five hundred and eleven. The remaining casualties were among the irregulars.

Never was there a better proof of the gallantry of the black regiments of Egypt; for, including the commander and medical officer, there were but five British officers, and two British sergeants, to direct and lead them.

After the battle of Rosaires, there was a lull in the fighting on the east of the White Nile. The whole country had been cleared of the Dervishes, and it was now time for the Sirdar, who had just returned from England, to turn his attention to the Khalifa. The latter was known to be near El Obeid, where he had now collected a force, of whose strength very different reports were received.

Gregory, whose exertions in the fight, and the march through the scrub from Karkoj, had brought on a slight return of fever, went down in the gunboat, with the wounded, to Omdurman. Zaki was with him, but as a patient. He had been hit through the leg, while charging forward with the Soudanese. At Omdurman, Gregory fell into regular work again. So many of the officers of the Egyptian battalions had fallen in battle, or were down with fever, that Colonel Wingate took him as his assistant, and his time was now spent in listening to the stories of tribesmen; who, as soon as the Khalifa's force had passed, had brought in very varying accounts of his strength. Then there were villagers who had complaints to make of robbery, of ill usage--for this the Arab irregulars, who had been disbanded after the capture of Omdurman, were largely responsible. Besides these, there were many petitions by fugitives, who had returned to find their houses occupied, and their land seized by others.

Gregory was constantly sent off to investigate and decide in these disputes, and was sometimes away for a week at a time. Zaki had recovered rapidly and, as soon as he was able to rise, accompanied his master; who obtained valuable assistance from him as, while Gregory was hearing the stories of witnesses, Zaki went quietly about the villages, talking to the old men and women, and frequently obtained evidence that showed that many of the witnesses were perjured; and so enabled his master to give decisions which astonished the people by their justness.

Indeed, the reports of the extraordinary manner in which he seemed able to pick out truth from falsehood, and to decide in favour of the rightful claimant, spread so rapidly from village to village, that claimants who came in to Colonel Wingate often requested, urgently, that the young Bimbashi should be sent out to investigate the matter.

"You seem to be attaining the position of a modern Solomon, Hilliard," the Colonel said one day, with a smile. "How do you do it?"

Gregory laughed, and told him the manner in which he got at the truth.

"An excellent plan," he said, "and one which it would be well to adopt, generally, by sending men beforehand to a village. The only objection is, that you could not rely much more upon the reports of your spies than on those of the villagers. The chances are that the claimant who could bid highest would receive their support."

Matters were quiet until the Sirdar returned from England, and determined to make an attempt to capture the Khalifa, whose force was reported not to exceed one thousand men. Two squadrons of Egyptian cavalry and a Soudanese brigade, two Maxims, two mule guns, and a company of camel corps were placed under the command of Colonel Kitchener. The great difficulty was the lack of water along the route to be traversed. Camels were brought from the Atbara and the Blue Nile; and the whole were collected at Kawa, on the White Nile. They started from that point, but the wells were found to be dry; and the force had to retrace its steps, and to start afresh from Koli, some forty miles farther up the river.

They endured great hardships, for everything was left behind save the clothes the men and officers stood in, and one hundred rounds of ammunition each; only one pint of water being allowed per head. The country was a desert, covered with interlacing thorn bushes. An eight days' march brought the force to a village which was considered sacred, as it contained the grave of the Khalifa's father, and the house where the Khalifa himself had been born.

Three days later they reached the abandoned camp of the Khalifa, a wide tract that had been cleared of bush. A great multitude of dwellings, constructed of spear grass, stretched away for miles; and at the very lowest compilation it had contained twenty thousand people, of which it was calculated that from eight thousand to ten thousand must have been fighting men, ten times as many as had before been reported to be with the Khalifa. A reconnaissance showed that a large army was waiting to give battle, on a hill which was of great strength, surrounded by deep ravines and pools of water.

The position was an anxious one. The total force was about fourteen hundred strong, and a defeat would mean annihilation; while even a victory would scarcely secure the capture of the Khalifa; who, with his principal emirs, Osman Digna, El Khatim the Sheik of El Obeid, the Sheik Ed Din, and Fadil, would be able to gallop off if they saw the battle going against them. Colonel Kitchener had the wisdom to decide against risking the destruction of his followers by an assault against so great a force, posted in so strong a position. It was a deep mortification to him to have to retreat, and the soldiers were bitterly disappointed; but their commander felt that, brave as the Egyptians and Soudanese had shown themselves, the odds against victory were too great. After a terrible march, and great sufferings from thirst and scanty food, the force reached Koli on the 5th of February, and were conveyed in steamers down to Omdurman.

After this somewhat unfortunate affair, which naturally added to the prestige of the Khalifa, the months passed uneventfully; but, late in October, preparations were made for an attack upon a large scale against the Khalifa's camp, and eight thousand men were concentrated at Karla, on the White Nile. It was known that the Khalifa was at Gedir, eighty miles away; but after proceeding half the distance, it was found that he had marched away, and the column returned, as pursuit through a densely-wooded country would have been impracticable.

The gunboats had gone up the river with a flying column, under Colonel Lewis, to check any of the Khalifa's forces that attempted to establish themselves on the banks. Mounted troops and transport were at once concentrated, and Colonel Wingate was sent up to take command. The force consisted of a brigade of infantry, under Colonel Lewis, with the 9th and 13th Soudanese, an irregular Soudanese battalion, a company of the 2nd Egyptians, six companies of camel corps, a squadron of cavalry, a field battery, six Maxims, and detachments of medical and supply departments, with a camel transport train to carry rations and three days' water--in all, three thousand seven hundred men.

On the afternoon of the 21st of November, the column moved forward and, favoured by a bright moonlight, made a march of fifteen miles; the cavalry scouting two miles in front, the flanks and rear being covered by the camel corps. Native reports had brought in information that Fadil, who had been raiding the country, was now in the neighbourhood, on his way to rejoin the main Dervish army, which was lying near Gadi.

The cavalry pushed forward at dawn, and found that Fadil had retreated, leaving a quantity of grain behind. A sick Dervish who had remained there said that the Dervishes had moved to a point seven miles away. The cavalry, camel corps, and some of the guns advanced, and seized a position within three hundred yards of the Dervish encampment, on which they immediately opened fire.

The rest of the guns were at once pushed forward, to reinforce them, and arrived in time to assist them in repulsing a fierce attack of the Dervishes. Owing to the nature of the ground, these were able to approach to within sixty yards of the guns, before coming under their fire. They were then mowed down by the guns and Maxims, and the musketry fire of the camel corps; to which was added that of the infantry brigade, when they arrived. This was too much even for Dervish valour to withstand, and they fled back to their camp.

The British force then advanced. They met with but little opposition and, as they entered the camp, they saw the enemy in full flight. The infantry followed them for a mile and a half, while the cavalry and camel corps kept up the pursuit for five miles.

Fadil's camp, containing a large amount of grain and other stores, fell into the hands of the captors; with a number of prisoners, including women and children, and animals. Four hundred Dervishes had fallen, great numbers had been wounded, while the British casualties amounted to a native officer of the camel corps dangerously wounded, one man killed, and three wounded.

Gregory had accompanied Colonel Wingate, and acted as one of his staff officers. He had, of course, brought his horse with him. It was an excellent animal, and had been used by him in all his excursions from Omdurman.

"That is rather a different affair from the fight on the Atbara, Zaki," he said, when the force gathered in Fadil's camp, after the pursuit was relinquished; "the Dervishes fought just as bravely, but in one case they had a strong position to defend, while today they took the offensive. It makes all the difference."

"I am glad to have seen some fighting again, Master, for it has been dull work stopping ten months in Omdurman, with nothing to do but ride about the country, and decide upon the villagers' quarrels."

"It has been useful work, Zaki, and I consider myself very fortunate in being so constantly employed. I was desperately afraid that Colonel Wingate would leave me there, and I was greatly relieved when he told me that I was to come with him. It is a fortunate thing that we have beaten our old enemy, Fadil, here. In the first place because, if the three or four thousand men he had with him had joined the Khalifa, it would have given us harder work in tomorrow's fight; and in the next place his arrival, with his followers who have escaped, at the Khalifa's camp, is not likely to inspirit the Dervishes there."

Gregory was occupied, all the afternoon, in examining the prisoners. They affirmed that they had left the former camp, three days before, with the intention of proceeding to Gedid; where Fadil was to join the Khalifa with captured grain, when the whole Dervish force was to march north.

The troops slept during the afternoon, and in the evening set out for Gedid, which they reached at ten o'clock the next morning. A Dervish deserter reported that the Khalifa was encamped seven miles to the southeast. Fortunately, a pool with sufficient water for the whole force was found at Gedid; which was a matter of great importance, for otherwise the expedition must have fallen back.

It was hoped that the Khalifa would now stand at bay, as our occupation of Gedid barred his advance north. Behind him was a waterless, and densely wooded district. The capture of the grain on which he had relied would render it impossible for him to remain long in his present position, and his only chance of extricating himself was to stand and fight.

After twelve hours' rest the troops were roused, and started a few minutes after midnight. The transport was left, under a strong guard, near the water; with orders to follow, four hours later. The cavalry, with two Maxims, moved in advance; and the camel corps on the flanks. The ground was thickly wooded. In many places, a way had to be cut for the guns.

At three o'clock news was received, from the cavalry, that the enemy's camp was but three miles distant from the point which the infantry had reached; and that they and the Maxims had halted two miles ahead, at the foot of some slightly rising ground; beyond which the scouts had, on the previous day, discovered the main force of the enemy to be stationed. The infantry continued to advance, slowly and cautiously, making as little noise as possible.

It was soon evident, however, that in spite of their caution, the enemy were aware of their approach, as there was an outburst of the beating of drums, and the blowing of war horns. This did not last long, but it was enough to show that the Dervishes were not to be taken by surprise. When the infantry reached the spot where the cavalry were halted, the latter's scouts were withdrawn and the infantry pickets thrown out, and the troops then lay down to await daybreak.

The officers chatted together in low tones. There were but two hours till dawn, and with the prospect of heavy fighting before them, none were inclined to sleep. The question was whether the Dervishes would defend their camp, or attack. The result of the battle of Omdurman should have taught them that it was impossible to come to close quarters, in the face of the terrible fire of our rifles. Fadil could give his experience at Gedareh, which would teach the same lesson. On the other hand, the storming of the Dervish camp on the Atbara, and the fight at Rosaires, would both seem to show them that the assault of the Egyptian force was irresistible.

As Gregory had been present at all four of these battles, he was asked to give his opinion.

"I think that they will attack," he said. "The Dervish leaders rely upon the enthusiasm of their followers; and, in almost all the battles we have fought here, they have rushed forward to the assault. It was so in all the fights down by the Red Sea. It was so in the attacks on Lord Wolseley's desert column. It succeeded against Hicks's and Baker's forces; and even now they do not seem to have recognized that the Egyptians, whom they once despised, have quite got over their dread of them, and are able to face them steadily."

There was only the faintest light in the sky, when firing broke out in front. Everyone leapt to his feet, and stood listening intently. Was it merely some Dervish scouts, who had come in contact with our pickets, or was it an attacking force?

The firing increased in volume, and was evidently approaching. The pickets, then, were being driven in, and the Dervishes were going to attack. The men were ordered to lie down, in the position in which they were to fight. In five minutes after the first shot all were ready for action, the pickets had run in; and, in the dim light, numbers of dark figures could be made out.

The guns and Maxims at once spoke out, while the infantry fired volleys. It was still too dark to make out the movements of the enemy, but their reply to our fire came louder and louder on our left, and it was apparent that the intention of the Dervishes was to turn that flank of our position.

Colonel Wingate sent Gregory, to order the guns to turn their fire more in that direction; and other officers ordered our right to advance somewhat, while the left were slightly thrown back, and pushed farther out. The light was now getting brighter, and heavy bodies of Dervishes, shouting and firing, rushed forward; but they were mown down by grape from our guns, a storm of Maxim bullets, and the steady volleys of the infantry. They wavered for a moment, and then gradually fell back.

The bugles sounded the advance and, with a cheer, our whole line moved forward down the gentle slope; quickening their pace as the enemy retired before them, and still keeping up a heavy fire towards the clump of trees that concealed the Dervish camp from sight. The enemy's fire had now died out. At twenty-five minutes past six the "cease fire" was sounded and, as the troops advanced, it was evident that resistance was at an end.

As they issued through the trees, many Dervishes ran forward and surrendered, and thousands of women and children were found in the camp. Happily, none of these had been injured, as a slight swell in the ground had prevented our bullets from falling among them. Numbers of Dervishes who had passed through now turned and surrendered, and the cavalry and camel corps started in pursuit.

Gregory had learned, from the women, that the Emir El Khatim, with a number of his trained men from El Obeid, had passed through the camp in good order, but that none of the other emirs had been seen; and the 9th Soudanese stated that, as they advanced, they had come upon a number of chiefs lying together, a few hundred yards in advance of our first position. One of the Arab sheiks of the irregulars was sent to examine the spot, and reported that the Khalifa himself, and almost all his great emirs, lay there dead.

With the Khalifa were Ali Wad, Helu, Fadil, two of his brothers, the Mahdi's son, and many other leaders. Behind them lay their dead horses, and one of the men still alive said that the Khalifa, having failed in his attempt to advance over the crest, had endeavoured to turn our position; but, seeing his followers crushed by our fire and retiring, and after making an ineffectual attempt to rally them, he recognized that the day was lost; and, calling on his emirs to dismount, seated himself on his sheepskin, as is the custom of Arab chiefs who disdain to surrender. The emirs seated themselves round him, and all met their death unflinchingly, the greater part being mowed down by the volleys fired by our troops, as they advanced.

Gregory went up to Colonel Wingate.

"I beg your pardon, sir, but I find that Khatim, and probably his son, who were so kind to my father at El Obeid, have retired with a fighting force. Have I your permission to ride forward, and call upon them to surrender?"

"Certainly, Mr. Hilliard, there has been bloodshed enough."

Being well mounted, Gregory overtook the cavalry and camel corps, before they had gone two miles; as they were delayed by disarming the Dervishes, who were coming in in large numbers. Half a mile away, a small body of men were to be seen keeping together, firing occasionally. Their leader's flag was flying, and Gregory learned, from a native, that it was Khatim's. The cavalry were on the point of gathering for a charge, as he rode up to the officer in command.

"I have Colonel Wingate's orders, sir, to ride forward and try to persuade the emir to surrender. He does not wish any further loss of life."

"Very well, sir. I am sure we have killed enough of the poor beggars. I hope he will give in."

As Gregory neared the party, which was some five hundred strong, several shots were fired at him. He waved a white handkerchief, and the firing ceased. Two emirs rode forward to meet him.

"I have come, sir, from the English General, to ask you to surrender. Your cause is lost. The Khalifa is dead, and most of his principal emirs. He is anxious that there should be no further loss of blood."

"We can die, sir, as the others have done," the elder emir, a man of some sixty years old, said sternly.

"But that would not avail your cause, sir. I solicited this mission, as I owe much to you."

"How can that be?" the chief asked.

"I am the son of that white man whom you so kindly treated, at El Obeid, where he saved the life of your son Abu;" and he bowed to the younger emir.

"Then he escaped?" the latter exclaimed.

"No, sir. He was killed at Hebbeh, when the steamer in which he was going down from Khartoum was wrecked there; but I found his journal, in which he told the story of your kindness to him. I can assure you that you shall be well treated, if you surrender; and those of your men who wish to do so will be allowed to return to El Obeid. I feel sure that when I tell our General how kindly you acted, to the sole white officer who escaped from the battle, you and your son will be treated with the greatest consideration."

"I owe more to your father than he did to me," Abu exclaimed. "He saved my life, and did many great services to us.

"What say you, Father? I am ready to die if you will it; but as the Khalifa is dead, and the cause of Mahdism lost, I see no reason, and assuredly no disgrace, in submitting to the will of Allah."

"So be it," Khatim said. "I have never thought of surrendering to the Turks, but as it is the will of Allah, I will do so."

He turned to his men.

"It is useless to fight further," he said. "The Khalifa is dead. It were better to return to your wives and families than to throw away your lives. Lay down your arms. None will be injured."

It was with evident satisfaction that the Arabs laid musket and spear on the ground. They would have fought to the death, had he ordered them, for they greatly loved their old chief; but as it was his order, they gladly complied with it, as they saw that they had no chance of resisting the array of cavalry and camel corps, gathered less than half a mile away.

"If you will ride back with me," Gregory said to the emir, "I will present you to the General. The men had better follow. I will ride forward, and tell the officer commanding the cavalry that you have surrendered, and that the men approaching are unarmed."

He cantered back to the cavalry.

"They have all surrendered, sir," he said. "They have laid down their arms at the place where they stood, and are going back to camp, to surrender to Colonel Wingate."

"I am glad of it. My orders are to push on another three miles. On our return the camel corps shall collect the arms, and bring them in."

Gregory rode back to the emirs, who were slowly crossing the plain, but who halted as the cavalry dashed on.

"Now, Emirs," he said, "we can ride quietly back to camp."

"You have not taken our arms," Khatim said.

"No, Emir, it is not for me to ask for them. It is the General to whom you surrender, not me."

"I mourn to hear of the death of your father," Abu said, as they rode in. "He was a good man, and a skilful hakim."

"He speaks always in the highest terms of you, Emir, in his journal, and tells how he performed that operation on your left arm, which was necessary to save your life; but did so with great doubt, fearing that, never having performed one before, he might fail to save your life."

"I have often wondered what became of him," Abu said. "I believed that he had got safely into Khartoum, and I enquired about him when we entered. When I found that he was not among the killed, I trusted that he might have escaped. I grieve much to hear that he was killed while on his way down."

"Such was the will of Allah," Khatim said. "He preserved him at the battle, He preserved him in the town, He enabled him to reach Khartoum; but it was not His will that he should return to his countrymen. I say, with Abu, that he was a good man; and while he remained with us, was ever ready to use his skill for our benefit. It was Allah's will that his son should, after all these years, come to us; for assuredly, if any other white officer had asked us to surrender, I would have refused."

"Many strange things happen by the will of God," Gregory said. "It was wonderful that, sixteen years after his death, I should find my father's journal at Hebbeh, and learn the story of his escape after the battle, and of his stay with you at El Obeid."

Gregory rode into camp between the two emirs. He paused for a minute, and handed over their followers to the officer in charge of the prisoners; and then went to the hut formerly occupied by the Khalifa, where Colonel Wingate had now established himself. Colonel Wingate came to the entrance.

"These are El Khatim and his son Abu, sir. They surrendered on learning that I was the son of the British officer whom they had protected, and sheltered, for a year after the battle of El Obeid."

The two emirs had withdrawn their swords and pistols from their sashes; and, advancing, offered them to the Colonel. The latter did not offer to receive them.

"Keep them," he said. "We can honour brave foes; and you and your followers were ready to fight and die, when all seemed lost. Still more do I refuse to receive the weapons of the men who defended an English officer, when he was helpless and a fugitive; such an act would, alone, ensure good treatment at our hands. Your followers have surrendered?"

"They have all laid down their arms," Khatim said.

"Do you give me your promise that you will no more fight against us?"

"We do," Khatim replied. "We have received our weapons back from you, and would assuredly not use them against our conquerors."

"In that case, Emir, you and your son are at liberty to depart, and your men can return with you. There will, I trust, be no more fighting in the land. The Mahdi is dead. His successor proved a false prophet and is dead also. Mahdism is at an end, and now our object will be to restore peace and prosperity to the land.

"In a short time, all the prisoners will be released. Those who choose will be allowed to enter our service. The rest can return to their homes. We bear no enmity against them. They fought under the orders of their chiefs, and fought bravely and well. When they return, I hope they will settle down and cultivate the land; and undo, as far as may be, the injuries they have inflicted upon it.

"I will write an order, Mr. Hilliard, to release at once the men you have brought in. Then I will ask you to ride, with these emirs, to a point where there will be no fear of their falling in with our cavalry."

"You are a generous enemy," Khatim said, "and we thank you. We give in our allegiance to the Egyptian government, and henceforth regard ourselves as its servants."

"See, Mr. Hilliard, that the party takes sufficient food with it for their journey to El Obeid."

Colonel Wingate stepped forward, and shook hands with the two emirs.

"You are no longer enemies," he said, "and I know that, henceforth, I shall be able to rely upon your loyalty."

"We are beaten," Khatim said, as they walked away, each leading his horse. "You can fight like men, and we who thought ourselves brave have been driven before you, like dust before the wind. And now, when you are masters, you can forgive as we should never have done. You can treat us as friends. You do not even take our arms, and we can ride into El Obeid with our heads high."

"It will be good for the Soudan," Abu said. "Your father told me, often, how peace and prosperity would return, were you ever to become our masters; and I felt that his words were true. Two hours ago I regretted that Allah had not let me die, so that I should not have lived to see our people conquered. Now, I am glad. I believe all that he said, and that the Soudan will some day become, again, a happy country."

Khatim's men were separated from the rest of the prisoners. Six days' supply of grain, from the stores found in the camp, were handed over to them; together with ten camels with water skins, and they started at once on their long march. Gregory rode out for a couple of miles with them, and then took leave of the two emirs.

"Come to El Obeid," Khatim said, "and you shall be treated as a king. Farewell! And may Allah preserve you!"

So they parted; and Gregory rode back to the camp, with a feeling of much happiness that he had been enabled, in some way, to repay the kindness shown to his dead father.

Chapter 23: An Unexpected Discovery.

The victory had been a decisive one, indeed. Three thousand prisoners, great quantities of rifles, swords, grain, and cattle had been captured; together with six thousand women and children. A thousand Dervishes had been killed or wounded. All the most important emirs had been killed, and the Sheik Ed Din, the Khalifa's eldest son and intended successor, was, with twenty-nine other emirs, among the prisoners. Our total loss was four men killed, and two officers and twenty-seven men wounded in the action.

"I am much obliged to you, Mr. Hilliard," Colonel Wingate said to him, that evening, "for the valuable services you have rendered, and shall have the pleasure of including your name among the officers who have specially distinguished themselves. As it was mentioned by General Rundle and Colonel Parsons--by the former for undertaking the hazardous service of carrying despatches to the latter, and by Colonel Parsons for gallant conduct in the field--you ought to be sure of promotion, when matters are arranged here."

"Thank you very much, sir! May I ask a favour?

"You know the outline of my story. I have learned, by the papers I obtained at Hebbeh, and others which I was charged not to open until I had certain proof of my father's death, that the name under which he was known was an assumed one. He had had a quarrel with his family; and as, when he came out to Egypt, he for a time took a subordinate position, he dropped a portion of his name, intending to resume it when he had done something that even his family could not consider was any discredit to it. I was myself unaware of the fact until, on returning to Omdurman from Hebbeh, I opened those papers. I continued to bear the name by which I am known, but as you are good enough to say that you will mention me in despatches, I feel that I can now say that my real name is Gregory Hilliard Hartley."

"I quite appreciate your motives in adhering to your former name, Mr. Hartley; and in mentioning your services under your new name, I will add a note saying that your name mentioned in former despatches, for distinguished services, had been erroneously given as Gregory Hilliard only."

"Thank you very much, sir!"

That evening, when several of the officers were gathered in Colonel Wingate's hut, the latter said, when one of them addressed Gregory as Hilliard:

"That is not his full name, Colonel Hickman. For various family reasons, with which he has acquainted me, he has borne it hitherto; but he will, in future, be known by his entire name, which is Gregory Hilliard Hartley. I may say that the reasons he has given me for not having hitherto used the family name are, in my opinion, amply sufficient; involving, as they do, no discredit to himself; or his father, a brave gentleman who escaped from the massacre of Hicks's force at El Obeid; and finally died, with Colonel Stewart, at Hebbeh."

"I seem to know the name," Colonel Lewis said. "Gregory Hilliard Hartley! I have certainly either heard or seen it, somewhere. May I ask if your father bore the same Christian names?"

"Yes, sir."

"I have it now!" Colonel Lewis exclaimed, a minute or two later. "I have seen it in an advertisement. Ever since I was a boy, that name has occasionally been advertised for. Every two or three months, it appeared in the Times. I can see it plainly, now.

"'Five hundred pounds reward will be given for any information concerning the present abode, or death, of Gregory Hilliard Hartley; or the whereabouts of his issue, if any. He left England about the year 1881. It is supposed that he went to the United States, or to one of the British Colonies. Apply to Messieurs Tufton and Sons, solicitors, Lincoln's Inn Fields.'

"Do you know when your father left England?"

"He certainly left about that time. I am nineteen now, and I know that I was born a few weeks after he came out to Alexandria."

"Then there ought to be something good in store for you," Colonel Wingate said. "People don't offer a reward of five hundred pounds, unless something important hangs to it. Of course, there may be another of the same name, but it is hardly likely that anyone would bear the two same Christian names, as well as surname. Is it indiscreet to ask you if you know anything about your father's family?"

"Not at all, sir. Now that I have taken his name, I need have no hesitation in relating what I know of him. Previous to his leaving England, he married without his father's consent; and, failing to make a living in England, he accepted a situation in Alexandria; which he gained, I may say, because he was an excellent Arabic scholar, as he had spent two years in exploring tombs and monuments in Egypt. He was the second son of the Honourable James Hartley; who was brother, and I believe heir, of the Marquis of Langdale, and I should think by this time has succeeded to the title. At his death, my father's eldest brother would, of course, succeed him."

"Then, my dear fellow," Colonel Mahon said, giving him a hearty slap on the shoulder, "allow me to congratulate you. I can tell you that the title has been in abeyance, for the past fourteen years. Everyone knows the facts. Your grandfather died before the Marquis. Your uncle succeeded him, lived only three years and, being unmarried, your father became the next Earl; and has been advertised for, in vain, ever since. As, unhappily, your father is dead also, you are unquestionably the Marquis of Langdale."

Gregory looked round with a bewildered air. The news was so absolutely unexpected that he could hardly take it in.

"It seems impossible," he said at last.

"It is not only impossible, but a fact," the Colonel said. "There is nothing very surprising in it. There were only two lives between your father and the peerage; and as one was that of an old man, the second of a man certainly in the prime of life, but unmarried, why, the Jews would have lent money on the chance.

"I fancy your uncle was a somewhat extravagant man. I remember he kept a lot of race horses and so on, but he could not have dipped very seriously into the property. At any rate, there will be fourteen years' accumulations, which will put matters straight.

"I hope you have got papers that will prove you are your father's son, and that he was brother of the late Earl."

"I think there can be no difficulty about that," Gregory said. "I have letters from both my parents, a copy of their marriage certificate, and of the registers of my birth and baptism. There are some persons in Cairo who knew my father, and a good many who knew my mother."

"Then I should say that it would be quite safe sailing.

"I don't know, Lewis, whether you are not entitled to that five hundred pounds."

"I am afraid not," the other laughed. "Mr. Hartley; or rather, I should say, the Earl; would have discovered it, himself. I only recognized the name, which plenty of people would have done, as soon as they saw it in despatches."

"It will be a great disappointment to someone," Gregory said; "if they have been, for fourteen years, expecting to come in for this."

"You need not fret about that," another officer said. "The next heir is a distant cousin. He has been trying, over and over again, to get himself acknowledged; but the courts would not hear of it, and told him that it was no use applying, until they had proof of the death of your father. I know all about it, because there was a howling young ass in the regiment from which I exchanged. He was always giving himself airs, on the strength of the title he expected to get; and if he is still in the regiment, there will be general rejoicings at his downfall."

"Then I have met him," Gregory said. "On the way up, he made himself very unpleasant, and I heard from the other officers that he was extremely unpopular. The Major spoke very sharply to him, for the offensive tone in which he addressed me; and an officer sitting next to me said that he was terribly puffed, by his expectations of obtaining a title shortly, owing to the disappearance of those who stood before him in succession. Some of the officers chaffed him about it, then. I remember now that his name was Hartley; but as I had no idea, at that time, that that was also mine, I never thought anything more about it, until now. As he was the only officer who has been in any way offensive to me, since I left Cairo nearly three years ago, certainly I would rather that he should be the sufferer, if I succeed in proving my right to the title, than anyone else."

"I don't think he will suffer, except in pride," the officer said. "His father, who was a very distant cousin of the Earl's, had gone into trade and made a considerable fortune; so that the young fellow was a great deal better off than the vast majority of men in the army. It was the airs he gave himself, on the strength of being able to indulge in an expenditure such as no one else in the regiment could attempt--by keeping three or four race horses in training, and other follies--that had more to do with his unpopularity, than his constant talk about the peerage he was so confident of getting."

"Of course you will go home to England, at once," Colonel Wingate said. "The war is over now, and it would be rank folly for you to stay here. You have got the address of the lawyers who advertised for you; and have only to go straight to them, with your proofs in your hand, and they will take all the necessary steps.

"I should say that it would facilitate matters if, as you go through Cairo, you were to obtain statements or affidavits from some of the people who knew your mother; stating that you are, as you claim to be, her son; and that she was the wife of the gentleman known as Gregory Hilliard, who went up as an interpreter with Hicks. I don't say that this would be necessary at all, for the letters you have would, in themselves, go far to prove your case. Still, the more proofs you accumulate, the less likely there is of any opposition being offered to your claim. Any papers or letters of your mother might contain something that would strengthen the case.

"It is really a pity, you know, when you have done so well out here, and would be certain to rise to a high post under the administration of the province; (which will be taken in hand, in earnest, now), that you should have to give it all up."

"I scarcely know whether to be pleased or sorry, myself, sir. At present, I can hardly take in the change that this will make, or appreciate its advantages."

"You will appreciate them, soon enough," one of the others laughed. "As long as this war has been going on, one could put up with the heat, and the dust, and the horrible thirst one gets, and the absence of anything decent to drink; but now that it is all over, the idea of settling down here, permanently, would be horrible; except to men--and there are such fellows--who are never happy, unless they are at work; to whom work is everything--meat, and drink, and pleasure. It would have to be everything, out here; for no one could ever think of marrying, and bringing a wife, to such a country as this. Women can hardly live in parts of India, but the worst station in India would be a paradise, in comparison with the Soudan; though possibly, in time, Khartoum will be rebuilt and, being situated between two rivers, might become a possible place--which is more than any other station in the Soudan can be--for ladies."

"I am not old enough to take those matters into consideration," Gregory laughed. "I am not twenty, yet. Still, I do think that anyone permanently stationed, in the Soudan, would have to make up his mind to remain a bachelor."

The next morning, the greater portion of the prisoners were allowed to return to their homes. All the grain and other stores, found in the camp, were divided among the women, who were advised to return to their native villages; but those who had lost their husbands were told that they might accompany the force to the river, and would be taken down to Omdurman, and given assistance for a time, until they could find some means of obtaining a subsistence.

On returning to Khartoum, Colonel Wingate, at Gregory's request, told Lord Kitchener of the discovery that had been made; and said that he wished to return to England, at once. The next day, the Sirdar sent for Gregory.

"Colonel Wingate has been speaking to me about you," he said, "and I congratulate you on your good fortune. In one respect, I am sorry; for you have done so surprisingly well, that I had intended to appoint you to a responsible position in the Soudan Civil Service, which is now being formed. Colonel Wingate says that you naturally wish to resign your present post, but I should advise you not to do so. The operation of the law in England is very uncertain. I trust that, in your case, you will meet with but small difficulty in proving your birth; but there may be some hitch in the matter, some missing link.

"I will, therefore, grant you six months' leave of absence. At the end of that time, you will see how you stand. If things have gone on well with you, you can then send in your resignation. If, on the other hand, you find yourself unable to prove your claim, it will still be open to you to return here, and continue the career in which you have begun so well."

"I am greatly obliged to you, sir, for your kindness; and should I fail in proving my claim, I shall gladly avail myself of your offer, at the end of the six months."

"Now, Zaki," he said, on returning to the hut, of which he had again taken possession, "we must have one more talk. I have told you about the possible change in my position, and that I was shortly leaving for England. You begged me to take you with me, and I told you that if you decided to go, I would do so. I shall be put in orders, tomorrow, for six months' leave. If I succeed in proving my claim to a title, which is what you would call here an emirship, I shall not return. If I fail, I shall be back again, in six months. Now, I want you to think it over seriously, before you decide.

"Everything will be different there from what you are accustomed to. You will have to dress differently, live differently, and be among strangers. It is very cold there, in winter; and it is never what you would call hot, in summer.

"It is not that I should not like to have you with me; we have been together, now, for three years. You saved my life at Atbara, and have always been faithfully devoted to me. It is for your sake, not my own, that I now speak."

"I will go with you, Master, if you will take me. I hope never to leave you, till I die."

"Very well, Zaki, I am more than willing to take you. If I remain in England, you shall always be with me, if you choose to remain. But I shall then be able to give you a sum that will enable you to buy much land, and to hire men to work your sakies, to till your land, and to make you what you would call a rich man here, should you wish to return at the end of the six months. If I return, you will, of course, come back with me."

On the following day, after having said goodbye to all his friends, disposed of his horse and belongings, and drawn the arrears of his pay, Gregory took his place in the train; for the railway had now been carried to Khartoum.

Four days later, he arrived at Cairo. His first step was to order European clothes for Zaki, and a warm and heavily-lined greatcoat; for it was now the first week in December, and although delightful at Cairo, it would be, to the native, bitterly cold in England.

Then he went to the bank, and Mr. Murray, on hearing the story, made an affidavit at the British resident's; affirming that he had, for fifteen years, known Mrs. Gregory Hilliard, and was aware that she was the widow of Mr. Gregory Hilliard, who joined Hicks Pasha; and that Mr. Gregory Hilliard, now claiming to be Mr. Gregory Hilliard Hartley, was her son. Mr. Gregory Hilliard, senior, had kept an account at the bank for eighteen months; and had, on leaving, given instructions for Mrs. Hilliard's cheques to be honoured. Mrs. Hilliard had received a pension from the Egyptian government, up to the date of her death, as his widow; he having fallen in the service of the Khedive.

Gregory looked up his old nurse, whom he found comfortable and happy. She also made an affidavit, to the effect that she had entered the service of Mrs. Hilliard more than eighteen years before, as nurse to Gregory Hilliard, then a child of a year old. She had been in her service until her death, and she could testify that Gregory Hilliard Hartley was the child she had nursed.

After a stay of four days at Cairo, Gregory started for England. Even he, who had heard of London from his mother, was astonished at its noise, extent, and bustle; while Zaki was almost stupefied. He took two rooms at Cannon Street Hotel, for himself and servant, and next morning went to the offices of Messieurs Tufton and Sons, the solicitors. He sent in his name as Mr. Gregory Hilliard Hartley.

Even in the outer office, he heard an exclamation of surprise, as the piece of paper on which he had written his name was read. He was at once shown in. Mr. Tufton looked at him, with a little surprise.

"I am the son of the gentleman for whom, I understand, you have advertised for a long time."

"If you can prove that you are so, sir," Mr. Tufton said, wearily, "you are the Marquis of Langdale--that is to say, if your father is deceased.

"May I ask, to begin with, how it is that the advertisement has, for so many years, remained unanswered?"

"That is easily accounted for, sir. My father, being unable to obtain a situation in England, accepted a very minor appointment in the house of Messieurs Partridge and Company, at Alexandria. This he obtained owing to his knowledge of Arabic. He had been engaged, as you doubtless know, for two years in explorations there. He did not wish it to be known that he had been obliged to accept such a position, so he dropped his surname, and went out as Gregory Hilliard. As the firm's establishment at Alexandria was burned, during the insurrection there, he went to Cairo and obtained an appointment as interpreter to General Hicks. He escaped when the army of that officer was destroyed, at El Obeid; was a prisoner, for many months, at that town; and then escaped to Khartoum. He came down in the steamer with Colonel Stewart. That steamer was wrecked at Hebbeh, and all on board, with one exception, were massacred.

"My mother always retained some hope that he might have escaped, from his knowledge of Arabic. She received a small pension from the Egyptian government, for the loss of my father, and added to this by teaching in the families of several Turkish functionaries. Three years ago she died, and I obtained, through the kindness of Lord Kitchener, an appointment as interpreter in the Egyptian army. I was present at the fights of Abu Hamed, the Atbara, Omdurman, and the late victory by Colonel Wingate. My name, as Gregory Hilliard, was mentioned in despatches; and will be mentioned, again, in that sent by Colonel Wingate, but this time with the addition of Hartley.

"It was only accidentally, on the night after that battle, that I learned that my father was the heir to the Marquis of Langdale, and I thereupon obtained six months' leave, to come here."

"It is a singular story," the lawyer said, "and if supported by proofs, there can be no question that you are the Marquis, for whom we have been advertising, for many years."

"I think that I have ample proof, sir. Here is the certificate of my father's marriage, and the copies of the registers of my birth and baptism. Here is the journal of my father, from the time he was taken prisoner till his death. Here are his letter to my mother, and letters to his father, brother, and sisters, which were to be forwarded by her should she choose to return to England. Here are two affidavits--the one from a gentleman who has known me from childhood, the other from the woman who nursed me, and who remained with our family till I reached the Soudan. Here also is a letter that I found among my mother's papers, written from Khartoum, in which my father speaks of resuming the name of Hartley, if things went well there."

"Then, sir," Mr. Tufton said, "I think I can congratulate you upon obtaining the title; but at the same time, I will ask you to leave these papers with me, for an hour. I will put everything else aside, and go through them. You understand, I am not doubting your word; but of course, it is necessary to ascertain the exact purport of these letters, and documents. If they are as you say, the evidence in favour of your claim would be overwhelming.

"Of course, it is necessary that we should be most cautious. We have, for upwards of a hundred years, been solicitors to the family; and as such have contested all applications, from the junior branch of the family, that the title should be declared vacant by the death of the last Marquis, who would be your uncle. We have been the more anxious to do so, as we understand the next claimant is a young man of extravagant habits, and in no way worthy to succeed to the title."

"I will return in an hour and a half, sir," Gregory said, rising. "I may say that the contents of this pocketbook, although intensely interesting to myself, as a record of my father, do not bear upon the title. They are a simple record of his life, from the time when the army of Hicks Pasha was destroyed, to the date of his own murder at Hebbeh. The last entry was made before he landed. I mention this, as it may save you time in going through the papers."

Gregory went out, and spent the time in watching the wonderful flow of traffic, and gazing into the shops; and when he returned to the office, he was at once shown in. Mr. Tufton rose, and shook him warmly by the hand.

"I consider these documents to be absolutely conclusive, my lord," he said. "The letters to your grandfather, uncle, and aunts are conclusive as to his identity; and that of your mother, strengthened by the two affidavits, is equally conclusive as to your being his son. I will take the necessary measures to lay these papers before the court, which has several times had the matter in hand, and to obtain a declaration that you have indisputably proved yourself to be the son of the late Gregory Hilliard Hartley, and therefore entitled to the title and estates, with all accumulations, of the Marquis of Langdale."

"Thank you very much, sir! I will leave the matter entirely in your hands. Can you tell me the address of my aunts? As you will have seen, by my father's letter, he believed implicitly in their affection for him."

"Their address is, The Manor House, Wimperton, Tavistock, Devon. They retired there at the accession of their brother to the title. It has been used as a dower house in the family for many years; and, pending the search for your father, I obtained permission for them to continue to reside there. I was not obliged to ask for an allowance for them, as they had an income, under their mother's marriage settlement, sufficient for them to live there in comfort.

"I will not give you the letter addressed to them, as I wish to show the original in court; but I will have a copy made for you, at once, and I will attest it.

"Now, may I ask how you are situated, with regard to money? I have sufficient confidence in the justice of your claim to advance any sum, for your immediate wants."

"Thank you, sir! I am in no need of any advance. My mother's savings amounted to five hundred pounds, of which I only drew fifty to buy my outfit, when I went up to the Soudan. My pay sufficed for my wants there, and I drew out the remaining four hundred and fifty pounds when I left Cairo; so I am amply provided."

Gregory remained four days in London, obtaining suitable clothes. Then, attended by Zaki, he took his place in the Great Western for Tavistock. Zaki had already picked up a good deal of English, and Gregory talked to him only in that language, on their way down from the battlefield; so that he could now express himself in simple phrases.

Mr. Tufton had on the previous day written, at Gregory's request, to his aunts; saying that the son of their brother had called upon him, and given him proofs, which he considered incontestable, of his identity and of the death of his father. He was the bearer of a letter from his father to them, and proposed delivering it the next day, in person. He agreed with Gregory that it was advisable to send down this letter, as otherwise the ladies might doubt whether he was really what he claimed to be, as his father's letter might very well have come into the hands of a third person.

He went down by the night mail to Tavistock, put up at an hotel; and, after breakfast, drove over to the Manor House, and sent in a card which he had had printed in town. He was shown into a room where the two ladies were waiting for him. They had been some four or five years younger than his father, a fact of which he was not aware; and instead of being elderly women, as he expected, he found, by their appearance, they were scarcely entering middle age. They were evidently much agitated.

"I have come down without waiting for an invitation," he said. "I was anxious to deliver my father's letter to you, or at least a copy of it, as soon as possible. It was written before his death, some eighteen years ago, and was intended for my mother to give to you, should she return to England. Its interest to you consists chiefly in the proof of my father's affection for you, and that he felt he could rely on yours for him. I may say that this is a copy, signed as correct by Mr. Tufton. He could not give me the original, as it would be required as an evidence of my father's identity, in the application he is about to make for me to be declared heir to the title."

"Then Gregory has been dead eighteen years!" the elder of the ladies said. "We have always hoped that he would be alive, in one of the colonies, and that sooner or later he would see the advertisement that had been put in the papers."

"No, madam. He went out to Alexandria with my mother, shortly before I was born. He died some three or four years before his brother. It was seldom my mother saw an English paper. Unfortunately, as it turned out, my father had dropped his surname when he accepted a situation, which was a subordinate one, at Alexandria; and his reason for taking it was that my mother was in weak health, and the doctor said it was necessary she should go to a warm climate; therefore, had any of her friends seen the advertisement, they would not have known that it applied to her. I, myself, did not know that my proper name was Hartley until a year back, when I discovered my father's journal at Hebbeh, the place where he was murdered; and then opened the documents that my mother had entrusted to me, before her death, with an injunction not to open them until I had ascertained, for certain, that my father was no longer alive."

One of the ladies took the letter, and opened it. They read it together.

"Poor Gregory!" one said, wiping her eyes, "we were both fond of him, and certainly would have done all in our power to assist his widow. He was nearer our age than Geoffrey. It was a terrible grief to us, when he quarrelled with our father. Of course our sympathies were with Gregory, but we never ventured to say so; and our father never mentioned his name, from the day he left the house. Why did not your mother send his letter to us?"

"Because she did not need assistance. She was maintaining herself and me in comfort by teaching music, French, and English to the wives and children of several of the high Egyptian officials."

"How long is it since you lost her?"

"More than three years ago. At her death, I was fortunate enough to obtain an appointment similar to that my father had, and at the same time a commission in the Egyptian service; and have been fortunate in being, two or three times, mentioned in despatches."

"Yes; curiously enough, after receiving Mr. Tufton's letter, we saw Colonel Wingate's despatch in the paper, in which your name is mentioned. We should have been astonished, indeed, had we not opened the letter before we looked at the paper.

"Well, Gregory, we are very glad to see you, and to find that you have done honour to the name. The despatch said that you have been previously mentioned, under the name of Gregory Hilliard. We always file our papers, and we spent an hour after breakfast in going through them. I suppose you threw up your appointment, as soon as you discovered that Geoffrey died, years ago, and that you had come into the title?"

"I should have thrown it up, but Lord Kitchener was good enough to give me six months' leave; so that, if I should fail to prove my right to the title, I could return there and take up my work again. He was so kind as to say that I should be given a responsible position, in the civil administration of the Soudan."

"Well, we both feel very proud of you; and it does sound wonderful that, being under twenty, you should have got on so well, without friends or influence. I hope you intend to stay with us, until you have to go up to London about these affairs."

"I shall be very happy to stay a few days, Aunt; but it is better that I should be on the spot, as there may be questions that have to be answered, and signatures, and all sorts of things.

"I have brought my Arab servant down with me. He has been with me for three years, and is most faithful and devoted; and moreover, he once saved my life, at tremendous risk to himself."

"Oh, of course we can put him up! Can he speak English?"

"He speaks a little English, and is improving fast."

"Does he dress as a native?"

"No, Aunt. He would soon freeze to death, in his native garb. As soon as I got down to Cairo with him, I put him into good European clothes. He is a fine specimen of a Soudan Arab, but when he came to me he was somewhat weakly; however, he soon got over that."

"Where is he, now?"

"He is with the trap, outside. I told him that he had better not come in until I had seen you, for I thought that your domestics would not know what to do with him, till they had your orders."

"You brought your portmanteau with you, I hope?"

"I have brought it, but not knowing whether it would be wanted; for I did not know whether you would take sufficiently to me, to ask me to stay."

"The idea of such a thing! You must have had a bad opinion of us."

"No, Aunt. I had the best of opinions. I am sure that my father would not have written as he did to you, unless he had been very fond of you. Still, as at present I am not proved to be your nephew, I thought that you might not be disposed to ask me to stay.

"Now, with your permission, I will go and tell Zaki--that is the man's name--to bring in my portmanteau. I can then send the trap back."

"Do you know, Gregory," one of his aunts said that evening; "even putting aside the fact that you are our nephew, we are delighted that the title and estates are not to go to the next heir. He came down here about a year ago. His regiment had just returned from the Soudan. He drove straight to the hall, and requested to be shown over it, saying that in a short time he was going to take possession. The housekeeper came across here, quite in distress, and said that he talked as if he were already master; said he should make alterations in one place, enlarge the drawing room, build a conservatory against it, do away with some of the pictures on the walls; and, in fact, he made himself very objectionable. He came on here, and behaved in a most offensive and ungentlemanly way. He actually enquired of us whether we were tenants by right, or merely on sufferance. I told him that, if he wanted to know, he had better enquire of Mr. Tufton; and Flossie, who is more outspoken than I am, said at once that whether we were tenants for life, or not, we should certainly not continue to reside here, if so objectionable a person were master at the hall. He was very angry, but I cut him short by saying:

"'This is our house at present, sir; and, unless you leave it at once, I shall call the gardener in and order him to eject you.'"

"I am not surprised at what you say, Aunt, for I met the fellow myself, on the way up to Omdurman; and found him an offensive cad. It has been a great satisfaction to me to know that he was so; for if he had been a nice fellow, I could not have helped being sorry to deprive him of the title and estates which he has, for years, considered to be his."

After remaining four days at the Manor House, Gregory went back to town. A notice had already been served, upon the former claimant to the title, that an application would be made to the court to hear the claim of Gregory Hilliard Hartley, nephew of the late Marquis, to be acknowledged as his successor to the title and estates; and that if he wished to appear by counsel, he could do so.

The matter was not heard of, for another three months. Lieutenant Hartley was in court, and was represented by a queen's counsel of eminence; who, however, when Gregory's narrative had been told, and the various documents put in, at once stated that after the evidence he had heard, he felt that it would be vain to contest the case at this point; but that he reserved the right of appealing, should anything come to light which would alter the complexion of the affair.

The judgment was that Gregory Hilliard Hartley had proved himself to be the son of the late Gregory Hilliard Hartley, brother of and heir to the late Marquis of Langdale, and was therefore seized of the title and estates.

As soon as the case was decided, Gregory went down again to Devonshire, and asked his aunts to take charge for him. This they at first said was impossible; but he urged that, if they refused to do so, he should be driven to go back to the Soudan again.

"My dear Aunts," he said, "what in the world am I to do? I know no one. I know nothing of English customs, or society. I should, indeed, be the most forlorn person in existence, with a large country estate and a mansion in London. I want someone to introduce me into society, and set me on my legs; manage me and my house, and preside at my table. I am not yet twenty, and have not as much knowledge of English ways as a boy of ten. I should be taken in and duped in every way, and be at the mercy of every adventurer. I feel that it would be a sacrifice for you to leave your pretty home here, but I am sure, for the sake of my father, you will not refuse to do so."

His aunts admitted that there was great justice in what he said, and finally submitted to his request to preside over his house; until, as they said, the time came when he would introduce a younger mistress.

Zaki, when his six months' trial was over, scorned the idea of returning to the Soudan; declaring that, if Gregory would not keep him, he would rather beg in the streets than go back there.

"It is all wonderful here," he said; "we poor Arabs could not dream of such things. No, Master, as long as you live, I shall stay here."

"Very well, Zaki, so be it; and I can promise you that if I die before you, you will be so provided for that you will be able to live in as much comfort as you now enjoy, and in addition you will be your own master."

Zaki shook his head.

"I should be a fool to wish to be my own master," he said, "after having such a good one, at present."

Gregory is learning the duties of a large land owner, and is already very popular in his part of Devonshire. The mansion in London has not yet been reopened, as Gregory says he must learn his lessons perfectly, before he ventures to take his place in society.

Table of Contents

With Buller in Natal

PREFACE

CHAPTER I

CHAPTER II

CHAPTER III

CHAPTER IV

CHAPTER V

CHAPTER VI

CHAPTER VII

CHAPTER VIII

CHAPTER IX

CHAPTER X

CHAPTER XI

CHAPTER XII

CHAPTER XIII

CHAPTER XIV

CHAPTER XV

CHAPTER XVI

CHAPTER XVII

CHAPTER XVIII

CHAPTER XIX

CHAPTER XX

With Buller in Natal

PREFACE

It will be a long time before the story of the late war can be written fully and impartially. Even among the narratives of those who witnessed the engagements there are many differences and discrepancies, as is necessarily the case when the men who write are in different parts of the field. Until, then, the very meagre military despatches are supplemented by much fuller details, anything like an accurate history of the war would be impossible. I have, however, endeavoured to reconcile the various narratives of the fighting in Natal, and to make the account of the military occurrences as clear as possible. Fortunately this is not a history, but a story, to which the war forms the background, and, as is necessary in such a case, it is the heroes of my tale, the little band of lads from Johannesburg, rather than the leaders of the British troops, who are the most conspicuous characters in the narrative. As these, although possessed of many admirable qualities, had not the faculty of being at two places at once, I was obliged to confine the action of the story to Natal. With the doings of the main army I hope to deal next year.

G. A. HENTY

CHAPTER I

THE BURSTING OF THE STORM

A group of excited men were gathered in front of the Stock Exchange at Johannesburg. It was evident that something altogether unusual had happened. All wore anxious and angry expressions, but a few shook hands with each other, as if the news that so much agitated them, although painful, was yet welcome; and indeed this was so.

For months a war-cloud had hung over the town, but it had been thought that it might pass over without bursting. None imagined that the blow would come so suddenly, and when it fell it had all the force of a complete surprise, although it had been so threatening for many weeks that a considerable portion of the population had already fled. It was true that great numbers of men, well armed, and with large numbers of cannon, had been moving south, but negotiations were still going on and might continue for some time yet; and now by the folly and arrogance of one man the cloud had burst, and in thirty hours war would begin.

Similar though smaller groups were gathered here and there in the streets. Parties of Boers from the country round rode up and down with an air of insolent triumph, some of them shouting "We shall soon be rid of you; in another month there will not be a rooinek left in South Africa."

Those addressed paid no heed to the words. They had heard the same thing over and over again for the past two months. There was a tightening of the lips and a closing of the fingers as if on a sword or rifle, but no one replied to the insolent taunts. For years it had been the hope of the Uitlanders that this would come, and that there would be an end to a position that was well-nigh intolerable. Never before had a large body of intelligent men been kept in a state of abject subjection by an inferior race, a race almost without even the elements of civilization, ignorant and brutal beyond any existing white community, and superior only in the fact that they were organized and armed, whereas those they trampled upon were deficient in both these respects. Having no votes, these were powerless to better their condition by the means common to civilized communities throughout the world. They were ground down by an enormous taxation, towards which the Boers themselves contributed practically nothing, and the revenue drawn from them was spent in the purchase of munitions of war, artillery, and fortifications, so enormously beyond the needs of the country, that it was no secret that they were intended not only for the defence of the republic against invasion, but for a general rising of the Boer population and the establishment of Dutch supremacy throughout the whole of South Africa.

The Boer government was corrupt from the highest to the lowest. The president and the members of his family piled up wealth to an enormous amount, and nothing could be done without wholesale bribery. The price of everything connected with the mining industry was doubled by the supply being in the hands of monopolists, who shared their gains with high state officials. Money was lavished like water on what was called secret service, in subsidizing newspapers to influence public opinion throughout Europe, and, as it was strongly suspected, in carrying on a propaganda among the Dutch in Cape Colony, and in securing the return of members and a ministry secretly pledged to further in every way the aims of the Presidents of the Transvaal and the Orange Free State. The British and other aliens were not only deprived of all rights of citizenship, but even freedom of speech and the right of public meeting was denied them; they were not allowed to carry arms except by a special license, their children were taught in Dutch in the schools, they had no right of trial by jury; judges who had the courage to refuse to carry out the illegal behests of the president were deprived of their offices, and the few editors of newspapers representing the Uitlanders—as all men not born in the state were called-were imprisoned and their journals suppressed.

Intolerable as was such a state of things to a civilized community, it might have been borne with some patience had it not been that the insolence of their masters was unbounded. Every Boer seemed to take a pleasure in neglecting no opportunity of showing his contempt for the men whose enterprise and labour had enormously enriched the country, and whose superior intelligence he was too grossly ignorant to appreciate. A Boar farmer would refuse a cup of water to a passing traveller, and would enforce his refusal by producing his rifle immediately if the stranger ventured to urge his request. Of late the insolence of the Boers had greatly increased; the manner in which England had, instead of demanding justice with the sternness and determination that the circumstances called for, permitted her remonstrances to be simply ignored, was put down as a consciousness of weakness. And having now collected arms sufficient not only for themselves but for the whole Dutch population of South Africa, the Boers were convinced that their hour of triumph had come, and that in a very short time their flag would float over every public building throughout the country and the Union Jack disappear for ever.

The long discussions that had been going on with regard to a five or seven years' franchise were regarded with absolute indifference by the Uitlanders—even the shorter time would have afforded them no advantage whatever. The members from the mining districts would be in a hopeless minority in the assembly; and indeed, very few of those entitled to a vote would have cared to claim it, inasmuch as they would thereby render themselves citizens of the republic, and be liable to be commandeered and called upon to serve in arms, not only against the natives, upon whom the Boers were always making aggressions, but against England, when the war, which all foresaw could not long be delayed, broke out.

For months the negotiations went on between President Kruger and Mr. Chamberlain, the British colonial minister, and the certainty that the Boers were bent upon fighting became more and more evident. Vast quantities of rifles, ammunition, and cannon poured into the Transvaal, their passage being more than winked at by the Dutch ministry of Cape Colony.

It was that day known that President Kruger had thrown off the mask of a pretended desire for peace, and that an ultimatum had been telegraphed to England couched in terms of such studied insolence that it was certain war must ensue. The greatest civilized power on earth would have shown less arrogance towards the most feeble. Not only was England called upon to send no more troops to South Africa, but to withdraw most of her forces already in the country, and this by a state that owed its very existence to her, and whose total population was not more than that of a small English county.

The terms of that ultimatum had just become known in Johannesburg, and it was not surprising that it had created an intense excitement. All had long felt that war must come, and that at an early date, but the step that had now been taken came as a surprise. From all appearances it had seemed that the negotiations might be continued for months yet before the crisis arrived, and that it should thus have been forced on by the wording of the ultimatum showed that the Boers were satisfied that their preparations were complete, and that they were in a position to overrun Natal and Cape Colony before any British force capable of withstanding them could arrive. England, indeed, had been placed in a most difficult position. The ministry were not unaware of the enormous preparations that the Boers were making, and had for some time past been quietly sending out a large number of officers and a few non-commissioned officers and men to the Cape. But so long as there was a hope that the Boers would finally grant some redress to the Uitlanders, they could not despatch any considerable number of troops, for had they done so they would have been accused not only on the Continent, but by a section of Englishmen, of forcing on a war with a weak state, whereas in point of fact the war was being forced on by a country that most erroneously believed itself to be stronger than England. The Boers of the Transvaal knew already that the Orange Free State would join them at once, and believed firmly that every Dutchman in Natal and Cape Colony would at the signal take up arms.

Presently a gentleman detached himself from the crowd in front of the Exchange, and joined a lad of some sixteen years old who was standing on the other side of the street.

"Well, father, is it all true what they say?" the latter asked—"that

Kruger has sent such an ultimatum to England that war is certain?"

"It is quite true, Chris; war is absolutely certain. Kruger has given the British Government only two days to reply to the most insolent demand ever addressed to a great power, and worded in the most offensive manner. I imagine that no reply will be given; and as the ultimatum was sent off yesterday, we shall to-morrow morning be in a state of war."

"Well, father, there is no doubt what the result will be."

"No doubt whatever as to the final result, but I am afraid things will go very badly for a time. I am glad, very glad, that Kruger should have sent such an ultimatum. It cannot but be accepted as a defiance by all England; and I should say that even the opposition, which has of late continually attacked Mr. Chamberlain, will now be silenced, and that Government will be supported by all parties."

After a quarter of an hour's walk they arrived at home. It was a handsome house, for Mr. King was one of the leading men in Johannesburg. He had come out with a wife and son ten years before, being sent by some London capitalists to report to them fully upon the prospects of the gold-fields. Under his advice they had purchased several properties, which had been brought out as companies, and proved extremely valuable. He was himself a large holder in each of these, and acted as manager and director of the group. "What is the news, Robert?" his wife asked, as he and her son came in. "I have had three or four visitors in here, and they all say that there is quite an excitement in the town."

"It has come at last," he said gravely; "war is inevitable, and will begin in twenty-four hours. Kruger has sent one of the most extraordinary demands ever drawn up. He calls upon England to cease sending out troops, and to speedily recall most of those now in South Africa, and has given two days for a reply, of which one has already expired. As it is absolutely certain that England will not grant this modest request, we may say that the war has begun. I wish now that I had sent you and Chris down to Durban a fortnight ago, for there will be a fearful rush, and judging by the attitude of the Boers, I fear they will make the journey a very unpleasant one. As we have agreed, it is absolutely necessary that I should remain here. There is no saying what steps the Boers will take with reference to the mines; but it is certain that we must, if possible, keep them going—not for the sake of the profit, which you may be sure Kruger will not allow to go out of the country, but because if they were to be stopped it would cost an immense deal of money to put them in working condition again, especially if, as is likely enough, the Boers damage the machinery. I shall do as little work as I can; and the Boers will not, I fancy, interfere with us as long as they can benefit by the working. For myself, I would risk any loss or damage rather than aid in supplying them with gold, but for the sake of our shareholders in Europe I must do my best to save the mines from destruction. Indeed, if I don't work them, probably they will do so until the end is at hand, and will then do as much damage as possible. You know we have agreed on this point." "Yes, I suppose it is best, Robert; but it seems terrible leaving you alone here, and I shall be in a perpetual state of anxiety about you."

"I don't think there is any occasion for that; as long as I am working the mines and they are taking the gold, which no doubt they will have to repay when our army are masters here, they will not interfere with me. They treat us badly enough, as we know; but they love the gold even more than they hate us, so I have no fear whatever as to my personal safety. I am afraid, dear, that for a time things will go very badly with us. Already we know that commandos have gone forward in great strength to the frontier, and I should not be surprised if the whole of South Africa rises; at any rate, the Boers are confident that it will be so. Gladstone's miserable surrender after our disasters at Laing's Nek and Majuba have puffed them up with such an idea of their own fighting powers and our weakness, that I believe they think they are going to have almost a walk over. Still, though it was certain that we should have a hard time whenever war came, we have been hoping for years that England would at last interfere to obtain redress for us, and we must not grumble now that what we have been so long expecting has at last come to pass. I believe there will be some stern fighting. The Boers are no cowards; courage is, indeed, as far as I know, the only virtue they possess. In the long run they must certainly be beaten, but it will only be after very hard fighting."

"What do you think they will do, father?"

"I can't say what they will do, but I am sure that what they ought to do is to merely hold the passes from Natal with enough men for the purpose, and to march their whole force, broken up into half a dozen columns, into Cape Colony. There is no force there that could resist them, they would be undoubtedly joined by every Dutchman there, and I am convinced that the Africander ministry would at once declare for them, in which case England would have to undertake the tremendous work of conquering the whole of South Africa afresh, for certainly she could not allow it to slip from her hands, even if it should prove as stern a business as the conquering of half India after the Sepoy Mutiny. Now to business. Fortunately we sent down your clothes and everything we had of value to our friends the Wilsons, at Durban, six weeks ago. What you have remaining you must leave behind to take its chance. You will be able to take no luggage whatever with you. We know how terribly the trains have been packed for the past fortnight, and a week ago almost all the carriages were commandeered for the use of the troops going south.

"You must take with you a basket of provisions, sufficient, if necessary, for two or three days for you both. There is no saying how long you may be on your way to the frontier; once beyond that you will, of course, be able to obtain anything you want. But you need expect no civility or courtesy from the Boers, who, indeed, would feel a malicious pleasure in shunting you off into a siding, and letting you wait there for any number of hours. You must mind, Chris, above all things, to keep your temper, whatever may happen. You know how our people have been insulted, and actually maltreated in scores of cases, and in their present state of excitement the Boers would be only too glad to find an excuse for acts of violence. I was speaking to you about it three days ago, and I cannot impress it too strongly upon you. I have already given you permission to join one or other of the corps that are being raised in Natal, and if anything unpleasant occurs on the road, you must bottle up your feelings and wait till you get a rifle in your hand and stand on equal terms with them."

"I promise that, father. I think, after what we have had to put up with here, during the past two or three months especially, I can bear anything for these last few days."

"Yes, Chris; but it will be more trying now that you have your mother under your charge. It is for her sake as well as your own that I impress this so strongly upon you. Now, will you go down at once to the railway- station and enquire about the trains? I shall go myself to the manager and see whether I can get him to make any special arrangement in your mother's favour, though I have no great hopes of that; for though I know him well, he is, like all these Dutchmen in office, an uncivilized brute puffed up with his own importance."

Chris started at once, and returned an hour later with a very discouraging report. The station was crowded with people. No regular trains were running, but while he was there a large number of cattle- trucks had been run up to the platform, and in these as many of the fugitives as could be packed in were stowed away. As soon as this was done the train had started, but not half the number collected on the platform had found room in it. His father had left a few minutes after him, and presently returned.

"From what I can hear," he said, "there is no chance whatever of your being able to get any accommodation, but must take your chance with the others. Viljoen told me that except the waggons there was not a carriage of any sort or class left here, and that there was no saying at all when any would return; but that even if they did, they would be taken for the use of the troops going south. All he could say was that if, when I came down to the station with you, he is there, he will see that you go by the first waggons that leave."

"That is something at least," Mrs. King said quietly. "I certainly do not wish to ask for any favour from these people, and do not want to be better off than others. I have no doubt that it will be an unpleasant time, but after all it will be nothing to what great numbers of people will have to suffer during the war."

"That is so, Amy. And now I think that the sooner the start is made the better. The rush to get away will increase every hour, and we shall have the miners coming in in hundreds. Many of the mines will be shut down at once, though some of them will, like ours, continue operations as long as they are allowed to."

"Make your basket, or bag, or whatever you take your provisions in, as small as possible, mother. I saw lots of baggage left behind on the platform. You see, there are no seats to stow things under. I should say that a flat box which you can sit on would be the best thing. And you will want your warmest cloak and a thick rug for night."

"I have a box that will do very well, Chris. Fortunately we have plenty of cold meat and bread in the house. I shall not be more than half an hour, Robert."

In less than that time the party were ready. Chris's preparations had been of the simplest. He carried over his arm a long, thick greatcoat, in the pocket of which he had thrust a fur cap and two woollen comforters. He had also a light but warm rug, for he thought it probable that he might not be able to be next to his mother. He had on his usual light tweed suit, but had in addition put on a cardigan waistcoat, which he intended to take off when once in the train. In his pockets he had a couple of packets of tobacco, for although he seldom smoked, he thought that some of it might be very acceptable to his fellow-passengers before the journey was over. He wore a light gray, broad-brimmed wide-awake, with a white silk puggaree twisted round it, for the heat of the sun in the middle of the day was already very great, and would be greater still when they got down to Natal. The box, which a Kaffir servant put on his shoulder, was about eight inches deep and a foot wide, and eighteen inches long.

"What have you in it, mother?"

"Two tin bottles of cold tea, each holding a gallon."

"I should hardly have thought that we wanted as much as that."

"No; but there may be many women who have made no provision at all, thinking that we shall at least be able to get water at any of the stations we stop at. I have a small tin mug, and that joint of meat; the rest of the box is filled up with bread-and-butter. I have cut it up and spread it, so that it packs a good deal closer than it would do if we put the loaves in whole."

Mr. King had his wife's thick-wadded winter cloak and a rug over his arm, and a small hand-bag with a few necessaries for the journey. Mrs. King was in her usual attire, and carried only a white umbrella.

"We look as if we were starting for a picnic rather than a journey that will last three or four days," she said with an attempt at gaiety. "There is one comfort, we shall have nothing to look after when we get to the end."

Chris walked on ahead to let his father and mother talk together, for although all arrangements had been discussed and settled during the past two or three days, there was much they had to say to each other now that the parting had come. The lad was a fine specimen of the young Uitlander. A life passed largely in the open air, hard work and exercise, had broadened his shoulders and made him look at least a year older than he really was. He was a splendid rider and an excellent shot with his rifle, for his father had obtained a permit from the authorities for him to carry one, and he could bring down an antelope when running at full speed as neatly as any of the young Boers. Four days a week he had spent in the mines, for his father intended him to follow in his footsteps, and he had worked by turns with the miners below and the engineers on the surface, so that he might in the course of a few years be thoroughly acquainted with all the details of his profession.

The last two days in each week he had to himself, and with three or four lads of his own age went for long rides in search of sport. A couple of hours every evening were spent in study under his father's direction. He was quiet in manner, and talked but little. He deeply resented the position in which the British population in the Transvaal were placed, the insolence of the Boers towards them, and their brutal cruelty towards the natives. The restraint which he so often found it necessary to exercise had had no slight influence on his character, and had given a certain grim expression to the naturally bright face. Many had been the discussions between him and his friends as to the prospect of England's taking up their cause. Their disappointment had been intense at the miserable failure of the Jameson raid, which, however, they felt, and rightly, must some day have a good result, inasmuch as it had brought out the wretched position of the Uitlanders, who, though forming the majority of the population, and the source of all the wealth of the country, and paying all the taxes, were yet treated as an outcast race, and deprived of every right possessed by people of all civilized nations.

They had wondered and fretted at the apathy with which the enormous warlike preparations of the Boers were regarded at home, and the fact that they were permitted to become a formidable power, capable of offering a desperate resistance even by the armies of England; whereas, before they had been enriched by the industry and enterprise of the immigrants, they had been in danger of being altogether wiped out by the Zulus and Swazis, and had only been saved by the interference on their behalf of the British power. Thus, then, while the war-cloud had been slowly but surely gathering, the lads had watched the approaching crisis with delight, unmingled with the anxiety and foreboding of the capitalists, who, without doubting what the end must be, were sure that enormous losses and sacrifices must result before their deliverance from Boer oppression could be obtained.

The scene at the station was an extraordinary one. Men, women, and children of all ranks were crowded on the platform; the greater capitalists, the men whose fortunes could be counted by hundreds of thousands, had for the most part left, but many who in England would be considered as rich men had remained in the town till the last moment, to make their final arrangements and wind up their affairs. With these were well-to-do storekeepers, with their wives and families, together with mining officials, miners, and mechanics of all kinds. Piles of baggage rendered movement difficult, for many had supposed that the regular trains were still running, and that they would be able to carry away with them the greater portion of their belongings. The scenes at the departure of the previous trains roughly awakened them to the fact that all this must be abandoned, and women were crying and men cursing below their breath at this last evidence of Boer indifference to the sufferings of those by whose work they had so greatly benefited. Mr. King soon found that the manager was still there, but on speaking to him he shrugged his shoulders, and said:

"I do not see what I can do. Look at the crowd there. When the waggons come up there will be a rush, and I have no men here to keep such a number in order."

"I see that, Mr. Viljoen, but if you would send a man with us to where the waggons are standing in readiness to come up, my wife could take her place then."

"Yes, I will do that at once. You had better go with her outside the station, and the porter shall take you on from there. If you were to get off the platform here and walk up the lines, others would notice it, and there would be an immediate rush."

He called to one of the porters on the platform, and gave him instructions, and in a few minutes Mrs. King was seated on her box in the corner of a truck, which, with a few others, had a covered roof, although it was entirely open at the sides. In the next half-hour eight or ten others, who had been similarly favoured by the manager, joined them. All these were known to the Kings, and it was a great relief to them to find that they would travel together, instead of being mixed up with the general crowd. They had packed themselves together as closely as possible, so that when the train became crowded there should be no room for anyone to push in among them. Among the party was John Cairns, a great chum of Chris's. He and his father and mother had been waiting for two hours at the station, and he told him that there were seven or eight of their companions there.

"We will take our seats on that side," Chris said, "and as we move in shout to them to join us. It will be a great thing to get as many people we know in here as possible."

Presently the train began to move. Fortunately, at the spot where it drew up, a group of their acquaintances were clustered together, and these all managed to get into the truck, which was speedily filled up until there was scarce standing-room. Three minutes later the train moved on. A great number were left behind, although everyone made as much room as possible, women especially being helped in after the trucks seemed absolutely choke-full. As soon as the train was fairly in motion many of the men climbed up on to the roofs of the covered waggons, thereby relieving the pressure below, and enabling all the women to sit down. Others ranged themselves along the sides, sitting on the rail, and so minimizing the space they occupied. But even with all this, the women were packed inconveniently together. All, however, were so much pleased at their good fortune in having got away that there was no complaining or grumbling. That the journey would be a long one, all knew; but at least they had started, and would soon be a free people in a free country. Chris and his friends had been among the first to climb up on to the roof, and they sat down in a group at one end of it.

"It is going to be pretty cold here to-night, and desperately hot to- morrow," Chris said; "but we can put up with that. I would stand it for a month rather than stop any longer among these brutes." There was a general murmur of agreement.

"Thank heavens," one of them said, "the next time we meet them will be with arms in our hands. We have a long score to pay off, and we shall, I expect, have plenty of chances. The Boers are boasting that they will soon drive the last Englishman out of South Africa, and seem to regard it as a sort of general picnic. They will find out their mistake before they have done."

"Still, we must not think that it is going to be a picnic our way," Chris said. "They have quite made up their minds that every Boer in Cape Colony and Natal will join them at once. If they do, it will be a very long business to put them down, though I have no doubt it will all come right in the end. Do you know anything about the others?"

"I know that Peters and Carmichael and Brown went off with their people last night, but I don't know about the others."

"Capper and Willesden and Horrocks went yesterday," another lad said. "Sankey and Holdsworth were on the platform, and no doubt got into another truck.

"There are seven of us here," Chris said, "and as six have gone on, that makes thirteen certain, and there are eight more to come. Most of us will stop at Pietermaritzburg, but I suppose some, whose friends are going straight home, will go down with them to Durban."

"There will not be many who have to do so," another said. "Sankey's people and Carmichael's are going to Cape Town, but, so far as I know, all the others will stay and see it out either at Maritzburg or Durban. Do you think that we should take any others with us, Chris?"

"I don't think so. You see we all know each other, and it would be a nuisance having fellows with us of whom we know nothing. They might not pull with us, while we have been so much together that there is no fear of our having any disagreement. I think we have all pretty well settled that it will be much better to act by ourselves, instead of joining any of the corps that are sure to be formed down there. Still, if we knew one of the men getting up a corps—and some of our people are pretty sure to do so—I do think it would be a good plan to join, if they would accept us as a sort of independent troop, ready to act with them when there is any big fighting, and to go about on our own account at other times. You see, none of us will want any pay. We shall all furnish our own horses and arms, and shall therefore be on a different footing from men who have to draw pay and be equipped at the public expense; and I don't see why any officer commanding a troop in one of these corps should object to our joining him on those terms. But anyhow, I feel sure that we should be able to do a great deal more good by being free to move where we liked, and to undertake expeditions on our own account, than if we were to act in a more regular manner."

There was a general chorus of agreement.

"Now, how long do you think it will be before we cross Laing's Nek? Of course we ought to be there by to-morrow morning. It is only a hundred and fifty miles, and at fifteen miles an hour, which is about their usual rate of travelling, we should cross the frontier at two o'clock, for it was about four when we started. But there is no saying. My father thought we ought to take four days' provisions with us; I think we could hold out for that time."

"You don't mean to say, Chris, he thought it possible we might be as long as that?" "He did think so, Peters. He considered that we might be shunted off very often to let trains with men and stores for the troops go on ahead of us."

"Well," the other replied, "I don't care so much for myself, though I don't say that it would be lively to be stuck up here for four days and nights, but it would be awful for the women; and I should say that very few of them have got more than enough provisions for a day. Still, of course, if we are shunted at a station we shall be able to buy things."

"I am not so sure of that," Chris said. "You know what the Boers are at their best; and now that they believe the time has arrived when they are going to be the absolute lords of all South Africa, they are so puffed up that there is no saying what they may do to show their hatred and contempt for us. And whatever happens, you fellows, you must keep your temper. My father spoke to me very strongly about it. You must remember that they will not mind what they do, and would shoot any of us down on the smallest excuse, knowing well enough that we are helpless, and that it is unlikely any enquiry would ever be made, or anyone punished even if they shot a dozen of us. We must remember that we intend to pay off old scores later on, and that we mean to do it with interest."

CHAPTER II

A TERRIBLE JOURNEY

Twenty-four hours had gone, and not half the distance had yet been covered. The night had passed painfully to all those in the waggons, for though most of the women had provided themselves with wraps of one sort or another, the cold was severe. This, however, was less felt than the cramped position in which all had to sit on the floor, unable to move or to stretch their legs, the only change obtainable being by standing up. The pressure was most felt in the open waggons, where the men as well as the women were packed together so closely that even sitting down was impossible. Some slight relief had been afforded by the men on the covered waggons taking as many from the uncovered trucks as could lie down there with them; but as the latter were by far the more numerous, a comparatively small number of men could be so entertained.

For a time the rising of the sun afforded some relief, but as it gained in power the position of the fugitives became almost unbearable. The stoppages were frequent, and at all the stations the Boers from the neighbourhood had assembled, some from curiosity, but the majority to wait for the trains that were to take them to the front. Although sometimes detained for three or four hours, the passengers were not allowed to alight. The men, indeed, at times, by common impulse, sprang out, but were soon forced to take their places again, some of the Boers using their heavy whips over their heads and shoulders, while others with pointed guns prevented any attempt at retaliation. Men, and even women, crowded the platform, jeering and cursing those in the waggons, menacing them with their whips and snatching at such trinkets, and even cloaks as took their fancy. The men were all several times searched for weapons, and made to turn their pockets inside out, the contents being unceremoniously transferred to those of the Boers. Chris and his companions would have taken their places below with their friends, but these implored them not to do so, being afraid that they would be enraged beyond endurance, and might in their anger say or do something that would give an excuse to the Boers to use their rifles, which they so often pointed threateningly at women as well as men. It was only when the train was in motion that food and drink were passed up from below, as these too would assuredly, had they been seen, have been confiscated by the brutal tormentors.

When they steamed into Standerton in the afternoon, the distress of the women and children for water was so great that men determined at all costs to endeavour to get some for them. As if by one impulse, when the train came to a standstill outside the station, they jumped out and made for the little village. But here all refused to give or sell them water or food, and in a few minutes a large party of Boers rode in, and falling upon them with their whips, drove them back to the train. Had they been armed the men would assuredly have resisted till the last, although certain to be killed, so mad were they with passion. As it was, it would have been throwing away their lives, without a chance of even avenging themselves on their assailants. As they reached the waggons and climbed into their places again, several had broad blue weals across their faces, while many more were smarting from the cuts they had received on the body. Chris and his companions had got out when the others did so, but had not followed them. Their supply of water and cold tea was not yet exhausted, as most of the ladies had made preparations for a journey of two or three days, and Mrs. King and the mothers of the other lads begged them not to go.

"The Boers are only waiting for an excuse to use their firearms," Mrs. King said, "and whatever happens you had better stay here. You can do no good by going." So, reluctantly, they had again taken their places on the roofs of the carriages, and sat there with their pulses beating and their fists clenched as they heard the shouts and the cracking of the heavy whips in the village, and presently saw the men running back, pursued by their cowardly assailants. Two or three of the lads were so enraged at the sight that they would have jumped down had not Chris laid a restraining hand on them.

"Wait your time," he said in a hard voice. "We can't repay them now, but we will remember this when our turn comes."

The Boers, as they rode up, leapt from their horses, and with shouts of exultation walked along the waggons, striking at the men, hurling every epithet of contempt and hatred at them, and even spitting at them. Many of the women were also struck as well as being grossly insulted.

"And these scoundrels call themselves Christian men, and their friends speak of them as simple pious farmers! I call them, both from their appearance and their actions, as unmitigated a set of ruffians as are to be found on the face of the globe," Cairns exclaimed passionately.

They were indeed as unsavoury in appearance as they were brutal in manner. Water is scarce in the Transvaal, and is used most sparingly for all purposes of cleanliness. The Boer sleeps in his clothes, gives himself a shake when he gets up, and his toilet is completed, unless on very exceptional occasions when he goes outside the door to the water- cask, fills his hands with water, and rubs them over his face.

Four times in the year, however, the Boers indulge in a general wash before starting with their wives and families for four or five days' stay at the nearest town to attend the services of the church and to do their quarter's marketing. In dress the Boer is almost universally slovenly, his clothes hang about him stained and discoloured by long usage. In the majority of cases he is altogether without education, and very many Boers are scarcely able to sign their names. Most of them wear beards and long unkempt hair. But in point of physique they are fine men, tall and powerfully, though loosely, built, but capable of standing great fatigue if necessary, although averse to all exercise save on horseback. All are taught to shoot from boyhood, and even the women in the country districts are trained in the use of firearms, for it is not so long since they lived in dread of incursions by the Zulus and Swazis.

There was no attempt whatever at uniformity of dress. Most of the men wore high riding boots. Some of the young men from the towns were in tweed suits, the vast majority wore either shooting jackets or long loose coats; some were in straw hats, but the elder men all wore large felt hats with wide brims. They were all, however, similarly armed with rifles of the best and most modern construction. Their general appearance was that of a large band of farmers of the roughest type and wholly without regard for their personal appearance.

It was fully an hour before the train moved again. Then it was shunted on to a siding while the Boers entrained with their horses on a long line of waggons which had just come up, and which started on its way south as soon as they were on board. Then the emigrant tram crawled on again. There was another night of wretchedness, and in the morning they arrived at Volksrust, the frontier town. Here they were again closely searched for arms, and what provisions remained among them were commandeered, or as the emigrants called it, stolen. However, they knew that their troubles were now nearly over, and did not grumble when they were informed that the train would go no farther, and that they must make their way on foot to Newcastle.

They were told tauntingly that they might find some of their friends there if they had not already run away, and that if they stopped at Pietermaritzburg for a week they would have another journey down to Durban as prisoners. All were too glad to get out of the clutches of the Boers to utter complaints which they knew would be useless, and they went off at once. The prospect was not, however, a pleasant one. Newcastle was nearly thirty miles away, but they hoped that at least they might obtain shelter and rest and food for the women at some of the scattered farms. At first their progress was slow, for after being for more than two days and a half packed up like cattle, they had almost lost the use of their limbs; but gradually the pace was accelerated. Men took the little children on their shoulders, others helped the women along. Charlestown, on the British side of the frontier, was already occupied by the Boers, who hooted and abused them as they passed through. At Laing's Nek there was a Dutch commando with some guns.

Two miles on the women could go no further, and they halted at a large farmhouse which had been deserted by its owners. All the men, however, who were alone, determined to push on at once to Newcastle, and promised they would send vehicles of some sort to take them on if they could possibly be obtained. Mrs. King and the other ladies authorized them to pay any sums demanded.

Thankful indeed were the tired women when they reached the farmhouse. They found the doors unfastened, as the farmer knew that were he to lock them the Boers would certainly batter them in when they arrived, and would probably do greater damage to the furniture left behind than if they had obtained an entry without trouble. The men soon found the wood- shed, and in a short time great fires blazed in every room. The bedding had been carried away, but utterly worn out as they were, the women were only too glad to lie down on rugs and cover themselves with their cloaks. The men gathered in the lower room and talked for some time before thinking of going to sleep. There was scarce one who was not determined to join one of the volunteer corps being raised at Durban and Maritzburg, and to avenge the insults and ill-treatment to which they had been subjected. The long-smouldering animosity towards the Boers had been fanned during the past three days into a fierce fire, and even those who had not before thought of taking part in the struggle were now as eager as the others to do so.

In the morning all were astir early. Had they been supplied with food they would have waited until waggons came out from Newcastle, but these could hardly arrive until evening, and at any moment the Boer advance might commence. They therefore determined to move on early, for if they met the waggons half-way these could return with them at once to the town. It was desirable to start as soon as possible so as to get well on the way before the heat of the day was at its fullest. Accordingly by six all were in movement. The long night's rest had done them good, still more so the thought that by the end of the day they would be among friends, and they were disposed to laugh and joke over their present situation. All the men had cut themselves heavy cudgels from the stock of firewood, and the fact that they were not as before wholly defenceless was no slight gratification to them. Even the ladies spoke confidently of being able to walk the twenty miles to Newcastle should they not meet vehicles coming to fetch them. They could go ten miles now and then halt till the sun was setting, and after such a long rest could certainly go on to Newcastle.

"I am afraid, mother," Chris said as they started, "that what seems so easy now will be too much for many of the women. We started without breakfast, and unless we can get something by the way I doubt if many will reach the town to-night. Of course for the men it is nothing. Very often when I have been out on the veldt and have started early, I have had nothing till I got back late in the evening. What are you wearing that veil for, mother? I saw that you pulled it down over your face yesterday afternoon. I suppose you did it to keep the dust out of your eyes, but there is none now."

"I had a reason for doing it, but I can put it up now."

She lifted the white veil to its usual place round her hat; as she did so, Chris uttered a sharp exclamation as his eye fell on a bluish-red mark across her face.

"You don't mean to say, mother," he said in a tone of horror, "that one of those scoundrels struck you?"

"They struck a good many of us, Chris, and there was no reason why I should escape more than another."

The lad's face grew white.

"Why did you not call out? I would have—"

"I know you would," she interrupted gently, "and so of course I did not cry out. You had all had enough to try you to the utmost, and I was not going to risk your life by letting you know what had happened. It flashed across me at once that if you had seen it happen you would have been down from the roof in an instant and struck the man. Had you done so, your fate would have been sealed, you would have had half a dozen bullets in your body; therefore, I simply dropped my veil, and I can assure you that the smart of the Boer's sjambok gave me less pain when I felt that you knew nothing of it."

Chris walked along silently for a minute or two; then he said quietly: "Thank you, mother. I am sure it would have been as you said. I could not have helped it. No one could see his mother struck without interfering."

"I can understand that, dear; but it would have been a poor consolation for me had you been killed in endeavouring to right a wrong that I could very well put up with, and shall forget in a week."

"I suppose so, mother. I should not so much mind if I only knew the fellow's name, or even knew him by sight, so that I might possibly have the chance some day of settling accounts with him."

They walked on until eight o'clock, and then rested under the shade of some rocks. Fortunately there had been some rain two days before, and they had been able to quench their thirst at a little stream that came down from the hills. There were in all some thirty women and eighteen men.

"Look here, Harris," Chris said, "there is a farmhouse over there, and as I see cattle and horses, it evidently is not deserted. Let us go and see if we can get some bread and some milk for the women."

"All right!"

The other lads were quite ready to go also, and they walked across to the house, which stood some half a mile away. As they approached it a Boer came out. On seeing them he re-entered it, and appeared again with a rifle.

"I am afraid we shall get nothing here," Harris said. "The Dutchmen in

Natal are only waiting for the Boers to advance to join them."

"Well, we will try anyhow," Chris said doggedly. "I dare say that you are right; but Boer or no Boer, if there is any food in that house I mean to get it."

They went quietly on. When they were within fifty yards the Boer shouted to them to go back.

"We have some women and children with us," Chris replied, continuing to advance. "They are exhausted from want of food and fatigue, and we have come to ask for some bread, and if you have it in the house, some milk."

"If the house was full of both you should not have a crumb of bread or a drop of milk. Halt! I say, or I will put a bullet into you."

Chris did not heed the command.

"We have plenty of money to pay you, and are willing to give ten times its fair price."

He was now within ten yards of the farmer. The latter burst into a torrent of abuse, and was in the act of raising his rifle when Chris sprang at him. The Boer, who had no idea that this lad would venture to attack him, discharged his rifle almost at random, and the ball passed through the brim of Chris's hat. An instant later his heavy stick fell on the Boer's head, and levelled him to the ground.

"Now, Harris," he shouted, "do you and the others go into the house, and first of all bring me out one of these fellows' whips. Cairns, pick up his rifle, and reload it. Sankey, do you and the others keep guard at the door, and don't let those viragoes out"—for three women had just appeared, and were cursing with a fluency that Billingsgate would have envied.

Harris had already come out with a heavy whip by the time Cairns had reloaded. Chris took it and said to the Boer, who, in view of the formidable sticks the lads carried, had thought it best to lie quiet;

"Now you can get up, you hulking ruffian. I am going to give you a lesson in civility. Oh, you won't get up? Well, it will make no difference to me," and he proceeded to give the howling Boer a tremendous thrashing. "There," he said, when his arm was tired, "you may get up and go, and I hope that the lesson will do you good. Now, Cairns, we will search the house. It is likely enough he has a lot of rifles hidden somewhere, and perhaps when we have gone he may go and fetch some more of his class. We may as well possess ourselves of them."

The seven lads went into the house, paying no further attention to the Boer. In spite of the fury of the women, they searched the house thoroughly, and in a large case in a disused room they found twelve Mauser rifles, with a thousand cartridges. They then took a basket and filled it with bread, and emptied the milk from two large pans into a pail.

"We are not thieves and robbers, like your people," Chris said to the women, as he threw five shillings on the table. "Your man has been good enough to tell us that he will be in Maritzburg with the Boers in a week's time. Therefore, as war has been declared, the muskets are lawful spoil taken from a rebel. Now, boys, let's be off."

The cartridges were divided among them; then, with the thirteen guns, the basket, and pail, they started to rejoin their friends. "Well, that is a fair capture to begin with," Chris said. "As far as we are concerned, the war has begun. The Boer has made off, I see. I should not be surprised if we hear of him and some of his friends again. However, now we are well armed they can come as soon as they like."

Great was the joy among the women and children when they returned with the much-needed refreshment.

"I was getting very anxious about you, Chris," his mother said. "We heard the man fire. But where have you got all these rifles from?"

"The owner of the farm is a Boer, mother, and as he told us, a rebel. As he began the affair by putting a bullet through my hat, and abusing us and our nation heartily, we took the liberty of searching his house, with good success. I need not say that he did not give us this bread and the pail of milk of his own free-will, but I left the money for them."

His mother had turned pale when he said that a bullet had gone through his hat, but she said nothing.

"What became of the man?" she asked. "You did not kill him, I hope?"

"No, mother; I contented myself with thrashing him with one of his own whips until my arm ached."

There was enough bread for all to have a slice. The women and children had as much milk as they could drink, the rest was divided among the men. The extra rifles were given to those who could best use them. In half an hour the women said that they were ready to go on again, and that they would rather do that than wait, for they greatly feared that the Boer might gather some of his friends and attack them. Feeling greatly strengthened and refreshed, they started at a good pace. They had gone about a mile when Sankey said to Chris:

"Look, there is a party of mounted men across the valley."

"Then we had better plant ourselves among the rocks, and let the unarmed men go on with the women and children, and take shelter a bit farther on. I don't suppose they will venture to attack us when they find, to their disgust, that we are armed with as good rifles as their own. They have a great respect for their lives."

Accordingly the seven lads and the six men with rifles at once took up a position among the rocks. The rest of the party went forward two hundred yards and then took shelter also. The Boers, feeling certain that the party was unarmed, did not trouble themselves to open fire at a distance, but rode forward in a clump at full gallop.

"They are about a thousand yards away now," one of the men said. "We may as well give them a volley."

The thirteen rifles flashed out almost simultaneously. There were, as they had counted, sixteen Boers. Five horses fell, three others galloped off riderless, and the party broke up and rode off at full speed in various directions.

"I don't think we need trouble any more about them," said Sankey's father, who, was one of the party, as he rose to his feet. "You may be sure that several of those who got away carried bullets somewhere about them."

As they turned to rejoin their friends there was a general exclamation of satisfaction, for two large waggons were seen coming along the road. In ten minutes the women and children, with all the older men, were comfortably seated and on their way to Newcastle. Chris and his party accompanied them on foot so as to form a rear-guard. "We have won our first battle," Chris laughed.

"But for you there would not have been any battle at all," Field said. "I don't think any of us would have gone forward after that fellow warned us back had you not done so."

"I was determined to get some milk for the children," Chris said, "and would have gone forward even if I had been alone. I don't think I ever felt such a satisfaction as I did in thrashing that Boer. One of them struck my mother across the face, you know, in the train, and though it was not the same man, I feel better now that I have taken it out of someone."

At Newcastle they found a small British force, and learned that there were four or five thousand troops at Dundee. Trains were still running, and after only an hour's delay at Newcastle to obtain a meal, the whole party went on. Late that evening they arrived at Colenso. Mrs. King and the ladies and gentlemen of the party had decided to sleep there, but hearing on the road that the little town was crowded with fugitives from the Transvaal and the farms near the frontier, they determined to continue the journey to the capital, which they reached the next morning. The lads had quite decided upon their course before starting, and had arranged with their parents to remain at Maritzburg. The general opinion was that the British force at the front could not possibly maintain itself, but that as soon as the invasion began in force they must fall back, as the Transvaal Boers would be able to attack them in front and on the right flank, while the Free Staters would pour down through Van Reenen and De Beers Passes and make straight for Ladysmith, and so threaten their line of retreat.

There were a few indeed who still believed that the Boers would stand entirely upon the defensive so far as Natal went. They would occupy the formidable passes through the Drakensberg and await attack there, while they would invade Cape Colony at many points and raise the Boer population. However, the general opinion was that they would advance into Natal in great force, and in that case it was doubtful, indeed, whether Sir George White could oppose them successfully north of Maritzburg. He might even, it was thought, be obliged to fall back to Durban until reinforcements arrived from England. Already there was a rush to the offices that had been opened for the volunteer corps. Many of the fugitives from the Transvaal had joined, as had most of the young farmers who had been obliged by the hostility of their Dutch neighbours to abandon their homes in the north of Natal, while numbers of all ranks in Maritzburg, Durban, and other towns were giving in their names. All the lads who had come down with Chris had some time before obtained their parents' consent to join a volunteer corps, or form one among themselves, and as it was evident that the crisis was at hand no objections were raised to their doing so at once. Mrs. King would go down to Durban with her friends, so that there was no need for her son to accompany her.

It had been agreed by the other lads that they would all meet at ten o'clock at the hotel where Chris put up, and the party mustered in greater strength than had been expected, for they found that the boys who had preceded them had all waited in the town, and were stopping at the various hotels. They too had been as badly treated by the Boers as the last arrivals, and were all eager to begin work.

"There is no getting a private room here," Chris said, "so we had better go outside the town and talk things over." As they went they chatted over their adventures on the road, and great satisfaction was felt among those who had not been present on hearing how Chris had thrashed the Boer, and had gone tip to him in spite of his threat to shoot. At their last meeting at Johannesburg they had elected him their captain, but he had at the time refused to accept the post, saying that it would be wiser to decide that afterwards, as one of the others might show himself better fitted for the position. However, their first step when they sat down by the bank of the little river outside the town was to again elect him by acclamation.

"Very well," he said, "as you all wish it I will accept the post. I suppose we are well provided with funds. Our fathers all said they would find our outfit, and money enough for all expenses." There was a general assent. "Well, we start better than we had expected, for we have thirteen rifles: twelve of them are Mausers, the other we will sell; so we shall have to buy nine others. That had better be done this morning, for we may be sure that there will be a rush to the gunsmiths' shops. In the next place we must each buy a saddle and saddlery. We have agreed that we will not have any approach to uniform; because, as we all speak Dutch, we shall be able to pass unobserved, if necessary, among them. But I have been thinking it over, and it seems to me that if we have nothing of the sort we shall run the risk of being shot by our own men."

"What are we to do, then, Chris?"

"I think that we had better get flat caps, like the fatigue caps our soldiers wear. They can be carried in our pockets inside our shirts when we are in the neighbourhood of the Boers, and when we are riding anywhere near our own troops we can put them on instead of our felt hats. It would alter our appearance altogether when riding in groups, and even at a distance we could hardly be taken for Boers."

All agreed that it would be an excellent plan.

"We shall, of course, have bandoliers for our cartridges, and haversacks for our provisions and spare packets of ammunition. Not an hour must be lost in getting these things. I hear that Captain Brookfield, who came up to Johannesburg last year and stayed a fortnight with us, has raised a corps, which he has named the Maritzburg Scouts. I will call upon him this afternoon and tell him that there are one-and-twenty of us, all somewhere about my age, and that we mean fighting; and that as we all speak Dutch we think we can do more good by scouting about on our own account than by joining any regular corps; but that at the same time we should like, if there was anything like regular fighting, to place ourselves under the orders of an officer like himself. It is rather difficult to explain, you know, but I think he will understand what we mean. We should be, in fact, a section of his troop, acting generally on independent service, either scouting, or going in among the Boers and getting intelligence, trying to blow up bridges, and engaging looting parties—for we may be sure that the Boers will be scattering all over the country plundering.

"Of course I shall say, if he won't accept us on those terms, we shall do as we best can on our own account; but that as we don't require pay, and will provide ourselves with all necessaries, we do not see that we should be any burden when we join him. I propose that we meet here again this afternoon, and I hope that by that time we shall all have got our mounts and saddlery. I hear that many of the loyal farmers north have driven their animals down here, and are only too glad to sell the horses at the usual prices. Mind, the clothes we have now won't do; we must get them of farmer fashion. Don't go together to any shop, but let each choose for himself; we don't want anything like uniformity of pattern. The stuff must be strong. We shall each want a couple of blankets; one of these, with a slit cut in the middle to slip over the head, will serve as a greatcoat. Now, let us be off! To save trouble, I should say that we had each better put a certain sum, say twenty pounds, to go into a fund for general expenditure—food and ammunition, and that sort of thing—into one of the banks, and we can draw upon that as we require it."

"I should say, Chris," Sankey said, "that we had better put all our money into the fund. Our people are all going to pay for our outfit, and you know they have agreed to give us a hundred pounds each to last us through the war. It is of no use carrying money about with us. I think we should agree to pay it all into the common fund, and that at the end of the business what remains is to be divided among those of us who go through it."

"I think that is a good plan, Sankey. Certainly we cannot all expect to come out alive, and that arrangement will save all trouble about money."

On going back into the town they learned that a large farmer had encamped two miles away, with a big drove of cattle and a couple of hundred horses, many of which were fine animals, and it was agreed at once that Sankey, Carmichael, and Peters should hire a buggy and drive over there and choose twenty-one good horses. Harris and Field undertook the purchase of the rifles, and Chris went to the office which Captain Brookfield, who had been an officer in the English army had taken. He had sent in his name, and was at once shown in.

"Well, Chris," he said cordially as he entered, "I am glad to see you. You have grown and widened out a good deal since last year. I suppose your father and mother have both come down with you?"

"My mother has come down, sir, but my father thought that he ought to remain behind to look after the mines."

"Have you come here to enlist?"

"Not exactly, sir, and yet I have to a certain extent;" and he told the officer of the little corps that had been formed among his companions at Johannesburg.

"A very good idea. Speaking Dutch, as you say they all do, they ought to do good service as scouts. But why have you come to me?"

This Chris explained.

The captain laughed. "I suppose the fact is, Chris, you think that you will be able to see and do more if you are altogether independent of other people's orders."

"Perhaps that is it, sir; but if there is any cavalry fighting we should much rather be under orders. Such a small corps would look ridiculous marching out by itself."

"Well, I don't see any reason why you should not carry out your plan. It would certainly be better that you should have some—what I may call— official sanction. All the men in our corps are paid five shillings a day, and as your troop would serve under different conditions, you can to a certain extent dictate your own terms. I will, if you like, accept you as an independent corps, attached to my command when with me, but at other times free to scout and to act as you choose; but mind, I cannot be responsible for any scrape that you get into. You might call yourselves the Johannesburg section of the Maritzburg Scouts, maintaining yourselves at your own expense, and drawing neither pay nor rations."

"Thank you very much, sir; that is just what we want."

"Then, if you will bring your companions here this evening, I will swear you in. I shall administer a different oath to you from that which the others take, and merely pledge you, when under my orders, to obey them, with permission to withdraw from the corps when you choose. And indeed, receiving no pay or assistance from government, you would naturally be free to do so."

Leaving Captain Brookfield, Chris went and bought his clothes, bandolier and belt, and saddlery, and then returned to the hotel and told his mother how he had got on, and that a horse and rifle would, he hoped, be obtained that afternoon.

"It seems to me a terribly dangerous business, Chris; but as your father agreed to it, of course I need say no more. I have a cheque for five hundred pounds for my expenses and yours."

"Father gave me a hundred before I started, mother; that will more than pay for my outfit. I don't know what we shall do for the horses, but there will certainly not be much over."

"Yes, I know, Chris; and he told me to hand you over another hundred when I went to the bank, which I shall do this afternoon."

CHAPTER III

AT THE FRONT

At five o'clock the lads from Johannesburg again met and reported the result of the afternoon's work. The nine Mauser rifles had been bought, and six thousand rounds of ammunition had been purchased. This appeared an excessive amount, but as there might be a difficulty in obtaining this ammunition, they bought up all that could be found in the town. Peters and his party had chosen the horses for the troop. The farmer was a well-known breeder of good stock, and was glad to dispose of some of them at a fair price in order to lessen their number. He had already had several enquiries from corps that were being raised, but the prices were higher than could be paid for ordinary troopers, though several had been bought by officers. The lot the lads had picked out had been put aside, and they had given the farmer fifty pounds earnest-money, to hold them till the next morning.

"They are as good a looking lot of horses as I ever saw," Peters said, "in fact, by a long way the best. I always heard that he was one of the largest breeders of good horses in South Africa. He had eight or ten extraordinarily good ones, but, of course, he wanted extra prices for these; but from the rest—and he has some three hundred of them—he let us choose any we liked at one price, and I think I can say that we shall be as well mounted a corps as any out here. Of course we avoided the showy-looking horses, and chose those specially suited to the country and likely to be fast. Mr. Duncan had several thoroughbreds from home, and there is no doubt that his stock has benefited by it; they are all of the country type, sturdy and compact, and yet somewhat finer in the limb than any I ever saw in the Transvaal. We were delighted with them."

All the lads were accustomed from childhood to horses, but those Chris had selected as the committee of inspection were admitted by their friends to be the best judges of horseflesh in the party, their fathers being wealthy men who always bought the finest horses money could obtain.

"We will go over in a body to-morrow," Chris said, "and pay for them and bring them back. We are lucky indeed to have got hold of such a good lot. Are they pretty even animals, Peters?"

"Yes, I really don't think there is anything to choose between them."

"Well then, the fair way will be, to make one-and-twenty tickets with as many numbers and fasten one to the mane of each horse, then we will put another twenty-one numbers into a hat and draw them; in that way everyone will be satisfied. Those of you who have not got their money from their people had better ask them for it this evening, so that we can settle up to-morrow for the horses and rifles and ammunition. The hundred pounds we have each been promised will well cover all our expenses up to the moment we start, and I should think leave us with something like twenty pounds apiece in pocket, but all we have and the other hundred for future expenses we had better put into the bank here to-morrow. We must arrange for four of us to sign cheques, each cheque to be signed by two, but we had better give them all our signatures so that in case what we can call the finance committee of four are all killed or taken prisoners there will be no bother about having fresh signatures to arrange about." "Well," Sankey said, "we might as well settle that at once. I propose that Field, Carmichael, Capper, and, of course, you form the committee." As no amendment was offered, this was at once agreed to.

"What time did you say that we would come over to fetch the horses?"

"About ten o'clock."

"Well, will you all be at my hotel to-morrow at half-past eight with your money? Then we will all sign our names on paper the committee first; afterwards they shall go with me to the bank and pay all the money in, give them the list of signatures, and tell them that until further notice two of the four first names will sign the cheques, but that should circumstances prevent any two of them being able to do so, others will sign instead. The account had better stand as the Johannesburg Scouts. When we have arranged that we will hire a couple of light waggons and start. Have you all got your saddlery?"

"Yes."

"Well, we will take it with us, and then we can ride the horses back. I will get the tickets made out."

As soon as the bank opened in the morning, Chris and his three companions presented themselves, and had an interview with the manager, who was somewhat surprised when twenty-one cheques and cash to the amount of three thousand five hundred pounds were handed in, each member having deducted the amount paid for saddlery and clothes. "We wish the account to stand in the name of the Johannesburg Scouts, and cheques will be signed by two of the four names standing first on this list; but as casualties may occur, you will please accept any of these signatures. Our little corps will form part of the Maritzburg Scouts, but in money matters we keep to ourselves, being all volunteers serving without pay."

The manager ran his eye over the cheques. All the names were well known to him as those of prominent men at Johannesburg, and the great majority had already accounts at his bank, as all had some time previously made arrangements for drawing money in case of necessity.

"I suppose, Mr. King," he said, "that as you and your friends represent the corps, you are all young men?"

"We are all boys," Chris answered with a smile, "but we are old enough to do men's work, and in the Transvaal the Boers are commandeering all boys two or three years younger than we are."

"Well, I congratulate you all both on your patriotism and your pluck,

Mr. King, and I have no doubt that you will do good service."

Receiving a cheque-book, they drew two hundred pounds for current expenses, and then going back to the hotel found the two Cape-carts and their companions ready, and the saddlery already stowed away. On arriving at the farm all were highly pleased with the horses their comrades had selected. They had on the way agreed that it would be a good plan to buy four others to act as pack-horses, and to furnish them with remounts in case any of their own were shot. These were to be sent into the town by two Kaffirs, whom they arranged to take into their service, for the farmer said at once, when they asked him that he could very well spare them, as he would be parting with a considerable number of his horses and cattle, and would not require so many hands as he had at present. The two men he chose for them were both active young natives; they made no objection to the exchange of masters, and, indeed, seemed pleased at the thought of going with them to fight the Boers, who were universally hated by the natives.

A cheque was given to the farmer for their purchase, then the horses were chosen by lot as agreed, and were at once saddled and mounted. They had all been partially broken in, and as the boys were good riders, they were after a little preliminary struggle soon at their ease, and, taking a couple of hours' sharp ride through the country, returned on good terms with their mounts. Two or three hours were spent in teaching the horses to stand steady as soon as the reins were thrown over their heads, this being a training to which all horses in the Cape are subjected. Then they rode back to the town and arranged with a farmer near it to picket their horses in one of his meadows, and for their feed while they remained there. The rest of the day was spent in laying in their supplies. The rifles and ammunition were paid for, pack saddles bought for the four spare horses, a brace of revolvers purchased for each member, haversacks ordered for the whole party, and bags to carry a supply of grain for each horse. In the evening they went out to the farm, and after discharging their rifles a few times fed their horses.

This they repeated in the morning, so as to familiarize them with the sound of firearms; then they saddled and mounted them, and after riding for half an hour drew up in line, as Captain Brookfield, who had sworn them in on the previous afternoon, was to inspect them at eight o'clock. They had all put on their working clothes, bandoliers and belts, and high boots, and the captain on his arrival, after closely inspecting them, expressed his strongest approval of their appearance.

"I really congratulate you, Mr. King," he said, "on having command of twenty such serviceable-looking young fellows. As they all can ride, and, as you tell me, can all shoot, they ought to do really good service, and I should be well pleased if all my troop were composed of such good material. From the fact that you can all speak Dutch, and most of you Kaffir, you will have great opportunities of obtaining information, and can, in case of need, pass as young Boers. In fact, I may say that there is some danger of your being mistaken for them by our men. I should take you for them myself, except that you all look brighter and more wide-awake than Boers generally do; but an artilleryman could hardly be blamed if he plumped a shell among you at a distance of two or three thousand yards."

"We thought of that, sir;" Chris turned to his band, "Change caps!" All pulled field-service caps from their pockets, took off the soft felts, rolled them up and forced them into their valises, and put on the caps.

"That is excellent!" Captain Brookfield exclaimed. "That certainly alters your appearance altogether, and as far as your figures could be made out through a glass, it could be seen that you are an irregular body of some sort. And this can be still more plainly seen if, as I should advise you, you always ride in fours when you are approaching our lines; there will then be little chance of a mistake being made. Where did you pick up all those horses?"

"We bought them yesterday from a farmer named Duncan, who has brought them down from his place near Dundee."

"Ah! that accounts for it; he is one of the best-known horse-breeders in the colony. I had not heard that he had come down."

"He only arrived two days ago, sir. We were fortunate to hear of it, and some of us rode over early yesterday and were lucky enough to secure them."

"You were lucky. There are several mounted corps being formed here and at Durban, and horses will go up in price rapidly. Where is he staying'?"

"About a mile and a half farther out, sir. If you want horses I should think that you had better go on at once, for he told me that he had sold sixty yesterday, but that very few of them were anything like as good horses as these."

"No. People are subscribing handsomely, but we cannot afford to mount our troopers on such horses as these. A good many gentlemen have found their own horses, and of course will be well mounted; but a good, sound, country horse is all we can afford for the others; they are excellent for ordinary work, though, of course, not so fast as yours, nor quite so big. Your horses have all a strain of English thoroughbred blood, and if you should at any time have to ride for it there would be little chance of the Boers overtaking you, though some of them are very well mounted, for the two things a Boer will spend money on, are his horse and his rifle. And when do you start?"

"We are going to-morrow morning. I went to the station-master yesterday evening and arranged for trucks for the horses to be attached to an early train to Dundee. We want to get up in time to see the first of it, and we should lose three days if we were to travel by road."

"That is the right spirit, and I wish I could go with you; but my troop will wear a sort of uniform, Norfolk jackets and riding-breeches, and the outfitters are so overwhelmed with orders that it will be another couple of days at least before they are ready. Then the men must have two or three days' drill before they start; I am still short of horses, so I will ride on and see Duncan. I want thirty-five more, and as yet, although subscriptions are coming in well, we are still a good deal short of our requirements. However, I dare say I shall be able to make some arrangement with Duncan, as I shall probably have enough to pay him in full by the end of the week. Altogether, I don't suppose I shall be ready to start for another ten days, and unless the Boers delay their advance I am afraid that I shall not get to Dundee."

"Do you not believe that we shall be able to hold the town?"

"I hardly think that there is a chance of it, and I am sure we made a mistake in sending a portion of the force there. I know the premier was most anxious that our troops should be posted as far north as possible, in order to save the loyal farmers from plunder. If the position were stronger and impossible to be turned, the case would be different; but it is not strong, and can be turned on each flank. If the Boers march to attack General Symons, who is in command there, he may possibly beat them off; but as they can advance towards Ladysmith either from the Free State on one side or the Transvaal on the other, he and his troops would be cut off, and the loyal farmers would be plundered just as much as if Symons had remained at Ladysmith. I fancy all the military men think that a grave mistake has been made, and that General White should not have exposed half his force to disaster. Besides, the position of Ladysmith is no more defensible than that of Dundee. The Tugela would be the natural line of defence, but even that could be turned by troops from the Transvaal going through Zululand, and the line of the river would be very difficult to defend by a force of less than twenty thousand men. However, we shall see how the thing works out—how enterprising the Boers are, and how warmly the Free Staters throw themselves into the work."

"You think that we shall have a hard time, Captain Brookfield?"

"Yes, I think that is certain, even if Cape Colony keeps quiet, which I am very much afraid it will not do. If it rises, it will take all the strength of England to put it down. Well, I wish you all luck. I can assure you I feel proud of my Johannesburg section, and I shall be glad when you join me."

He shook hands with the whole of the lads and then rode off.

"The train starts at eight o'clock," Chris said. "We had better get our good-byes over to-night, get some breakfast if we are able to do so at half-past five, and meet here at six. We ought to be at the station at least an hour before the train starts. We shall not only have to get the horses into the trucks, which is certain to be a troublesome business, as they are altogether new to it, but we shall have to see to our other stores and belongings. I have arranged that we shall travel with the horses, so that we can each stand at the heads of our own animals, and if they are very wild, we can blindfold them until they become accustomed to the situation. I have bought a couple of trusses of hay from Thomas, and he will send down two of his native boys to the station. I should advise you all to put some food into your haversacks, there is no saying how long we may be on the road."

"What sort of trucks are they, Chris?" "They have high sides, but no roofs. Of course I would rather have had roofs, but the station-master could not provide any waggons with them. But he showed me these, and as the sides are quite high enough to prevent the horses getting out, they will do very well."

The saddles were taken off and piled together. There was no chance of rain, so they were left uncovered. The lads then walked back into the town. There was, of course, a sad parting that evening between Chris and his mother, but she bore up well. She knew that hundreds of other women were parting with husbands or sons, and she felt that, as the main cause of the war was to rescue the Uitlanders in the Transvaal from the oppression of the Boers, it behooved all the fugitives from that country to do their utmost.

In the morning the lads all arrived punctually at the rendezvous. The horses were fed to the accompaniment, as usual, of pistol shots. Then they were saddled up, the valises the lads had brought down with them were strapped on, and with their rifles slung behind them they rode to the station.

It was, as they had expected, a long and troublesome business to get the horses into the trucks, but at last this was managed. Nose-bags were put on, with a few double-handfuls of grain, then one trooper was left to each two horses, while the rest saw to their bundles of blankets, their stores of tea, sugar, and flour, preserved milk, cocoa, bacon, and tinned food. A couple of frying-pans, and a canteen of tin cups and plates, a knife, fork, and spoon each, and two kettles, completed their outfit. They had put their soft felt hats in their valises, and were all in their flat fatigue caps.

The train was a long one, but the carriages with it were empty, for while the trains from the north were closely packed, there were few persons indeed proceeding up country. The trucks, however, were well filled, as great quantities of stores were being taken up, some to Ladysmith, and others for the force at Dundee. The horses soon became accustomed to the motion, and their masters took the opportunity of familiarizing themselves with them, by talking to them, patting them, and giving them pieces of bread and an occasional lump of sugar. The two Kaffirs had brought on the pack-horses four water-skins and a couple of buckets, and in the heat of the day the horses were allowed a good drink, while their masters, whose haversacks had been filled by their friends, enjoyed a hearty meal, washed down by tin mugs full of champagne.

They were in the highest spirits, although the meal was taken under difficult circumstances, for all were seated on the upper rails of the trucks, there being no room for them to sit down among the horses. The plates were all packed up, and fingers and teeth served for knives and forks, which was the less important since chickens were the staple of the meal; and these had been cut up before starting. Many were the jokes that passed along the line. All felt that it was the last experience they were likely to have of civilized food, and that it would be a long while before champagne or any other wine would fall to their lot. The Kaffirs, who had each charge of two spare horses, enjoyed themselves no less, for they had a fair share of the provisions of their masters, and were in a high state of contentment with their prospects.

There was a halt of an hour at Ladysmith. Many of the officers and soldiers gathered at the station, their work for the day finished, and the arrival of the train being always an event of some importance in the little town. They were amused and interested at the party of young fellows who alighted to stretch their legs and get a change of position.

"Which is your leader?" a major asked Field.

"The one talking to an officer. His name is Chris King."

"Is he chosen because he is the oldest of you?"

"No, that has nothing to do with it. We are all within a year of the same age. We have all been chums and friends, and have hunted and shot together, and he is the one we elected as our leader, just as you would choose the captain of a cricket club. We all come from Johannesburg, find our own horses, arms, and outfits, and ask nothing whatever from the government; and as we speak Dutch, and all know more or less Kaffir, we fancy we can make a good deal better scouts than your cavalry, who can't ask a question of a Boer or get information from a native."

The major laughed. He saw that the lad a little resented the joking tone in which he had asked the question.

"I have no doubt that you are right," he said, "and I am quite sure I should like half a dozen of you as subalterns. When did you come from Johannesburg?"

"We left there about a week ago, and as we were only at Maritzburg three days, we have not lost any time."

"Indeed, I think that is a record performance. Of course you are all looking forward to your first skirmish; I can assure you we are."

"We had our first on the way down here, when we were between Newcastle and the frontier. Four or five of us went to a farmhouse to try and get some food and milk for the women and children. It was a Boer's place, and the fellow came out with a rifle and warned us off. We went forward, and he took a shot at King when he was quite close to him, but fortunately the bullet only went through his hat. Chris knocked him down and gave him a tremendous thrashing with his own whip. Then we took some provisions and paid for them, and searching the house, found twelve Mauser rifles and a lot of ammunition. We took these off without paying for them. The Boer had made off while we were searching the house, and he and some twenty others pursued us, not dreaming that we were now armed. However, we gave them a volley, and emptied three saddles and killed three or four horses, and they moved off without trying to make our further acquaintance."

"Well done, lads!" the officer said warmly, "that was an excellent beginning, and I have no doubt that you will follow it up well."

Similar conversations were going on all along the platform, and when at last the lads again took their places in the trucks, a hearty cheer was given them. The sun was setting when they arrived at Dundee. It was a larger place than Ladysmith, as there were some coal-mines in the neighbourhood, and a considerable number of men were employed in them. Like Ladysmith it is situated on a plain dominated by hills. The camp was some little distance out of the town. An officer was at the station with a party of men to receive the stores brought up by the train. Chris at once went up to him and saluted.

"We have just arrived, sir; we are a section of the Maritzburg Scouts, acting independently. As we are all from Johannesburg, and find our own horses, equipment, and food, provide our own rations, and, of course, serve without pay, we propose to scout on our own account, and as we all speak Dutch well, I think that we may be useful in obtaining information. We shall, of course, search the country in whatever direction may be considered most useful."

"I have no doubt that you will be of good service, sir," the officer said.

"I suppose we can camp anywhere we like."

"I should think so. As you do not draw rations, it can matter little where you post yourselves; but I don't think that you will be able to get tents to-night."

"We shall not want them, sir; we have each a large waterproof sheet, and intend to use them as tentes d'abri. I suppose I had better report myself at the headquarters of the general?"

"Yes, that would be the proper thing. The camp is a mile and a half away; if you follow the Glencoe railway, you cannot miss it."

As soon as the horses were detrained and the baggage packed, the little party mounted and left the station, and choosing a piece of unoccupied ground a few hundred yards away, proceeded to unsaddle and picket the horses, while Chris rode away to the camp accompanied by one of the natives to hold his horse there. He had no difficulty in finding it, and dismounting, walked to the group of head-quarter tents. His appearance excited a good deal of amusement and some chaff from the soldiers he passed. He looked, indeed, like a young Dutch farmer in his rough clothes, and his rifle, and a bandolier of cartridges. Seeing a young officer close to a tent, he asked him which was that of the adjutant- general.

"He is there talking to the general at the door of his tent. Do you wish to speak to him?"

"I should be glad to do so," Chris replied. The officer walked across and informed the colonel that Chris wanted to speak to him.

"Bring him across, Mr. Williams," the general himself said. "He is evidently a young farmer, and possibly brings in some news of the enemy's movements."

The lieutenant returned to Chris and led him up to the general.

"You have some news that you wish to give us, sir?" Sir Penn Symons said.

"No, general; but I hope to be able to do so to-morrow."

He then stated his position and the nature of his command.

"We are all very well mounted, sir," he went on, "and as we all speak Dutch, hope to be useful. At any rate, we shall be no trouble to you, as we draw neither rations nor pay. We think we can pass anywhere as Boers; that is why we have not adopted any uniform."

"I have no doubt you will be of service," the general said, though I hardly think that you will pass as Boers with those caps."

"We have all wide-brimmed hats to use while we are scouting, general; but we carry these too, so that on our return towards your lines we can be recognized even at a distance as not being Boers, and so avoid being fired at."

"Yes, that is a very necessary precaution. I will have officers commanding cavalry and artillery detachments warned, that a section of Maritzburg volunteers are dressed as farmers, but may be known in the distance by having caps similar to the ordinary infantry field-service caps.

"Well, sir, I shall be glad if you will to-morrow ride to the south, following the river, and endeavour to find out whether the Boers have any considerable force in that direction, either on this side of the river or the other, I may tell you that five of the Natal police were captured on the evening of the 13th at De Jagers Drift. The Boers have been in possession of Newcastle for the past three days, and they are certainly crossing the passes from the Free State. You must be very careful, for they have scouting parties across the river almost as far as the Tugela. However, we hardly expect any serious struggle for another week or ten days; for all the accounts are to the effect that the Boers are still very deficient in transport, and that for the past week those at Laing's Nek, and the other passes, have been very much straitened for provisions. It would be as well for you, while you are at Dundee, to come over once a day to report your doings, and to receive orders as to the point where we most need information. Have you gone into lodgings in the town?"

"No, sir. We have waterproof sheets that form tentes d'abri, and we prefer being with our horses, which were only bought a few days ago; so, as we shall not have much opportunity of sleeping otherwise than in the open for some time, we thought it as well to begin at once, especially as the weather looks threatening, and the horses, being unaccustomed to be picketed, might pull up the pegs and get loose were there a heavy rain."

"You seem to be well fitted for the work, and to set about it in the right spirit."

"We have all been accustomed to hunting expeditions, sir, when we have often been out for some days, so that we understand how to shift for ourselves, though we are new to campaigning."

"What rifles have you? that does not look like a Lee-Metford." "No, general, it is a Mauser. We captured twelve of them, at a Boer's farmhouse three or four miles this side of Newcastle six days ago. He fired at us, and though his bullet only went through my hat, we thought ourselves justified in searching his house.

"Certainly you were. We heard that there had been a skirmish on the road, and learned the particulars from one of those who took part in it, and who stayed here for two or three days before going down the country. He said that four or five young gentlemen, who were coming down with a party of women and children from Volksrust, had gone to a farmhouse to try and get food, milk, and bread for the females. The Boer farmer insulted them, and shot at one of them when but two or three yards away; he had been tremendously thrashed by the young fellow, and they returned laden with a good supply of milk and bread, and twelve rifles and a lot of ammunition that they had found at the farm. And with these they and some of the men had beaten off an attack of a score of Boers without any loss to themselves."

"Yes, general, that was our party; we had sent forward for some waggons, and got into Dundee two hours after the skirmish; and as there was a train just going we went on at once, and reached Maritzburg the next morning, where we were joined by some of our party who had come down the day before. As we had made all our plans before leaving Johannesburg, we were able to start this morning, which was the third after our arrival there."

"You were prompt indeed," the general said with a smile, "and must have needed money as well as brains."

"We had all obtained leave of our families, general, and were well provided with funds to carry us through the campaign if it lasts for a year. We wanted to be in time for the first fight."

"I think yours was the first fight, except that a few shots were exchanged between our scouts and the Boers on the morning after the ultimatum expired. Now, sir, if you should at any time be in want of necessaries I shall be glad to supply you; but I cannot furnish you with ammunition, as the Mausers carry a smaller bullet than our rifles."

"Thank you, general, but we have enough to last us for a considerable time, having brought up six thousand rounds."

"A good provision indeed," the general laughed; "enough to last you through half a dozen pitched battles. I shall be in the town at six o'clock to-morrow morning, and shall be pleased to inspect your little corps before you start."

"I thank you, general; we shall all be very proud to be inspected by you."

Then saluting he returned to his horse and rode back to Dundee. He was pleased to see that the eleven little tents had been erected strictly in line, that the horses were all standing quietly at the picket-rope, and that two of the troop were placed as sentries. A large fire was blazing in front of the tents, the two natives were squatting by it, the kettles were swung over it, and a joint of meat was roasting there. Two or three of the lads were standing talking together; the rest had gone into the town. Cairns came up to him as he dismounted.

"Have you heard the news, Chris?"

"No, I have not heard any particular news."

"I was at the station a quarter of an hour ago, and a telegram had just been received that the Boers were, when it was sent off, entering Elandslaagte station, and were in the act of capturing the passenger train that was standing there. The message stopped abruptly, as no doubt the Boers entered the room where the clerk was at work at the needles."

"By Jove we are in luck!" Chris said. "Of course that was the train that had to leave three hours after us. If we had stopped for that, the horses, rifles, and kit would all have gone, and we should now be prisoners. It is serious news, though, for it is evident that not only are they marching against us in front, and on both flanks, but have cut our communications with Ladysmith. There can be no doubt that, as everyone said there, it was a mistake to send General Symons forward here, as it was almost certain that with four regiments, three batteries of artillery, a regiment of cavalry, and a few hundred of the Natal police and volunteers, he could never maintain himself here. Why, we heard at Ladysmith that a column had gone out the day before towards Besters station, as the news had come in that they were even then in the neighbourhood. It was a false alarm, but it was enough to show that the Boers were likely to be coming down and cutting the railway in our rear. General Symons told me that he did not expect any general advance of the enemy just yet, because he heard that their transport was incomplete, and that they were very short of provisions. But I don't think the want of transport would prevent their advancing. We know well enough that the Boers think nothing of going out for three or four days without any prospect of getting any more provisions than they carry about them, unless they have the luck to bring down an antelope. And as Utrecht and Vryheid and Newcastle are all within a few miles of us, and the Free Staters have already come down through some of the passes of the Drakensberg, they must be within an easy ride of us; and if they are in force enough to drive us out of this place, they must know they would find themselves in clover, for we heard at Ladysmith that there were provisions and stores for two months collected here."

CHAPTER IV

DUNDEE

After picketing his horse, Chris went into the town. He found the streets full of excited people, for the news that the railway had been cut was serious indeed, and the scene reminded Chris of that which he had witnessed in the streets of Johannesburg but eight days before. Only eight days! and yet it seemed to him as if weeks had passed since then. So much had been done, so great had been the changes. As at Johannesburg, a considerable portion of the population had left, seeing that, although the troops might for a time defend the town, the Boers were certain to cut the line of railway. Work at the coal-mines had been pushed on feverishly of late, for strangely enough there was no store of coals either in Dundee itself or at any of the stations down to Durban, and the authorities had only woke up a few days before to the fact that coal would be required in large quantities for the transports on the arrival of the troops. But now all this was to come to a stop. The hands would be thrown out of employment, and the town would become stagnant until it was captured by the Boers, or until an army arrived of sufficient strength to clear Natal of its invaders. That evening many who possessed vehicles started by road for Ladysmith, feeling that in another twenty-four hours it might be too late.

At seven o'clock, as had been arranged when they arrived, all the members of the band met at the bivouac for supper. There was a general feeling of excitement among them. They had known that hostilities must soon begin, but to find that the line had already been cut, and that the enemy were closing in in all directions, came almost as a surprise. This, however, in no way prevented them from enjoying their meal. After it was over they held, at Chris's suggestion, a sort of council. He had already told them what the general had said to him, and that they were to be inspected in the morning. As their saddlery was all new, there was nothing to be done in the way of burnishing buckles and rubbing up leather. As Chris remarked, all that would be necessary was an hour's work in the morning grooming their horses.

"Now," he said, "that the work is going to begin, we must draw up a few rules, for, volunteers though we are, we must have some regulations. In the first place, I find that the troops all parade in order of battle before daybreak, so as to be able to repel a sudden attack or move in any direction that may be required. If it is necessary for them, it is still more necessary for us, and I think that it should be a standing rule that we are all ready to mount at daybreak. Sentries must be posted at night, however safe we may feel. I think there should be two, relieved every two hours. There will he no hardship in that, as each would only go on duty every other night. In the next place, I think there should be what they call an officer of the day, who would generally be in charge of the arrangements, see that the Kaffirs attended to their horses properly, and so on. You see, we shall not be always acting together, but might sometimes be broken into four troops, in which case one in each five should command. I think the same lot should always keep together. What do you think? Would it be better that in each group of five one should be in charge each day, or that each group should choose one to act as non-commissioned officer?"

There was no reply.

"What do you think yourself, Chris?" Sankey asked after a pause.

"You are as well able to judge as I am," he replied. "I think that it would perhaps be the best way to write down the twenty names and put them in a hat, and draw them one by one. The first five should be number one squad. I don't know whether that is the right word, but anyhow it will do for them. The next five number two, and so on. Then each five can vote whether they would prefer alternate commands, or to choose one of their number as permanent non-commissioned officer. If they prefer this, they must then ballot as to which among them shall be leader. If you can think of any way that you would like better, by all means say so."

All agreed that the plan that he proposed should be adopted. Four groups were first chosen. Before they proceeded to the next step, Peters said:

"Of course I am quite game to carry it out as you suggest, Chris, but don't you think it would be a good plan to let the final decision stand for a week or two, each taking the leadership of his group in rotation? At the end of that time we should be better able to make a choice than we can be now."

"I think that is a very good idea, Peters. What do you all say? Will you each take your turn alphabetically for the present, and at the end of fifteen days, when each of you have led three times, you can decide whether each squad shall choose a permanent leader or go on as you have begun."

All at once agreed to the proposal. They felt, good friends as they were, that it would be very difficult to decide now.

"Very well, then, it shall be so," Chris said. "To-morrow we shall certainly do some scouting, but in a day or two you may be shut up here; and until we get away there will be no scouting to be done. We must have some signals. Suppose we are scattered over two or three miles, we may want to assemble, and must be able to signal. I thought of it before we started from home, and put down in my pocket-book the sort of thing that I fancied would be wanted. I will read it out to you."

He stirred the fire into a blaze and then read:

"One shot followed by another and a third, with ten seconds between them, will mean 'Enemy seen on the right'; with twenty seconds between, 'Enemy seen on the left'; then, after a pause, two shots in quick succession will mean 'Enemy in strength'; three shots will be 'Small party only'; one shot, followed at an interval of ten seconds by two in succession, will mean 'Retire to the point agreed on before we separated'; followed by three shots in quick succession, will be 'Close in to the centre'. We can think of others afterwards, but I think that will do to begin with. I know that you have all pocketbooks, so take down these signals at once."

"We ought to know where you will be," Field said, "so that we could rally round you ready for the next order."

"That might be so; therefore we had better fix on three shots in quick succession, followed in ten seconds by a fourth. The sound will be sufficient to let you know pretty well where I am, and you will on hearing it, join me at once. Are there any other suggestions?"

There was silence and then the books were closed.

"I cannot too strongly impress upon you all," Chris said, after they had chatted for some time, "the necessity for being extremely cautious. We know how slim the Boers are, and how accustomed they are to stalk game; and we shall have to be as watchful as deer, more so, in fact, since we have not their power of smell. When we break up into four parties, each party must scatter, keeping three or four hundred yards apart. On arriving at any swell or the crest of a hill, a halt must be made, and every foot of the country searched by your field glasses, no matter how long it takes. You must assure yourself that there are no moving objects in sight. When you get near such a point you must dismount, and, leaving your horse, crawl forward until you reach a point from where you have a good view, and on no account stand up. While you are making your observations any Boers who might be lying in sight would be certain to notice a figure against the skyline, and we know that many of them are provided with glasses as good as our own. We must be as careful as if we were out after game instead of men. You all know these things as well as I do, but I want to impress them upon you. You see, they have captured five of the Natal police, who are a very sharp set of fellows. However, a few days' scouting will show us far better what is required than any amount of thinking beforehand. There is one thing that I want to say to you. You elected me for your leader, but it is quite probable that when we have worked together for a bit some of you may prove much better qualified for the post than I am. What I want to say now is, if this is the case, I shall feel in no way aggrieved, and shall serve just as cheerfully under his orders as I hope you will under mine so long as I command you."

There was a general chorus of "No fear of that, Chris. We all know you well enough to be sure that we have made a good choice. We knew it before we left Johannesburg, but your pluck in walking up to that Boer with his loaded rifle clenched the matter."

"Well, we shall see," Chris said. "I shall do my best, but, as I said, the moment you want a change I shall be ready to resign; and now I think that we may as well turn in. It is nine o'clock, and we must be up at daybreak. Squads number one and two will each furnish a man for the first watch, taking the first on the list alphabetically. At eleven they will be relieved by two from squads three and four; then one and two furnish the next pair, and so on. Four watches will take us on till daybreak. The two of each squad who will be on duty to-night turn in to the same tent together, then the others will not be disturbed."

The blankets were spread in the little shelter tents, and all except the two men on duty were soon asleep. Chris had a tent to himself, there being an odd number, and an extra waterproof sheet had been carried for this purpose. Before leaving Maritzburg twenty-two poles, a little longer than cricket stumps, had been made under Chris's direction. They were shod with iron, so that they could be driven into hard ground. At the top was a sort of crutch, with a notch cut in it deep enough to hold another of the same size. Twenty-two other sticks of the same length were to form the ridgepoles. Half these were provided with a long brass socket, into which its fellow fitted. The whole, when they were accompanied by the spare horses, would be packed with their stores and spare blankets. At other times each rider would carry two of the poles strapped to his valise behind him.

Chris was the first to stir in the morning. There was but the slightest gleam of daylight in the sky, but he at once blew a whistle that he had bought that evening in the town, and heads appeared almost immediately at the entrances of the other tents, and in half a minute all were out, some alert and ready for business, others yawning and stretching themselves, according to their dispositions.

"First of all, let's put on the nose-bags, and let the horses have a meal," Chris said; "then set to work to groom them. Remember, there must not be a speck of yesterday's dust left anywhere."

All were soon hard at work. The Kaffirs stirred up the embers of the fire, which they had replenished two or three times during the night, hung the kettles again over it, and cut up slices of ham ready to fry. By half-past five Chris, after inspecting all the horses closely, declared that nothing more could be done to them. Then they were saddled, the valises, with a day's provisions and a spare blanket, being strapped on. Then all had a wash, and made themselves, as far as possible, tidy. By this time breakfast was ready, and they had just finished their meal when a party of horsemen were seen in the distance. Rifles were slung over their shoulders, and bandoliers and belts full of cartridges strapped on, and they donned their forage-caps after coiling up the picket-ropes and halters and fastening them with their valises to the saddles. Then they mounted and formed up in line just as the general, with two of his staff, rode up. After saying a few words to Chris, the general examined the horses and their riders closely.

"Very good and serviceable," he said, "and a really splendid set of horses. Of course, gentlemen, you would look better if you were in uniform, but for your purpose the clothes you have on are far more useful. Let me see you in your hats; I can then better judge how you would pass as Boers."

The lads all slipped their forage-caps in their pockets, and put on their felt hats, which were of different shapes and colours. As they had agreed beforehand they at once dropped the upright position in which they had been sitting, and assumed the careless, slouching attitude of the Boers.

"Very good indeed," the general said with a laugh. "As far as appearances go, you would pass anywhere. The only criticism I can make is that your boots look too new, but that is a fault that will soon be mended. A few days' knocking about, especially as I fancy we are going to have bad weather, will take the shine out of them, and, once off, take good care not to put it on again. A Boer with clean boots would be an anomaly indeed. Now, I will detain you no longer."

The only manoeuvre the boys had to learn was the simple one of forming fours. This they had practised on foot, and performed the manoeuvre with fair accuracy. Then Chris gave the word, and, after saluting the general, led the way off at a trot.

"They are a fine set of young fellows," the general said to the two officers with him. "They are all sons of rich men, and have equipped themselves entirely at their own expense. They are admirably mounted, and provided they are not caught in an ambush, are not likely to see the inside of a Boer prison. It says a good deal for their zeal that they are ready to disguise themselves as Boer farmers instead of going in for smart uniforms. However, they are right; for, speaking Dutch, as I hear they all do, they should be able singly to mingle with the Boers and gather valuable information."

As soon as they were fairly south of the town, Chris said:

"Now our work begins. Number one squad will make its way towards the river, and follow its course, keeping always at a distance from it, so that while they themselves would escape notice, they can ascertain whether any bodies of the enemy are this side of it, or within sight beyond the other bank. Number four will take the right flank, and keep a sharp look-out in that direction. Squads two and three will, under my command, scout between the flanking parties, and examine the farmhouses and the country generally. The whole will, as I said last night, maintain a distance of about three hundred yards apart, and each man will as far as possible keep those next to him on either hand in sight."

The two flanking companies starting off, those under Chris separating as they rode off until they were as far apart as he had ordered, and then moved forward. When on level ground they went fast, but broke into a walk whenever they came to the foot of rising ground, and when near the top halted, dismounted, and crawled forward. Each man carried a Union Jack about the size of a handkerchief, elastic rings being sewn to two of the corners. When necessary these flags could be slipped over the rifles, and a signal could be passed from one to another along the whole line—to halt by waving the flag, to advance by holding the rifles steadily erect. Other signals were to be invented in the future. Chris took his place in the centre of the line, in readiness to ride to either flank from which a signal might be given.

For five or six miles no signs of the enemy could be perceived. Most of the fields were entirely deserted, but round a few of the scattered farmhouses animals could be seen grazing, and these Chris set down as belonging to Dutch farmers who had no fear of interference by the Boers, and were prepared to join them as soon as they advanced. Many of these, indeed, during the past fortnight had trekked north, and were already in the ranks of the enemy. Presently Chris, who was constantly using his glasses, saw the flutter of a flag on a hill away to the left, and a minute later the signal to halt passed along the line. It had been agreed that signalling by shot should not be attempted unless the enemy seen were so far distant that they would not be likely to hear.

"What do you see, Brown?" Chris said as he reached the lad who had first signalled.

"There are a good many men and animals round a farmhouse about two miles away. The house lies under the shoulder of a hill to the left, I suppose that that is why the others did not see it."

Dismounting, Chris crawled forward with the other until he could obtain a view across the country. As Brown had said, the farmhouse stood at the foot of the line of hills they were crossing, and was fully a mile nearer to those on the right flank than to the point from which he was looking at it, but hidden from their view. Bringing his glass to bear upon it, he could distinctly make out that some forty or fifty men were moving about, and that a large quantity of cattle were collected near the house.

"It is certainly a raiding party," he said to his companion. "They are too strong for us to attack openly, at least if they are all Boers. It would not do to lose half our number in our first fight. Still, we may be able to frighten them off, and save the farmer, who is certainly a loyalist, and cattle. You gallop along the line as far as it extends and order all to come over to the right. I shall go on at once and get a view of the ground close by. By the time they have all assembled we can see what had best be done."

Going back to their horses they started in opposite directions. In a few minutes Chris reached a point which he believed to be nearly behind the farmhouse, picking up some of the scouts by the way.

"I expect I shall be back in about a quarter of a hour," he said as he dismounted. "You, Peters and Field, may as well come with me, I may want to send back orders."

They walked forward fast until so far down the hill that they could obtain a view of the farmhouse. The moment they did so they lay down, and made their way across some broken ground until they were within a quarter of a mile of it; then seated among some rocks they had a look through their glasses, and could see everything that was passing as clearly as if they had been standing in the farmyard. It was evident the Boers had only arrived there a short time before Brown noticed them. Parties of two or three were still driving in cattle, others were going in and out of the house, some returning with such articles as they fancied and putting them down by their horses in readiness to carry them off. Two men and some women and children were standing together in a group; these were beyond doubt the owners of the farmhouse.

"How many Boers do you make out? I have counted thirty-eight." Peters had made out forty, and Field forty-three, the difference being accounted for by those going in and out of the house and sheds.

"Well, we will say forty-five, and then we shan't be far wrong. We certainly can't attack that number openly, but we may drive them off empty-handed if we take them by surprise." He examined the ground for another minute or two, and then said: "I think we might make our way down among these rocks to within three hundred yards of the house. I will send six more down to you. With the others I will go down farther to the left, and work along in that little donga running into the flat a hundred yards to the east of the house. You keep a sharp look-out in that direction, and you will be able to see us, while we shall be hidden from the Boers. We shall halt about three hundred yards beyond the house. As soon as we are ready I will wave a flag, then you and your party will open fire. Be sure you hide yourselves well, so that they may not know how many of you there are; they are certain, at the first alarm, to run to their horses and ride off. Directly they do so we will open fire on them, and finding themselves taken in the flank they are likely to bolt without hesitation. Don't throw away a shot if you can help it, but empty your magazines as fast as you can be sure of your aim. Between us we ought to account for a good many of them."

"I understand, Chris; we will wait here till the others join us, and then, as you say, we will work down as far as we can find cover."

Chris at once returned to the main party, who had by this time all assembled. "We can bring our horses down a good bit farther without being seen," he said. "There is a dip farther on with some rough brushwood. We had better fasten them there; they have learned to stand pretty fairly, but they might not do so if they heard heavy firing."

Leading their own horses and those of Field and Peters they walked down to the spot Chris had chosen, and there threw the reins over the horses' heads as usual, unfastened the head ropes, and tied them to the bushes. Chris had already explained the situation to the troop, and had told off six of them to go down to join Peters. He now advanced cautiously with these till he could point out to them exactly the spot where the two scouts were lying. Then he returned to the others, and they walked along fast until they came upon the break in the hill, which lower down developed into a depression, and was during the rains a water-course. Down this they made their way. On reaching the bottom they found it was some twelve feet below the level of the surrounding ground.

A couple of hundred yards further they could tell by the sound of shouting, the bellowing of cattle, and other noises, that they were abreast of the farmhouse, and going another three hundred yards they halted. Chris went up the bank until he could obtain a view, and saw that he was just at the spot he had fixed on. Making signs to the others, they took their places as he had directed, some ten yards apart. Then he raised his rifle after slipping the little flag upon it. A moment later came the crack of a rifle, followed by other shots in quick succession. Chris, with his eyes just above the level of the ground, could see all that was passing round the farmhouse. With shouts of alarm the Boers at once rushed towards their horses, several dropping before they reached them. As they rode out from the yard the magazine rifles kept up a constant rattle, sounding as if a strong company of troops were at work. Chris waited until they were nearly abreast of his party, and then fired.

His companions followed his example, and in a moment a fire as rapid and effective as that still kept up from the hill was maintained. This completed the stampede of the enemy. They were soon half a mile away, but even at that distance the Mauser bullets continued to whistle over and among them, and they continued their flight until lost in the distance. Chris's whistle gave the signal for ceasing fire, and the two parties sprang to their feet, gave three hearty cheers, and then ran towards the farmhouse. In the yard lay five Boers and seven or eight horses; the riders had jumped up behind companions, for as they passed, Chris had seen that several of the animals were carrying double. The little group, so lately prisoners, advanced as they came up, almost bewildered at the sudden transformation that had taken place, their surprise being increased on seeing that they had apparently been rescued by another party of Boers, and still more when on their reaching them they found that these were all mere lads.

"We are a party of Maritzburg Scouts," Chris said, with a smile at their astonished faces; "though, as you see, we are got up as Boers so as to be able to get close to them without exciting suspicion. We were fortunate in just arriving in time."

"We thank you indeed, sir," the settler said, "for you have saved us the loss of all our property, and, for aught I know, from being carried off as prisoners. We were intending to trek down to Ladysmith today, and had just driven in our herds when the Boers arrived. If they had been content with stealing them, they would have been away before you arrived; but they stopped to plunder everything they could carry off, and, as I should say, from noises that we heard in the house, to smash up all the furniture they could not carry off. We are indeed grateful to you."

"We are very glad to have had the chance of giving the plunderers a lesson," Chris said. "It will make them a little cautious in future. But I think that you are wise to go at once, for there are certainly parties between this and Elandslaagte, where they have cut the line; so I should advise you to travel west for a bit before you strike down to Ladysmith. We have not heard of any of them being beyond the line of railway yet. Now we have work to do. Number one and two squads will at once go up and fetch down the horses, number three and four will examine the Boers who have fallen here and out on the plain and will bring in any who may be only wounded."

He went out with this party; they found that eight more had fallen. Three of these lay at a short distance from the farmhouse, and had evidently fallen under the fire of the party on the hill; the others had been hit by those in the ambuscade. Altogether ten horses had been killed. Five of the Boers were still alive.

"Have you a spare cart?" Chris asked the farmer.

"Yes, I can spare one. Fortunately I have a small one besides two large waggons. May I ask what you want it for?"

"I want it to carry these wounded men to within reach of their friends.

Which is the nearest drift?"

"Vant's Drift, and it is there, no doubt, that the party crossed. It is a little more than two miles away."

"Then we will place the wounded in the cart, and you might send one of your Kaffirs with it to the drift and stick up a pole with a sheet on it; they are sure to have halted on the other side, and will guess that there are wounded in it. As soon as the Kaffir comes within two or three hundred yards of the river he can take the horses out and return. I dare say he will be back again before you are off."

The cart was driven along the line that the Boers had taken, the wounded being carefully lifted and placed in it as it reached them. Two more were found dead and three wounded some distance beyond the spot where the searchers had turned, having fallen nearly a mile from the farm; the lads who accompanied the cart then returned. Long before they reached the house the horses had been brought down. The settler and his Kaffirs were hard at work loading the stores into two ox-waggons. The lads all lent their assistance, and in less than an hour the settlers started for Ladysmith, the women and children in the wagon, and the men on horseback driving their herds with the aid of the Kaffirs. After a hearty adieu, Chris and his party rode on together for some little distance before again scattering widely to recommence their work of scouting. Hitherto they had been too busy for conversation, but now they were able to give words to the satisfaction they all felt at their success.

"It has been splendid!" Sankey said enthusiastically. "We have defeated a force twice as strong as ourselves, have killed or badly wounded eighteen of them, and you may be sure that of those that got away several must have been hit. Not one of us has a scratch."

"Splendid!" another exclaimed. "It could not have been better managed. I think we ought to give three cheers for Chris." Three rousing cheers were given. "After this, Chris," Carmichael said, "I don't think you need talk any more about resigning the command. General Symons himself could not have done better."

"I think, at any rate, we have begun to wipe off old scores," Chris said. "We have paid for a few of the insults the ladies had to submit to as we came along, and I am heartily glad that we were in time to do it. We have baulked them of the haul they expected to make, and saved something like a thousand head of cattle for the colony, to say nothing of preventing these people from being absolutely ruined. It is only a pity that we had not our horses with us. If we had, not many of the Boers would have recrossed the river. But we could not have taken them with us without being detected before we got into position, and in that case we might have had a hard fight, and matters would probably have turned out altogether differently."

There was a general expression of assent, for all felt that in an equal fight the Boers, being twice their own numbers, would have been more than a match for them. It was evening when they returned to Dundee, having come across no more Boers during the day's work. Directly they arrived at the little camp where they had left the tents standing in charge of their two Kaffirs, Chris wrote a short report of their doings, stating briefly that they had come upon a party of forty-five Boers in the act of driving off the cattle and sacking the house of Mr. Fraser, a loyal settler. Having dismounted and divided into two parties, they had attacked the Boers and driven them off, with the loss of ten killed and eight seriously wounded left on the field. Many of their horses had been killed. The wounded Boers had been sent in a cart to Vant's Drift, and the farmer and his herds had been escorted as far as the line of railway, which they had crossed and were making for Ladysmith. There had been no casualties among his party.

Field rode over with this report and delivered it at headquarters, remaining to ask whether there were any orders for the next day. When he returned he brought a line from the general. It contained only the words, "I congratulate you most heartily. The affair must have been managed excellently, and does you all the greatest credit. Continue scouting on the same line to-morrow."

The lads were all highly delighted when Chris read this aloud, and then sat down to a well-earned meal, which was the more enjoyed as it had been voted that Field, as one of the finance committee, should go into the town and buy half a dozen of champagne in honour of their first victory. In the course of the evening one of the general's staff rode into camp on his way to town, having been requested by him to obtain full particulars of the fight at Eraser's farm. He took his seat by the fire with them, and Chris gave him a full account of their proceedings.

"Upon my word, Mr. King," he said, "you managed the matter admirably; no cavalry leader could have done it better."

"There is no particular credit about the management," Chris said; "we acted just as we should have done had we been stalking a herd of deer instead of a party of Boers. One always manages, if possible, to put a party on the line by which they are likely to take flight, before crawling up within shot. If we could have taken our horses down with us before we opened fire we should have done so, and being so well mounted, I think few of them would have got away; but we could not manage it without risking being seen, and in that case the Boers, on making out what our strength was, would certainly have shown fight; and even if we had beaten them, which I don't suppose we should have done, we should have suffered heavily."

"You were quite right not to risk it," the officer said; "we know by old experience that the Boers are formidable antagonists when behind shelter, and, accustomed as they are to shooting on horseback, I dare say they will do well when not opposed by regular cavalry, who, I am convinced, would ride through and through them. I am quite sure that in the open they will not be able to make any stand whatever against infantry, which is the more important, as in so hilly a country as Natal our cavalry would seldom be able to act with advantage."

In the course of conversation he told them that there was no news of any large body of the Boers being near. Joubert's force had not moved out of Newcastle, and nothing had been heard of the Free Staters or of the Utrecht force under Lucas Meyer. "We have sentries on all the lower hills round here and Glencoe, and there is no fear of our being surprised. The sooner they come the better, for we are all longing to get at them; and I can tell you we felt quite jealous when we heard of your spirited affair to-day. I can assure you that we shall have a greater respect for the volunteers than we had before, and if all do as well as you have done to-day they will be a most valuable addition to our force."

After their visitor had left, they sat chatting round a fire till ten o'clock, and then turned in.

CHAPTER V

THE FIRST BATTLE

All in the little camp, save the two sentries, slept soundly until, at two in the morning, they awoke with a sudden start. A deep boom and a strange rushing sound was in their ears. With exclamations of surprise they all scrambled out of their tents.

"What is that?" Chris asked the sentry.

"It is a big gun on the top of that high hill they call Talana. We saw the flash of light, and directly after heard the report, and a rushing sound. I suppose it was a shot overhead; if it had been a shell we should have heard it burst and seen the flash. It must have been fired at the camp."

The horses, startled by the report, were plunging and kicking, and the lads at once ran to their heads and patted and soothed them. Not until they were quiet did they gather again.

"What time is it?" Chris asked.

"The clock on the church struck two a few minutes ago," Brown, who was on sentry, said. As he spoke another gun boomed from Talana, or as it was generally called in the town, Smith's Hill, from a farm owned by a settler of that name at its foot. It was about a mile and a half east of the town, and therefore some three miles from the camp.

"It must be a very heavy gun by its sound—as big as the largest of those we have heard fired from that fort above Johannesburg. Joubert must have started from Newcastle early to have managed to get it up there by this time, or it may be the force from Utrecht; anyhow, they must be strong to venture to attack us in this way. We may as well saddle up, though it is hardly likely the cavalry will be engaged. I shall not send to camp for orders; the general will have enough to think about, and it will make no matter where twenty men place themselves. However, I shall ride over to camp and see what is going on there; it is likely enough that there will be an attack by the Free Staters on the other side. Carmichael and Horrocks, do you run into the town and see what is going on there. I will not start till you get back; if any of the staff see me they may ask some questions about it."

In a quarter of an hour the two lads returned. The people there were completely scared at the unexpected attack, and the streets were full of half-dressed men; however, they seemed to be getting over their first terror, now that they found it was the camp and not the town that was being fired at, and the volunteer corps was already gathering in readiness for orders.

"We may be pretty sure that nothing will be done till daylight," Chris said. "Our men know the ground now, and none of the Transvaal Boers can do so, and I don't think they will venture to move till they can see their way about. I am glad, indeed, that most of the women and children were sent off two days ago, and that the scare on the evening that we arrived, when the news came of the railway being cut at Elandslaagte, sent the greater part of the men who had remained behind, and who did not mean fighting, off by road. If they bombard the town they may do damage to property, but there will be no great loss of life. You had better give the horses a feed—that is, if they are disposed to eat at this hour—while I am away."

On reaching the camp, Chris found all the troops under arms. They had been roused before the Boer fire began, as a picket to the east of Dundee had been attacked and driven in. It was not, however, supposed that the Boers were in force until their guns opened fire. All lights were out in the camp, and the enemy's shot had gone wide. It was by no means clear why the Boers should have betrayed their presence on the top of the hill until it was light enough for them to use their guns with effect. Chris had, before starting, put on his flat cap.

As he approached the camp he was challenged by a sentry: "Who comes there?" and on his replying, "An officer of the Maritzburg Scouts," the sentry called out: "Advance, officer of the Maritz Scouts, and give the countersign."

Fortunately, as it happened, the officer had given it to Chris on his visit to their camp, and he therefore answered at once, "Ladysmith," and was relieved when the sentry called out, "Ladysmith pass, and all is well."

When he entered the camp he found the men were standing in lines, but at ease, with their rifles piled in front of them, and there was a hum of conversation in the ranks. At the head-quarter tents everybody was astir. Presently an officer came up.

"Who are you?" he asked as he advanced.

"I am in command of the party of Maritzburg Scouts."

"Mr. King, is it not?" the officer asked.

"Yes, sir. I have ridden in to ask if there are any orders."

"No, and there will be none issued until it is daylight, and we can make out how matters stand and what is the force of the Boers. It is not likely that you will have any special orders, but can act with the cavalry and mounted infantry."

"Thank you, sir. Then I will ride back at once." On returning to camp, he said: "There is nothing to be done till morning. So far they have no idea of the force of the Boers. This is just the work we were formed for. Peters, you and Field and Horrocks certainly speak Dutch better than any of the others. It is half-past two now, and we have at least two and a half hours of darkness, therefore I propose we try to find out what force the Boers have got up there. It is no use for more than four of us to go, so the others can turn in, except the two sentries; but all will, of course, be ready to mount in case any party of Boers should come down upon the town before it is light. The next time I want three men on special duty I will give others a chance."

"Shall we ride, Chris?"

"I think so. Of course it will be more difficult getting up there in the dark; but I shall make a detour of three or four miles, and come up on the other side, and we should be much more likely to be questioned if we were on foot than on horseback. Should we come upon any party of armed Boers, remember we have just arrived from Standerton, and finding when we got to Newcastle that the force had moved on, and were to take up their station at Talana Hill, we rode on to overtake them. When we get fairly there among them, we will dismount; Field and Peters will stand by the four horses, Horrocks and I will go on. If you hear a row, you will mount and wait a minute or two, and then if we do not come, you will ride off with our horses as well as your own. We shall try and make our way to the edge of the hill, and ought to be able to slip away in the darkness if we can get there before we are shot down or overtaken. However, I don't think there is much chance of our being recognized. Indeed, I expect most of them will be lying down for a sleep before the time comes for action. If there is one thing a Boer hates it is being kept awake at night. I will take one of the Kaffir boys with us. They can see in the dark a great deal better than we can; and as the Boers are sure to have some natives with them, he is quite as likely to pick up news as we are—more so, perhaps, for the natives will sit and talk all night while their masters are snoring. I think the one we call Jack is the sharpest."

Jack was called up, and on being told what was required, at once agreed to accompany them.

No time was lost. Chris and his three companions mounted, and with the Kaffir running alongside they set off at a trot. Keeping to the north of east, they rode on for some two miles, Jack leading the way with as much ease as if it had been daylight. When they had, as they calculated, come upon the ground the Boers must have passed over, they turned south, and kept on until they saw the dark mass of Talana on their right, and made towards it. On this side the hill sloped gradually, while on that facing Dundee it was extremely steep and strewn with boulders. They were now going at a walk, and they soon came upon an immense gathering of waggons, carts, oxen and ponies, crowded without any order, just as they had arrived two hours before. "There is no fear of our being detected," Chris said in a whisper, "and we can't do better than stop here. There is no getting the horses through this crowd, and if we did manage to do so there would be no getting them back, certainly not in a hurry. You had better lie down beside them, it is not likely that any Boers will be coming up or down. If the whole camp is like this there is not the slightest fear of our getting caught." Jack had already been instructed that when he got into the camp he was to leave them and join any party of Kaffirs he found awake, and talk to them as if he were one of the bullock drivers. As Chris and his companions returned, the former would blow his whistle softly, and he was then to make his way down to the horses at once.

Passing on unquestioned they neared the top of the hill, having left the mass of the vehicles behind them. There were, however, large numbers of ponies assembled here in readiness should their masters require them. Hitherto they had heard no voices since entering the camp, but as they went farther they heard talking. Here the fighting men were assembled. For the most part they were lying down; some were asleep; others, however, were moving about, and joining or leaving groups gathered together discussing the events of the next day. Horrocks and Chris now separated and joined different parties, some twenty yards from each other. They attracted no attention whatever. Their appearance in their broad hats and rough clothing, their bandoliers and rifles, was precisely similar to that of the men standing about.

No doubt whatever that the morning would bring them a brilliant victory, appeared to be entertained by the enemy. The artillery would first crush that of the British, then they would charge down and finish the affair. "They say that they have less than four thousand altogether," one said. "We are as many, and, as everyone knows, one Boer is a match for any three rooineks. It will not be a fight, it will be slaughter. We shall stop a day to gather the plunder and send it off in the waggons, then we shall go south and destroy the force at Ladysmith. Three days later we shall be in Maritzburg, and within three or four days afterwards shall drive the British on board their ships at Durban. We shall get grand plunder there and at Maritzburg. But I think it is time now to take a hand at building up that wall along the front. Ebers' commando have been at it for three hours, and it is our turn now."

There was a general movement, which was accelerated by a sharp order, and a minute later Horrocks and Chris again came together and moved on with the others. Three hundred yards farther they came upon six guns, beyond which a number of men were at work carrying and placing great stones to form a rough wall. These left off their work as soon as the party arrived. Having now seen all that was necessary, the two lads joined them and returned with them down the hill. The others threw themselves down near their horses, but Chris and his companion went on. Through the huge gathering of waggons they made their way with great difficulty, Chris giving a low whistle occasionally. At last they were through the camp. Jack was standing by the horses, and Peters and Field at once rose to their feet. Without a word they mounted, and rode without speaking till they were some little distance from the waggons.

"You are back earlier than I expected," Field said. "You have been gone scarcely an hour."

"No; the only difficulty we had was making our way through the mass of waggons and animals all mixed up higgledy-piggledy, and there has been no more excitement than if we had been walking through Dundee. We have got all we wanted to know. Their strength is about four thousand. They have six guns. They are building a stone wall along the brow of the hill, and they are cock-sure that they are going to thrash us without difficulty." Field and Peters laughed.

"They are fools to count their chickens before they are hatched," the latter said. "If they think it is going to be another Laing's Nek business they will find themselves mightily mistaken, though it will be a very difficult business to scale that hill from the other side under such a rifle fire as they will keep up."

Jack had now taken his place ahead of them again, and kept there with ease, although, they broke into a canter as soon as they reached the level ground. In half an hour they reached their camp.

"Now, Jack," Chris said when he had dismounted, "we have not heard what news you have picked up."

"Not much news, baas. Talk with some Kaffirs; all hope that we beat them to-day, but think we cannot do so. Too many Boers and big guns. They say Boers very angry because the other commandos not here, and Free State Boers not arrived. They sure going to beat the rooineks, but are afraid that some may get away. If Joubert and Free Staters here, catch them in a trap and kill them all."

Such was the substance of Jack's answer in his own language. By this time the rest of the party had turned out to hear the news. They had had but little sleep, for all were intensely anxious as to the fate of their four comrades, and although delighted that they had returned safely, were a little disappointed on finding that the affair had been so tame and unexciting. While they were talking the two Kaffirs had stirred up the fire, put some wood and some coal on, and hung up the kettle.

"That is right, Jack," Chris said; "day will begin to break in half an hour, and we may have to be moving." All was quiet until half-past five, and the lads had just finished their meal when the Boer guns opened fire, and two or three minutes later those of the British replied.

"It is an uncomfortable feeling sitting here with that terrific roaring noise overhead," Chris said. "One knows that there is not the slightest risk of being hit, but, to say the least of it, it is very unpleasant. There, a shell has just burst over the camp. So it is shell that they are firing."

Indeed, the Boers had been using these missiles only, but owing to some fault in the loading, or the badness of the fuses, they fell for the most part without bursting. It was soon evident to the lads that the range of the British guns was shorter than that of the heavier pieces from Talana. The distance was five thousand yards, and the elevated position of the Boer guns added to the advantage given by their superior weight.

"I will ride in now," Chris said as he got up from breakfast, "and tell the staff what we have gathered as to the Boers' strength." He had on his way down the hill exchanged his hat for his forage-cap, and taking Horrocks with him he galloped to the camp. Sir Penn Symons was standing on a small elevation watching the fire. Chris rode up and saluted.

"I have no orders for you, Mr. King, except that when the fighting is over you will join the cavalry in pursuit."

"Thank you, sir; I have not come for orders, but to report to you that with Mr. Horrocks and two others, and one of our Kaffir servants, I entered the Boer camp last night in order to ascertain their strength."

"You did!" the general exclaimed in surprise. "You hear that, gentlemen?" he said, turning round to three or four of his staff standing but a short distance behind him. "Mr. King and three of his party absolutely entered the Boer camp last night to discover their force. Well, sir, what was the result?"

"There are about four thousand of them, sir, over rather than under, and they have six guns, all of heavy calibre. When I was there they were at work building a thick wall some five feet high of rough stones along the edge of the hill. It will scarcely shelter the guns, but it will provide cover for the riflemen at the edge of the hill. There is an immense gathering of waggons and carts—there are certainly not less than a thousand of them—in a confused mass behind the hill. Arriving in the dark, each seems to have gone on until it could get no farther. The fighting men are all on the top of the hill, and between them and the waggons are their ponies. They certainly could not ride away till the waggons have been passed through, but possibly a passage may have been left on each side of these for them to get through, in order, as is their intention, to charge your army when their guns have silenced your artillery. I gathered that expected commandos had not come up. They were disappointed at hearing nothing of the Free Staters, who they expected would have attacked Glencoe from the other side. They are absolutely confident of success, and expect to overwhelm General White at Ladysmith in three days from now, and to be in Pietermaritzburg in a week, and are talking of driving the last rooinek on board the ships at Durban shortly after."

The general smiled. "I am much obliged to you for your information, Mr. King, and am much pleased at the courage with which you and your companions entered the Boer camp to obtain it. It is satisfactory to learn that their force is not much greater than our own. It is also useful to know that their ponies are gathered so close to them, for shells that go over the hill may burst among them; and I believe that one of the Boers' most vulnerable points is their horses, for without them they would feel absolutely lost. I am sure, Mr. King, that you would wish to be in the thick of the fighting, but I would rather that you curbed your impetuosity, for after the manner in which you obtained this news for me, I can see that your party will do far greater service in scouting and in gaining intelligence than they could afford in action. I should advise you to shift your camp, as the troops are about to advance into the town, and the enemy's shot will soon be falling there."

A few minutes later two field batteries moved forward and took up their position south of Dundee, escorted by the mounted infantry and the rifles. The third battalion of the Lancashire regiment remained to protect the camp should it be attacked by the Free Staters, while the Dublin Fusiliers and the Royal Irish Fusiliers were to march through the town to a donga or river-bed half a mile to the east. Beyond this the long ascent to Talana begins. The King's Royal Rifles were to take up a position under cover to the east of the town.

Chris had ridden back fast to Dundee. The work of taking down the tents and packing their materials and all the stores on to the spare horses took but a few minutes, and two of the lads went with the two natives and saw the horses safely placed in a sharp depression half a mile away, in which they would be safe from Boer shells. Chris had told his companions what the general had said. They all looked disappointed.

"We shall have plenty of opportunities afterwards, and it is a compliment that he considers we had better reserve ourselves for scouting, which, after all, is the work we always intended to carry out. Still, though, after what he has said, we cannot absolutely join the cavalry, we will manage somehow to see some of the fighting without getting into the thick of it. Besides, I should say that in any case the whole brunt of the affair must fall upon the infantry and artillery. If they silence the Boer guns and capture the hill, the battle is won, and the cavalry will have to wait for their chance till they can get the Boers to fight on ground where they can act."

Drizzling rain had now set in, but this and the fact that they had started without breakfast in no way abated the spirits of the troops who soon came along, marching with light step and eager faces which showed that they were delighted at the prospect of action. The batteries to the right had already come into play, and a vigorous cannonade was being directed at the crest of the hill, from which the Boer guns kept up a slower though steady fire in return.

"While nothing else is doing we may just as well ride over and see how things are getting on there," Chris said. And as soon as the two Irish regiments had passed, the little troop trotted across to the rising ground and dismounted a few hundred yards from the guns. They soon saw with satisfaction that the fire of the Boers was far from effective, their aim was not good, and a very small proportion of the shells burst; while on the other hand the shrapnel from the British batteries burst with splendid accuracy over the crest of the hill. For two hours the artillery duel continued, then the Boer guns gradually ceased their fire. The mist that had partly shrouded the summit of Talana, eight hundred feet above the plain, and the smoke that still hung thickly there, rendered it impossible to say whether they had all been put out of action or simply withdrawn, but when it cleared off they could no longer be seen. It was now the turn of the infantry. Beyond the donga in which they were lying the rise of the ground was gradual, up to a plantation which surrounded Smith's farm. Beyond this the ground was rocky. The men advanced at the double in open order, and the moment they were seen by the Boers a continuous fire of musketry was opened. The distance was about a mile, but the Mauser rifles had a much greater range than this and the bullets pattered thickly on the ground. Only four men, however, fell. The two regiments halted in the plantation and farm buildings, and the advanced line at the edge of the trees opened fire in answer to that to which they were exposed. The general at first had taken up his position with the guns, but as soon as the men advanced from the donga he joined them and accompanied them as far as the plantation. Then he returned to the battery, which continued its fire with greater activity to prepare the way for the further advance of the infantry.

The Rifles had joined the two Irish regiments, and at half-past nine General Symons galloped up to the farm and gave the order for the advance. This was received with a cheer by the men, who had been impatiently awaiting it. Scarcely had the cheer died away when the general was mortally wounded by a bullet that struck him in the stomach. Unconscious that the wound was so severe he retained his seat a minute or two, and was then carried by the Indian bearer company into the town. The troops, ignorant of the misfortune that had befallen them, were now working their way up the hill, taking advantage of every stone and boulder, and although exposed to a terrific fire, gradually pushing on until they reached a stone wall which ran round the face of the hill. Beyond this the ground was much rougher and very much steeper—so steep, indeed, that it was almost impossible to climb it. The fire of the enemy was now terrific. The troops were some three hundred yards from the crest, and it was certain death to show a head above the wall. An officer placed his helmet on the end of his sword, and the moment he raised it, it was riddled by five balls.

For a time it was impossible to advance farther, but when the Boer fire moderated a little the order ran along the line for the men to storm the position. A signal was made to the artillery to cease fire, and as it did so the men leapt over the wall and rushed forward. There was now no thought of taking shelter or returning the Boers' fire, every effort was needed for surmounting the difficulties in their way. In some places the rock was so steep that the men had to climb on their hands and knees, sometimes those below pushed their comrades up and were in turn assisted by them to climb. The roar of musketry was unceasing. It seemed to be an impossibility for any man to reach the top unscathed, and yet there was no hesitation or wavering. Numbers fell, but panting and determined the rest pressed on. The Rifles suffered most heavily, and out of the seventeen officers who advanced with them five were killed and seven wounded. At last the steepest part of the ascent was surmounted. Those who first reached this point waited until joined by others, and then fixing bayonets they rushed up the slope to the edge of the plateau cheering loudly.

The Boers did not await the onset; the great body had already fled. They had believed it impossible for mortal men to scale the hill under their continuous fire, and our steady advance through the hail of bullets had astounded them and shaken their courage. The artillery, after ceasing fire, had galloped off at full speed and taken up their position on the ridge known as Smith's Nek, overlooking the plain behind the hill. For a distance of three miles this was covered with waggons and galloping men. The guns were about to open fire upon them when a white flag was hoisted, and, believing that the Boers had surrendered, the gunners abstained from firing. It was, however, but the first of numerous similar acts of treachery, and the Boers were thus enabled to make their escape.

The appearance of the plateau gained by the troops was appalling. Some five hundred of the Boers lay dead or wounded, and many had doubtless been carried off. Three of the guns lay dismounted, the others had been removed; for as they could not be sufficiently depressed to bear upon the stormers, they had been taken off as soon as the advance began in earnest. Beyond the plateau smashed waggons and dead animals lay thickly. Great numbers of the Boer ponies had been killed; many were still standing quietly waiting for their masters, lying dead above.

Pursuit was out of the question. The men were exhausted by their efforts; they were wet to the skin by the rain that had for nine hours come down unceasingly; they had had no food since the previous day, and the tremendous climb had taxed their powers to the utmost. For a time they cheered vociferously, the first joy of victory overcoming the thought of their dead and wounded comrades, who had to be collected and carried down. The loss had been severe, ten officers and thirty men had been killed, twenty officers and a hundred and sixty-five men wounded; and nine officers and two hundred and eleven men did not answer to the roll-call. This loss was unaccountable.

Chris, as soon as the infantry advance began, had, after talking with the others, agreed to set out in the direction in which the three squadrons of cavalry had started in the morning with instructions to work round, and be prepared to cut off the enemy's retreat. They had with them some of the mounted infantry and a machine-gun.

As the whole Boer force would be concentrated on the hill, Chris thought that there would be no danger in riding round, especially as, even had the Boers posted a force to protect their line of retreat, he was confident that the speed of his horses would prevent any chance of capture. From some natives he learned the direction that the cavalry had taken, and presently on rising ground, saw two parties halted in hollows some two miles apart. The farthest out on the plain appeared to be the largest, and to this he rode. The officer in command had seen him in camp, and as he saluted on riding up, said:

"So you have come to lend us a hand, sir? Can you tell me how matters are going on at Dundee?"

"At the time we rode off, sir, the advance of the infantry had just begun, the Boer guns had been silenced, and our men were advancing from Smith's farm under a very heavy fire of the enemy, which continued without intermission as long as we were within hearing distance."

"Did you see the other squadron as you came along?"

"They are in a hollow two miles away."

"Ah! that is where we left them."

The troopers were all dismounted, and the scouts followed the example. The boom of the British guns was continuing unabated. "They can be getting on but slowly," the officer said. "I am afraid we shall find it a very tough job. I suppose there is a strong force up there?"

"Over four thousand."

"How do you know?"

"I was up there last night," Chris said, "with three of the others. We did not go up in these caps, as you may suppose, but in wide-brimmed hats. We were able to get about without exciting any suspicion whatever. We found they had six guns and over four thousand men. As we all speak Dutch fluently there was really no chance of our being detected."

The other officers of the squadron had all gathered round.

"Danger or no danger, it was a very plucky action," their leader said. "I suppose that was the news you brought in just before the troops marched off. Well, I wish that we had got our breakfast and the horses a feed before we started. It is more important for the horses than it is for us, though I should not be sorry for breakfast myself."

"We have some food in our haversacks, sir. We breakfasted before we started, and we filled our haversacks with biscuits, thinking that perhaps they would be welcome, for we knew that none of the troops had anything to eat before leaving."

"You are very good to offer it," the colonel said. "But we could not eat while the men have nothing."

"It will go round, sir, though it will be but a small portion for each. We each put about ten pounds of biscuits in our haversacks, and shall not be sorry to get rid of the weight. It will make something like three-quarters of a pound per man all round."

"More than that," the officer said. "I am indeed greatly obliged to you."

The haversacks were emptied and divided into four heaps of equal size, with a proportionate heap for the ten officers. Four men were called up from each troop, and in a short time the soldiers were all munching biscuits, every man dividing his rations with his horse. The sight of the rough-looking troop had at first excited some amusement and a little derision among the soldiers, but this feeling was now exchanged for gratitude, and it was unanimously agreed that these young farmers were a capital set of fellows. The hours passed slowly until the officers, through their glasses, saw a great movement in the encampment on the hill. The waggons standing lowest separated from the others, and gradually a general movement set in.

"Our men must be gaining ground," the colonel said, "and the Boers are beginning to funk."

The bits were put into the horses' mouths again, the saddles buckled up tightly, and an expression of satisfaction succeeded that of disgust at the long hours standing in the pouring rain. Presently, when the leading waggons were abreast of them, at a distance of about a mile, the order was given to mount, and the two squadrons dashed across the plain and were soon among the fugitives. There were many mounted men among them, these being the first to steal away from the fight. They opened fire as the cavalry approached, but were soon overthrown or driven away in headlong flight. Many of the waggons were seized, but each moment their defenders became stronger. The Boers were now flocking down in great numbers, and seeing their teams and property in danger they dismounted, formed some of the waggons up in a square, and from them opened a heavy fire upon the troopers. Chris dismounted his party, and returned the fire, but the officer in command, seeing that with so small a force of infantry he could do nothing, and that the numbers of their enemies were increasing, drew off. He would have continued the fight, but he supposed that the artillery would soon be at work, and knew they could not open fire as long as he was engaging the Boers, he therefore retired with the long train of captured waggons, and late in the afternoon reached camp.

Nothing was seen of the other squadron and mounted infantry, nor was any news received of them until the following day, when a medical officer with some wounded men came in. Like the larger force, they too had ridden in among the waggons, but had taken a more northerly line, and had come on a point where the Boers were thickest. They had charged and taken several prisoners, and inflicted severe loss on the enemy. These, however, had swarmed round them, keeping up an incessant fire and barring their retreat. They took up a defensive position in a farm, and for three hours repelled all the attacks of the Boers, until their horses were all killed or had broken away and the ammunition exhausted, while the Boers had just brought up the three guns they had withdrawn from the hill. Further resistance would have ended in the extermination of the whole party, and Lieutenant-Colonel Möller was therefore obliged to surrender.

CHAPTER VI

ELANDSLAAGTE

The scouts erected their tents again on their former ground. The remaining inhabitants of Dundee were jubilant over the victory that had been won, and did their best, by hanging out flags from the windows, to decorate the town. Jack and his companion had returned to the camp with the spare horses as soon as the hill was carried, and had the fires lighted by the time the party came in. In spite of having worn their blankets as cloaks, all were wet through, but after changing their clothes, they went into the town to gather the news of how the hill had been won, and by the time they returned their meal was ready.

"What do you think of affairs, Chris?"

"I think that the officer at Ladysmith was right, and that it was a frightful mistake to divide the force and send four thousand men up here. They have thrashed the Boers today, but they may be back again on the top of that hill tomorrow. Besides, we know that Joubert's force was not engaged to-day, and they and the Free Staters will be gathering round. We might win another victory, but we are certain to be obliged to fall back soon, and my opinion is that we shall be very lucky if we get through safely."

"Why not start to-morrow morning, Chris?" Peters said. "We shall be of no use scouting here, and not much use if there is hard fighting. I hear that some natives have brought in the news that there was some firing to-day at Elandslaagte. If that is the case, we must have troops there, and the chances are that they will be there to-morrow." "Yes, that is very likely," Chris agreed. "General White will be sure to hold the line there if he can, for he must feel sure that the force here will have to retreat now that it is attacked in earnest. When we were talking to-day to the cavalry, one of the officers mentioned that we had still telegraphic communication with Ladysmith, for although the wires by the railway are cut, it is possible to communicate through Helpmakaar. The Boers seem to have forgotten that, for it is quite out of the direct line, and nearly double as far round. Well, as we had no orders to come here, I suppose there is no occasion to get orders to go back. I think Peters's proposal is a very good one, but on a point like this everyone ought to give an opinion. My view is that we might be a great deal more useful there than here, and that if we stop we shall run a great chance of being captured. I think that it would be a fair thing to put it to the vote."

He took two or three leaves out of his pocket-book, and tore them up into narrow slips of paper.

"Now," he said, "write 'Yes' if you are in favour of going back, 'No' if you are for stopping here. Drop them into my cap and the majority shall decide."

When the strips of paper were examined, it was found that only two out of the twenty-one were in favour of remaining.

"That settles it," Chris said. "It is thirty miles down to Elandslaagte by road, and as from here to Glencoe is five miles, and we are no nearer there than we are here, by cutting across to Waschbrank we shall have only five-and-twenty miles to ride. It is well that we should get there as early as possible, so we will settle to start at five o'clock, which will take us there by eight, in time to see anything that is going on. No doubt we shall be able to hear from natives as we go along whether the troops are still there; at any rate if they are, we are sure to hear firing before we get there, unless, of course, the Boers have retired."

The horses had already had an extra feed, and the Kaffirs were warned of the hour at which they were going to start. The pack-horses were able to keep up with the rest, for their loads were by no means heavy—in fact, they carried less weight than the others. The two hundred pounds of biscuits given to the hussars made no difference in their baggage, for this had been bought at Dundee, as the lads decided to keep their stores as far as possible intact for a time when they might for some days be away scouting in a district where no provisions could be obtained.

At four o'clock the sentries roused the others, and having taken a cup of coffee and some cold meat and bread, and led the horses down to the stream while the Kaffirs were loading up the packets and bundles, they mounted at five o'clock and set off at a trot, Jack and Japhet, a name suggested by Field, who was the wag of the party, were allowed to ride on two of the horses that carried the lightest burdens. All the lads were provided with compasses, but these were not necessary, as both the natives were well acquainted with the country, which was wild and mountainous.

When they reached Wessels station, nine miles from Elandslaagte, they heard the sound of guns. At this proof that there was still a force there, they turned off from the road, and riding west, struck the point where the main road to Meran crossed the Sundays River, and then, still keeping a mile west of the line of railway, found themselves abreast of the station. Just as they did so, a body of mounted volunteers galloped up towards them. As soon as they were seen, they exchanged their hats for forage-caps, and some of them, by Chris's orders, hoisted their union-jacks on their rifles.

"It is well that you raised those flags," the officer in command said. "We made sure by your appearance that you were Boers, and rather took your change of caps as one of their slim devices, and had our rifles ready to give you a warm reception. I suppose you come from Dundee? We heard news yesterday evening of the battle, and were sorry to hear how heavy the losses were, and particularly of General Symons' wound. I suppose you have no later news?"

"No, beyond that we heard he was very dangerously hit indeed. He is either at the church or town-hall. Both have been turned into hospitals."

"There is a good deal of anxiety at Ladysmith," the officer said. "The general opinion is that, with the Boers closing in all round it, the position is a very serious one."

"I am afraid so, sir. There is nothing to prevent the Boers from returning to their position on Talana Hill to-day; and soon after we left the town this morning we heard the sound of guns away on the right, and supposed that the Free Staters had approached Glencoe. As mounted men are of very little use there, and our party is too small to be able to do any good, we thought it would be best to come back here, especially as there was a native report that there was firing in this direction."

"Yes; a party of our cavalry under French came up with a battery of field artillery. There was a little skirmishing, but in the evening the Boers were strongly reinforced, and our cavalry returned to Ladysmith. It was only a reconnaissance to ascertain the general situation. To-day we are stronger. Squadrons of the 5th Dragoon Guards, 5th Lancers, the Natal mounted, battery, and several detachments of mounted volunteers, including the Imperial Light Horse, and half the Manchester Regiment, are coming up in an armoured train. I suppose you are not attached to any other corps?"

"Yes; we form a section of Captain Brookfield's corps of Maritzburg Scouts. As you see, we are not in uniform; it being thought that, as we are all from Johannesburg, and speak Dutch and Kaffir, we should be of more use for scouting if able to appear as Boers."

"A very good idea," the officer said, "but somewhat dangerous; for if they caught you they would assuredly shoot you as spies."

"We don't mean to be caught if we can help it, as you see we are very well mounted."

"Uncommonly well. Brookfield's subscriptions must have come in handsomely for him to be able to buy such horses as those."

"We provide our own mounts and equipments," Chris said, "and consider ourselves very lucky in getting hold of this batch of horses from Mr. Duncan on the day he arrived at Maritzburg. I really think they were very cheap at sixty pounds each."

"They were not dear, certainly; and the fact that they came from him is in itself a sufficient recommendation. We have got some thirty from him, but they are a different stamp of animal and did not cost half that figure. And now we must be riding to join the rest of our fellows. We made you out when you were a couple of miles away, and were sent off to ascertain what you were. By the way, you will find Brookfield there. He arrived with his men by rail last evening." Riding on, they soon came upon the mounted corps, and were warmly received by Captain Brookfield.

"You are back just in time," he said. "I suppose that you saw something of the fight yesterday, but, as I see your number still complete, you can scarcely have been in the thick of it?"

"We were with two squadrons of Hussars, and captured a good many waggons and did a little fighting, but nothing very serious. There were only a few casualties. We heard, however, from Colonel Yule, who has succeeded poor Symons, that up to ten o'clock last night, another of the squadrons of the Hussars and a company of mounted infantry with them had not returned, and nothing was known of their whereabouts."

"Had they not got into camp when you started?"

"I did not hear, sir. In fact, we set off by daylight. But last night it was hoped that the squadron, which was acting independently, had lost their way, and would come in this morning. Where is the Boer force now?"

"Our batteries have shelled them out of the station. They were wholly unprepared for it, and bolted at once to those hills a mile and half east of the line. Their camp lies at the bottom of that conical hill. You can make them out from here with your glass. There, French is moving forward."

The order had indeed been given to advance, the artillery accompanying the cavalry, and halting every two or three minutes to deliver their fire. The ground was flat, but cut up by gullies. As soon as they came within range, the colonials dismounted and added their fire to that of the guns. An immense confusion was seen to reign in the Boer camp, and thirty-seven British subjects, including the officials and staff at the railway-station, and some of the coal-miners, took advantage of this and ran forward to join their friends. They were at once sent back into Ladysmith, after having given the information that General Koch was in command of the Boers, and that Commandant Miellof and the German Colonel Shiel, with many of the Johannesburg commando, were there. Chris and his comrades felt great satisfaction at the news.

"We have a chance of paying off old scores on the right persons now," Chris said. "I do hope that the fellows who insulted us when we were coming down are here, and that we shall manage to get among them."

For the time, however, this wish was not gratified. The Boers now seeing that they had such a small force opposed to them, steadied themselves and opened fire with some guns, Maxims, and rifles from the crest of the hill, while a swarm of horsemen and dismounted men poured out to threaten the flanks of the British. The odds were too great; the comparatively heavy guns of the enemy were well aimed and served, and quite overpowered the fire of the light cannon of the field and mountain batteries. The order was given to fall back, which was done in good order, though the troops were harassed by a hot fire from the enemy concealed in the gullies. On reaching the high ground near Modder Spruit, the country was more in favour of the British, who were now extended on each flank. The Boers were unable or unwilling to move their heavy guns from their position on the hill, and being now beyond their range, and exposed to the fire of four batteries as well as the infantry, those pressing forward fell back. General French had brought out a signalling apparatus with him, and the telegraph wires were tapped, and a message sent to General White asking him for reinforcements in order to carry the Boer position.

The fight now ceased for a time. A party of the Boers occasionally crept forward and opened fire, but the Colonial Horse dashed forward and sent them flying back to the hills. From nine o'clock till a quarter to two the troops remained idle, but the reinforcements then arrived, a battery of field artillery, several squadrons of Dragoons, Lancers, and Colonials, and the Devonshire regiment and Gordon Highlanders, the infantry being brought up by train. These were under the command of Colonel Ian Hamilton, who had a thorough knowledge of Boer tactics, and knew how to handle his troops. It was well that it was so, for, led by a less experienced commander, they would have suffered terribly in their advance. While the infantry detrained, the Colonials, followed by the 5th Lancers, rode towards some low hills, whence some parties of Boers had maintained a distant fire. These were at once scattered. The infantry marched along some ridges parallel with the railway, but a mile away, while the Devonshire regiment kept along the low ground by the line. The 5th Dragoon Guards, with some troops of Colonials and one of the field batteries, moved forward on the left.

The Manchesters were on the right of the infantry, the Gordons in the centre, and the Devons on the left, as they set their faces towards the Boer position. At three o'clock the action began, the Boer riflemen opening a heavy fire. It was still too distant, however, to do any serious execution, and the British moved forward as regularly and unconcernedly as if it had been a field day. The Boer fire grew in intensity, and one of our batteries opened with shrapnel to drive them from the lower ridges. At half-past three the Boer artillery joined their deeper roar to the rattle of musketry and the sharp cracks of the British guns. Although it was still early the light was indistinct, for a heavy thunder-storm had been for some time brewing, and this burst before the heat of the action really began. The darkness was all in favour of the advancing infantry, who in their khaki uniforms were almost invisible to the Boers.

The troops were now in extended open order, and advanced towards the foot of the hill by rushes, taking advantage of the ant-hills that studded the plain and afforded an excellent cover, being high enough to cover them while lying down, and thick and compact enough to resist the passage of a Mauser bullet. The Highlanders were suffering the most heavily, their dark kilts showing up strongly against the light sandy soil, and while the Devons and Manchesters sustained but few casualties, they were dropping fast. They and the Manchesters were somewhat in advance of the Devons, who were guarding their flank, which was threatened by a large number of Boers gathered on the ridges on that side.

The storm was now at its height, the thunder for a time deadening the roar of the battle, but through the driving rain the infantry pressed on until they reached the foot of the Boers' hill. Large numbers of the enemy were on the slope, hidden from sight by the boulders, but these could not long maintain their position, for the British marksmen shot as straight as the Boer. Our batteries, which had almost silenced those of the enemy, scattered their shrapnel among those higher up the hill, and as the Boers rose to fly before the bayonets of our cheering troops, they were swept away by volleys of the Lee-Metfords. So, with short pauses when shelter was obtainable, our troops bore upwards, cheering and even joking, until they reached the last shoulder of the hill. The Boers made a short but plucky struggle, numbers pushing up from behind to help their comrades, but nothing could check the impetuosity of our troops. The magazines of the rifles were now for the first time set in action, and the Boer force withered away under the terrible storm of shot.

The men of the Imperial Light Horse, who had dismounted and joined in the advance, were fighting side by side with the Highlanders and Manchesters. The pace was now increased to a run, and shouting and cheering the men went forward with levelled bayonets. Many of the Boers, lying behind rocks, maintained their fire until the troops were within two yards of them, and then rising, called for quarter. The men, furious at seeing their comrades shot down when all hope of resistance was over, would have spared none, had not the officers with the greatest difficulty restrained them from bayoneting the Boers, and many of these were in fact killed. As the troops, now joined by the Devons, were rushing down upon the camp, the Boers raised a white flag, and the bugle sounded "Cease firing". The men halted for a moment and then were advancing quietly when a tremendous fire broke out from the Boers, who were scattered over the ridges of the hillside and a slope leading to its summit.

Hitherto the British loss had been wonderfully small considering the storm of bullets through which they had passed, but numbers now dropped, and taken wholly by surprise, the troops ran up the hill again. But not for long. Halting when they reached the crest, and furious at the treachery that had been practised with such success upon them, they turned again, and rushed down the hill, scattering the Boers, who still clung to their shelters, with their fire. It was just six o'clock when the Devons carried the last defence of the Boers and then with the Manchesters swept down into the camp. It was now the turn of the cavalry. These had in the darkness moved forward unnoticed, and the Lancers and Dragoons, with a few of the Colonials, among whom were the Maritzburg Scouts, fell upon the flying Boers and cut them up with great slaughter, and, although it was now quite dark, followed them for upwards of two miles, and then returned to camp.

The losses were heavy. The Gordons had lost four officers killed and seven wounded, and a total of a hundred and fifteen casualties among the four hundred and twenty-five men led into action. The Imperial Light Horse lost their colonel and had seven officers wounded, and eight men killed and forty wounded. Two hundred of the Boers lay dead upon the field. Their wounded were vastly more numerous, and most of the principal officers were killed or captured. General Koch, two of his brothers, a son, and a nephew were all wounded; Shiel, Viljoen, and many others killed or captured. Everything had been left behind. Three guns, all their baggage, their waggons, a great quantity of arms and ammunition, and many horses fell into the hands of the victors. Several battle flags were also captured, and two hundred prisoners were brought in by the cavalry. The night was a dreadful one, the rain still continued to come down, the cold was bitter, and it was next to impossible to find, still less to bring down, the wounded. Nevertheless the soldiers carried on the work during the greater part of the night. Boer waggons were turned for a time into hospital tents, and here by the light of their lanterns the surgeons laboured unweariedly in giving what aid was possible to those brought in, whether Boers or Britons. Chris and his band worked as hard as the rest, and carried down a great number of wounded; but in spite of all the exertions of the troops many remained on the hillside all night, the sufferings from the wounds being as nothing to that caused by the wet and cold. The lads' flasks were of great use now, and enabled many a man, too badly wounded to be carried down the rough hillside, to hold on till morning. General White had arrived from Ladysmith while the battle was going on, but he left the command in the hands of General French. On the following morning orders came for General French to retire, as strong parties of the enemy had been seen further south, and it was hourly becoming more and more evident that it would be impossible to hold the country beyond Ladysmith, and many were of opinion that even this position was too far advanced.

The splendid valour shown by our soldiers at Dundee and Elandslaagte, and the heavy losses they suffered, had been practically thrown away. The coal-fields of Northern Natal had been lost, the loyal settlers had been plundered and ruined. Colonel Yule's force was in imminent peril, and all that had been obtained was the temporary possession of the two heights, both of which had to be relinquished on the following morning. Beyond showing the Boers how enormously they had underrated the fighting powers of the British troops, no advantage whatever had been gained by the advance beyond Ladysmith.

Three of the Johannesburg Scouts had been wounded in the charge among the Boers. None of the injuries were severe, being merely flesh wounds, of which they were hardly conscious during the fighting, and which would not be likely to keep them long from the saddle. None of them applied for medical assistance, as the surgeons were so fully occupied with serious cases. Their comrades bound up the wounds and placed them in the most sheltered position they could find, five of their comrades remaining in charge of them and the horses, there being no possibility of finding the two Kaffirs and the spare animals in the confusion and darkness.

"We have had one lesson," Chris said, as at seven in the morning the party assembled, worn out by the long night's work, "and that is, that blankets are well enough against a passing shower, but that when there is any probability of wet we must carry our waterproof sheets with us. Of course they would have been no good last night, but on occasions when there is no need for us to be using our hands they will be an immense comfort."

"But we should have been wet through before we lay down, Chris."

"Yes, they would not have kept us dry, but they would have gone a long way towards keeping us warm. It would be like putting oilskin over wet lint; we should have felt as if we were in a hot poultice in a short time. And even while riding it would have been very comfortable, if we had worn them as we did the blankets, with a hole in the middle to put our heads through."

"But that would spoil them for tents," Carmichael said.

"Well, we could have flaps sewn so as to cover the hole."

"Our blankets were very useful last night," Horrocks remarked. "I don't know how we could have got many of those poor fellows down the hill if we had not carried them in the blankets. It was infinitely easier for them and a great deal easier for us. I saw lots of soldiers using theirs in the same way." "Are you sure you will be able to sit your horses down to Ladysmith?" Chris asked Brown, Capper, and Harris, the three wounded.

All laughed. "One would think that we were babies, Chris," Harris said. "We could ride to Maritzburg if necessary, though I feel my arm rather stiff, and no doubt it will be stiffer still to-morrow. I felt a bit miserable at sunrise after lying there shivering, and envied you fellows who could keep yourselves warm by working; but I am beginning to thaw out now, and the sight of the Kaffirs coming towards us with the horses half an hour ago, and the thought of hot coffee, did even more than the sun to warm me."

"It will be ready soon," Willesden, who was specially in charge of the stores, said. "It was a capital idea bringing that large spirit stove and the paraffin with us; even a native could not find any dry sticks this morning."

"Except as the soldiers have done," Chris said, pointing to where, a quarter of a mile from the spot where they had gathered, a dozen fires were blazing, the soldiers having utilized some of the Boer waggons that had been smashed by the shell for the purpose of firewood.

"Yes, but if we were by ourselves, Chris, there would be no broken waggons; besides, after all I should not care to go down and scramble with the soldiers for a place to put a kettle on. At any rate, the stove will be invaluable out on the veldt."

"We all agree with you, Willesden," Peters said, "and it was because you were the one who suggested it that we promoted you to the office of superintendent of the kitchen. It is a comfort, too, that we have some clear water instead of having to get it from one of these muddy streams. The storm has done good anyhow, for if it had not been for that there would have been no breakfast for the troops until they had moved to the river."

In another twenty minutes they were drinking hot coffee and munching biscuits. At ten o'clock the bugle sounded the assembly, and the troops formed up, the wounded were placed in ambulance waggons or carried on stretchers, and all returned to Elandslaagte station. Here the wounded were sent on by train, while the infantry and cavalry returned by road. Talking to some of the officers of the Imperial Horse, several of whom were friends of his father, and had only left Johannesburg a short time before the declaration of war, Chris learned that the principal object in fighting the battle was to drive the Boers off the line by which the Dundee force would retreat; for Colonel Yule in his telegraphic despatch had stated, that although a victory had been won he felt that the position was untenable, and that he might at any moment be forced to evacuate it. He also learned that the safety of the line beyond Ladysmith was already threatened, but whether Sir George White would decide upon falling back towards Pietermaritzburg or would hold Ladysmith no one knew. Certainly nothing could be determined upon until General Yule rejoined with the division from Dundee.

The position there was indeed growing worse every hour. While the battle of Elandslaagte was being fought the Boers had opened fire from the hills above Glencoe on the British camp, and had compelled it to shift its position. The next day they were again obliged to move by artillery on the Impati mountain, and it was then that General Yule decided to retire at once on Ladysmith. A cavalry reconnaissance which was sent out found that the Boers were in great strength in the pass of Glencoe, and it was therefore determined to move by the roundabout way through Helpmakaar. Some stores of ammunition that had been left under a guard in the other camp were fetched, and with full pouches the little army started on its long and perilous march at nine o'clock on the evening of the 22nd. The camp was abandoned as it stood. The wounded remained with some surgeons under the protection of the Red Cross flag. All the available transport accompanied the column, but the men's kits and all other encumbrances were left behind. They were obliged to pass through Dundee to get upon the southern road, but so quietly was the movement effected that but few of the townsmen knew what was happening.

The column was led by Colonel Dartnel, chief of the Natal Police, whose knowledge of the district was invaluable to the troops. The roads were heavy, and the rain continued to pour down in torrents. Each man carried three days' provisions; they tramped along silently through the night; stoppages by swollen streams were frequent, and by daybreak the next morning they had only accomplished nine miles of their journey. Early in the morning the townspeople had woke up to the fact that the army had gone, and there was a general exodus of all who could obtain conveyances. The Boers remained for some time in ignorance that the force whose capture or destruction they had regarded as certain had slipped away. They saw the tents, but the fact that neither men nor horses were visible puzzled them, and it was eleven o'clock before some of the more venturesome galloping down found that the English force had escaped.

Then from all sides they poured into the town. Had they at once pursued they might still have overtaken the retreating force before nightfall; but they immediately set to work to loot the great stores of provisions left behind, and to gather their pickings from the deserted houses of Dundee, and so let slip their opportunity, and no pursuit whatever was attempted. For four days the column continued its march, resting for a few hours each day and usually marching all night. The road was terribly bad, leading through narrow mountain passes, and had but a small force of the enemy held the Waschbrank gorge, where the sides were for three miles nearly perpendicular, a terrible calamity might have taken place. Happily, however, the Boers were in absolute ignorance of the road which the British troops were following, and concluded that they must have somewhere crossed the railway and were making their way down by the roads to its west. That they had gone through Helpmakaar does not appear to have occurred to them, for after marching some thirty miles to that town the column was as far off Ladysmith as when it started.

The anxiety at the latter town was intense. The line being still uncut, the arrival of the column at Helpmakaar was known, but beyond that no communication could be received. On Tuesday the 24th Colonel Dartnel arrived in Ladysmith with the news that the column was now twenty miles away, all well, and he at once returned to them with supplies and a small relief force. On Wednesday many of the men came in, and on Thursday the remainder arrived and were heartily greeted. On the 24th— in order to divert the attention of Joubert and the Free State Boers, both of whom were converging upon General Yule's column, still making its way through the passes—a force composed of three regiments of cavalry, four of Colonial Mounted Infantry, three batteries, and four infantry regiments went out. The enemy were found near Reitfontein. No actual engagement took place, but for some hours an artillery and rifle duel was maintained and the Boers fell back. The number of casualties was not large, and these were principally among the Gloucester regiment, who, on entering a valley supposed to be untenanted, were received by a heavy fire from a strong party of the enemy hidden there. The fight, however, fulfilled the object for which the advance was undertaken, that of occupying the Boers' attention and enabling the column from Dundee to make its way into Ladysmith unmolested. The Boers were now closing in on the latter town from all directions, and preparations for defence at once began. The town-hall and the schools were fitted up as hospitals and everything arranged for the reception of wounded. As the Boers had already been seen near Colenso, sixteen miles to the south, it was certain that the communications would ere long be cut.

No more unsuitable place for a military camp could well have been selected than Ladysmith, which had indeed been chosen, years before the war was thought of, on account of its position on the railway, and the vicinity of the Klip river. The fact that the country immediately round was fertile and forage was obtainable no doubt influenced the military authorities in their selection. Lying in the heart of a mountainous country, it was commanded by steep and rocky hills at a distance of from two to four miles. Just as many castles built in the days before firearms were in use were rendered untenable against even the clumsy cannon of early days placed on eminences near, so the improvement in artillery and the possession of powerful modern guns by the Boers had gravely imperilled the position of Ladysmith. The military authorities could never have anticipated that the town would be besieged by foes armed with artillery that could carry over five miles. But such was the case now, and all there felt, as soon as it was decided to defend the place till the last, that the position was a precarious one.

Fortunately, a considerable store of provisions had been collected, and so long as the line was open additions were being sent up by every train. The line was a single one, winding along through passes among the hills, and therefore open to attack by small bodies of the enemy. In point of size Ladysmith was the third largest town in Natal. Durban boasted a population of thirty thousand, Pietermaritzburg of twenty thousand, and Ladysmith of four thousand five hundred, being four hundred larger than that of Dundee. It was the point at which the line of railway forked, one branch running north through Glencoe to the Transvaal, the other northwest through Van Reenen's Pass to Bloemfontein. It was a pretty straggling town with its barracks, government buildings and large stores. Almost all the houses were detached and standing in their own gardens, and as these were largely wooded its appearance was very picturesque, with the Klip river, a branch of the Tugela, running through it. The houses were, for the most part, one-storied, and the roofs were all painted white for the sake of coolness. No perfectly open town had ever before undergone a siege by an army of some thirty thousand men provided with excellent guns, and yet the garrison awaited the result with perfect confidence.

CHAPTER VII

LADYSMITH BESIEGED

On the 30th, the Boers being now in force on many of the hills around the town, and having inflicted the first annoyance upon Ladysmith by cutting the conduit that brought down the water-supply to the town from a reservoir among the hills, and so forced it for the future to depend upon a few wells and the muddy water of the river, it was determined to make an effort to drive them back and to gain possession of some of the hills from which it was now evident the town would stand a risk of being bombarded. Hitherto there had been considerable apathy in taking measures for keeping the enemy as far as possible out of range. A few redoubts thrown up during the last week and strongly held would have been invaluable, but it seemed to be considered by the military authorities that the siege could be but a short one, and that the Boers would speedily be driven off by the troops now pouring into Durban.

An effort was now to be made to repair the consequences of this remissness and to drive the Boers off the positions they occupied, and it was hoped that if a heavy blow were dealt them they would draw off altogether. The forces of Joubert, Meyer, and the Free Staters were now all within a distance of a few miles, and were all to be beaten up. Their central position was on a hill afterwards known as Signal Hill, and on this they had already planted a forty-pounder gun. A force composed of six companies of the Royal Irish Fusiliers, four and a half of the Gloucesters, a mountain battery and a troop of Hussars started at midnight towards a hill known as Nicholson's Nek, occupied by the Free Staters. Major General Hunter with a brigade of infantry, three batteries, and a small cavalry force were to attack Meyer's commando to the east, while General White, with two infantry brigades, French's cavalry, and six batteries of field artillery moved against Joubert's force on Modder Spruit. It was hoped that the Boers, if defeated, would find their retreat barred by the force that had stated early for Nicholson's Nek. All were well away from the town before daylight broke.

At five o'clock in the morning the guns spoke out, and were at once answered by the Boer artillery, and the roar of fire soon became general. General White's central column was screened by a ridge near the railway, and the big gun on Signal Hill directed its fire partly against the town and partly against the cavalry which could be seen by them in rear of the column. As only a few of the Volunteer Horse had been ordered to accompany the attacking force, Chris and his companions took up their position on an eminence that afforded a general view of the battle, and here a large number of the townspeople also gathered. The general plan of operations was that the two movable columns should form a rough arc of a circle and, driving in both flanks of the Boers, sweep the whole force before them.

"They have a great many guns," Peters said, as the rattle of the machine-guns and the thud of quick-firing one-pounders joined the continuous fire of several Boer batteries and the deeper roar of their big gun, "and they seem to be in greater force than was supposed, for I can make out large reinforcements coming up to them from behind."

Our artillery were first placed about four thousand yards from the Boer position, but as this was on higher ground than that occupied by our guns our fire did not appear to be effective. They were therefore moved forward some distance, supported by two battalions of the Rifles and the Dublin Fusiliers. The infantry force with them pushed forward rapidly and gained a crest from which they threatened to take the Boer position on Signal Hill in rear; but the Boers, very strongly reinforced, moved to meet them, and heavy fighting took place, until the enemy's force became so strong that they not only checked the further advance of the brigade, but threatened it on both flanks. Two batteries went to their assistance, but even with this aid they could not continue their advance, pressed as they were by greatly superior numbers and harassed by the fire of the Boer field batteries on the hill.

At other points our advance was opposed as hotly. Nowhere were our infantry gaining ground. The enemy had not wasted their time, but had thrown up intrenchments on the steep hills they occupied, and from these shelters maintained a terrible fire, while their numerous machine-guns swept the ground with a hail of bullets and shells. On such ground the cavalry were useless, and the range of the Boer guns was much greater than that of our own.

"It seems to me," Chris said, "that instead of gaining ground we are losing it. We can't see at all what is going on, but certainly the firing seems nearer than it was."

All had thought the same though none had cared to suggest such a thing.

"Hurrah! there is a train coming in," Field said. "I heard they were expecting a party of sailors with naval guns. They would be useful just at the present moment. Let us go down and see, we can make out nothing from here."

Glad to be doing something they went down the hill. As they reached the station they saw a large detachment of sailors at work detraining some twelve-pounders and two large quick-firing guns. Teams of oxen were brought up, the sailors harnessed themselves to ropes, and with tremendous exertions one of the guns was taken up to an eminence, and at eleven it opened fire. It was but just in time. In steady order the columns were retiring with their faces towards the Boers, answering shot for shot, carrying off their wounded as they dropped, in spite of the terrible rifle fire and the roar of the Boers' batteries; but as soon as the first naval gun opened fire, amid the cheers of the townspeople, the situation was changed. The first two shells burst close to the Boer big gun, the third in the midst of the artillerymen, and it was some time before its fire was resumed. In the meantime the sailors had turned their attention to other Boer batteries which the field artillery had scarcely been able to reach, and one by one these were withdrawn over the crest.

At one o'clock Colonel Hamilton's brigade, which had hitherto been lying behind the crest they first occupied, in readiness to repel any counter- attack the Boers might make, now moved out and took up their position to cover the retirement of Hunter's column and Howard's brigade, and although the Boers pressed hotly upon them they held their ground steadily until their comrades had all reached their camp, and then marched in unhindered by the enemy, whose big cannon had now been finally silenced by the naval gun and their batteries for the most part obliged to retire.

After seeing the naval gun open fire Chris had gone down to speak to Captain Brookfield, when he met two soldiers of a mountain battery carrying an injured comrade. They took him into the hospital and then came out. Their shoulder-straps showed them to belong to the mountain battery that had gone out with the Royal Irish Fusiliers and the Gloucesters, of whom nothing had been heard, though occasionally, in momentary intervals of fire, the sound of distant musketry could be made out in the direction of Nicholson's Nek.

"How are your party getting on?" he asked.

"We don't know anything about them, sir," one of the men said, "except that they have been heavily engaged since daylight. I am afraid that they are in a tight place."

"How is it you know nothing about them?"

"It has been a bad job altogether," the man said. "We were marching up a steep valley with only room for us to lead two mules abreast; we were in the rear of the column. Suddenly a boulder came rolling down the hill and some shots were fired. In a moment the mules stampeded. One or two began it, kicking and plunging and squealing like wild beasts, then the others all set to. There was no holding them? it was almost pitch-dark, and before one could say 'knife' they were tearing down the road we had come up. There was no time to stop, and those who were lucky jumped out of their way, those who were not were knocked down and trampled on. As soon as they had gone those of us who were not hurt set off after them and looked for them everywhere, but only two or three were caught. Where the rest went I don't know, but I hope that they got into the enemy's line of fire and were all shot. At last we gave it up as a bad job and went back to bring in the fellows who were hurt. I think most of them are in now. We have been a long time, for Thompson's leg was broken and one of his arms, and, I expect, most of his ribs, and it hurt him so to be moved that we have had to stop every two yards." "It is a bad business indeed," Chris said; "and of course all your guns are lost?"

"Every one of them, and what is worse, all the reserve small-arm ammunition is lost too. The mules carrying them were with ours, and as the fighting up there has been going on ever since, I am afraid the infantry must have pretty well used up their last cartridges."

It was not until the next day that the extent of the calamity was known, when a Boer came down with a white flag asking that doctors might be sent up. The little column instead of, as had been hoped, surprising the Boers had itself been ambushed, being suddenly attacked by two strong parties of the enemy. They at once seized a little eminence, threw up a breastwork of stone, and defended themselves successfully until the ammunition was entirely exhausted, and a hundred and fifty had been killed or wounded. The Boers had, by taking advantage of every bit of cover, crept up close to them, and a murderous fire was poured in. The two regiments asked Colonel Carleton, who commanded them, to allow them to charge with their bayonets and cut their way through. He consented to allow the desperate attempt to be made, and the men were in the act of fixing bayonets when someone raised a white flag, and the Boers standing up advanced to receive the surrender.

After this the laws of war permitted no further defence, and the men, half mad with fury at the situation in which they were placed, threw down their rifles and were made prisoners. This was at two o'clock in the afternoon, after the rest of the force had returned to Ladysmith; and thus some nine hundred men fell into the hands of the Boers. Apart from this the loss was comparatively small considering the heat of the engagement. The day's work had been altogether unsatisfactory; no advantage whatever had been gained beyond the discovery of the Boers' position, and their unexpected strength and fighting powers, and it was evident that the force at Ladysmith was unable to drive off the enemy unaided, and must undergo a siege until the arrival of a relieving army. There were provisions calculated to last for two months, and no one doubted that long before that time General Buller would arrive to their rescue. So confident had the military authorities been, that not only had no defensive works been thrown up, but they had omitted to send the women and children, and the men unfitted to give active assistance, to the rear.

On the following morning the scouts held a council of war.

"Now," Chris said, "we have to decide the all-important question. It is quite certain that the town is going to be besieged, and I should say that the siege will last for some time, as nothing can be done to relieve them until a lot of troops arrive from home. We have shown at Dundee and Elandslaagte that our fellows can drive the Boers from their kopjes, but a force arriving to relieve Ladysmith would have to fight its way through a tremendously mountainous district, and to capture at least eight or ten such positions. At Dundee and Elandslaagte the Boers had only a few guns, and the big one from Pretoria had not arrived, nor had they time to fortify themselves. It is certain, therefore, that it will require a very big force to fight its way in here, especially as the Tugela has to be crossed, and the Boers will of course destroy the bridges.

"It may be a couple of months before the place is relieved. Of course the question is, Shall we stay here or go? I don't think we should be of much use here; indeed, I don't see that cavalry would be any good at all, whereas if a portion of the Boers push south we may be very useful in our own line of scouting. Still, this is a question for you to decide. You chose to make me your commander when at work, but we should all have an equal voice in a matter of this sort."

There was little discussion; all were of their leader's opinion that it was best for them to leave. The prospect of a long siege in which they could take but little active part was not a pleasant one, and it was decided at once that they should leave.

"Very well," Chris said. "Then I will go in to Captain Brookfield and ask his permission to go. Now that we are in camp with him he must be consulted."

They had since Elandslaagte taken their places as a part of the Maritzburg Scouts, and had been drilled for some hours each day. They were already favourites among the corps, who were proud of the work they had done, and being a pleasant set of lads their uncouth appearance, which had at first been viewed with much disfavour by many of their comrades, had been forgiven. Chris went to the commander's tent and laid the matter and their decision before him.

"I think that it is just as well that you should go, Chris," the officer said; "and indeed I was on the point of telling you that we are all leaving. For myself I cannot understand why the cavalry should be kept here, and indeed I know that it is their opinion also, and that they have asked the general to let them leave. However, he has decided to keep them. I am sure it is a mistake. Before the siege is over forage is sure to run short, and half the cavalry will be dismounted before the end comes. However, I have seen him and pointed out that as scouts we should be useless here. He has given me leave to go, but has requested me to join the first troops that come up the line. When we are once away I shall give you leave to act altogether independently of us, which will I am sure suit you better than being kept for weeks perhaps at Colenso or Estcourt. Another thing I will do. General Yule was speaking to me only yesterday of the manner in which your party defeated and cut up more than double your number, and how you and three of your party went into the Boer camp at Talana and ascertained their strength for General Symons. I expect that General Buller will come on here, as it is certainly the most serious point at present. I will ask Yule to give you a letter of introduction to him, it will be useful; and I have no doubt that he will give you a free hand, as I have done. I should not call upon General Buller in that rig-out, if I were you. I have heard he is somewhat of a martinet at the War Office, and we know that they have a very poor opinion of volunteers there."

Chris smiled. "Volunteers have done good service at the Cape before now, sir, and have shown over and over again that a man can fight just as well in plain clothes as if he were buttoned up to the chin in uniform; and as the Boers are themselves nothing but volunteers, I should think that before this war is over the War Office will see its mistake."

"I should think so indeed, Chris, but at present they have certainly not woke up to the fact. I see by the telegrams that the London Scottish and the London Irish have both volunteered almost to a man for service here, and that they have not even had a civil reply to their application. I tell you, lad, this war is going to be a big thing, and before it is over we may have both militia and volunteers out here, and perhaps troops from the colonies. I heard that some of the Australian colonies have already offered to send bodies of mounted men, and that our government are ordering out a larger number of men than was at first intended. I hear this morning that at Kimberley and Mafeking fighting has begun. On the 24th Kimberley made a successful sortie, and on the 25th a general attack on Mafeking was repulsed. The fact that both these places are beleaguered, and that we have again been obliged to fall back here, and are likely to be cut off altogether, has evidently stirred them up, and they begin to understand that it is going to be a much bigger affair than they expected.

"I wrote to your mother yesterday at Durban, and told her that I intended to leave while it is still possible. Of course you have written; but I told her of the flattering way in which General Yule had spoken of the doings of you and your party, and said that I hoped she would not be anxious, for it was quite evident that you were able to take good care of yourselves. My letter was in answer to one she wrote to me from Durban, begging me to keep you from undertaking what she called 'mad-brained business', and expressing some regret that you and the others had been allowed to form a separate corps, instead of being under the command of an experienced officer like myself. I told her that I thought that you would have less chance of coming to harm in scouting work than if you had to work in a regular way as the general ordered. If this sort of fighting—I mean, of attacking in front every position the Boers choose to take—goes on, our numbers will very speedily dwindle away.

"The fact is, as far as we colonials can see, the regulars do not as yet understand fighting the Boers. Nothing could be more splendid than the behaviour of the troops, both at Dundee and Elandslaagte, but in our humble opinion neither fight was necessary; and if Talana was to be attacked, it should have been done by marching the troops round the hill and taking it in the rear. In that case the Boers would have bolted without firing a shot. That it could have been done is shown by the fact that the cavalry did it, and encountered no difficulty on the way. Again, at Elandslaagte the object of keeping the road open would have been equally well attained if, after driving them out of the station, we had taken up a strong position there and waited for them to attack us. Therefore, Chris, I think that fighting in our way—that is to say, in Boer fashion—and trusting to skill as much as to shooting, you will be running a good deal less risk than you would in fighting under British generals in British fashion. We shall go off quietly this evening. We must keep a bright look-out on the way, for the trains have been fired upon, and at any moment the Boers may pull up the rails and block the roads altogether."

Two hours later all was ready for a start, and just before sunset the corps rode out of Ladysmith. They kept a sharp look-out as they went, but saw no signs of the enemy, and crossing the Tugela by the bridge near Colenso, halted there for the night. Here Captain Brookfield reported his arrival to the officer in command of the troops, and on the following day Chris and his friends rode on to Estcourt. They had seen some parties of mounted men in the far distance, but none had come near them, and as the military authorities were well aware of the Boers being in the vicinity, there was nothing to be gained by scouting. But it was now decided that they were in advance of the point that any large number of the enemy were likely to reach, and might therefore strike across the country and resume what they considered their regular work. They added to their stores several articles whose want they had felt, had slits made in the waterproof sheets, and covers sewn on to close the holes when they were used for tents, and had some triangular pieces of the same material made to buckle on so as to close the rear of the tents, which had before been open to the wind and rain. They had employed much of their spare time in training their horses and in teaching them to lie down when ordered, and thus share the shelter taken up by their masters, behind rocks or a wall.

The officer commanding the small force at Estcourt had at first viewed them with some suspicion, but Colonel Yule had purposely left open the letter with which he had furnished Chris, so that it could be shown to any officers commanding posts or detached forces, and its production now caused his cold reception to be converted into a warm welcome. Riding across country they met more than one farmer trekking with his cattle and belongings towards the ferry across the Mooi river. These reported that the Boers had overrun the whole of the country north of the Tugela, and that some parties had already crossed at the ferry on the road between Helpmakaar and Greytown. Fugitives had come in from the villages on the other side, and complained that the Boers were looting everywhere, and had driven off thousands of cattle and numbers of horses, and had everywhere wantonly destroyed the furniture and everything they could not carry off, in the farmhouses they visited.

A vigilant look-out was kept as the scouts advanced. On the second day after starting they encamped on a slight elevation near Mount Umhlumba, and early next morning they saw a party of some twenty Boers riding in a direction that would bring them within rifle-shot of their camp. All were at once on the alert.

"We will not go out and attack them," Chris said to the lads who were running towards their horses. "That would mean that though we might kill all of them, half of us would probably be shot. We will ambush them. Get the picket ropes loose and the bridles on ready for mounting, and then leave the horses in charge of the natives where we camped. They will be out of sight there. When you have done that take your places quietly among the rocks. Do you, Capper and Carmichael, put yourselves twenty or thirty yards apart; you are our best shots. When the Boers get within a thousand yards, which is as near as they will do if they keep the line they are going, open fire upon them and keep it up steadily, but not too fast. When they see that only two men are firing they will think that you are a couple of farmers whose place they have plundered, and who are determined to have their revenge. You are safe to hit some of them, and the others will decide upon wiping you out, and will probably leave their horses and crawl up in their usual style. When they get close it will be our turn. I don't think many of them are likely to get away."

His orders were carried out, and five minutes later the two rifles flashed out one after another. The Boers were riding in a clump. One was seen to fall, and the horse of another gave a violent plunge.

"Very good," exclaimed Chris, who, like the rest, was lying down behind a rock. "Don't fire too fast. Wait half a minute, and then each take another turn, one a little time after the other." The man who had fallen was instantly picked up by one of his comrades, and all rode off at full gallop, but before they could get beyond the range of the Mausers each of the lads had fired two more shots. No more of the Boers dropped, but the watchers, who had their glasses directed upon them, thought by their movements that two had been hit. The Boers, when the firing ceased, stopped, and for some little time remained clustered together. Then they took a long sweep round to a point where the ground was broken, and a shallow donga ran up in a direction that would bring them within a hundred yards of the position occupied by their hidden assailants. There they were seen to dismount, and, after some talk, leaving all the horses in the charge of one man, probably one of the wounded, they entered the donga. Its course was irregular, and once or twice the two lads were able to get a shot at them. The Boers did not return the fire but hurried past the exposed points. As they approached a head was occasionally raised above the bank to view the position, and then disappeared again. The ground between the camp and the nearest point of the donga was thickly strewn with boulders, with bushes growing between them. The lads had all shifted their position to this side.

"Don't open fire till I give the order," Chris said quietly. "We have got them now."

Except for a slight movement of the bushes, it would not have been known that the Boers had left the donga. Once or twice Capper and Carmichael caught a momentary glimpse of one of them, but held their fire, as Chris had said,

"Let them come within twenty yards, then both fire at once, whether you catch a glimpse of them or not. Thinking that your rifles are discharged, they will all jump up and make a rush. Then it will be our turn."

Presently a man's head was seen peering round a rock at about the right distance. Both the rifles cracked at once, and a Boer fell prone on the ground beyond his shelter. At the same moment there was a shout, and his comrades all sprang to their feet and rushed forward. A volley from the whole of the scouts flashed out. Twelve of the Boers fell, the others leapt back behind their shelters, and in turn opened fire.

"Keep in shelter!" Chris shouted. "They know now that we are two to their one, and will soon be making off."

The combatants were so close to each other that neither dared expose shoulder or head to take aim, and after the first shots fired at the Boers all remained quiet. Chris waited for three or four minutes, and then told four of the lads who were in the best shelter to crawl back, mount their horses, and ride out down the other side of the slope, and, after making a slight circuit, to gallop straight at the Boers' horses.

"The fellows may be some distance away already," he said, "as they may have slipped off directly they discharged their rifles. In any case there is no time to be lost in getting hold of their ponies, or at any rate in driving them off."

As two or three minutes again passed without a shot being fired by the Boers, Chris was in the act of calling off half the troop to watch the donga and fire at the Boers if they saw them running past the exposed points, when at this moment he heard the horses returning, and directly afterwards one of the lads he had sent off ran up to him.

"There are a whole lot of them coming round the other side," he said, "sixty or seventy of them at least. Some distance behind I can see a lot of cattle and waggons. I suppose they were making for home when they heard the firing." Just at this moment two or three shots rang out, telling that the surviving Boers were seen running down the donga.

"Never mind them," Chris shouted; "we are going to be attacked by a big party. Put down your rifles all of you, and pile the stones on the crest, so as to make a shelter, as quickly as you can. We shall have a few minutes. Those who are coming up can't know yet what the firing means." He ran up to the top. "They are not more than six or seven hundred yards away," he said, "and it would be better to fight it out here than to take to our horses. Some of us would certainly not get off without a bullet. You need not mind showing yourselves when they come up. They won't be able to make out what we are."

The Boers, indeed, reined in their ponies when they saw Chris appear on the brow of the eminence, and as a preliminary some of them rode off in both directions and endeavoured to ascertain the position. Those on the right soon caught sight of the clump of horses.

"They will soon know all about it," Chris said, as two of them galloped off. "We may as well teach them to keep their distance. Take your places behind rocks, and then open a sharp fire with your magazines. They cannot know how many of us there are here. Now, are you all ready? Yes? Well, then, set to work!"

In a moment an almost incessant rattle of musketry broke out upon the astounded Boers, who, turning their horses, scattered at full gallop to escape the hail of bullets; but more than a dozen had fallen before they were beyond the range of the Mausers and were fully two thousand yards away.

"I don't think we need stop," Chris said. "Fill up your magazines again, and then make for the horses." Directly the first party of Boers had been seen, Jack and Japhet had set to work taking down and rolling up the tents and loading the spare horses.

"Jump up," Chris said to them, "we are off. Mind you keep well with us. Now," he went on, as they rode off in a body, "we will do a little cattle raiding on our own account. Make for them, lads!"

With a shout they rode off at full gallop towards the great herd of cattle. As they approached, the Kaffirs who were driving them fled. Separating as they rode, waving their hats and shouting at the top of their voices, the lads dashed at the herd, who at once turned and went off at a rate that would have astonished animals accustomed only to small pastures and other enclosures.

"Don't press them too much," Chris had ordered before the band separated, "or they will break down. Listen for my whistle; when you hear it, Field, Willesden, Harris, and Bryan will follow up the herd with the Kaffirs and keep them moving, the rest will dismount, make their horses lie down, and open fire. That narrow valley we passed through yesterday afternoon will do to make a stand. It is about five miles away, head the cattle for it. The Boers won't be far behind us when we get there."

The enemy indeed had not noticed them leave the little kopje, as they were hidden by a slight fall in the ground where they descended, and it was not until they observed a commotion among the cattle that they perceived what had happened. Then, furious not only at the loss they had suffered, but at seeing their booty driven away, they mounted and pursued in hot haste. But the party had obtained a start of fully a mile, and the valley was reached by the fugitives while the Boers were still half that distance in their rear. Chris rode along until he came to a narrow and defensible point; the horses were taken a hundred yards on and made to lie down, and he and his sixteen companions then ran back and took up their positions among the rocks on each side of the track and the slopes above it.

CHAPTER VIII

A DESPERATE PROJECT

Scarcely had the band taken cover in the gorge than the Boers appeared some five hundred yards away.

"Open fire at once!" Chris shouted, "the farther they have to come under fire the less they will like it."

The rifles at once spoke out. The lads had all used the boulders behind which they crouched as rests for their rifles, and confident of their shooting and their position, their aim was deadly. Five or six of the leading Boers fell and several horses, the rest came to an abrupt pause, galloped back some little distance and then dismounted, and leaving their horses in shelter, disappeared from sight. In a short time a dropping fire was opened from both sides of the valley.

"Don't fire unless you see a man," Chris ordered, "there are gaps on the hillside that they can't pass without giving you a chance. Fire in rotation, it is no use wasting a dozen bullets on one man; if the first misses, let the next shoot instantly, and so on. When they learn that it is death to leave shelter, they will soon get sick of it. Keep yourselves well under cover."

The rifle duel continued for an hour. As Chris had said would be the case, after seven or eight had fallen, as they were trying to make rushes across pieces of ground where boulders afforded no cover, the rest became very cautious, and at last only an occasional shot was heard.

"We will fall back now," Chris said, "for aught we know a party of them may be working round somewhere to take us in rear. We know that they have not got their horses with them, for we can see the spot where they hid them. Still, we do not want to be caught between two fires. Let four on each flank crawl back; keep well among the rocks, and don't let them catch sight of you. We will fire occasionally to let them know that we are still here. When you have got the horses up and everything is ready, whistle, and we will come back to you. It will be a long time before they venture to crawl up and discover that we have gone, an hour most likely, and by that time the cattle will be a dozen miles on their way to Estcourt, and the Boers are not likely to follow them."

Ten minutes later all were in their saddles. They had left the horses at a spot where there was a sharp elbow in the gorge, and their retreat could not be seen from the valley below. They cantered along in high glee; not one had received a scratch, while some twelve of the first party of Boers had fallen, and fully fifteen of the second, and it was certain that at least as many more must have been wounded.

"I expect they really gave up all idea of carrying our position long ago," Chris said, "and have only been keeping up their fire to prevent our turning the tables upon them. They must have seen that we are better mounted than they are, and have been afraid that we should in turn take the offensive. I should not be surprised if they stay where they are all day, and don't venture to mount and ride off till it gets dark" "You are something like a leader," Peters said enthusiastically. "We knew that you were a good fellow, and would make the best leader among us, but no one could think that our choice would turn out so well as it has done. This is the second fight we have had with the Boers, and we have thrashed them well each time, although the first time they were twice as strong, and in the second something like four times, and we have not lost one of our number. I am sure if we had been caught where we were without you with us, at least half of us would have been killed, and we should have been lucky to get away with only that."

Riding without pressing their horses, it was two hours before they overtook the party with the cattle. These had now broken into a walk.

"We kept them at it till half an hour ago," Willesden said apologetically, when they came up, "but the Kaffirs said that unless we gave them a rest half of them would drop, so we let them go easy till you came up."

"Quite right," Chris said. "We have given the Boers such a thrashing that there is no fear of their continuing the pursuit. Unless we meet some more of these thieves, we can go on as quietly as we like. I have some sort of respect for men like those we met at Dundee and Elandslaagte, who fight manfully and stoutly, but for these raiding scoundrels who only come out to rob and plunder, and do wanton damage to quiet people, one feels only disgust, and shoots them without the least compunction."

There was a general chorus of agreement.

"Did they get near you, Chris?"

"Not within about four hundred yards. They got it so hot at first that they dismounted and took to the rocks; they pushed on for a bit, and if the whole hillside had been covered with boulders we might have had some sharp fighting, but there were some open spaces to be crossed, and after getting over two or three of them they found it safer to lie as close as rabbits. For aught we know they are there still."

They travelled quietly till sunset, and then halted in an open valley where there was water and good grass. Half the company kept watch by turns, being posted with their horses some half a mile out in the country, taking the animals with them not only because they could fall back more quickly, but because they knew the horses would hear any approaching sound long before their masters were able to do so, and would evince their uneasiness unmistakably. There was, however, no alarm, and two days later, travelling by easy stages, they arrived at Estcourt, where their arrival with so large a number of cattle created quite a sensation. They at once put up a notice at the post-office, that all persons who had been raided by the Boers could come and inspect the herd and take all animals bearing their brand. It soon appeared that the cattle were the property of four farmers living within a short distance of each other. They had arrived in Estcourt with their families two days previously, weary and broken down with fatigue, hunger, and the loss and ruin of their property. Their gratitude was deep indeed at this wholly unexpected recovery of a large portion of their herds, and they started the next morning, mounted on some ponies they had picked up for a trifle, to drive them down the country.

Chris saw the officer in command as soon as they arrived in the town, and gave him an outline of their adventure, upon which he was warmly congratulated. "Shall I send in a written report to you, sir?" Chris asked.

"No, you are not under my orders; and I should say that you had better write and post it to the officer commanding the force at Maritzburg. I do not know who it may be."

"Is the road closed to Ladysmith?" Chris asked.

"Yes, two days since. General French, who is ordered to Port Elizabeth to take command of the cavalry brigade that is forming to drive back the Boers who have crossed the Orange River, came down in the last train that got out. It was hotly fired upon by the Boers, but luckily they had not taken up the rails, and the train got through safely. We have had no news since, for even the wire to Colenso has been cut, and for anything we know the place may be in possession of the Boers. We have a little fort here, and have been throwing up entrenchments, but if they come in any force there is not much hope of our getting off. We have an armored train, which yesterday ran to within a mile or so of Colenso without being interfered with, though several parties of the enemy could be seen in the distance. I have great hopes that we shall get half a battalion up from Maritzburg to-morrow; if so, by loopholing the houses and throwing up some breastworks, we ought to be able to keep the Boers out of the place, unless they come in force. At any rate, I should advise you to scout next time beyond the Mooi River and to make Maritzburg your head-quarters. So far as we know the Boers have not yet gone beyond that river, and any news of their doing so would certainly be of value. You have done marvellously well in getting away from that party you met, but you might not be so lucky next time, for as they push on they are sure in a short time to be strong all over the country between the Tugela and the Mooi."

This, after some consultation, was agreed to by the troop. There was no reason for haste, and they rode by easy stages down to Maritzburg, stopping at Weston and Hawick. Many of their friends had gone down to Durban, but some still remained, and from these they received a hearty welcome. All found letters awaiting them, for it had been arranged that as it would be impossible to give any address, these should be sent to Maritzburg. Their friends were scarcely ready to credit their stories, but, on being shown General Yule's letter, saw that at least the accounts of their early doings were strictly correct.

Troops were coming up fast from Durban, and there was already a strong brigade there. Chris called upon the brigadier and presented General Yule's letter, and his own report of the fight with the Boers subsequently.

"This shows what can be done by young fellows who are good shots and good riders, and who, I may say, Mr. King, have been admirably commanded. What are your wishes now? There are two or three troops of volunteer horse here; would you wish to be attached to one of them? Of course, if you do so there will be no difficulty about it; but really, I think that you would be more useful in carrying on your work in your own way."

It had been known for a long time past that a large proportion of the cannon, rifles, and ammunition of the Boers had been landed at the Portuguese port of Lorenzo Marques, and taken up by rail from there to Komati-poort—a station on the frontier, where there was a bridge across the Komati river—and thence by rail to Pretoria. Chris heard that it was generally known that the Portuguese officials, who had long been influenced by Boer money extracted from the Uitlanders, were still winking at the practice, although it was a breach of neutrality. So much indignation was expressed on the subject at Maritzburg that Chris, one day when the party assembled at the spot where their horses were tethered, said:

"I want to have a serious talk with you all. You have all heard that immense quantities of arms and dynamite are passing through Lorenzo Marques. Now, at present we don't see much for us to do here. My idea is, that if we could manage to blow up the bridge across the river that divides Portuguese territory from the Transvaal, we should do an infinitely greater service than by killing any number of plundering Boers."

His troop looked at each other in surprise.

"You are not really in earnest, Chris?" Peters said; "it would be a tremendous business."

"It would be a big business, no doubt, but I was never more earnest in my life than in proposing it. Now that we know how strong the Boers are round Ladysmith, and what terribly hard work it will be for an army to fight its way through all those hills, we can see that the first calculations as to the time when it can be relieved are a good deal short of the mark. There must be at least twenty thousand men collected here to do it, and I think it is more likely to be the end of January than the end of December before the Boers are driven off. We have in the one case seven weeks and in the other twelve before the place is relieved, and we begin to turn the tables on the Boers; and according to the way we carry my idea out it depends whether we are back here by the end of the year or by the end of January—that is, I acknowledge, if we get back at all.

"I have been thinking it over. There are two ways of doing it. We can go on board a ship touching at Durban and going on to Lorenzo Marques. I don't say that we could not all do it, but it would be better to choose only four; a larger number would excite more observation. Those who go will of course take dynamite with them. We can buy that at Durban. At Lorenzo Marques we should assume the character of four young Irish fellows. We know there are lots of them already up there, and Germans too, fighting in the Boer ranks and I am glad to know that they got peppered at Elandslaagte, although that is not to the point. We should go as four Irish lads who have come across from America to fight for the Boers. We have heard plenty of Irish in the mines and at Johannesburg, so shall be able to put enough brogue in our talk to pass. I know from what I have heard that a trip to the Portuguese officials would be quite sufficient for them to pass anything without examination; but even if they did open our cases and find dynamite in them, we could account for it by saying that we had been told before starting that it would be the handiest thing to take with us, and would be of more assistance to the Boers than anything we could bring them.

"No doubt some of the passengers would know that we got on board at Durban, but if any questions were asked we could account for that by saying that the ship we came over in, was going on to Australia, and therefore we had been obliged to land and take another on to Lorenzo Marques. Once landed, we should of course take a train for Komati-poort, and slip off it after dark at some station a few miles from there. Then, you know, we could first reconnoitre the bridge, and when we had settled on the best place for the dynamite, we could put it there the next night. I know a good deal about the use of dynamite. It is not like gunpowder, that you have to put in a hole and fasten up tightly, you only have to lay it upon an iron girder or arch, and light your fuse and leave it to do its work."

The boys listened with increasing surprise to his proposal.

"And what is your other plan?" Peters asked after a long pause.

"The other plan is that we should all take a passage in some small craft, which we could hire, to St. Lucia Bay, and then go up through Zululand and Swaziland, which extends to within a short distance of Komati-poort. Both tribes are friendly enough with us, and hate the Boers like poison. Of course in that case we shall take the dynamite with us, and then must be guided by circumstances as to our course and what we should do when we got to the bridge."

There was again a long silence, then Brown said: "If anyone but you had proposed it, Chris, I should have scoffed at it as impossible, but for myself I have come to have such confidence in you that I believe you would manage it. There can be no doubt that it would be a grand thing if we could do it. I have heard my father say that the river is a terribly bad one, and that sometimes it is altogether impassable for weeks at a time. Except by the bridge, even in the best times, I should think, from what he said, it would be quite impossible for them to take heavy things like cannon across. Anyhow, I am ready to go with you."

"Thank you, Brown," Chris said. "I should certainly not ask anyone to go. Those who are willing to do so must volunteer. Of course we only combined for the purpose of acting as scouts, and no one ever contemplated doing more. So far, we have, as all allow, carried out that object well; and I have no doubt that those who do not care to join in what is a sort of forlorn hope, will continue to do well after we have started on it, and of course I shall, if I get back, rejoin them. My scheme would, no doubt, be considered a very wild one, but I can see no reason why, with good luck, it should not succeed. Indeed, I believe that it will succeed, if, when we arrive there, we do not find that the Boers are guarding the bridge. Of course, if they do so there is but little hope of carrying the matter out. They will know the importance of the bridge to them, and how greatly its destruction would be desired by the British Government, and may think it possible that such an attempt as I propose would be made, and take precautions to prevent its success.

"I do not mean to throw away my life. If, when I get there, I find that it is next to impossible to carry the matter out, I shall give it up; but even then the information I should get about matters up there, both as to the Boers and the Swazis, would be of use. We know that Boer agents have been doing their utmost to get the Basutos to join them, and it is likely that they may be trying to induce the Zulus and Swazis to do the same; and even if we fail in the principal object, I should say that the time would not be wasted. When I am up there, I can, of course, get news as to how the war is going on, and if I find that our forces are pushing up into the Transvaal, I shall make straight across the country and join them. I have been thinking over the matter a good deal since we came here, and made up my mind that anyhow I shall try to carry it out, so I now resign the leadership, and also for the present my membership. Now, I don't want to influence you in any way. It has all come suddenly upon you. You had better talk it over together. All I ask you is that you will not say a word about it to anyone, not even to your relations.

"Not only because, as I know would be the case, they would be afraid of having anything to do with what they would consider an absolutely mad scheme, but because a chance word might prove fatal to success. As everyone knows, there are a great number of Dutch in the colony, who, although they may not be openly hostile, are in favour of the Boers, and will no doubt keep them acquainted with every movement of troops here, and can have no difficulty in communicating with them by native runners. Were one of our friends even to mention it casually that we had gone north, suspicions might be aroused. Therefore I beg that no one will breathe a word about the matter, but that you will decide for yourselves without consulting anyone. I shall leave you now, and we will meet here at the same time to-morrow. You will have had time to think it over then. I wish to say before I go that I don't consider that the success of my plan depends upon my having the whole twenty of you with me. I repeat, that four would be quite sufficient.

"There are advantages as well as disadvantages in having only that number. We should travel without exciting so much notice; we should have less difficulty about food; we could conceal ourselves more easily in case we were pursued. On the other hand, with a stronger party we could repulse an attack if chased by the Boers. So you see I really do not want more than three of you to join. I think four is the best number, and should be glad if only two besides Brown wished to go with me; but at the same time if more desire it, of course, as we are all comrades, they would have a right to go."

So saying he turned away, leaving the others to talk the matter over. They went through their usual drill that afternoon without any allusion being made to the subject. When they met the next day Chris said cheerfully, "Well, what have you decided? First, Brown, do you stick to what you said yesterday, or do you think better of it?"

"Certainly I stick to it," Brown said. "When I say a thing I mean it."

"And how about the others?"

"I have made up my mind to go with you, Chris," Peters said, "and so has Willesden. Field and Capper and Sankey would all go with you if you wanted to take more than four, and all would go if you wanted the troop; but if you would rather only have three of us, it is settled that Brown, Willesden and I go."

"Very well," Chris said, "that just suits me. I am glad that you would all go if you were wanted; but really I think that four would be the best number, so we will consider that as settled. And now there is one other thing I want to ask you about. You see, we have no right to take any money out of the common fund, but we shall have some heavy expenses. In the first place we shall want, I should say, a couple of hundred pounds of dynamite; then we shall have to take some natives with us, a couple of Zulus and two or three Swazis. There will be no difficulty in getting them, as so many have been thrown out of employment owing to the farmers losing their herds. We may find it useful to make presents to chiefs as we go along, and, of course, we shall have to take a certain amount of provisions for the party. Have you any objection to our each taking half our share out of the bank? Nothing has been drawn at present, and with a couple of hundred pounds between us we shall have enough and to spare for however long we may be away."

There was a chorus of agreement.

"We are all awfully sorry that you are going, Chris," Field said. "It won't be the same without you at all. We have agreed to ask you to nominate a leader during your absence."

"I would much rather not do that," Chris said. "Everyone has done equally well, and it is a question that you should settle among yourselves."

"We are all against that," Field said positively. "We have talked it over and agree that we shall never be able to fix on one. Suppose our votes were divided between four and five I don't think we should feel more comfortable afterwards. We would rather put all the names in a hat and draw one out, just leaving it to chance."

"I almost think that it would be better," Chris said, "to do as you propose. Agree first that, as we have done up till now, all important matters shall be discussed and decided by vote, then draw all the names from a hat and let each be leader for a week in the order in which they come out, with the proviso that if as time goes on you find that you can have more confidence in one than another, you can by a majority of three to one elect him as permanent leader."

"That would be a very good plan," Carmichael said, "but, you see, the difficulty is that, supposing we were going to attack the Boers or the Boers attack us, the plan the leader fixed on might not seem to us at all the best. In the two fights we have had there was not that difficulty, for everyone felt that the plan you adopted was the best, and indeed much better than any of us would have been likely to think of. I don't say that that would occur, but it might. It is not everyone who could fix upon the best thing to be done all at once as you did."

Chris thought for a minute. "I would suggest," he said, "that in such a case as you mention the leader should tell the next two on the list what he proposed. If one of the two agreed with him it would be a majority, and there would be nothing more to be said on the matter. If both disagreed with him there must be a general vote. I should hope such a thing would never occur, because the loss of five minutes would sometimes be disastrous, though in some cases it might not make any difference. Still, that is the best plan I can think of. There is no occasion for you to decide that straight off. At any rate, if you should find that any arrangement you make does not act perfectly well, I should advise you to join Captain Brookfield's troop and act with him."

The general opinion was strongly in favour of Chris's suggestion. It was agreed that at any rate the first leader should be chosen by chance. Carmichael's name came first out of the hat.

"I shall not have much responsibility," he said, "as we have settled to remain here until the advance begins. Now, Chris, about the spare horses."

"I should like to take one of them. We may have to gallop for it, and it is of no use our being well mounted if we are hampered with a pony that cannot keep up with us. We have only to lighten its load by getting rid of most of its burden, and then we should be free to go our own pace.

"I should like to take one of our Kaffirs. They have both turned out very well, and have a good idea of cooking, and are accustomed to our ways. I don't care which I have, but I should certainly like to have one of them. He would stick to the spare horse, while the other natives would be all right if they scattered and shifted for themselves."

"Would you not like two spare horses, Chris?"

"No, thank you, one would be enough. He would carry our stores, and I should get two native ponies to take the dynamite along. We shall not be travelling at any extraordinary rate of speed, and if they broke down we could always replace them. Certainly there would be no danger if we go through Zululand, and, I should think, not until we get north of the Swazis' country; for though I know there are Boers settled among them, a good many would of course have joined their army, and it would be easy to avoid the others. The danger will only lie in the last part of the journey."

"Then you have settled to go by land?"

"Yes, I have decided to go all the way on horseback. We might find difficulties with the Portuguese at Lorenzo Marques, and if we manage to blow up the bridge, should have no horses, and should have a very bad time indeed in getting back. If I can get dynamite here I shall go all the way by land, and it would be safer. No doubt the Boers have spies at Durban, and we might have difficulty in hiring a craft to take us to St. Lucia, and our starting with horses and five or six natives would be safe to attract the attention of someone looking out for news to send to the Boers. I think the best plan will be to keep a little to the east of the road to Greytown, where no doubt there are some Dutch, and strike the road that runs from there to Eshowe. A little west of Krantzkop there must be either a drift or a bridge or a ferry where it crosses the Tugela. I shall of course avoid Eshowe, and then keep along inside the Zulu frontier as far as the Maputa, which is its northern boundary, then we shall cross the Lebombo range into Swaziland. I don't know how far it would be by the way we should have to go, but as the crow flies it is about three hundred miles from here. I suppose, what with the detours and passes and so on, it will be four hundred. Ordinarily that distance could be done in twenty days, but we must allow a good bit longer than that; fifteen miles a day is the utmost we can calculate upon. However, in about a month after we start we ought to be there or thereabouts. Coming back we should do it more quickly, as we should have got rid of our weight and need not be bothered with pack ponies."

"You talk as coolly about it," Field laughed, "as if you were going out for a few days' picnic."

"It is the same sort of thing," Chris said, "except that it will be longer, a bit rougher, and a good deal more interesting."

"When will you start?"

"As soon as possible; all I have to see about are the dynamite and stores for the journey. We know pretty well by this time what we shall want. We are sure to be able to buy mealies and a bullock when we want one from the natives. Some tea and coffee, a dozen tins of preserved milk, and half a hundredweight of biscuits, in case of finding ourselves at a lonely camp with no native kraals near, and we shall be all right. Of course we will take a gallon or two of paraffin, a frying-pan, a small kettle, and so on, and a lantern that will burn paraffin. We will fill up our pouches with a hundred rounds of rifle cartridges and fifty for our revolvers, and then I think we shall be ready. Now mind, the success of our enterprise depends entirely upon your all keeping the secret absolutely. Neither Willesden, Brown, nor Peters have friends here to bother themselves about their absence. We are not likely to be missed, but if any questions are asked, you can say casually that we are off on a scouting expedition. I shall write four or five letters, with dates a week or ten days apart, and direct them from here, and leave them for you to post one by one to my mother. Be sure you send them in the right order. As she will suppose that we are stopping here quietly, and out of all harm, she won't be uneasy about me. Peters' and Willesden's friends have gone to England, so they are all right, and Brown's are at the Cape. You had better write two or three letters too, Brown, to be posted a fortnight or three weeks apart."

When these matters were arranged, Chris saw Jack, and the Kaffir agreed without hesitation to go with him. He had been so well treated since he joined them that he had become quite attached to Chris, who generally gave him his orders. He was only told they were going up on an expedition to Zululand and Swaziland.

"I want you to find two good Zulu and two Swazis. Do you think that you could do that?"

"There are plenty of them here, baas. I look about and get good men.

What shall I tell them that they will have to do?"

"To act as guides, to tell the chiefs who we are, and on the march to look after two or three ponies. We shall only take one of the spare horses, you will look after him."

"Will they have guns, baas? All men like to have guns."

"Yes, they may as well carry guns, and you too, Jack."

"Much better for men to have guns, baas. They would be thought nothing of without them." "All right Jack, there shall be no difficulty about that; the stores are full of them."

This was the case. Men entering the volunteer corps, or who intended to do any fighting, sold the rifles they had previously used and obtained those of Government pattern and carrying the regulation cartridge, so that for ten pounds Chris got hold of five really good weapons, carefully selecting those that carried the same-sized cartridge.

"You can take whichever you like," he said to Jack, who had gone with him to buy them; "and I shall tell the men I engage that if at the end of the journey I am well satisfied with their behaviour, I shall give them the guns in addition to their pay."

A few hours afterwards Jack brought up four natives for his inspection. They were all strong and well-built men, and looked capable of hard work. Having been thrown out of their employment by the events of the past fortnight, they were glad of a fresh job, and were highly satisfied when they were offered wages considerably higher than those they had before received. All preparations were completed by the following evening, and the next morning at daybreak, after bidding their comrades a hearty farewell, the little party started.

CHAPTER IX

KOMATI-POORT

The four lads were no longer dressed in the guise of farmers. These suits were carried in the packs to be resumed when they neared the Transvaal. They now dressed in the tweeds they had worn at Johannesburg, and either felt hats or straw. They still wore jack-boots. The heat of the day was now great, much more so, indeed, than they had been accustomed to, for while Maritzburg lies two thousand two hundred feet above the sea, Johannesburg is five thousand seven hundred. Behind them Jack led the spare horse, and the four new men stepped lightly along with their muskets slung behind them by the side of two strong Basuto ponies, each carrying a couple of boxes containing half a hundredweight of dynamite. These were concealed from view by sacks and blankets, the cooking utensils, and other light articles. The spare horse carried the flour, paraffin, fuses, and other stores, which brought up the weight to a hundred and twenty pounds. This was somewhat lighter than that carried by the ponies, but they were anxious to keep it in good condition in case one of their own gave out.

The baggage had all been very carefully packed, so that even when going fast it might not be displaced. They had found no difficulty in obtaining the dynamite, as several of the stores kept it for the use of the mines. They made no difficulty in selling it, and would not have been sorry to part with their whole stock. In view of the possibility of a siege, it was not an article that any sane man would care to keep on the premises. Chris had gone round to these stores and had obtained an offer from each, and as he said that he intended to accept the lowest tender, it was offered to him at a price very much below what he would ordinarily have had to give for it. The cases were sewn up in canvas, on which was painted respectively, Tea, Sugar, Biscuits, and Rice. Travelling five hours and halting at ten o'clock at a farmhouse that was still tenanted, and again travelling from half-past three until eight, they made about twenty-five miles the first day. Then they encamped at a spot where there was a small spring and consequently good feed for the horses, and knee-haltering them and taking off their saddles they turned them loose.

The natives had collected fuel as they went along, and a fire was soon made. When the kettle approached boiling, some slices of bacon, of which they had brought thirty pounds with them, were fried. There was no occasion to make bread, as they had enough for a two days' supply. The natives parched some mealies (Indian corn) in the frying-pan when the bacon was done, the fat serving as a condiment that they highly appreciated, and they quenched their thirst from the spring.

Four days' travelling took them to the drift across the Tugela. So far their journey had been wholly uneventful. Before crossing the next day they had a long talk with the two Zulus. Their language differed somewhat from that of Jack, but Chris understood them without difficulty; for a considerable portion of the labourers in the mines at Johannesburg were Zulus, and mixing with these, as Chris had done, he understood them even better than he did Jack.

The different routes were discussed, and the position of kraals, at which mealies for the five natives and the horses could be purchased, and meat possibly obtained. This, unless they bought a sheep, would be in the form of biltong, that is, strips of meat dried by being hung up in the sun and wind, and similar to the jerked meat of the prairies and pampas of America. The points at which water could be obtained were discussed. Some were at considerable distances apart; but the Zulus were of opinion that the late heavy rains had extended to the hills of Zululand, and that there would be abundance of water in little dongas and water-courses that would be dry after a spell of fine weather. While passing through Zululand there would be no occasion whatever for vigilance by day or a watch at night, for there perfect order reigned. Here and there resident magistrates were stationed, and at these points a few white traders had settled. All disputes between the natives were ordinarily decided by their own chiefs, but in serious cases an appeal could be made to the nearest magistrate, who at once interfered in cases of violence or gross injustice.

At the first kraal they came to they learned that the natives were everywhere much excited. They were most anxious to be allowed to join in the war against their old enemies, and were greatly disappointed on learning from the magistrates that this was only a white man's war, and that no others must take part in it. If, however, the Boers invaded their territory they would of course be allowed to defend themselves.

Some of the Zulus urged with reason, that though the English might wish to make it a white man's war, the Boers did not desire it to be so, for they knew that they had been urging the Swazis and the Basutos to join them against the English, and that offers of many rifles and much plunder had been made also to some of their own chiefs. To this the magistrates could only reply, that they knew of old that the Boers' words could not be trusted, and that they were always ready to break any arrangement that they had made. "They would like you to join them," they said, "because they would take your help and afterwards turn against you and steal your land. You know well enough that we have always stood between you and them; but they would know that if you had joined them against us we should be angry, and after our war with them was over would no longer protect you." The Zulus, from their knowledge of the Boers, felt that this would be so. But in any case no offers made to them would have induced them to side with the Boers; and it was the general hope that something might occur which would induce the English to allow them to attack their enemies.

Chris and his friends had laid aside their bandoliers, retaining only the cartridges carried in their belts, in order to assume the appearance of Englishmen merely travelling for sport, and as they went on they generally managed to shoot deer enough for the needs of the whole party. Occasionally they slept in the kraals of chiefs, but greatly preferred their own little tents as the smoke in them was often blinding, and more than once the attacks of vermin kept them awake. Still, it would have been a slight to refuse such invitations, and they had to go to the kraals as it was necessary to frequently buy supplies of mealies. At times the travelling was very rough, and with the utmost exertions they could not make more than twelve or fourteen miles a day, and at other times they could make five-and-twenty. Without the supply of Indian corn, the ponies could not have continued this rate of going without breaking down. The native horses are accustomed occasionally to make very long journeys, and can perform from sixty to eighty miles in a day, but after such an exertion they will need a week's rest before making another effort. With their Basuto masters they are not called upon to do so. When one of these makes a long journey he will leave his pony with the person he visits and return on a fresh mount, or if he returns to his own home after his first day's journey he will take a fresh horse from his own stock, which may vary from five to fifty ponies. As they rode they seldom talked of the work that was to be done. Until they saw the country, the positions, and approach, no plans could possibly be formed, and they therefore treated the matter as if it were a mere sporting expedition in a new country, and enjoyed themselves thoroughly. They had heavy work in crossing the Lebombo range, and, travelling a day's journey farther west, turned to the north again. They were now in Swaziland, a wild and mountainous country. Here also they were hospitably received where they stopped, although the Swazis were deeply aggrieved by the shameful manner in which England had refused, after the valuable aid they had rendered in the last war, to give them any support against the Boers. A word would have been sufficient to have kept the latter out of Swaziland, as it had kept them from raiding in Zululand; but that word was not given, and the unfortunate people had been raided and plundered, their best land taken from them, and they themselves reduced to a state of semi-subjection. However, they were glad to see four English sportsmen among them again, and to learn something of the war that had broken out between their oppressors and the British.

"If you beat them we shall be free again," they said. "Last time you were beaten, and gave over the whole country to the Boers, and left all our people, who had fought for you, at their mercy. This time you must not do that. If you beat them, shoot them all like dogs, or make slaves of them as they make slaves of the natives who dwell in their land. Only so will there be peace."

"I don't know that the English will do that," Chris said; "but you may be sure that, when the war is over, the Boers will be no longer masters, and there will be just law made by us, and all white men and all natives will be protected, and no evil deeds will be allowed."

"We are no longer united among ourselves," one of the chiefs said. "Some have been taken by the promises and gifts of the Boers, and our queen is also, it is said, in their favour. She is afraid of them, but most of us would take advantage of their fighting you to drive all of them out of our land, and to win back all the territory they have taken from us. We are very poor, our best land is gone, we can scarce grow enough food; and we long for the time when once again we can have rich mealie patches, and good grazing land for our oxen and our horses, and are again a strong people, and they afraid of us. Had not the English interfered and taken over the Boer country, we should have wasted it from end to end; and they knew it well, and begged your Shepstone to hoist your flag and protect them. Ah, he should have stayed there then! The natives, our friends in the plain, still talk of that happy time when you were masters, and the Boers dared no longer shoot them down as if they were wild beasts and treat them as slaves, and the towns grew up, and your people paid for work with money and not with the lash of a whip or a bullet. All of us have mourned over the time when the English bent their knee to the Boers, and gave them all they wanted,—the mastery of the land, and the right to kill and enslave us at their will."

"That was not quite so," Chris said. "They promised to give good treatment to the natives; that was one of the conditions of the treaty."

"And you believed them!" the chief said scornfully. "Did you not know that a Boer's oath is only good so long as a gun is pointed at him? Perhaps it will be like this again, and when you have conquered them you will again trust them, and march away. But they tell us, it is not you who will conquer them, but they who will conquer you. They tell our people that they will be masters over all the land, and that your people will have to sail away in your ships. Runners have brought us news that they have gathered round the place where our people go to work digging bright stones from the ground, and that very soon they will take all the English prisoners, and that they have also beset Mafeking, and that they have beaten the English soldiers in Natal, and there will soon be none left there; and more than that, that the people of the other Boer state have joined them, and have entered the English territory, and are being joined by all the Boers there. Therefore we, who would like to fight against them, are afraid. We thought the English a great people; they had beaten the Zulus, and dethroned the great King Cetewayo. But now it seems that the Boers are much greater, and our hearts are sore."

"You need not fear, chief," Chris said. "Our country is very many miles away, many days' journey in ships; it will take weeks before our army gets strong. The Boers have always said they wanted peace, and we believed them and kept but a few soldiers here, and until the army comes from England they will get the best of it; but we can send, if necessary, an army many times stronger than that of the Boers, and are sure to crush them in the end."

"But how could you believe they wanted peace?" the chief asked. "Everyone knew that they were building great forts, and had got guns bigger than were ever before seen, and stores full of rifles. How could you believe their words when your eyes saw that it was not peace but war that they meant?" "Because we were fools, I suppose," Chris said bitterly. "It was not from want of warnings, for people living out here had written again and again telling what vast preparations they were making, but the people who govern the country paid no attention. It was much easier to believe what was pleasant than what was unpleasant; but their folly will cost the country very dear. If they had sent over twenty thousand men a year ago there would have been no war; now they will have to send over a hundred thousand men, perhaps even more; and great sums of money will be spent, and great numbers of lives lost, simply because our government refused to believe what everyone out here knew to be the fact. We did nothing, and allowed the Boers to complete all their preparations, and to choose their own time for war. But though we have made a horrible mistake, do not think, chief, that there is any doubt about our conquering at last; the men who now govern our country are men and not cowards, and will not, as that other government did, go on their knees to the Boers, and even if they would do so, the people would not sanction it."

"If what the chief has heard is correct," Chris said as they rode along the next morning, "we must get back again as soon as we can. The Boers may be lying, and, of course, they would make the best of things to the Swazis. It certainly sounds as if not only at Ladysmith, but at all other places, things are going badly at present. However, in another couple of days we shall not be far from the bridge. The chief said that the frontier was only a few miles away, and our own men tell us that it is a very hilly country on the other side, just as it is here. We have certainly come faster that we had expected. Thanks to their good feeding, the horses have all turned out well. If it is really only two days farther, we shall get there in just three weeks from starting."

They had not brought the same ponies all the way; as soon as one showed signs of fatigue, it was changed for another with the arrangement that, should they return that way, they would take it back and give the chief a present for having seen that it was taken care of. The four natives, although well contented with the way in which they were fed and cared for, were much puzzled at the eagerness of their employers to push on, and the disregard they paid to all the information obtained for them of opportunities for sport. Several times they had said to Jack: "How is it the baas does not stop to shoot? There are plenty of deer, and in some places lions. There are zebras, too, though these are not easy to get at, and very difficult to stalk. Why do you push on so fast that the ponies have to be left behind, and others taken on? We cannot understand it. We have been with white men who came into our country to shoot, or to see what the land was like, but they did not travel like this. Besides, we shall soon be in the land of the Boers, and as the English are at war with them, they will shoot them if they find them."

Jack had only been told that his masters were going to strike a blow at the Boers, and had not troubled himself as to its nature. He had seen how they had defeated much larger parties than their own, and had unbounded confidence in them. He therefore only said:

"The baas has not told me. I know that all the gentlemen are very brave, and have no fear of the Boers. I do not think that we need fear that any harm will happen. They shoot enough for us to eat heartily, they buy drink for us at every kraal they stop at, and if they have seen no game they buy a sheep. What can we want more? They have got you guns, but you have never needed to use them; perhaps you may before you get back. If the Boers meddle with them you will be able to fight."

The prospect of a chance of being allowed to fight against the Boers would alone have inspired the four natives to bear any amount of fatigue without a murmur, and each day's march farther north had heightened their hopes that they might use their guns against their old enemies. It was on the twenty-first day after starting that, from a hill commanding a broad extent of country, they caught sight of a train of waggons, and knew that their journey was just at an end. They had debated which side of the Komati river would be the best to follow, and had agreed to take the eastern bank.

The Boer territory extended a few miles beyond this. Komati-poort was close to the frontier. As they knew nothing as to the construction of the bridge beyond the fact that it was iron, and were not even sure whether it was entirely on Boer ground, or if the eastern bank of the river here belonged to the Portuguese, they decided that at any rate it was better to travel as near the frontier as possible, as, were they pursued they could ride at once across the line. Not that they believed that the Boers would respect this, but they would not know the country so well as that on their own side, and would not find countrymen to join them in the pursuit.

Keeping down on the eastern side of the hills, they continued until they could see the white line of steam that showed the direction in which a train from the south-east was coming, and were therefore able to calculate within half a mile where the bridge must be situated. They camped in a dry donga, and next morning at daybreak left their horses behind them in charge of the men and walked forward. A mile farther they obtained a view of the bridge. It stood at the point where the river, after running for some little distance north-west, made a sharp curve to the south. The bridge stood at this loop. If the object had been to render it defensible, it had been admirably chosen by these Boers who laid out the line to the Portuguese frontier, for from the other side of the bank the approach could be swept by cannon and even musketry on both flanks.

Lying down, they took in all the details of the construction through their glasses, and then, choosing their ground so that they could not be seen by any on the bridge, they kept on until they were able to obtain a view from a distance of a quarter of a mile. The examination that was now made was by no means of a satisfactory nature. Near the bridge there were sidings on which several lines of loaded trucks stood. An engine was at work shunting. At least a score of natives were at work under the direction of Portuguese, while several men, who were by their dress evidently Boers, were pointing out to the officials the trucks they desired to be first forwarded. Three or four of these carried huge cases, two of them being each long enough to occupy two trucks.

"There is no doubt those are guns," Chris said. "If we can do nothing else, we can work a lot of damage here, which will be some sort of satisfaction after our long ride. As to our main object, things don't look well."

Half a dozen armed Boers could be made out stationed at the Portuguese side of the bridge, and as many more at the opposite end. Two lately- erected wooden huts, each of which could give shelter to some fifty men, stood a short distance beyond the bridge, and it was evident by the figures moving about, and a number of horses grazing near, that a strong party was stationed there to furnish guards for the bridge.

"I am afraid we cannot do it," Peters said, after their glasses had all been fixed on the bridge for several minutes; "at least, I don't see any chance. What do you say, Chris?"

"No, I am afraid there is none. If we were to crawl up to them to-night and shoot down all at this end of the bridge, we should be no nearer. You see, there are a line of huts on this side, and two or three better- class houses. No doubt the railway officials and natives all live there; they would all turn out when they heard the firing, and the Boers would come rushing over from the other side. It would be out of the question for us to carry forward those four boxes to the middle of the bridge, plant them over the centre of the girders, and light the fuses. A quarter of an hour would be wanted for the business at the very least, and we should not have a minute, if there is as good a guard by night as there is by day. It is likely to be at least as large, perhaps much more than that. The thing is impossible in that way. However, of course we can crawl up close after dark and satisfy ourselves about the guard.

"If it is not to be managed in that way, we must go down to the river bank and see whether there is anything to be done with one of the piers. If that is not possible, we must content ourselves with smashing things up generally on this side. Several of the trucks look to me to be full of ammunition, and there are eight with long cases which are no doubt rifles. We all remember that terrific smash at Johannesburg, and though I don't say we could do such awful damage as there was there—for there were I don't know how many tons of dynamite exploded then, I think about fifty—still, it would be a heavy blow. Any amount of stores would be destroyed, some thousand of rifles, and, for aught I know, all those waggons with tarpaulins over them are full of cartridges. However, the bridge is the principal thing. We will stop here for an hour or two and examine every foot of the ground, so as to be able to find our way in the dark. We need not mind about the trucks now, we can examine their position to-morrow if we have to give up the idea of the bridge."

On returning to their horses they had a long talk. Chris was deeply disappointed, but the others, who had never quite believed that his scheme could be carried out, were greatly delighted at the knowledge that at any rate they might be able to do an immense deal of damage to the enemy. As soon as it became quite dark, they set out again; they did not take their rifles with them, but each had his brace of revolvers. They had no intention of fighting, except to secure a retreat. Before starting, each had wound strips of flannel round his boots, so that they could run noiselessly. Brown had in the first place suggested that they should take their boots off, but Chris pointed out that if they had to run in the dark, one or other of them was sure to lame himself by striking against a stone or other obstacle. There were several large fires in the shunting yard, and at each end of the bridge, and at the Boer barracks. Crawling along on their hands and knees they were completely in the shade, and managed to get within some twenty or thirty yards of the Boers, who were sitting smoking and talking. They were all evidently greatly satisfied with news that they had heard during the day. Listening to their talk, they gathered something of what had happened since they left Estcourt. Colenso had been evacuated by us, an armoured train coming up from Estcourt had been drawn off the line, and most of the soldiers with it had been killed or captured. The last news was that the British had sallied out from Estcourt, which was now surrounded, and had attacked the Boers posted in a very strong position near a place called Willow Grange, but had been repulsed, principally by the artillery, with, it was said, immense loss. This was not pleasant hearing for the listeners. The Boers then had a grumble at being kept so far away from the fighting. It was not that they were so anxious to be engaged, as to get a share of the loot, as it had been reported that something like twenty thousand cattle and horses had been driven off from Natal.

Then their conversation turned upon a point still more interesting to the listeners. A commando had started from Barberton, a border town some thirty or forty miles to the west, into Swaziland. A native had mentioned to one of the Boers there that four Englishmen had passed north. They had stopped at his chief's kraal. They were all quite young, and had five natives with them, and three pack-horses. They had come to shoot and see the country, they said; but they had spoken with one of the men with them, who said that so far they had not done much hunting, only enough for food; he supposed that they were going to begin further on. The Boer had an hour later ridden down to Barberton with the news, and it had been at once resolved to send off a commando of a hundred men to search the hills, for there was a suspicion that the hunters were British officers who had come up to act as spies.

"Our cornet had a telegram this afternoon," one of them said, "that we were to be specially vigilant here, and we must keep a sharp lookout at night. I don't suppose they are on this side of the river. They may be going to pull up the railway, or blow up a culvert somewhere between this and Barberton. Four men with their Kaffirs might do that, but they certainly could not damage this bridge."

At ten o'clock most of the party retired into a small shed a few yards away, but two remained sitting by the fire, and were evidently left on guard, for they kept their rifles close at hand. The lads now crawled away some distance, and then made their way down a steep bank to the river. It was a stream of some size, running with great rapidity, and it did not take them long to decide that it would be impossible to swim out with the cases and place these in such a situation that the explosion would damage the structure. They then moved quietly up to the spot where the end of the last span touched the level ground; it rested upon a solid wall built into the rock, and ran some forty feet above their heads. They were now just under where the Boers were sitting, could hear their voices, and see the glow of their fire. They were unable to make out the exact position of the girders, but they had, when watching it, obtained a general view of the construction.

It consisted of two lines of strong girders on each side, connected by lattice bars, with strong communications between the sides at each pier. The depth of the girders was some twenty feet. After cautiously feeling the wall and finding that there were no openings in which their explosives could be placed, they crawled away noiselessly, ascended to the bank again a couple of hundred yards from the bridge, and returned to their camping ground. They observed as they went that there were still fires burning in the station yard, that some Kaffirs were seated near these, and as, in the silence of the night, a faint sound could be heard like that of a distant train, they had no doubt that they were waiting up for one to arrive. Indeed, before they had reached the camping place they saw a train pass by. It had no lights save the head- lights and that of the engine fire, and they therefore had no doubt that it was another train with stores.

When they reached their tents they had a long consultation. No fire had been lighted. The horses had been taken some way up a little ravine down which a stream of water trickled; here the four natives had taken up their post. These had only come down in the middle of the day to fetch their food, which Jack cooked over the spirit stove. This was alight when the lads returned, but was carefully screened round by blankets so that not the slightest glow could be seen from a distance.

"What do you think of it, Chris?" Brown said.

"I don't know what to think about it. I have no idea what effect dynamite would have when exploded at a distance of thirty or forty feet below a bridge. Certainly it would blow the roadway up, but I have very great doubts whether it would so twist or smash the main girders as to render the bridge impassable. The distance to the first pier is not great, and unless one entirely destroyed the bridge, I should say that it could be repaired very soon—I mean, in a week or two—by a strong gang. If the girders kept their places, two or three days' work might patch it up temporarily. If it were destroyed altogether as far as the first pier, it would stop the cannon getting over till a temporary bridge is constructed; but by rigging up some strong cables, they could pass cases of musket ammunition across the gap in the same way, you know, as I have seen pictures of shipwrecked people being swung along under a cable in a sort of cradle. What do you think, Peters?"

"Two hundred pounds of dynamite would do a lot of damage, Chris. I should think that it would certainly bring the wall down."

"I have no doubt that it would do that, Peters, but the ironwork goes some ten yards farther, and no doubts rests on the solid rock. I expect the wall is put there more to finish the thing off than to carry much of the weight. Again, you see it is only a single line, and not above ten feet wide, which is against us, for the wider the line the better chance it has of being smashed by an explosion some forty feet below it. Well, we will have another look at the bridge and the waggons to-morrow. Of course the bridge is the great thing if it can be managed, though I don't say that blowing up the yard would not be a good thing if we can't make sure of the other. Anyhow, we need not feel down-hearted about it. We came up here on the chance, and even though we may not be able to do exactly what we want, we ought to manage to do them a lot of damage."

After eating their supper they turned in to their two little tents. The spirit-lamp had been extinguished, and as they had not the least fear of discovery, they did not consider it necessary to place a sentinel. In the morning they were out again early and at their former post of observation.

"What are they up to now?" Brown said an hour later when he saw a party of Boers come down the opposite side close to the bridge, carrying posts and planks.

Chris made no answer, he was watching them intently. They stopped near the bank of the river close to the bridge. Then some of them set to work to level a space of ground, while others made holes at the corners.

"I am afraid that it is all up with our plans as far as the bridge is concerned. They are going to put up a hut there, and I have not the least doubt it means they are going to station a guard under the bridge. If they do it that side, they are probably doing the same on this, only we can't see them. The Boers are stupid enough in some things, but they are sharp enough in others, and it is possible that the commando from Barberton has come upon one of the kraals where we slept, and asking a lot of questions about us, they have found out that we had four heavy boxes with us, and the idea may have struck them that these contained explosives. If that did occur to them, it is almost certain that a man has been sent off at once to Barberton with orders to telegraph here and to other bridges, to take every precaution against their being blown up. Anyhow, there is a hut building there, and I don't see that it can be for any other purpose."

After three hours' work the hut was completed, and a party of eight men brought down blankets and other kit. Two of these at once ascended the bank with their rifles and sat down at the foot of the wall.

"That ends the business," Chris said. "However, I will creep round to a point where I can get a view of this side of the bridge. Possibly they have only taken precautions on their own side, for we were travelling for some time in the Swazis' country to the west of the Komati, and that is where they will have heard of us." He crawled away among the rocks, and rejoined his companions an hour later.

"It is just the same this side. They have settled the question for us.

Now we will give our attention to the waggons."

CHAPTER X

AN EXPLOSION

Having given up all hopes of blowing up the bridge, Chris and his comrades turned their whole attention to the lines of waggons. The train that had come in on the previous evening had added to the number, although it had taken some of them away with it up country. They now made out that there were eight waggons piled with cases, that almost certainly contained rifles; six with tarpaulins closely packed over them, and these they guessed contained ammunition boxes; four, each with two large cases that might contain field guns; while the two with what they were sure were big guns still remained on the siding.

"I should say that about four or five pounds of dynamite would be an abundance for each of those ammunition waggons; less than that would do, as we could, by slitting the tarpaulins, put a pound among the cases, and if one case were exploded it would set all the others off. There is no trouble about them. I will just take a note. They are on the second siding; there are eight other waggons in front of them and six behind, so we cannot make any mistake about that. There must be a good heavy charge under the rifle trucks, for we shall have to blow them all well into the air to bend and damage them enough to be altogether unserviceable. As for the guns, and especially the heavy ones, it is a difficult question. Of course, if we could open the cases and get at the breech-pieces, and put dynamite among them, we could damage all the mechanism so much that the guns would be useless until new breech-pieces were made, which I fancy must be altogether beyond the Boers; but as there is no possibility of opening them, we must trust to blowing the guns so high in the air that they will be too much damaged for use by the explosion and fall. We have got altogether two hundredweight; now two pounds to each ammunition waggon will take twelve pounds. What shall we say for the rifles?"

"Ten pounds," Brown suggested.

"That would take eighty more pounds," Willesden objected, "which would make a big hole in our stores."

"We must have a good charge," Chris said. "Suppose we say nine pounds to each, that will save eight pounds; fifteen pounds apiece ought to give the eight cases which we suppose hold field-guns a good hoist; that will leave us with over a hundred pounds, fifty for each of the big guns. Now that we have seen all that is necessary, we may as well be off and begin to get ready."

The covers were taken off the boxes of dynamite, and these were unscrewed, and the explosive was with great care divided into the portions as agreed upon. Two of the cases furnished just sufficient for the ammunition waggons and the two big guns, the other two for the smaller cannon and the trucks with the rifles. The charges were sewn up in pieces of the canvas, the smaller charges for the ammunition boxes being enclosed in thinner stuff that had been sewn under the canvas used in packing; the fuses and detonators were then cut and inserted. Chris was perfectly up in this work, having performed the operation scores of times in the mines. The length it should burn was only decided after a discussion.

There would be in all nineteen charges to explode, and these were in three groups at some little distance from each other, all the cannon being on the same siding. It would be necessary, perhaps, to wait for some time till all these were free from observation by natives or others who might be moving about the yard, then a signal must be given that they could all see. It would not take long to light the fuses, for each of them would be provided with a slow match, which burns with but a spark, and could be held under a hat or an inverted tin cup till the time came for using it. The question was how far must they be away to ensure their own safety, and Chris maintained that at least four or five hundred yards would be necessary to place them in even comparative safety from the rain of fragments that would fall over a wide area. Finally it was agreed to cut the fuses to a length to burn four minutes; this would allow a minute for any hitch that might occur in lighting them, and three minutes to burn. It was of course important that they should be no longer than was absolutely necessary, as there existed a certain risk that one of the little sparks might be seen by a passing Kaffir, or, as was still more probable, the smell of burning powder should attract attention. It was agreed that Chris should light the fuses at the cannon, which were farthest from the others, that Peters should see to the six rifle trucks, and Willesden and Brown attend the eight trucks with the ammunition, one to begin at each end of the line.

When each had finished his work, he was to run straight away in the direction of the encampment, and all were to throw themselves down when they felt sure that the time for the explosions had arrived. As soon as all was over they were to meet at their place of encampment. Tents and all stores were to be removed before the work began to the ravine where the horses were, the men with them being charged to stand at the animals' heads, as there would be a great explosion, and the horses might break loose and stampede. The matter that puzzled them the most was how, when they reached their respective stations—separated from each other by lines of waggons, and in some cases by distances of a couple of hundred yards—they were to know when the work of lighting the fuses was to begin. It could not be done by sound, for this would reach the ears of any awake in the yard or the sentries at the bridge. Chris at last suggested a plan.

"When we start, Jack shall be stationed at a point on the hillside high enough for us to see him from all points of the yard. We will show him the exact spot while it is light. When we start he shall go down with us to the edge of the yard, and as we separate will turn and go up to the point we had shown him. He will be ordered to walk up quietly, and not to hurry; that will give us ample time to get to our stations before he reaches his. We must all keep our eyes fixed on that point. He will take the dark lantern with him; when he gets there he must turn the shade off, so as to show the light for a quarter of a minute. That will be our signal to begin. It is most unlikely that anyone else will see it, but even if they did they would simply stare in that direction and wonder what it was. Of course, only a flash would be safer; but some of us might not see it, and would remain waiting for it until the other explosions took place."

All agreed that this would be a very good plan. Chris crawled up with Jack until he reached a spot where he commanded a perfect view of the yard, and explained to him exactly what he was to do. He had already been told what was going to take place. Knowing that the Kaffirs have very little idea of time, he said: "You will hold it open while you say slowly like this, 'I am showing the light, baas, and I hope that you can all see it.' You will say that over twice and then turn off the light, and lie down under that big rock till you hear the explosion. Wait a little, for stones and fragments will come tumbling down. When they have stopped doing so make your way straight to where the horses are; you will find us there before you. Now, repeat over to me the words you are to say slowly twice."

Jack did so, and finding on questioning him that he perfectly understood what he was to do, Chris went back with him to the encampment, where they remained quietly until the sun set and darkness came on. Then, according to arrangement, the four natives came in and carried all the things back to the ravine, and laid them down ready to pack the horses as soon as their masters returned.

The day passed slowly to the lads. All were in a state of suppressed excitement, an excitement vastly greater than they had felt during their two fights with the Boers.

"How they will wonder who did it when they hear the news down in Natal!"

Peters said.

"I don't expect they will hear much about it," Chris said. "You may be sure the Boers will not say much; they make a big brag over every success, but they won't care to publish such a thing as this. Probably their papers will only say: 'An explosion of a trifling nature occurred on the Portuguese side of Komati-poort. Some barrels of powder exploded; it is unknown whether it was the result of accident or the work of spies. Due precaution will be taken to prevent the recurrence of the accident. Beyond a few natives employed at the station, no one was hurt.'"

The others laughed. "I suppose that will be about it, Chris. However, I have no doubt that that commando from Barberton will keep a very sharp look-out for us as we go back."

"Yes, but they won't catch us. We won't venture into Swaziland again, but will make our way down on the Portuguese side, following the railway till we are fairly beyond the mountain range. We can ride fast now that we have got rid of the dynamite. It will be some time before they get the news about what has happened here, for the telegraph wires are sure to be broken and the instruments smashed. I really think that our best way will be to ride straight down to Lorenzo Marques. When we get there we can very well state that we had been ordered to leave Johannesburg, and that, as the trains are so slow and so crowded with fugitives, we had ridden down. I don't suppose that we shall attract the least notice, for we know that a great many of those who had intended to stay have been ordered off. That way we shall get back to Natal in a few days and avoid all danger." The others agreed that this would be a capital plan; and the distance by the road, which they had crossed a few miles to the south, and which runs from Lorenzo Marques up to Ladysdorp and the Murchison and Klein Lemba gold-fields, would not be above seventy miles. They would wait till daybreak showed them the amount of damage that had been done, and then start, and would be down at Lorenzo Marques in the evening, when, even if the news of the explosion reached the town, the Boers' suspicions that some Englishmen were in the hills, and that it was probably their work, would not be known. Not until ten o'clock was a move made. Then they took up the packages of dynamite, and, accompanied by Jack, made their way noiselessly down to the railway yard.

Here they separated. Chris, aided by Jack, carried the big packets for the large guns and for the eight smaller ones. They met no one about, and depositing their packages in the right position under them—the fuses had been already inserted—they returned to the spot they had left. In a minute or two they were joined by the others. Peters had placed his parcels under the eight trucks with rifles; Willesden and Brown had cut holes in the tarpaulins of the ammunition trucks, and thrust down their charges well among the boxes. All was ready. While the others stood closely round him Jack opened the lantern just widely enough for them to light their slow matches.

"Now, you are not to hurry back to the place, Jack; we shall all be on the look-out for you by the time you get there. You know your instructions; you are to turn round, open the slide of the lantern, say the words I told you over twice slowly, then shut the lantern and get under that great boulder lying against the rock. You will be perfectly safe in there."

"I understand, baas," he said, and at once turned and went off. The others hurried to their respective posts, and then turned round and gazed at the spot where the light would be shown. In their anxiety and excitement the time seemed interminable, and each began to think that the native had somehow blundered; at last the light appeared, and they turned at once to their work. Half a minute sufficed to light the fuses, and then they hurried away cautiously until past all the waggons, and then at full speed along the hillside, their thickly-padded shoes making no noise upon the rocks. Knowing that they were sure to be confused as to the time, they had calculated before the sun had set how far they could run in three minutes, which should be, if all went well, the time they would have after leaving the yard. They thought that even on the rough ground, and in the dark, they could make a hundred and fifty yards a minute, and at about four hundred and fifty from the waggons there was a low ridge of rock behind which they would obtain protection from all fragments blown directly outwards.

Chris was the first to arrive, for the trucks with the cannon were those farthest away from the bridge, and he was able to run for some distance along the line before making for the elope, and therefore travelled faster than his companions, who had farther to run on broken ground. In half a minute they rushed up almost together.

"Throw yourselves down," Chris shouted; "we shall have it directly."

Twenty seconds later there was a tremendous roar and a blinding crash, and they felt the ground shake. Almost simultaneously came eight others, then in quick succession followed six other reports, and mingled with these a confused roar of innumerable shots blended together. There was a momentary pause, and then a deafening clatter as rifles, fragments of iron and wood came falling down over a wide area. Several fell close to where the lads were crouched against the rock, but none touched them. For a full half-minute the fragments continued to fall, then the boys stood up and looked round. It was too dark to see more than that the yard was a chaos; the long lines of waggons, the huts and buildings, had all disappeared; loud shouts could be heard from the other side of the bridge, but nearer to them everything was silent. There was no doubt that the success of the attempt was complete, and the lads walked back quietly until they were at the spot where the horses had been placed, Jack overtaking them just as they reached it.

"It was terrible, baas," he said in an awed voice. "Jack thought his life was gone. Things fell on the rock but could not break it."

"Nothing short of one of those big cannon would have done that, Jack.

Well, we shall see in the morning what damage is done."

The four natives, although they had been warned, were still terribly frightened. The horses had at the first crash broken away and run up the ravine, but they had just brought them down again, still trembling and lathering with fear. For some minutes the boys patted and soothed them, and accustomed to their voices and caresses they gradually quieted down, but were very restless until day began to break. The boys had no thought of sleep. The lamp was lit and tea made, and each of the Kaffirs was given a glass of spirits and water, for they had brought up a bottle with them in case of illness or any special need; and it was evident from their chattering teeth and broken speech that the natives needed a stimulant badly. Before it became light the horses were saddled, and the five natives told to take them along the hill a mile farther. When they had seen them off the lads returned to their former post above the station. They had several times, when they looked out during the night, seen a great light in that direction, and had no doubt that some of the fallen huts had caught fire.

Prepared as they were for a scene of destruction, the reality far exceeded their expectations. All the waggons within a considerable distance of the explosions were smashed into fragments, their wheels broken and the axles twisted. The ammunition trucks had disappeared, and many close to them had been completely shattered. Those in which the muskets had been were a mere heap of fragments; the rest of the trucks lay, some with their sides blown in, others comparatively uninjured. Some were piled on the top of others three or four deep; their contents were scattered over the whole yard. Boxes and cases were burst open, and their contents—including large quantities of tea, sugar, tinned provisions in vast quantities, and other stores—ruined.

Some still smoking brands showed where the huts had stood, and the dead bodies of some twenty natives and several Portuguese officials, were scattered here and there. The bodies of eight Boers were laid out together by the bridge, and forty or fifty men were wandering aimlessly amid the ruins. A huge cannon stood upright nearly in the centre of the yard. It had fallen on its muzzle, which had penetrated some feet into the earth. They could not see where its fellow had fallen. Five others, which looked like fifteen-pounders, were lying in different directions, the other three had disappeared. Rifles twisted, bent, and ruined were lying about everywhere.

"It is not as good as the bridge," Chris said after they had used their glasses for some time in silence, "but it is a heavy blow for them, and I should think it will be a week before the line can be cleared ready for traffic. Even when they begin they will feel the loss of so much rolling-stock. There were five engines in the yard. Every one of these has been upset, and will want a lot of repairs before it is fit for anything again. I wish I had a kodak with me to take a dozen snap-shots, it would be something worth showing when we get back. Well, we may as well be moving. The Boers look as if they were stupefied at present, but they will be waking up presently, and the sooner we start for Lorenzo Marques the better."

Half an hour later they had mounted and were on their way, travelling slowly till they came upon the road, and then at a fast pace. Jack rode the spare horse, the other natives rode the ponies in turn, those on foot keeping up without difficulty by laying a hand on the saddles. Sometimes they trotted for two or three miles, and then went at a walk for half an hour, and stopped altogether for four hours in the heat of the day, for they were now getting on to low land, being only some three hundred feet above the sea. They reached Lorenzo Marques at about nine o'clock in the evening, and failing to find beds, for the town was full of emigrants from the Transvaal, they camped in the open. In the morning they sold the two ponies, and were fortunate in finding a steamer lying there that would start the next day. Being very unwilling to part with their horses they arranged for deck passages for them, taking their own risk of injury to them in case of rough weather setting in. Every berth was already engaged, but this mattered little to them, as they could sleep upon the planks as well as on the ground.

They found that there was some excitement in the town, as there was a report that there had been an explosion and much damage done near Komati-poort. No particulars were, however, known, as the railway officials maintained a strict silence as to the affair. It was known, however, that the telegraphic communication with the Transvaal was broken, and that three trains filled with Kaffir labourers, and accompanied by a number of officials and a company of soldiers, had gone up early that morning. Among the fugitives strong hopes were expressed that the damage had been serious enough to interrupt the traffic for some little time, and to cause serious inconvenience to the Boers, and some even hazarded the hope that the bridge had suffered. This, however, seemed unlikely in the extreme.

Fortunately the weather was fine on the run down to Durban, and the passage of three hundred miles was effected in twenty-four hours. It was now just a month since they had left Maritzburg, and as soon as they landed with their horses and followers they learned that much had taken place during that time.

They had started on the 10th of November. The Boers were then steadily advancing, and so great did the danger appear, that Durban had been strongly fortified by the blue jackets, aided by Kaffir labour. On the 25th Sir Redvers Buller had arrived, and by this time a considerable force was gathered at Estcourt. The British advance began from that town on the following day. The place had been entirely cut off, Boers occupying the whole country as far as the Mooi river. General Hildyard, who commanded at Estcourt, had been obliged to inarch out several times to keep them at a distance from the town, and one or two sharp artillery engagements had taken place, the Boers being commanded by General Joubert in person. They had always retired a short distance, but their movements were so rapid that it was useless to follow; and the troops had each time fallen back to Estcourt. On the 28th the Boers had blown up the bridge across the Tugela, and our army was moving forward, and a great battle was expected shortly. On landing Chris rode at once to the address given by his mother, and found that she had sailed for Cape Town a week before. Riding then to the railway, he found that the line was closed altogether to passenger traffic, but that a train with some troops and a strong detachment of sailors was going up that evening. Learning that a naval officer was in command, as the military consisted only of small parties of men who had been left behind, when their regiments left, to look after and forward their stores, he went to him. He had, before landing, donned his civilian suit.

"What can I do for you, sir?" the officer, who was watching a party loading trucks with sheep, asked.

"My name is King, sir. I have just returned from an expedition to Komati, I and three friends with me, and we have succeeded in blowing up a large number of waggons containing a battery of field artillery, two very heavy long guns, which, by the marks on the case, came from Creusot, some eight or ten thousand rifles, and six truck-loads of ammunition."

"The deuce you have!" the officer said, looking with great surprise at the lad who told him this astonishing tale. Then sharply he added: "Are you speaking the truth, sir? You will find it the worse for you if you are not."

"What I say is perfectly true," Chris said quietly. "We only arrived an hour since from Lorenzo Marques. This open letter from General Yule will show you that the party of boys of whom I was the leader, have done some good service before now."

The officer opened and read the letter. "I must beg your pardon for having doubted your word," he said, as he handed it back. "After adventuring into a Boer camp, and giving so heavy a lesson to a superior force of the enemy, I can quite imagine you capable of carrying out the adventure you have just spoken of. Now, sir, what can I do for you?"

"I have come to ask if you will allow myself and my three friends to accompany you."

"That I will most certainly. And indeed, as you have a report to make of this matter to General Buller, you have a right to go on by the first military train. Is there anything else?"

"Yes, sir; I should be greatly obliged if you will authorize the station-master to attach a carriage to the train to take our five horses."

"I will go with you to him," the officer said. "I can't say whether that can be managed or not."

The station-master at first said that it was impossible, for his orders were for a certain number of carriages and trucks, and with those orders from the commanding officer he could not add to the number.

"But you might slip it on behind, Mr. Station-master," the officer said.

"There are four gentlemen going up with a very important report to Sir

Redvers Buller."

"I would do it willingly enough," the station-master said, "but the commanding officer is bound to be down here with his staff, and he would notice the horses directly."

"They might be put in a closed van, sir," Chris urged. "And as there are so many full of stores, it would naturally be supposed that this was also loaded with them."

The official smiled. "Well, young gentleman, I will do what I can for you. As the officer in command of the train has consented, I can fall back upon his authority if there should be any fuss about it. The train will start at eight this evening; you had better have your horses here two hours before that. Entrain them on the other side of the yard, and I will have the waggon attached to the train quietly as soon as you have got them in. The general is not likely to be down here till half an hour before the train starts, and it is certainly not probable that he will count the number of carriages."

It was now half-past five, and Chris joined his friends, who were waiting with the horses and Kaffirs near the station. They had hardly expected him so soon, as they did not know that his mother had left.

"Good news," he said. "There is a through train going up this evening, and I have got permission for us and the horses to go; but they must be put in a truck by half-past six, and we may as well get them in at once. We still have our water-skins; the Kaffirs had better get them filled at once, and a good supply of mealies for the horses on the way; there is no saying how long we may be. Willesden, do you run into a store and get a supply of bread and a cold ham for ourselves; a good stock of bread for the Kaffirs, and a jar of water, and a hamper, with a lock, containing two dozen bottles of beer, the mildest you can get, for them. We are sure to get out for a few minutes at one of the stations, and can then unlock the hamper and give them a bottle each. It would never do to leave it to their mercy; they would drink it up in the first half-hour, and then likely enough quarrel and fight. For ourselves, we will have a small skin of water and, say, three bottles of whisky. The carriage is sure to be full, and it will be acceptable in the heat of the day tomorrow. The remainder of our supply of tea and so on, and the lamp and other things, had better all go in with the horses, and everything we do not absolutely want in the train with us; there will be little room enough. Get an extra kettle, then we can not only make ourselves a cup of tea or cocoa on the road, but give some to any friend we may make; besides, it is sure to come in useful when we get to the front."

"I will see to all that."

"If you will, take Jack with you to carry the things you buy."

"I had better take two of them; it will be a good weight."

"Very well, take one of the Zulus; the other can lead the spare horse, and likely enough we shall have some trouble in getting them into the waggon."

That work, however, turned out more easy than he had expected. The station-master pointed out the waggon that he was to take, which was standing alone on one of the lines of rails. They all set to work, and were not long in running it alongside an empty platform, from which the horses were led into it without trouble, being by this time accustomed to so many changes that they obeyed their masters' orders without hesitation. They had, too, already made one railway journey, and had found that it was not unpleasant. The station-master happened to catch sight of them, and sent two of the porters to take the waggon across the various points to the rear of the train, where it was coupled. The water-skins had been filled and the horses given a good drink before entering the station, and the stores, waterproofs, and other spare articles stowed with the horses. The shutter was closed, and the Kaffirs told that on no account were they to open it or show their faces until the train had left the station.

In a few minutes Willesden came up with the two natives heavily laden. As soon as the stores and natives were all safely packed away and the door of the van locked by one of the porters, the lads went out and had a hearty meal at an hotel near the station. When they returned a large number of soldiers and sailors were gathered on the platform. Their baggage had already been stowed, and they were drawn up in fours, facing the train, in readiness to enter when the word was given, the officers standing and chatting in groups. The station was well lighted, as, in addition to the ordinary gas-lamps, several powerful oil-lamps had been hung up at short intervals. The naval men were in the front part of the train, and on Chris walking up there the officer in command beckoned to him.

"I will take you in the carriage with me, Mr. King. We want very much to hear your story, and there is plenty of room for you. Your three companions will go in the next two compartments, which will contain junior officers and midshipmen, and I am sure that they too will be very welcome. Before we board the train I will get you all to go and sit at the windows at the other side. If you will bring your friends up I will introduce them to their messmates on the trip. As soon as we have all entered, we shall be at the window saying good-by to our friends, and no one will catch sight of you. It is just as well, for although I feel perfectly justified in taking you on to make your report to the commander-in-chief, my senior might fuss over it; and although he might let you go on, there would be a lot of explanations and bother. Have you got your horses in?"

"Yes, sir; we were able to manage that capitally."

"Then you had better bring your comrades up at once, Mr. King, and I will introduce them to those they will travel with." Chris brought up his three friends and introduced them to the officer, who then took them to the group of youngsters.

"Gentlemen," he said, "these three gentlemen will travel in your compartment. They have seen a great deal of the war, and belong to one of the mounted volunteer corps. They have a wonderful story to tell you, and I am sure you will be delighted with their companionship. They will take their seats just before the men entrain. They must occupy the seats near the farther window, and as you will no doubt all be looking out on this side, they will probably not be noticed, which would be all the better, as it is a little irregular my taking them up."

By this time a considerable number of people were crowded in the station, friends of the officers and comrades of the sailors, who looked enviously at those going forward, while they themselves might possibly not get a chance of doing so. A quarter of an hour later the officer said:

"I am going to give the order to entrain. This is my compartment. You and your friends had better slip into your places at once."

As soon as they had got in the order was given, and with the regularity of a machine the three hundred men entered the train. As soon as they had done so the officers took their places. The crowd moved up on to the platform, and there was much shaking of hands, cheering, and exhortations to do for the Boers. Suddenly there was a backward movement on the part of the spectators, and the commanding naval officer on the station, with several others and a group of military men, came on to the platform. They were received by the officers in command of the sailors and soldiers, and walked with them along the platform talking. This was evidently a matter of ceremony only. The usual questions were put as to the stores, and after standing and chatting for eight or ten minutes the officers took their places in the train, the engine whistled, and the train moved on, amid loud cheering both from those on the platform and the men at the windows. As soon as they were fairly off, Chris's friend said:

"I have already introduced you to these officers, Mr. King, but I have not told them any of your doings. I can only say, gentlemen, that this young officer is in command of a section of Volunteer Horse, and has done work that any of us might be proud indeed to accomplish. The best introduction I can give him, before he begins to tell his story, is by reading a letter with which General Yule has furnished him."

CHAPTER XI

BACK WITH THE ARMY

While the letter was being passed round from hand to hand, a good deal to Chris's discomfort, he had time to look more closely than he had done before at his travelling companions. Three of them were young lieutenants, the fourth an older man, shrewd but kindly faced. In introducing him, his friend said: "This is our medico, Dr. Dawlish. I hope that you will have no occasion to make his professional acquaintance." When they had all read the letter, the senior lieutenant said: "Now, Mr. King, we won't ask much of you to-night; we shall have all to-morrow to listen to your story. We have all had a pretty hard day's work, and shall before long turn in. Perhaps you will tell us to begin with what your corps is, and how you became the officer." "There are twenty-one of us, sir, and we are all about the same age. We were great friends together at Johannesburg, where our fathers were for the most part connected with mining. As things went on badly, we decided to form ourselves into a corps if the war broke out. They chose me as their leader—for no particular reason that I know of—and with the understanding that if I did not quite give satisfaction, I should resign in favour of one of the others. We all came down with our families from Johannesburg when war was declared, and were grossly insulted and ill- treated by the Boers, several of the ladies, among them my mother, being struck on the face with their whips; which, you can imagine, quite confirmed our determination to fight against them. We had all obtained our parents' consent, and when we got to Pietermaritzburg, proceeded to get our horses and equipments. That is all."

"A great deal too short, Mr. King," the lieutenant said. "We want to know what steps you took, and how you managed it. Did you come down all the way by train?"

Chris related the events of the journey with more detail, and how, all being well furnished with money, they had lost no time in getting all they required, and going back by train to Newcastle.

"That is a good point to leave off," the officer said. "Tomorrow morning we will take your story in instalments, and I do hope you will give us the details as minutely as you can. They will greatly interest us, as we are going in for that sort of thing, and it will show us what can be done by a small number of young fellows accustomed to the country, well- mounted, and, I am sure, from what General Yule says, remarkably well led." All were provided with flasks, and after sampling the contents of these, they wrapped themselves in their rugs and were soon fast asleep. The other three lads did not get off so easily, the younger officers were all so delighted at the prospect of soon being engaged that they were in no way inclined to sleep, and it was not until the seniors had long been soundly off that they too agreed to postpone the rest of the boys' narrative until the next morning. The train travelled very slowly, and Pietermaritzburg—a distance of seventy miles—was not reached until day was breaking. Here there was a long pause, and all alighted to stretch their limbs. The lads ran to the end of the train; Jack was looking out.

"I thought that we should stop here, baas," he said; "and I have got the kettles boiling and ready."

"Good man!" Chris said. "How have the horses passed the night?"

"They have been very quiet, baas."

"That is good to know. Take the kettles off and put three good handfuls of tea in each."

"Yes, baas."

"When they are emptied, fill them with fresh water and put them again on the stove. When they boil, bring them to our carriages, having of course put some tea in before you take them off the lamp. Now, give me one of those large loaves and the ham, and all the mugs and knives. We will start breakfast first in my compartment, Willesden; we will pass you in the ham when we have done with it. Anyhow, the kettles will hold enough for a mug for everyone in our three compartments, and by the time we have drunk that the second lot will be boiling. Open a couple of tins of milk, Jack, and then you can bring them along when you have taken the kettles. There is no extraordinary hurry, for I heard them say that we should wait here at least an hour."

There was some amusement among the soldiers and sailors as Jack, carrying the kettles, and Chris, Willesden, Brown, and Peters with ham, bread and butter, tin mugs, plates, and three open tins of preserved milk, came along down the platform.

"What have you got here?" the doctor asked in surprise, as they arrived at the carriage.

"Breakfast," Chris said. "It is in the rough, but you will get it rougher than this before you get to Ladysmith."

"Why, you must be a conjurer. Where did you get the water from? We were just discussing whether we should go out and try to fight our way to those barrels of beer where the Tommies are clustered, or content ourselves with spirit and water, a drink I cannot recommend in the morning."

There were exclamations of pleasure from all in the carriage as Jack was handing in the things.

"We shall not want the ham, Mr. King," the senior lieutenant said. "We provided ourselves with a great basket of eatables and a few bottles of wine, but the idea of making tea in the train did not, I think, occur to any of us."

Chris was not allowed to cut his ham, for the basket contained pies, chicken, and other luxuries; but the tea was immensely appreciated. By the time that the first mugs were empty Jack arrived with the fresh supply, and long before the train started breakfast was over, pipes had been lighted, and all felt thoroughly awake and cheery. "Do you always travel so well provided, Mr. King?" the doctor asked.

"We always carry tea, preserved milk, and preserved cocoa, and two or three gallons of paraffin for cooking with. In case we can't find wood for a fire, it makes all the difference in the world in our comfort."

"Now, Mr. King, we must waste no more time; so please begin at once, or there will be no time to hear all your story. Tell us something about your expedition to Komati-poort. The other we shall hope to hear on another occasion in our camp, where we shall all be glad to see you at any time."

Chris then related the idea he had formed at Maritzburg, of blowing up the bridge, and how he had carried out the adventure. He passed very briefly over the journey, but described fully how they had been obliged to relinquish their original project, owing to the bridge being so strongly guarded at both ends; and how, failing in that respect, they had determined to do as much damage as possible to the great assemblage of waggons filled with arms and military stores; and fully detailed the manner in which this had been accomplished, and the aspect of the yard on the following morning.

"Splendidly planned and carried out!" the commander of the party exclaimed, and the others all echoed his words. It was astonishing indeed to think that such a plan should have been conceived and carried out by a lad no older than some of their junior midshipmen, and assisted by only three others of the same age.

"The day before we started," the doctor said, "I saw in one of the Durban papers a telegram from Lorenzo Marques saying that there had been an explosion at Komati-poort, where a few waggons had been injured and two natives killed, but that the Boers had suffered in any way, and that the damage would be repaired and the line opened for traffic in a few hours."

"There is only one word of truth in that, sir," Chris said smiling, "and that is that no Boers suffered. I am convinced that is strictly true, for the eight Boers at the bridge were certainly instantaneously killed; and of the natives, whom I am sorry for, there were certainly eighteen killed, together with some eight or ten Portuguese employés. If I could by any possibility have got the natives out of the way I would have done so. As to the Portuguese I do not feel any great regret, for I believe all the officials in the custom-house on the railway are bribed by the Boers to break the official orders they receive as to observing strict neutrality, and aid in every way in passing the materials of war into the Transvaal."

There was no time for further conversation, for they were now within a short distance of the Tugela, and the train was winding its way between steep hills which could have been held successfully by a handful of men.

"The only wonder to me is," another officer said, "that the Boers did not take up and drag away the rails all the way from here to Estcourt. If they had lifted them out of their sleepers, they had only to harness a rail behind each horse and trot off with it. I know that there is a considerable amount of railway material at Durban, but I doubt if there is anything like sufficient to make twenty miles of road. And the business would have been still more difficult if the Boers had collected the sleepers in great piles and burned them. Of course they have destroyed a good many culverts and the bridge at Estcourt. It is wonderful that the railway people should have managed to get up a temporary trestle bridge so soon, and to make a deviation of the line to carry the trains over. It does their engineers immense credit. This pass is widening," he added after putting his head out of the window. "I fancy we shall be at Chieveley in a few minutes."

The train came to a stand-still at a siding a short distance outside the station, which was crowded by a long line of waggons with stores of all kinds. A number of sailors were unloading shells for their guns, and a crowd of Kaffirs, under the orders of military officers, were getting out the stores. As they alighted, after hearty thanks to the officer whose kindness had been the means of their getting forward so promptly, and who now went to report his arrival to Captain Jones, who was superintending the operations of the sailors, Chris and his party hurried to the rear waggon. It was a work of considerable difficulty to get the horses out, and could not have been accomplished had there not been a stack of sleepers near the spot. A number of these were carried and piled so as to make a sloping gangway, by which the horses were brought down. The sleepers being returned to their places, Chris and his friends mounted and rode to the camp, which was placed behind a long, low ridge which screened it from the sight of the enemy on the opposite hills, although within easy range of their heavy guns.

Here before daybreak on the 12th, Major-general Barton's Fusilier brigade, with a thousand Colonial Cavalry, three field batteries, and the naval guns, had marched north, and were the following night joined by another brigade with some cavalry. The next day the big naval guns had opened fire; but although their shell had reached the lower entrenchments of the Boers, their batteries on the hill had proved to be beyond their range even with the greatest elevation that could be given to them, while the Boer guns carried far beyond the camp.

Chris had learned at Estcourt, where the train stopped a few minutes, that Captain Brookfield's troop formed part of the Colonial Horse that had advanced with General Barton's brigade, and they soon discovered their position. Leaving the horses with the natives, they went to his tent.

"I am delighted to see you back," he exclaimed as they entered. "I heard in confidence from one of your party, when they joined me a week back, that you had gone on a mad-brained adventure to try and blow up the Komati-poort bridge. I was horrified! I had, of course, given you leave to act on your own responsibility, but I never dreamt of your undertaking an expedition of that sort. Of course you found it impossible to get there. A lad told me that you had reckoned on being away six or seven weeks, and it is less than a month since the date on which he told me you left. Anyhow, I heartily congratulate you on all getting back."

"We got there, sir, but nothing could be done with the bridge, it was so safely guarded. However, we did blow up two big cannon and a battery of small ones, some ten thousand rifles, and an enormous quantity of ammunition." "You don't say so, Chris? Then you had better luck than you deserved. One of the correspondents told me this morning that there was news in the town by a telegram from Lorenzo Marques that there had been an accidental explosion at Komati-poort, but it did not seem to be anything serious. Tell me all about it."

"I congratulate you most heartily," he said, when Chris had finished the story. "Of course you have written a report of it?" "Here it is, sir. I have made it very brief, merely saying that I had the honour to report that, with Messrs. Peters, Brown, and Willesden, I succeeded in blowing up, with two hundredweight of dynamite, the things I have mentioned to you, destroying a large quantity of rolling stock, badly damaging five locomotives, and destroying roads and sidings to such an extent that traffic can hardly be resumed for a fortnight. Is the general here, sir?"

"No, but he will be here this afternoon. Now, I will not detain you from your friends. No doubt they saw you ride in, and will be most anxious to hear of your doings. You will hardly know them again. When they came up to join us they adopted the uniform of the corps, feeling that it would be uncomfortable going about in a large camp in civilian dress. They brought with them uniforms for you all, for they seemed very certain that you would return alive."

"I am very glad of that, sir, for the soldiers all stared at us as we came up here. I suppose they took us for sight-seers who had come up to witness the battle."

As they left the tent they found the rest of their party, gathered in a group twenty yards away, and the heartiest greeting was exchanged. The delight of the party knew no bounds when they found that their four friends had not had their journey in vain. They had two tents between them, and gathering in one of them they listened to Peters, who told the story, as Chris said he had told it twice, and should probably have to tell it again. The four lads at once exchanged their civilian clothes for the uniforms that had been brought up. They were, like those of the other Colonial corps, very simple, consisting of a loose jacket reaching down to the hip, with turned-down collar and pockets, breeches of the same light colour and material, loose to the knee and tighter below it; knee boots, and felt hats looped up on one side.

The first step when they were dressed was to mount an eminence some distance in rear of the camp, whence they had a view of the whole country. In front of them was a wide valley with a broad river running through it. Beyond it rose steep hills, range behind range. It was crossed by two bridges, that of the railway, which had been blown up and destroyed, and the road bridge, which was still intact; though, as Sankey, who had accompanied them, told them, it was known to be mined. To the left of the line of railway was a hill known as Grobler's Kloof, on the summit of which a line of heavy guns could be seen. There were other batteries on slopes at its foot commanding the bridge, to the right of which on another hill was Fort Wylie, and in a bend of the river by the railway could be seen the white roof of the church tower of Colenso. There was another battery behind this, and others still farther to the right on Mount Hlangwane. Heavy guns could be seen on other hills to the left of Grobler's Kloof; while far away behind Colenso was the crest of Mount Bulwana, from which a cannonade was being directed upon Ladysmith and an occasional white burst of smoke showed that the garrison were replying successfully. On all the lower slopes of the hills were lines, sometimes broken, sometimes connected, rising one above another. These were the Boer entrenchments, and Cairns said that he heard that they extended for nearly twenty miles both to the right and left.

"It is believed that we don't see anything like all of them," he went on, "but we really don't know much about them, for the Boers only answer occasionally from their great guns on the hilltops, and although yesterday the sailors fired lyddite shells at these lower trenches, there was no reply."

"It is an awful place to take," Chris said, after examining the hills for a quarter of an hour with his glasses. "We have seen that the Boers are no good in the open, but I have no doubt they will hold their entrenchments stubbornly, and it is certain that a great many of them are good shots. I have gone over the ground at Laing's Nek, and that was nothing at all in comparison to this position. Do you know how many there are supposed to be of them, Cairns?"

"They say that there are about twenty-five thousand of them, but no one knows exactly. Natives get through pretty often from Ladysmith, but they know no more there than we do here. They are all jolly and cheerful there, in the thought that they will soon be relieved."

"I hope that they are not counting their chickens before they are hatched," Chris said. "I doubt very greatly whether we shall carry those hills in front of us, and if we do the ranges behind are no doubt fortified. How about crossing the river?"

"There are several drifts. There is one about four miles to the left of the bridge, called Bridle Drift. Waggon Drift is about as much farther on. There is a drift just this side of where the Little Tugela runs into it, and one just farther on; there is Skeete Drift and Molen Drift, with a pontoon ferry; there is an important one called Potgieter's Drift, where the road from Springfield to Ladysmith crosses; and another, Trichardt's, where a road goes to Acton Homes. I know there are some to the right, but I don't know their names."

"Well, that is comforting, because even if we take Colenso there would be no crossing if the bridge is mined. And as the town will be commanded by a dozen batteries, we should not gain much by its capture. Well, I tell you fairly that I am well satisfied that we belong to a mounted corps and shall be only lookers-on, for even if we win we shall certainly lose a tremendous lot of men. Is there no way of marching round one way or the other?"

"I believe not. The only way at all open seems to be round by Acton Homes; that is a place about fifteen miles west of Ladysmith, and on the principal road from Van Reenen's Pass. From there down to Ladysmith the country is comparatively open, but it is a tremendously long way round. I don't know how far, but I should say forty or fifty miles; and certainly the road will in many places be commanded by Boer guns; and they will most likely have fortified strong positions at various points. But, of course, the great difficulty will be transport; I am sure we have nothing like enough to take stores for the army all that distance. Besides, Chris, I don't see that we should gain any advantage from going to Ladysmith that way, we should be as far as ever from thrashing the Boers, and certainly could not remain in Ladysmith; we should eat up all the provisions there in no time."

"I don't like the outlook at all," Peters said.

"Ah, there is a general officer with a staff riding into the camp. Most likely it is Buller. We had better go down, for if Brookfield gives in my report he may want to speak to me."

The party went down the hill. When they reached their camp they were at once sent for to Captain Brookfield's tent.

"I am glad that you are back," he said. "Sir Redvers Buller has just ridden up on to the ridge, I will speak to him as he comes down. You had better come with me and stand a short distance off. Bring your rifles with you, and stand in military order; you three in line, and Chris two paces in front of you."

Having got their rifles they followed Captain Brookfield till he stopped at the foot of the slope below the point where the general and his staff were standing. Their leader advanced some fifty yards ahead of them. In a quarter of an hour the party were seen descending the hill. Captain Brookfield stepped forward and saluted the general as he came along a horse's length in front of his staff. Sir Redvers checked his horse a little impatiently.

"What is it sir?" he said sharply. "I cannot attend to camp details now."

"I command the Maritzburg Scouts," Captain Brookfield said. "Three of my men, with Mr. King, who commands the section to which they belong, have just returned. I wish to hand you Mr. King's report; it contains news which is, I think, of importance."

"Give it to Lord Gerard," the general said briefly, motioning to one of the officers behind him. "Please see what it is about, Gerard." And he then moved forward again, briefly acknowledging Captain Brookfield's salute. He had gone, however, but twenty yards when Lord Gerard rode up to him and handed to him the open dispatch.

"It is of importance, sir."

Supposing that it was merely the report of four scouts who had gone out reconnoitring, and with his mind absorbed with weightier matters, the general had hardly given the matter a thought. Without checking his horse he glanced at the paper, and then abruptly reined in his charger and read it through attentively. Then he turned to where Captain Brookfield was still standing and called him up.

"I do not quite understand this report, sir," he said. "Is it possible that your men have been up to Komati-poort? I gathered from your words that they had merely returned from reconnoitring."

"No, sir; they only came in this morning by the train from Durban with the naval detachment with details."

"But how in the world did they get to Komati-poort?"

"They started from Maritzburg, sir, and rode up through Zululand and Swaziland. Their object was to blow up the bridge, and to stop supplies of munitions of war continuing to pass up through Lorenzo Marques. I may say that they acted on their own initiative. The section to which they belong is composed entirely of gentlemen's sons from Johannesburg; they provide their horses and equipment, and draw no pay or rations, and when they joined my corps made it a condition that so long as not required for regular work they should be allowed to scout on their own account."

Before calling up Captain Brookfield the general had handed back the despatch to Lord Gerard, with the words, "Pass it round."

"Are those your men?" the general said, pointing to the little squad.

"Yes, sir."

Sir Redvers rode up to them, and on returning their salute, said: "You have done well indeed, gentlemen; it was a most gallant action. Have you your own horse with you?" he asked Chris.

"Yes, sir." "Then mount at once and join me as I leave camp. Then you can tell me about this matter on my way back."

Chris was soon on horseback. He waited at a short distance while the general talked with General Barton, and as soon as he saw him turn to ride off cantered up and joined the staff. The general looked round as he did so. He beckoned to him to come up to his side.

"Now, sir, let me hear more about this. The captain of the troop that you belong to, tells me that you and twenty other young fellows, all from Johannesburg, formed yourselves into a party of scouts, and are making war at your own expense, and that although in a certain way you joined his troop you really act independently when it so pleases you."

"Yes, sir. We and our families have received great indignities from the Boers; and although we are conscious that we should be of little use as troops, we thought that we could do service as scouts on our own account, and have been lucky in inflicting some blows on them. I was fortunate enough to attract Colonel Yule's attention at Dundee, and he furnished me with an open letter addressed to you, and to officers commanding stations, saying that we had done so."

"Have you it about you?"

"Yes, sir."

Sir Redvers held out his hand, and Chris handed him the letter. "So you went into the Boer camp! Do you speak Dutch well?"

"Yes, sir; we all speak Dutch fairly, and most of us Kaffir also, that was why we thought that we should be more useful scouting; until now we have all been dressed as young Boers, and could, I think, pass without suspicion anywhere."

"Now as to this other affair," Sir Redvers said, returning Colonel Yule's letter. "You had better take this, it will be useful to you another time. Now tell me all about it. Was it entirely your own idea?"

"I first thought of it, sir, and my three friends agreed to go with me. I did not want a large number. We started from Maritzburg with our own Kaffir servant, and two Zulus and two Swazis to act as guides, two ponies, each of which carried a hundredweight of dynamite; we had also a spare riding horse."

He then related their proceedings from the time of their start to their arrival at Komati-poort; their failure at the bridge in consequence of the strong guard that the Boers had set over it; and how, finding that the main object of their journey could not be carried out, they proceeded to wreck the station yard and its contents.

"Thank you, Mr. King," the general said, when Chris concluded by mentioning briefly how they had ridden down to Lorenzo Marques, and taken a ship to Durban, and come up by train. "I saw the telegram of the accident at Komati-poort. I imagined that it was probably more severe than was stated, but certainly had no idea that such wholesale damage had been effected, or that it was the work of any of our people. I think that it would be unwise for me to take any public notice of it at present; possibly there may be another attempt made to destroy that bridge. If nothing more is said about it, the Boers may in time cease to be careful, and a few determined men landed at Lorenzo Marques may manage to succeed where you were unable to do so. It would be worth any money to us to put a stop to the constant flow of arms and ammunition that is going on via Lorenzo Marques. I consider your expedition to have been in the highest degree praiseworthy, and to have been conducted with great skill." "My father is a mining engineer, and managing-director of several mines round Johannesburg, general. I have been working there under him and learning the business, and therefore know a good deal about dynamite, and what a certain quantity would effect."

"Have you thought of going into the army? because if so, I will appoint you and your three friends to regiments at once, and you will be gazetted as soon as my report goes home."

"I am very much obliged to you, general, but I have no thought of entering the army. I will, of course, mention it to my friends. I have never heard them say anything on the subject. We are fighting because we hate the Boers. No one can say, unless he has been resident there, what we have all had to put up with, for the past year especially. On the way down the Boers not only threatened to strike us, but struck many of the ladies, my mother among them, besides robbing everyone of watches and all other valuables. If it had not been for that, some of us might have changed our minds before we got down here. That settled the matter. And besides, sir, I hope that we shall be able to do more good in our own way than if we became regular officers, as we know nothing about drill and should be of very little good, whereas we do understand our own way of fighting. I can say so without boasting, for we have twice thrashed the Boers; once when they were twice our number, and the other time when they were nearly four times as strong as we were."

"Go on doing so, Mr. King; go on doing so, you cannot do better. However, if any of your three friends, or all of them, choose to accept my offer, it is open to them."

They were by this time close to Frere, and the general went on: "I am sorry that I cannot ask you to dine with me this evening, as we shall all be too busy for anything like a regular meal, for in a few hours there will be a general advance. Good-evening. When I am less busy I shall be glad to hear about those two fights that you speak of. You colonists have taught us a few lessons already."

Chris saluted, wheeled his horse round, and cantered back to Chieveley. There was much satisfaction among the whole of the party when Chris related what General Buller had said. None of his three companions had any desire to accept a commission. Willesden's father was a doctor with a large practice in Johannesburg, and the lad himself was going home after the war was over to study for the profession and to take his medical degree; while Brown and Peters were both sons of very wealthy capitalists.

"If I could not have done any fighting any other way I should have liked a commission very much. Of course I could have thrown it up at the end of the war. But I would a great deal rather be on horseback than on foot, and I own I have no inclination to fight my way across those hills. Talana was a pretty serious business, but it was child's play to what this will be."

"Very well," Chris said; "I did not think that any of you would care for it, although I could not answer for you. There is no need for hurry in sending in a reply; there will be time to do that when we get into Ladysmith. Then I will get Captain Brookfield to draw up the kind of letter that ought to be sent, for I have not the least idea how I should address a commander-in-chief. Of course, a thing of this sort ought to be done in a formal sort of way; I could not very well say, 'My dear general, my three friends don't care to accept your kind offer. Yours very truly.'" There was a general laugh, and then they talked over the coming fight, for it was now generally known that the attack was to be made in a couple of days at latest. The next morning General Buller's column started before daybreak, and were by nine o'clock encamped on the open veldt three miles north of Chieveley; Barton's brigade having already marched out to the site of a new camp, some five thousand yards south of Colenso. Although well within reach of their guns, the Boers made no effort to hinder the operation, or to shell the camp after it was formed. It was evidently their policy to conceal their guns until the last moment, and although a very heavy bombardment of their positions was maintained all day by the naval guns, no reply whatever was elicited, though through the glasses it could be seen that much damage was being done to the entrenchments.

"I don't like this silence," Chris said, as he and some of the others were standing watching the hills in front of them. "It does not seem natural when you are being pelted like that not to shy something back. I am afraid it will be a terribly hot business when they do open fire tomorrow."

There had been a discussion that morning whether the four natives Chris had engaged for his expedition should be taken on permanently, and they unanimously agreed that they should be. It was quite possible that all the colonial corps would at some time be called upon to act as infantry, and it would be a good thing to have six men to look after the twenty- five horses while they were away. Then, too, it would be very handy to have a stretcher party of their own. On the question being put to them, the four men had willingly agreed to follow the party whenever they went into a fight, to take two stretchers with which they could at once carry any who might be wounded back to camp. They were all strong fellows belonging to fighting peoples, and would, the boys had no doubt, show as much courage as the Indian bearers had displayed at Dundee and Elandslaagte. In the evening Captain Brookfield sent for Chris.

"The orders for to-morrow are out," he said, "as far as we are concerned. A thousand mounted infantry and one battery are to move in the direction of Hlangwane—that is the hill, you know, this side of the river to the right of Colenso. We shall cover the right flank of the general movement and endeavour to take up a position on the hill, where the battery will pepper the Boers on the kopjes north of the bridge. Two mounted troops of three and five hundred men will cover the right and left flanks respectively and protect the baggage. Half my troop are to accompany Dundonald, the other half will form a part of the force guarding the left wing. Your party will be with this force. You have had your share of fighting, and none of the others have yet had a chance."

"Very well, sir, I shall not be sorry to be on this duty; for naturally we shall have a good view of the whole fight, while if we were engaged we should see nothing except what was going on close to us."

"Yes, it will be something to see, Chris, and something to hear, for I doubt whether there has been so heavy a fire as that which will be kept up to-morrow, ever since war began. We have some twenty-three thousand men, and the Boers more than as many, and what with magazine-guns, machine-guns, and fast-firing cannon of all sizes, it will be an inferno."

CHAPTER XII

THE BATTLE OF COLENSO

By daybreak next morning the whole force was under arms. General Hildyard in the centre was to attack the iron bridge at Colenso. General Hart's Irish brigade was to march towards Bridle Drift, and after crossing to move along the left bank of the river towards the kopjes north of the iron bridge. General Barton was to move forward east of the railway towards Hlangwane Hill, and to support General Hildyard, or the Colonial troops moving against that hill as might appear necessary, while General Lyttleton's brigade, half-way between those of Hildyard and Hart, were to be prepared to render assistance to either as might be required. One division of the artillery was to follow Lyttleton's brigade. The six naval guns were to advance on his right. The sixth brigade were to aid General Hart, and three batteries of Royal Artillery to move east of the railway, under cover of the sixth brigade, to a point from which they could prepare the way for Hildyard's brigade to cross the bridge.

The action began before six o'clock, the naval guns opening with lyddite on the trenches on Grobler's Hill, and those between it and Fort Wylie. No reply whatever was made by the Boers, and the troopers standing by their horses' heads in readiness to mount should any party of Boers make a raid on the camp, began to wonder whether the enemy had not retreated. Hildyard's men advanced in open order close to the railway; the Queen's own, with the West York in support, on the right of the railway; and the Devons, with East Surrey behind them, on the left. They marched as steadily and in as perfect alignment as if on parade, eight paces apart. Hart's Irish brigade, far away to the left, were in close order. The cavalry could be seen proceeding at a trot towards Hlangwane, General Barton's brigade still bearing to the east; and Colonel Long and Colonel Hunt with their batteries, without waiting for their protection, galloped straight forward, and, taking up a position almost facing Fort Wylie, a few hundred yards beyond the river, opened a heavy fire; the six naval guns, which were drawn by bullocks, being still a considerable distance behind them.

Still the Boer guns remained silent. But at half past six their musketry opened suddenly upon the Queen's Own, the Devons, and the guns, in one continuous roar. It came not only from the entrenchments on the face of the hill, but from trenches close down by the river, and from the houses of Colenso, from some railway huts, and from the bushes that fringed the south bank of the river, which had been believed to be wholly unoccupied. Five minutes later their cannon joined in the roar, with machine-guns, one-pounder Maxims, and the great Creusots and Krupps. And yet through this storm of lead and iron our soldiers went on quietly and steadily. The very ground round them was torn up by bullet and ball. Many fell, but there was no flinching; while on their right, Long's batteries, though swept by a hail of missiles from unseen foes, maintained a continuous fire at Fort Wylie.

"It is awful!" Peters exclaimed as he lowered his glasses. "I thought it would be dreadful, but I never dreamt of anything like this. Look at the bodies dotting the ground our men are passing over, and yet the others go on as if it was a shower of rain through which they were passing. I can't look at it any longer." "It is as bad for the artillery," Chris said, with his glasses still riveted upon them. "I saw a lot of the horses go down before they were unlimbered, and I can see the men are falling fast. Surely they can never have been meant to go within five or six hundred yards of magazine rifles. I thought everyone had agreed that artillery could not live within range of breech-loaders. Why doesn't Barton's brigade move down towards them, and try and keep down the fire? How is Hart getting on?"

But it was not easy to see this even with glasses. They had not become engaged until a little later than the others, but as they approached the river an equally terrible fire opened upon them. Being in comparatively close order, they suffered more heavily than Hildyard had done. Presently they came upon a spruit which they took to be the main river, and under a tremendous fire from the Mausers and guns, dashed across it, and swinging round their left made for the drift, sweeping before them a number of Boers who had been hidden in the long grass. Trenches were there line after line, but over these the four regiments—the Connaught Rangers, the Border regiment, the Inniskilling and Dublin Fusiliers— dashed forward with such fury that the Boers did not stop to meet their bayonets. By a quarter-past seven the enemy had been driven across the Tugela. Without hesitation the Irish dashed into the river. Many fell headlong, for along the bottom barbed wires had been stretched. Worse still, it was found that instead of being two feet deep, as was expected, it was eight feet; for the Boers had erected a dyke across the river a little lower down, and had dammed the water back.

Some swam across with their rifles and ammunition, but it was a feat beyond all except the strongest swimmers, and after maintaining themselves for some time they were forced to retire. The naval guns did their best to assist them, and silenced some of the Boer cannon that were pounding them, but they failed to draw the Boer fire upon themselves. It was only in the centre that even partial success was gained. Hildyard's men had reached but not captured Colenso bridge. In spite of the tremendous fire, some of the soldiers tried to make their way along it, but were recalled; for they were deprived of the support of the artillery that should have covered their passage, had no hope of Hart bringing his brigade round to clear the enemy out from the kloofs on the opposite side, and but little of aid from Lyttleton, who had been obliged to move farther to the left to lend assistance to Hart. Some of the Scottish Fusiliers had joined them from Barton's brigade, but the brigade itself was far away.

Terrible as the fighting was at all points, it was the batteries down by the river that most engaged the attention of the anxious spectators. Desperate attempts were being made to get the guns back. Almost all the horses had been killed, but the drivers of the teams of the ammunition waggons, the few survivors of the officers, and several of the general's staff dashed recklessly forward under a hail of fire. Horse and man went over, but two of the guns were carried off. Fortunately, the naval battery and the third field battery had not been taken so far forward, and were withdrawn with comparatively little loss; and the ten guns stood alone and deserted by the last of the party as it seemed. Then, to the surprise of the watchers, one of them spoke out, for four of the men who worked it had stood to their charge to the last. Again and again it sent its shrapnel among the Boer trenches. One fell and then another, but two remained. They continued to fire until the last round of reserve ammunition was finished. Then those who were near enough to make out their figures saw them take their stand, one on each side of the gun, at attention, until both fell dead by the side of the piece they had served so well. Even on the right, where success might really have been hoped for, everything had gone badly. The dismounted Colonials had fought their way gallantly up the slopes of the Hlangwane, and nearly reached the crest. But they were not seconded by Lord Dundonald's cavalry; Barton's brigade, which was charged with aiding them, were kept at a distance, and the Colonials were at last forced to fall back.

Great as was the loss at other points, the failure to capture this hill was really the greatest misfortune of the day. From its position on the south of the river, and in a loop, batteries erected on its summit would have taken all the Boer defences on the lower slopes of the hills in flank, and it would have covered the crossing of the river at Colenso. Cut off by the river from the rest of the Boer position it could hardly have been retaken, and its fire would have searched the valley up which the roadway ran almost as far as Mount Bulwana.

Renewed attempts were made for some time to carry off the guns, but early in the afternoon the general saw that it was but a waste of life to persevere further, and orders were despatched for the troops to retire. It had been a day of misfortunes, and yet a day of glory, for never had the fighting power of British troops been more splendidly exhibited, never were greater deeds of individual daring performed; never had troops supported with heroic indifference so terrible a fire. Undoubtedly the English general had greatly underrated the fighting powers of the Boers and the amount of artillery to which he was exposed. Had he not done so, he would scarcely have distributed his force over so wide a face, or attacked at three points nearly four miles apart, but would have prepared for the grand assault by seizing Hlangwane and firmly establishing some of his batteries there, even at the cost of two or three days' labour, and only attempted to cross the river when the movement would have been covered by their fire.

The Boers were quick in discovering the importance of the hill, and speedily covered its face with such entrenchments, that not until after long weeks of effort and failure was an attack again attempted against it; and the success of that attack opened the way to Ladysmith. But had the general's orders been carried out at all points it would probably have been captured. Hart's brigade was to have begun the attack, but owing to the map with which he was furnished being defective, his troops losing their way in the spruit, and their being led in far too close a formation under the enemy's fire, its attempt failed; this being, however, largely due to the astuteness of the Boers in damming back the river and rendering the ford impracticable. The impetuosity of the officers commanding two of the batteries of artillery, in pushing their guns forward unattended by infantry as ordered, not only caused the loss of ten guns and of nearly all the men who worked them, but deprived Hildyard's column of the protection they would have had in crossing the bridge, and rendered the undertaking impossible; while the failure of Barton's brigade to give assistance either to Hildyard or to the assailants of Hlangwane, contributed to the one failure, and entirely brought about the other.

General Buller and General Clery had been wherever the shots were flying the thickest. Three of the former's staff, Captains Schofield and Congreve, and Lieutenant Roberts, son of Lord Roberts, had ridden forward as volunteers to try and get the guns off. Roberts was fatally wounded, Congreve was wounded and taken prisoner, and Schofield alone escaped unharmed with the two guns that were saved.

The day had been almost more terrible for the troops who remained unoccupied near the baggage than for those actually engaged in the terrible light. The latter, animated by excitement and anger at their inability to get at the foe, had scarce time to think of their danger, and even laughed and joked in the midst of the hail of bullets, but the watchers had nothing to distract them during the long hours. With their glasses they could plainly see that no advance had been made at any point. To them it seemed incredible that any could come back from that storm of fire. From time to time they learned from wounded men brought up by the bearers, who fearlessly went down into the thick of the fire to do their duty, news of how matters were going on in the front.

Gladly, had they received orders to do so, would they have dashed down to try and carry off the guns. Many shed tears of rage as they heard how the Irish strove in vain to cross the deep river, and how many were drowned in their attempts to swim it. They expected, when in the afternoon the troops came in, that they would see an utterly dispirited body of men, and were surprised when the Irish, who were the first to return to camp, marched along smoking their pipes and joking as if they had returned from a day of triumph rather than of failure. They were animated by a knowledge that they had done all that men could do, had proved they were worthy successors of their countrymen who had won glory in so many hard-fought fields, and that no shadow of reproach could fall upon them for their share in the day's work. Although they had suffered far more heavily than the other brigade, they returned more cheerfully. And yet there was no depression anywhere evinced, although there was anger, fierce anger, that they had not been able to get at the enemy, and a grim determination that next time they met, things should go differently.

A good many prisoners had been lost. Parties had spread along among the bushes that lined the river, and maintained a steady fire against the Boer entrenchments facing them. Some of these had not heard the bugle sounding the retire. When they were aware what was being done some had left their shelter and rushed across the open ground to join the columns, the majority being shot down as they did so. Others had waited among the bushes, intending to try after nightfall; but as soon as we fell back the Boers had again crossed the river and spread along its banks, and had thus made prisoners those who were in hiding there or in the little dongas. Among those so captured were fourteen of the Devons and as many gunners, with Colonel Hunt, Colonel Bullock, Major MacWalter, and Captains Goodwin, Vigors, and Congreve; the total loss in killed, wounded, and prisoners amounted to about one thousand five hundred, of whom nearly half belonged to the Irish brigade. That evening the searchlight, which had been placed on a lofty hill visible from one end of the high kopjes held by the garrison of Ladysmith, flashed the news that the attack had failed, and that the garrison must be prepared to hold out for some time yet.

The news of the reverse created a tremendous sensation throughout Natal, where it had been confidently anticipated that the army would brush aside without difficulty the opposition of the Boers, relieve Ladysmith and, advancing sweep the invaders out of the colony. In England, too, the sensation was scarcely less pronounced, and for the first time the gravity of the war in which we were engaged was recognized. Hitherto it had been thought that fifty thousand men would suffice to bring it to a successful conclusion; now it was perceived that at least double that number would be required. The offers of the colonies to aid the mother country with troops had hitherto been coldly received, but these were now accepted thankfully, and although our military authorities would not as yet recognize that the volunteers could be relied upon as a real fighting force, there was a talk that some of the militia regiments might be embodied, and a large number of reservists were at once summoned back to the ranks.

At the front matters went on as before. It was now known how it was that the guns had advanced so far. Colonel Long had sent forward some of his mounted men with two officers. The Boers allowed them to approach the river bank without firing a shot. One of the scouts actually rode across the bridge to the other side, and returning to the battery they reported that there were no Boers about, and it was only after receiving this message that Colonel Long took the guns forward to within six hundred yards of the river, and twelve hundred of Fort Wylie.

The wounded were all taken to Frere or Estcourt, where hospitals had been prepared. Hart and Lyttleton's brigades were sent back to Frere, and the camp at Chieveley was moved nearer to the station, both for convenience of supply, and because the position now taken up was a more defensible one, and was less exposed to the fire of the big Boer guns; large numbers of transport animals and waggons were brought up country. It was known that a newly-landed division under General Sir Charles Warren was now coming up, one regiment, the Somersets, arrived in camp two or three days after the battle, and the loss of the cannon was to some extent retrieved by the arrival of a 50-lbs. howitzer battery.

It was but dull work in camp. The more impetuous spirits were longing to be employed in annoying the Boers by frequent surprises at night; but as these could have achieved no permanent advantage, and must have been attended with considerable loss of life, Sir Redvers Buller set his face against any such attacks, and went steadily on with his preparations. As troops came up anticipations of a certain success when the next forward movement was made were generally entertained. Chris and his companions passed the time pleasantly enough. Being old friends they had plenty to talk about, and occasional scouting expeditions to the east gave them a certain amount of employment. Not having been engaged in the attack on Hlangwane, they did not participate in the soreness felt by the rest of the colonials at their failure to capture the hill, owing to the want of support from Lord Dundonald's cavalry or Barton's brigade.

The chagrin felt at the mistake that had been made in not making this the prime object of attack was general, for the Boers could be seen working unceasingly at their entrenchments. They had not only made a ford by throwing great quantities of rock and stones into the channel, but had also built a bridge, so that the force on the hill could be speedily reinforced to any extent, and what could have been effected on the day of the attack by half a battalion of infantry would now be a very serious undertaking even by a whole division.

The lads were chatting one day over the chances of the next fight, most of them taking a very sanguine view.

"What do you say, Chris?" one of them said after the discussion had gone on for some time. "You have not given us your opinion."

"My opinion does not agree with yours," Chris replied. "After what I saw the other day, I think the difficulties of fighting our way over those mountains are so enormous that I doubt whether we shall ever do it."

There was a chorus of dissent.

"Well, we shall see," he said. "I hope that we shall do it just as much as you do, but it is tremendous business. I have no doubt Sir Redvers will go on trying, but I should not be surprised if at heart he has doubts that it can be done. The Boers have more guns that we have, and any number of those Maxims and Hotchkiss that keep up a stream of balls. The Boers' trenches enable them to fire at us without showing anything but a head, except when they stand up or have to move across the open. If we drive them out of one position they have others to fall back upon. It is not one natural fortress that we have to take, but a dozen of them. They know every foot of the country they occupy, while we know nothing but just what we can see at a distance."

"Well, if Sir Redvers thought as you do, why should he go on hammering at it?"

"For several reasons, Peters. In the first place, if Ladysmith saw that there was no chance of rescue it would at last give in; and in the second place, if there was an end of all attempts to relieve the place England would go wild with indignation; and in the third place, and by far the most important, Sir Redvers knows that he is keeping from twenty-five thousand to thirty thousand of the Boers inactive here, and so relieving the pressure on our troops on the other side. We know regiments are arriving from England at the Cape every day. When they get strong enough to invade the Orange Free State and take Bloemfontein, and march north, the Boers here will be hurrying away to defend their homes. Of course the Free Staters will go first, but the Transvaalers will have to follow. We hear that Methuen has been beaten at Magersfontein, and that he has been brought to a stand-still within the sound of the guns round Kimberley, just as we are here, and that the Boers have a very strong position there also. So at present the advance is as much checked there as it is here. Gatacre has had a misfortune too, so that we are all in the same boat. I saw a Pietermaritzburg paper in the naval camp just now; there are about twenty thousand men on the sea at the present moment, besides those in the colony, and two more divisions are being formed. So it is safe to come right in the long run. But at present, if those twenty-five thousand Boers opposite to us were not there now, they would be riding all over Cape Colony, and if Buller were not to keep on hammering away here a good many of them would be off at once. They say Ladysmith can hold out for another three months. By that time there ought to be such a big force in the Orange State that the Boers won't dare to stop here any longer, and no end of loss of life will be avoided.

"I never thought that you were a croaker before," Field said, "except just before the last fight; but certainly things have gone very badly lately. Three disasters in seven or eight days are a facer; but I cannot think that we shall not succeed next time. When Warren's division is up Buller will have over thirty thousand men with him, in spite of our losses the other day, and we ought to be able to do it with that."

"Well, we shall see, Field. I hope you are right."

The news of Methuen's repulse and the terrible losses in the Highland brigade, and of Gatacre's disaster, cast a greater gloom over Buller's army than their own failure had done. The one topic of conversation among the officers was, what would be the feeling in England, and whether there would be any inclination to patch up another dishonourable peace like that after Majuba. But the feeling wore off as day after day the news came that the misfortunes had but raised the spirit and determination of the people of Great Britain to carry the war through to the bitter end; that recruiting was going on with extraordinary rapidity; that fresh regiments had been ordered out; that Lord Roberts had been appointed to the supreme command in South Africa, and that Lord Kitchener was coming out as chief of his staff. The fact, too, that the volunteers had been asked to send companies to the regiments to which they were attached, that the City had undertaken to raise a strong battalion at its own expense, that the Yeomanry were to furnish ten thousand men, and that public, spirit had risen to fever heat, soon showed that these apprehensions were without foundation, and that Britain was still true to herself, and was showing the same indomitable spirit that had carried her through many periods of national depression, and brought her out triumphant at the end.

Christmas passed cheerily; no gun was fired on either side, although the Boers worked diligently at their trenches; and our men feasted as they had not done since they landed at Durban. Bacon, milk, fresh bread, beef, and a quart of beer were served out for each man, and on these men and officers made a memorable meal; the latter producing the last bottles of wine and spirits that had been specially sent up to them from Maritzburg. And on that and the following day there were sports—lemon- cutting, tent pegging, races for the cavalry; athletic sports, tugs-of- war, mule and donkey races for the infantry. The drums and fifes played national airs, and the sailors bore their full share in the fun. As time went on the preparations for the next move advanced. None were more pleased at the prospect of active work again than the Colonial Volunteers, who had several times entreated to be allowed to get out and drive back the bands of plundering Boers, who were still wasting the farms and destroying the farmhouses and furniture of the loyalists.

On the 27th a small party of Captain Brookfield's scouts had been sent out to reconnoitre the windings and turnings of the Tugela to the east, to ascertain as far as possible what the Boer positions were on that side, and whether they had placed bodies of skirmishers on the south side of the river as they did opposite Fort Wylie. Included in the party, which was a hundred strong, was the Johannesburg section. When well away from the camp they were broken up into small parties, the better to escape the observation of the Boers on the Hlangwane and other heights. The instructions given by their commander were that they should take every advantage of ground to conceal their movements from the enemy, but where the ground near the river was level and fit for galloping they should dash across it, and, if not fired at, should skirt along the banks, mark if there were any tracks by which horses or cattle had at some time come down to the water, and observe if similar tracks were to be seen on the opposite bank, as this would show that, though possibly only in dry weather, the river was fordable there. Where the ground was too broken and rock-covered to permit of horses passing rapidly across it, they were to dismount and crawl down the river to make their observations.

Only a small portion of the troop had been engaged on this work, the main body were to keep along on the hills, maintaining a vigilant watch over the country to the south and east as well as that around them, as many parties of marauding Boers were known to be still across the river. Knowing the sharpness of the lads, Captain Brookfield had told off their section to explore the river bank, a choice which excited no jealousy among the rest, as these were hoping for a brush with some wandering party of Boers, and the satisfaction of rescuing cattle and goods they might be carrying off. His instructions to Chris were that he was to detach two of his party at each mile, choosing points where they could best make their way to the river unobserved. As he himself with the main body would go up considerably farther, each pair, when they had searched their section, were to ride a mile or so back from the river and fall in with the main body on its return.

Riding rapidly along, Chris carried out his instructions, until, when some twelve miles from the camp, he remained with only Sankey with him. The country they had passed was rolling, and from time to time he had caught sight of small parties of Captain Brookfield's scouts. Arriving at a spot where there was a slight depression running down towards the river, he said, "We may as well follow it, Sankey. It will deepen into a donga presently, no doubt, and we can leave our horses there and go on on foot. It looks to me as if this had been used as a path. Of course it may only have been made by cattle going down to the water, but it may lead to a drift. If it is, we must be all the more careful, for it is just at these points that the Boers are very likely to be on the look- out."

They rode for some distance and then dismounted, knee-haltered their horses and moved forward cautiously. Chris still believed they were on a track, but the heavy rains of the week before had sent the water rushing down it in a torrent, which would have destroyed any marks there might have been. When they could see the opening to the river in front of them they climbed the side of the donga. All seemed quiet, and stopping and taking advantage of the bushes, they crept forward to the edge of the water. There was no sign of a break in the opposite bank.

"There is no drift here," Chris said. "If there had been there would be a pass cut or worn down on the other side. Now let us push on, but don't show yourself more than you can help, any Boer lurking on the other side could hardly miss us. A hundred and fifty yards, I should say, is about the width."

After walking some little distance along they suddenly came upon another break in the bank.

"There is a break opposite, Sankey. Ten to one this is a drift. The question is, how deep is it? You can see the river is not as high as it was by four feet, and I dare say that it will be lower yet if we get another week of fine weather. It's very important to find out. I will try to ford it; it's hardly likely there are any Boers so far down, but have your rifle ready, and keep a sharp look-out on the opposite side."

A minute later they went down the slope. "Keep back under the shelter of these bushes as soon as I go in, Sankey." Then he stepped into the water and waded out. In a few yards it was up to his waist; then it deepened slowly. He was a third of the distance across when two rifles cracked out from some bushes on the opposite bank. Chris felt a sudden smart pain in his ear. He instantly threw himself down in the water, and diving, made for the shore, allowing the stream to take him down. Swimming as hard and as long as he could, he came for a moment to the surface, turning on his back before he did so, and only raising his mouth and nose above water. He took a long breath and then sank again, swimming this time towards the shore. His breath lasted until he was in water too shallow to swim farther, and, leaping to his feet, he dashed up the bank and threw himself down. He heard two bullets hum close to him, but the Boers had not been looking in his direction, and only caught sight of him in time to take a snap shot. He crawled along through the high, coarse grass, feeling very anxious as to what had become of Sankey. He had heard the report of the Boer rifles, but there came no reply from his friend, who would assuredly have been lying in shelter in readiness to shoot as soon as he saw a flash on the opposite bank. Could he have forgotten to take cover the instant he himself entered the water, could he possibly have remained standing there watching him? Two shots had been fired: one had certainly hit his ear; had the other been aimed at Sankey? He crawled along until he came to the point where he could see down on to the road. To his horror Sankey was lying there on his back.

CHAPTER XIII

PRISONERS

The exclamation that burst from Chris's lips as he saw Sankey on the ground was answered by another from his friend.

"Thank God that you are there, Chris. I have been in an awful state about you. I saw you go down into the water just as I was bowled over. I made sure that you were killed, and I was in a state, as you may imagine, till I heard two more shots. That gave me a little hope; for as you had not been killed in the first, you might have escaped the others."

"But what is the matter with you, Sankey. Where are you hit?"

"I am hit in the arm. I can't tell much about it. I only know that I went slap down; and there is certainly something the matter with my shoulder. Like an idiot I did not take shelter as you told me, but I was watching you so anxiously I never thought about it. If I had not been a fool I should have jumped up and got under cover at once; but I fancy I must have knocked my head as I fell. At any rate, I did not think about moving till I heard those two shots."

"It is just as well that you didn't," Chris said. "They could have put half a dozen bullets in you with their Mausers before you had moved a foot. The question is, what is to be done?"

"Have you got your rifle, Chris?"

"Yes, I stuck to that, and I expect it is all right; these cartridges are quite water-tight. The question is how to get you out of their line of sight." "The best plan will be for me to roll over and over," Sankey said. "I expect it will hurt a bit, but that is no odds."

"No, no; don't do that yet. Let us think if we can't contrive some plan of attracting their attention."

"Don't do anything foolish, Chris," Sankey said earnestly. "I would rather jump up and make a run for it than that anything should happen to you."

"I will be careful, Sankey. The first thing to do is to find out whether there are only two of these fellows or half a dozen. Where I am lying now the ground is a foot lower than it is just at the edge of the bank. I will put my cap on my rifle and raise it so as just to show."

The instant he did so three or four rifles cracked and two bullets passed through the cap. As it dropped a shout of triumph rose from the Boers. He at once crawled forward, and as he did so five of them ran down the bank and as many more stood up, believing that both the scouts had been killed.

Throwing the magazine into play Chris fired three shots in close succession, and then rolled over two or three yards, half a dozen bullets cutting the grass at the spot he had just left. Peering cautiously out again he saw that the Boers had all disappeared except two, one of whom lay apparently dead just at the edge of the water; the other was sitting down, but was waving a white handkerchief.

"I am not going to shoot you," Chris muttered, "though I know the fellows with you would put a bullet at once into Sankey if they thought that he was alive. Hullo, there!" he shouted in Dutch; "I will let you carry off your wounded man and the dead one if you will let me carry off my dead comrade." The answer was three bullets, but he had drawn back a yard or two before he spoke and was in shelter. The thought of firing again at the wounded man did not enter Chris's mind, and he crawled back to the spot where he had before spoken to Sankey. The latter was looking anxiously up.

"Are you all right?" he asked.

"Yes."

"Well, I wish you would not do it," Sankey said angrily. "If you do I will get up, and they can either pot me or take me prisoner."

"Don't be an ass, Sankey. I am going on all right. I have shot two of them; there are about a dozen of them over there, I should say. Now let us talk reasonably. Of course, if I was sure they would not cross, I would make off to where the horses are, ride out, and meet Brookfield and the others as they come back. The orders were that we were to join them in about an hour and a half, which would give them time to go seven or eight miles farther, and for us to do our work thoroughly. But I am afraid that if I went away the Boers would presently guess I had done so, and would come across and carry you off. But though it would be no joke for you to be taken prisoner to Pretoria, it would be a good deal better than for you to have two or three more rifle bullets in your body, which I am sure you would have were you to move. So we must risk it. Anyhow, I will stop for another hour. There will be plenty of time then for me to make off and meet the others."

Chris crept forward again and watched the opportunity. Half an hour later he saw what he thought was a head appear, and at once fired, rolling over as before the instant he had pulled the trigger. Three or four shots answered his own almost instantly and there was a laugh that told him that they had practised the same trick that he had done, and had only raised a hat to draw his shot. Again there was silence for some time. Then he went back and told Sankey that he was about to start.

"All right, Chris; I shall be very glad when you have gone. You will get hit sooner or later if you go on firing, and I shall be a great deal more comfortable when you are once off. I don't believe they will venture across the drift; they know how straight you shoot."

Chris crawled back for some distance, and then got down into the road. He had scarcely done so when a shot rung out fifty yards away. His right leg gave way and he fell, and with a shout of triumph two Boers ran up to him. Chris did not attempt to move. The rifle had flown from his hand as he fell, and lay some five or six yards away.

"I surrender," he said when they ran up to him.

"Well, rooinek," they exclaimed, "you are a brave young fellow to make a fight alone against a dozen of us. It would have been wiser if you had gone away when you were lucky enough to get up the bank without being hit. What was the use of staying by your dead comrade?"

"He is not dead," Chris said. "He is hit in the arm or shoulder, but he knew if he moved he would be hit again to a certainty."

"But where are you hurt?"

"In the calf of my leg."

"It is lucky for you," the Boer said, "that I stumbled just as I fired.

Now, get up and I will carry you across the drift."

They helped him up, and the other assisted him on to his shoulders. The man's clothes were wet.

"Did you swim the river?" Chris asked.

"No, there is a drift a mile lower down. It is a bad one, but we managed to get across. We knew that you were alone, and as you seemed determined to remain here, we made sure of getting you."

As they came near to Sankey, Chris called out, "You can get up, Sankey; they have beaten us."

"I am very glad to hear your voice," Sankey replied as he raised himself into a sitting position. "When I heard that shot behind me I made sure it was all up with you. Where are you hit?"

"Only in my calf. Luckily this gentleman who is carrying me stumbled just as he fired, and I got the ball there instead of through my head. It serves me right for not having thought before that some of them might cross somewhere else and take us in rear. Well, it can't be helped; it might have been a good deal worse."

The other Boer had picked up the two rifles. They now entered the river. The stream in the middle was breast-high, and the Boer with the rifles told Sankey to hold on to him, which he was glad to do, for the force of the stream almost took him off his feet. The other Boers had now left their hiding-places, and received them when they reached the opposite bank. The one who seemed to be their leader said not unkindly, "You have given us a great deal of trouble, young fellows, and killed one of our comrades and badly wounded another."

"If you had left us alone we should have been very glad to have let you alone," Chris said.

The Boers laughed at the light-heartedness of their prisoner, and then examined their wounds. Chris had, as he said, been hit in the calf. The ball had entered behind, and had come out close to the bone. Chris believed that he could walk, but thought it best to affect not to be able to do so. The wound had bled very little, and the two holes were no larger than would be made by an ordinary slate-pencil. Sankey had been hit just below the shoulder. The ball had in his case also gone right through, and from the position of the two holes it was evident that it must have passed through the bone. The Boers bandaged the wounds, and told them to lie down under the shade of a bush, and then took their places near the bank to watch the drift again.

"I suppose we have a journey to Pretoria before us," Sankey said. "I don't care so much about myself, because that is only the fortune of war, but I am awfully sorry that you are taken, Chris, and all through my beastly folly in not taking shelter as you told me."

"Oh, we may just as well be together, Sankey. Besides, I don't mean to go to Pretoria, I can assure you. I believe I could walk now if I tried; but you may be sure I don't mean to try. I should advise you to avoid making any movement with your arm; make them put it in a sling. When they start with us, we had better be sent up with wounded prisoners rather than with the others. They won't look so sharply after the wounded, and it will be very hard if we cannot manage to slip away somehow. I hope the others will find the horses all right, or that if they don't the horses will find their own way back."

"Oh, they are safe to find them," Sankey said confidently. "There will be a hunt for us when it is found that we have not joined the others. Anyhow, they will search to-morrow. I am quite sure that some of our fellows will be out the first thing in the morning, and I dare say they will take a couple of the natives with them. If they start at the point where we turned off they will track the horses down that donga without any difficulty, and even if they have strayed away they will soon have them."

"Yes, I suppose they will be all right," Chris agreed. "Of course we have got the spare horses, but we should miss our own, and I think they are as fond of us as we are of them."

As the sun got low two of the Boers brought up four ponies which were grazing some little distance from the river. They lifted Chris on to one, and helped Sankey to mount another, and then taking their seats on the other horses, rode off at a walk, and arrived an hour and a half later at a camp in a hollow behind Fort Wylie. Here they were put into a large tent, where some thirty wounded prisoners were lying. A German surgeon at once examined and again bandaged their wounds.

"You are neither of you hurt badly," he said in English. "A fortnight and you will have little to complain of. These Mauser bullets make very slight wounds, except when they hit a vital spot. You are a good deal better off than most of your comrades here."

As it was now dark they lay down at once, after taking a basin of excellent soup. The German ambulance was scrupulously clean. The more serious cases were put in beds, those less severely wounded lay on the ground between them; for the number of wounded to be dealt with was very large, and in the tents in which the Boers were treated were many terribly mangled by fragments of shrapnel and lyddite shells. The boys were some time before they went off to sleep, for their wounds smarted a good deal. However, they presently fell off, and it was broad daylight when they woke. Chris lay where he was, while Sankey got up and went round the tent. The men all belonged to either the Devon or the Queen's Own regiment. Most of them were awake, and all asked anxiously for news from Chieveley, and looked disappointed when they heard that it was likely to be some time before a fresh attempt was made to relieve Ladysmith.

"They are all right there. Of course they were disappointed that we did not get in, but they have provisions enough to last for some time yet."

"The Boers don't seem to think so," one of the men said. "As they were carrying us in here I heard one of them say that they had certainly got Ladysmith now, for the provisions there were pretty nearly exhausted, and in a few days they would have to surrender. If they did not, they meant to carry it by assault."

"I don't think they will do that," Sankey said confidently.

"Not they," the soldier replied scornfully. "They will find that it is a very different thing meeting our chaps in the open to what it is squatting in a trench, and blazing away without giving us as much as a sight of them. It is a beastly cowardly way of fighting, I calls it. I was not hit till just the end of the day, and I had been blazing away from six in the morning, and I never caught sight of one of them. I should not have minded being hit if I could have bowled two or three of them over first."

After breakfast the surgeon said to the two lads: "You will be sent off in half an hour; all the slight cases are to go on. There may be another battle any day, and room must be made for a fresh batch of wounded."

"Very well, sir," Chris replied, "as we have to go, it makes no difference to us whether it is to-day or next week."

"You are colonists, I suppose, as you have not the name of any regiment on your shoulder-straps?"

"Yes, sir; we belong to Johannesburg. I know your face. You are Dr.

Muller, are you not?"

"Yes; I do not recognize you."

"I am the son of Mr. King, sir; and my comrade is the son of Dr.

Sankey."

"I know them both," the doctor said. "I am not one of those who think that the Uitlanders have no grievances, and I am not here by my own choice. But I was commandeered, and had no option in the matter. Well, I am sorry for you lads. For though I believe that in the long run your people will certainly win, I think it will be a good many months before they are in Pretoria. They fight splendidly. I watched the battle until the wounded began to come in, and the way those regiments by the railway advanced under a fire that seemed as if nothing could live for a minute, was marvellous. But brave as they are, they will never force their way through these hills. They will never get to Ladysmith. Well, perhaps we shall meet some day in Johannesburg again."

"Yes, doctor. I suppose we shall be taken up in waggons?"

"You will, for a time, certainly. But I don't know about your friend."

"Oh, do order him to be sent up with me, doctor, that is, if it will not hurt him too much. You see, his wound is really more serious than mine, as the ball has gone through the bone."

"Yes. I have a good many cases of that sort, but all seem to be healing rapidly. However, I will strain a point and give instructions that he is to be among those who must go in the waggons."

"Thank you, sir," both boys said; and Sankey added: "We are great friends, sir. Though I don't care for myself, it would be a great comfort to us to be together, and my wound really hurts me a good deal."

"I have no doubt it does," the surgeon said. "You can't expect a ball to pass through muscle and bone without causing pain."

Half an hour later some natives came into the tent, and under the directions of the surgeon carried out Chris and three others whose wounds were all comparatively slight, and placed them in a waggon which already contained eight other wounded prisoners. Sankey, with his arm in a sling, walked out and was lifted into the waggon, into which he could indeed scarcely have climbed without assistance. Seven more were collected at other tents, and the waggons then moved off and joined a long line that were waiting on the road. Some more presently came up, and when the number was complete, the native drivers cracked their whips with reports like pistols, and the oxen got into motion. Some twenty mounted Boers kept by the side of the waggons. They followed the road until within four or five miles of Ladysmith, then turned off, crossed the Klip river, and came to a spot where a hospital camp had been erected; here they halted for the night.

The wounded were provided with soup and bread, and such as were able to walk were allowed to get out and stroll about. The surgeon who accompanied the train and the doctor in charge of the hospital attended to all the serious cases, and these were carried into the tent for the night thus making room for the others to lie at length in the waggons. Only three of these contained British wounded, the others were all occupied by Boers. Chris and Sankey excited the admiration of the wounded soldiers by conversing with the Boers and the natives in their own languages. Most of the Boers, indeed, could speak English perfectly, but did not now condescend to use it. Some even refused to speak in Dutch to the lads, as their dislike to the colonists who had taken up arms against them was even more bitter than that which they felt for the soldiers.

For six days they travelled on, at the end of that time Chris felt sure that he could walk without difficulty. He had, at very considerable pain to himself, each night undone his bandage, and had with his finger scratched at the two tiny wounds until they were red and inflamed, so that on the two occasions on which they were examined by the doctor, they appeared to be making but little progress towards healing. The inflammation was, however, only on the surface, and after several furtive trials, Chris declared that he was ready for a start. A move was generally made before daylight, in order that a considerable portion of the day's journey should be got over before the heat became very great.

"Are you quite sure, Chris?"

"I am as sure as anybody can be who has not actually tried it. I may be a little stiff at the start, but I believe that once off, I shall be right for eight or ten miles; and after the first day, ought to be able to do double that."

They had been travelling at the rate of about twelve miles a day, and halted that night near Newcastle. Chris heard from the guards that they would only go as far as Volksrust, and there be put in a train. The reason why this had not been done before was that the railway was fully occupied in taking down ammunition and stores, and that no carriages or trucks were available. The watch at night was always of the slightest kind. The Boers had no thought whatever that any of the wounded would try to escape. Two were posted at the leading waggon, which contained stores and medical comforts that might, if unguarded, be looted by the native drivers. The rest either slept wrapped up in their blankets, or in any empty houses that might be near.

At nine o'clock the boys told the others in the waggon that they were going to escape. They had before informed them of their intention to do so, somewhere along the road, and had taken down the names and regiments of all of them, with a note as to their condition, and the addresses of their friends. These they had promised to give to the commanding officers if they got safely back. They had filled their pockets with bread, all those in the waggon having contributed a portion of their ration that evening. After a hearty shake of the hand all round, and many low-muttered good wishes, they stepped out at the rear of the waggon, with their boots in their hands. It was a light night, and the figures of the two men on sentry over the store waggon could just be made out. There was no thought of any regular sentry duty, no marching up and down among the Boers; the two men had simply sat down together to smoke their pipes and chat until their turn came to lie down. The lads therefore struck off on the opposite side of the waggon, and making their way with great caution to avoid running against any of the Boers, they were soon far enough away to be able to put on their boots and walk erect.

"How does your leg feel, Chris?" "It feels stiffer than I expected, certainly, but I have no doubt it will soon wear off. We must take it quietly till it warms up a bit."

Gradually the feeling of stiffness passed off, and going at a steady but quiet pace they made their way along the road, to which they had returned after they had gone far enough to be sure that they were beyond the hearing of the Boers and Kaffirs. From time to time they stopped to listen for the tread of horses, which could have been heard a long way in the still night air, but they were neither met nor overtaken. After walking for five hours they came upon a stream that, as they knew, crossed the line at Ingagone station and ran into the Buffalo. They had gone but ten miles, and decided to leave the road here, follow the stream up half a mile, and then lie up. Chris admitted that he could not go much farther, and as they would not cross another stream for some distance they could not, even putting his wound aside, do better than stop here. Sankey was equally contented to rest, for his arm, which he still carried in a sling, was aching badly.

"It does not feel sore," he said, "or inflamed, or anything of that sort; it just aches as if I had got rheumatism in it. I dare say I shall have that for some time; I have heard my father say that injuries to the bones were often felt that way for years after they were apparently well, the pain coming on with changes of weather. However, it is no great odds."

Neither wanted anything to eat, but had taken long draughts when they first struck the stream, and as soon as they found a snug spot among some bushes a short distance from the water they lay down and were soon asleep. They remained quiet all the day, only going out once after a careful look round to get a drink of water. Starting again as soon as darkness closed in they walked on, with occasional rests, until within a few miles of Glencoe, having followed the line of the railway, where they had no chance whatever of meeting anyone. Here they again halted at a stream. They had agreed that they would on the following night cross the line between Glencoe and Dundee, and take the southern road by which the British force retired after the battle there. By that route they would be altogether out of the line of Boers coming from Utrecht or Vryheid towards the Boer camps round Ladysmith. Their stock of food was, however, now running very short, and they ate their last crust before starting that evening. This they did earlier than usual, as they were determined if possible to get some bread at Dundee. They knew that a few of the residents had remained there, and probably there would not be many Boers about, for as Dundee lay off the direct line from Ladysmith to the north there would be no reason for their stopping there. Sankey had insisted on undertaking this business alone.

"It is of no use your talking, Chris," he said positively; "I can run and you can't. I may not be able to run quite as fast as I could; but I don't suppose this arm will make much difference, and anyhow, I could swing it for a bit, and I would match myself against any Boer on foot. We will cross the line, as we agreed, about a mile from Dundee. When we strike the southern road you can sit down close to it, and I will go in."

"I don't like it," Chris said, "but I see that it would be the best thing. I wish we had our farmer's suits with us, then I should not fear at all."

"I don't think that makes much odds, Chris, lots of the Boers have taken to clothes of very much the same colour; really, the only noticeable thing about us is our caps. If I come upon a loyalist I will see if I can get a couple of hats for us, either of straw or felt would be all right. Well, don't worry yourself; it will be a rum thing if I can't bring you out something for breakfast and dinner to-morrow."

"Don't forget a little bit extra for supper to-night, Sankey," Chris laughed; "that crust went a very short distance, and I feel game for at least a good-sized loaf."

Although he said good-bye to his friend cheerfully, Chris felt more down-hearted than he had done since he had said farewell to his mother more than two months before, as Sankey disappeared in the darkness, leaving him sitting among some bushes close to the road. His last words had been, "It is somewhere about nine o'clock now; if I am not back by twelve don't wait any longer. But don't worry about me; if I am caught, I have no doubt sooner or later I shall give them the slip again, but I don't think there is any real occasion for you to bother. Unless by some unlucky fluke, I am safe to get through all right." Then with a wave of his hand he started confidently along the road.

He met no one until he was close to the town. The first thing he had determined upon was to get hold of a hat somehow. The houses were scattered irregularly about in the outskirts of the town; but very few lights were to be seen in the windows.

"Of course they have all been plundered," he said to himself; "but if I only had a light I have no doubt I should be able to find an old hat somewhere among the rubbish, but in the dark there is no chance whatever." Presently he saw a light in a window in a detached house of some size. He made his way noiselessly up and looked in. A party of five or six Boers were sitting smoking round a table. "The place has not been sacked," he said to himself; "therefore there is no doubt the owner is a traitor. It is a beastly custom these Boers have of wearing their hats indoors as well as out, still there are almost sure to be some spare ones in the hall. A Boer out on the veldt would not be likely to possess more than the hat he wears, but a fellow living in such a house as this would be safe to have a variety for different sorts of weather. At any rate I must try."

He took off his boots, and then stole up to the front door and turned the handle noiselessly. As he expected, no light was burning there, but the door of the room in which the men were sitting was not quite closed, and after he had stood still for a minute, his eyes, accustomed to the greater darkness outside, took in his surroundings. To his great delight he saw that four or five hats of different shapes and materials were hanging there, and a heap of long warm coats were thrown together on a bench. Looking round still more closely he saw five or six rifles in the corner by the door, and to these were hanging as many bandoliers. He first took down two felt hats of different sizes, and picked out two of the coats; then, with great care to avoid any noise, he took two rifles with their bandoliers from the corner and crept out through the door, which he closed behind him carefully; for if they found it open the Boers might look round and discover that some of their goods were missing, whereas any one of them coming casually out, even with a light, would not be likely to notice it. He put on one of the bandoliers, then a coat, and then slung one of the rifles behind him; then, after putting on his boots he went out with the other articles and hid them inside the gate of an evidently deserted house a hundred yards from the other. He felt sure that even when the loss was discovered there would be no great search made for the thief. It would be supposed that some passing Kaffir had come in and stolen the things, and they would consider that, until the following morning, it would be useless to look for him. Feeling now perfectly confident that he could pass unsuspected, he entered the principal street. Here there were a good many Boers about, but none paid the slightest attention to him. Presently he came to a store that was still open. The owner was of course Dutch. He had been a pronounced loyalist when Sankey was last in Dundee, but had evidently thought it prudent to change sides when the British left. Sankey had been in the shop twice with Willesden, and had found the man very civil, and, as he thought, an honest fellow, but with so much at stake he dared not trust him now. Food he must have, that was certain, but if he had to obtain it by threats, he must do it at one of the outlying houses. It would be dangerous anyhow, for, though he could frighten a man into giving him what he required, he could not prevent him from giving the alarm afterwards. While he was looking on a mounted Boer stopped at the shop door. He dismounted at once, and lifted a large bundle from his saddle.

"Look here!" he said to the shopkeeper. "I have just come into the town, having ridden up from near Greytown. I picked up some loot at a house that had been deserted. Here are twenty bottles of wine and a lot of tea—I don't know how much. There was a chest half-full, and I emptied it into a cloth. What will you give me for them? I am riding home to Volksrust. I want three loaves and a couple of bottles of dop [Footnote: The common country spirit.], and the rest in money." The bargaining lasted for some minutes, the storekeeper saying that the wine was of no use to him, for no Boer ever spent money on wine; the tea of course was worth money, but he had now a large stock on hand, and could give but little for it. However, the bargain was at last struck. The Boer brought out the bread and two bottles of spirits and placed them in his saddle- bag, then he went back into the shop to get the money. The moment he entered Sankey moved quietly up to the other side of his horse, transferred the bottles of spirits to his own pocket, and then, thrusting the loaves under his coat, crossed the street, and turned down a lane some twenty yards farther on. He had gone but a few steps when he heard a loud exclamation followed by a torrent of Dutch oaths. He stood up for a moment in a doorway, and heard the sound of heavy feet running along the street he had left, with loud shouts to stop a thief who had robbed him. The instant that he had passed Sankey walked on again, and in five minutes was in the outskirts of the town. He made his way to the place where he had hidden the other things, and taking them up, walked briskly on until he came to the bushes where his friend was anxiously expecting him. As he uttered his name Chris sprang out.

"I had not even begun to expect you back, Sankey. How have you done? I see that you have got on another hat and a coat."

"That is only a part of it. I have got three loaves and two bottles of dop, and a coat and a hat for you, and a rifle and ammunition, as well as clothes for myself and the gun that you see over my shoulder."

"But how on earth did you do it, Sankey?"

"Honestly, my dear Chris, perfectly honestly. The rifles and clothes were fairly spoils of war, the loaves and spirits were stolen from a thief, which I consider to be a good action; but let us go on, I will tell you about it as we walk. Here is your bandolier, slip that on first; there is your coat and hat. Now I will put the sling of the rifle over your shoulder. There you are, complete, a Boer of the first water! I will carry the bottles and the bread. Now, let's be going on."

Then he told Chris how he had obtained his spoil, and they both had a hearty laugh over the thought of the enraged Dutchman rushing down the street shouting for the eatables of which he had been bereaved.

"It was splendidly managed, Sankey. I shall have to appoint you as caterer instead of Willesden. He pays honestly for all he wants for the mess, but I see that if we entrust the charge to you, we shall not have to draw for a farthing upon our treasure chest. And how is your arm feeling?"

"I have almost forgotten that I have an arm," Sankey said. "I suppose the excitement of the thing drove out the rheumatics."

"We might have some supper," Chris suggested.

"No, no, we must wait till we can get water. I can't take dop neat."

"But how are you going to mix it when you do get water?" "I had not thought of that, Chris," Sankey said in a tone of disgust. "Well, I suppose we shall be reduced to taking a mouthful of this poison, and then a long drink of water to dilute it. We shall not have very far to go, because, if you remember, we crossed a little stream three or four miles after we rode out from Dundee. I am as hungry as a hunter, but it would destroy all the pleasure of the banquet if we had to munch dry bread with nothing to wash it down." After walking two miles farther they came upon the stream and going fifty yards up it, so as to run no risk of being disturbed, they sat down and enjoyed a hearty meal.

CHAPTER XIV

SPION KOP

"It is almost a pity that you did not commandeer two ponies and saddles while you were about it," Chris laughed, as they set off again feeling all the better for their meal. "We only want that to complete our outfit."

"You should have mentioned it before I started, Chris. There is no saying what I might not have done; and really, without joking, a pony is one of the easiest things going to steal when there are Boers about. They always leave them standing just where they dismount, and will be in a store or a drinking-place for an hour at a time without attending to them."

"It is not the difficulty, but the risk; for even if a thief gets off with a pony, he is almost sure to be hunted down. It is regarded as a sort of offence against the community, and a man, whether a native or a mean white, would get a very short shrift if he were caught on a stolen horse."

"Yes, I know. Still, for all that, if I could come upon a saddled pony, and there was a chance of getting off with it, I should take it without hesitation as a fair spoil of war."

"Yes, so should I, for the betting would be very strongly against our running across its owner; and in the next place, it would greatly increase our chance of getting safely through. It is the fact of our being on foot that will attract attention. We could walk about a camp full of Boers without anyone noticing it, but to walk into the camp would seem so extraordinary, that we should be questioned at once. A Boer travelling across the country on foot would be a sight hitherto unknown."

"There I agree with you; and I do think that when we get to Helpmakaar, which we can do to-morrow evening if we make a good long march to-night, we had better see if we can't appropriate a couple of ponies. We can walk boldly into the place, and no one would notice we were new-comers. There are sure to be ponies standing about, and it will be hard if we cannot bag a couple. Then we can ride by the road south from there to Greytown, and after crossing the Tugela, strike off by the place where we had the fight near Umbala mountain, which would be a good landmark for us, and from there follow our old line back to Estcourt. It would be rather shorter to go through Weenen, but there may be Boers about, and the few miles we should save would not be worth the risk."

They made a long journey that night, slept within seven or eight miles of Helpmakaar, and started late in the afternoon. When near the town they left the main road, passed through some fields, and came into the place that way, as had they entered by the road they were likely to be questioned. Once in the little town, they walked about at their ease. It did not seem that there were any great number of Boers there, but the town was well within the district held by them, and such loyalists as remained were sure to be keeping as much as possible without their houses. In front of the principal inn were nearly a score of Boer ponies, but the lads considered it would be altogether too risky to attempt to take a couple of these, as their owners might issue out while they were doing it; however, they stood watching. For some time there was a sound of singing and merriment within, and for a quarter of an hour no one came out.

"If we had taken a couple of ponies at first," Sankey said savagely, "we might have been two miles away by this time."

"Yes; I don't know that it is too late now. Wait till they strike up another song with a chorus, none of them are likely to leave the room while that is going on, and it will drown the sound of hoofs."

There were few people about in the streets; and even had anyone passed as they were mounting, he could not tell that they were not the legitimate owners.

"If anyone should come out," Chris said, "don't try to ride away. We should have the whole lot after us in a minute, and it is not likely we should have got hold of the fastest ponies. Besides, they would shoot us before we got far. So if anyone does come out and raises an alarm, jump off at once and run round the nearest corner, and then into the first garden we come to. We should be in one before they could come out, mount their ponies, and give chase. Once among the gardens we should be safe. If the man who comes out does not shout we would pay no attention to him, but ride away quietly. If the ponies don't happen to belong to him or some friend of his, he would not be likely to interfere, for he would suppose that we were two of the party who had left the place without his noticing them. But if he gives a shout, jump off at once, and rush round the corner of the nearest house."

They waited for a minute or two, and then two Boers came out, mounted a couple of the ponies, and rode quietly down the street. At that moment another song was struck up. "That is lucky. If anyone comes out and sees us mounting he will take us for the two men who have just ridden off." Then they strolled leisurely across the street, took the reins of two of the ponies, sprang into the saddles, and started at a walk, which, twenty yards farther, was quickened into a trot. The two men had fortunately gone in the other direction. Once fairly beyond the town, they quickened their pace. "Now we are Boers all over," Chris said exultantly; "but there is one thing, Sankey, we must be careful not to go near any solitary farmhouse. There must still be some loyal men left in these parts, and if we fell in with a small party of them the temptation to pay off what they have suffered might be irresistible."

"Yes, Chris; but they certainly would not shoot unless certain of bringing us both down, for if one escaped, he would return with a party strong enough to wipe them out altogether. However, we need not trouble about that for the present, though no doubt it will be well to be careful when we are once across the Tugela."

"Well, we shall be there long before morning; it is not more than seven- or eight-and-twenty miles."

They rode fast, for it was possible that when the loss of the ponies was discovered someone who might have noticed them go down the street might set the Boers on the track, and in that case they would certainly be hotly pursued. The ponies, however, turned out to be good animals, and as the lads were at least a couple of stones lighter than the average Boer, they could not be overtaken unless some of the ponies happened to be a good deal better than these.

After riding at full speed for eight or nine miles, they broke into a walk, stopping every few minutes to listen. They knew that they would be able to hear the sound of pursuit at least a mile away, and as their ponies would start fresh again, they were able to take things quietly. So sometimes cantering sometimes walking, they reached the river at about one o'clock in the morning. On the opposite bank stood the little village of Tugela Ferry. Here there was a drift, and there was no occasion to use the ferry-boat except when the river was swollen by rain. It now reached only just up to the ponies' bellies; they therefore crossed without the least difficulty, and after passing through the village, left the road, and struck off across the country to the south- west. When four or five miles away they halted at a donga, and leading the ponies down, turned them loose to feed, ate their supper, and were soon asleep.

It was no longer necessary to travel by night, and at eight o'clock they started again. They kept a sharp look-out from every eminence, and once or twice saw parties of mounted men in the distance and made detours to avoid them. So far as they were aware, however, they were not observed. The distance to be ridden from their last halting-place was about thirty-five miles, and at one o'clock they were within five miles of Estcourt. On an eminence about a mile in front of them they saw a solitary horseman.

"That is evidently one of our scouts," Chris said. "I dare say there is a party of them somewhere behind him. If I am not mistaken I can see two or three heads against the sky-line—they are either heads or stones. We should know more about it if the Boers hadn't bagged our glasses when they took us."

Two or three minutes later Sankey said, "Those little black spots have gone, so they were heads. I dare say they are wondering who we are, and put us down either as Boers or as loyal farmers, though there cannot be many of them left in this district."

Presently from behind the foot of the hill six horsemen dashed out. The lads had already taken the precaution of taking off their hats and putting on forage-caps again.

"It is always better to avoid accidents," Chris said. "It would have been awkward if they had begun to shoot before waiting to ask questions, especially as we could not shoot back. They are Colonials; one can see that by their looped-up hats, which are a good deal more becoming than those hideous khaki helmets of our men."

The horsemen had unslung their guns, but seeing that the strangers had their rifles still slung behind them with apparently no intention of firing, they dropped into a canter until they met the lads.

"Who are you?" the leader asked. "Do you surrender?"

"We will surrender if you want us to," Chris said; "though why we should do so I don't know. We belong to the Maritzburg Scouts, and were taken prisoners, being both wounded, eight or nine days ago; and, as you see, we have got away."

"I dare say it is all right," the officer said; "but at any rate we will ride with you to Estcourt."

"We shall be glad of your company, though I don't suppose we shall be identified until we get to Chieveley. Will you please tell us what has taken place since we left?"

"That, I think had better be deferred," the officer said dryly. "We don't tell our news to strangers."

"Quite right, sir."

"It is evident that you are not Dutch," the officer went on; but there is more than one renegade Englishman fighting among the Boers, and except for your caps you certainly look as if you belonged to the other side rather than to ours."

"Yes, they are Boer coats, Boer ponies, and Boer guns," Chris said. "We have taken the liberty of borrowing them as they borrowed our guns and field-glasses. Whether they borrowed our horses we shall not know till we get back. You see," he went on, opening his coat, "we still have our uniforms underneath. Who is at Estcourt now? Ah, by the way, we are sure to find some officers in the hospital who know us."

The officer by this time began to feel that the account Chris had given him of himself was correct, and when they arrived at Estcourt it was rather as a matter of form than anything else that he accompanied him to the hospital. Upon enquiry Chris found that among the wounded there was one of the naval officers he had travelled with from Durban. Upon the surgeon in charge being told that he wished to see him, he was allowed to enter with the officer. The wounded man at once recognized him.

"Ah, King," he said, "I am glad to see you again. Have you brought me down a message from Captain Jones or any of our fellows?"

"No; I am very sorry to find you here, Devereux, but I am glad to see you are getting better. I have really come in order that you might satisfy this gentleman, who has taken me prisoner, that I am King of the Maritzburg Scouts."

"There is no doubt about that. Why, where have you been to be taken prisoner?"

"Oh, it was a fair capture. I was with one of my section caught while out scouting, and have got away in Boer attire, and as we were riding in we met this officer's party some five miles out, and not unnaturally they took us for the real thing instead of masqueraders."

"I can assure you that King is all right," the sailor said. "He came up in the train with three of his party from Durban."

"Thank you," the officer said with a smile. "I am perfectly satisfied, and was nearly so before I came in here. Well, I wish you good-day, sir, and hope we may meet again," and shaking hands with Chris he left the tent.

Chris remained chatting for a few minutes more with the sailor.

"I suppose there is no great chance of getting a bed here?" he said, as he rose to go. "We have had two pretty long days' ride, and I don't care about going on to Chieveley."

"Not a chance in the world, I should think."

"Well, it does not matter much. We have been sleeping in the open for the past five nights, and once more will make no difference. We are just back in time, Sankey," he said when he joined his friend outside. "Devereux tells me that there is a big movement going on, and that a severe fight is expected in a day or two. He hears that the baggage train has been moving to Springfield, so that it will be somewhere over in that direction; and I suppose we are going to move round to Acton Homes and force our way into Ladysmith through Dewdrop. You know, they say that it is comparatively flat that way."

They got rid of their long coats and fastened them to their saddles; then led their ponies to the station, and leaving them outside entered. An enterprising store-keeper had opened a refreshment stall for the benefit of the troops passing through, or officers coming down from the front to look after stores or to visit friends in hospital. Chris had explained their position to Devereux, and the latter had said: "Then I suppose they have eased you of all your money?"

"Yes; they did not leave us a penny."

"There is my purse with my watch in that little pocket over my bed," he said. "You must let me lend you a sovereign till I see you again." And Chris had thankfully taken the money.

They now had what to them was a gorgeous feast; some soup, cold ham, and a bottle of wine. They gave what little remains they had of bread to the ponies, and then led them a quarter of a mile out of the town and camped out with them there, the Boer coats coming in very useful. The next morning they started at daybreak, and arrived at their camp at Chieveley just as their friends were sitting down to breakfast. They were received with a shout of welcome, and a torrent of questions was poured upon them.

"I will leave Sankey to tell you all about it," Chris said. "I must go and report myself to Brookfield and get our names struck off the list of missing. I shall not be five minutes away."

The captain received Chris as heartily, though not so noisily, as his comrades had done.

"We have been very anxious about you," he said, after the first greeting. "When we came back to the point where you left us, and did not find you there, we thought there might be some mistake, and that you had ridden on. We picked up all the others, but were not uneasy until we got into camp, and found that you did not return. Then two of your friends took fresh horses and rode out again, taking two of your blacks with them. The blacks found the place where you had left us, and following your tracks down came on your horses. Then they went on till they saw the river in front of them. The blacks traced your footsteps along near the bank till they came to a spot where there was evidently a drift, as a road was cut down to the water on both sides. They then crawled along till they could look down into the road. They were some time away, and returned with the news that they had seen below them on the road a patch of blood and the mark of a body in the mud, another step they said had gone down to the water, and had not come back. Crawling along by the edge of the bank they found some empty cartridges. They said whoever had been up there had crawled once or twice to the edge above the sunken road where the other was lying, and that he had then gone back from the river and afterwards down into the road. A little farther there seemed to have been a fall, and then two men with big feet came to the spot, and, they asserted, carried the one who had fallen there down to the other; but they could not see what had happened then, for it was evident that the Boers were in force on the other side of the river, and they dared not go down farther to examine the tracks. Enough had been seen, however, to show that you must both have been wounded. It was pretty certain that you had not been killed, for if so the Boers would not have troubled to carry your bodies across the drift. Now, Chris, let us hear your story."

"If you don't mind, Captain Brookfield," Chris said with a smile, "I will put off telling it for another half-hour. The fact is, breakfast is ready, and I have only had one square meal since I went away, and that was yesterday at Estcourt."

"Go, by all means," the captain laughed. "I breakfasted half an hour before you came in, and forgot that it was possible that you had not done so." It was a full half-hour before Chris returned, and when he did so he left Sankey still telling the story of their adventures, which had made very little progress, as he had declared that he could not enjoy his breakfast if he was obliged to keep on talking all the time. When Chris, on his part, had told the story to Captain Brookfield, the latter said:

"I can't say that I am altogether surprised to see you back, though I certainly did not expect you for a long time, for I felt sure that if you and Sankey were not seriously wounded you would manage to give them the slip before you got to Pretoria; and I thought we should hear the first news of you at Durban, for it would be shorter and easier for you to make your way down again to Lorenzo Marques than to follow this line."

"We should certainly have gone that way if we had not escaped until we were near Pretoria, but it was a great deal easier to slip away from the waggons than it would have been if we had been once put into the train. I hope, sir, we have not been returned as missing, for it will have frightened our mothers terribly if we have been."

"No; I thought that there was no occasion to give your names until you had been away for a month. If you were not heard of by that time, I should consider it certain that you were dead or at Pretoria. I knew that, as you say, it would be a terrible shock to your mothers if they were to see your names among the missing; while it could do no harm to anyone if I kept it back for a month, and put you down as missing the first time after the corps were engaged. Well, you are just back in time for a big fight, though we are not likely to take any part in it. It is supposed to be a secret as to the precise position, but orders have been privately circulated this morning. Dundonald with the regular cavalry, the Natal Horse, and the South African Light Horse went on four days ago, with one or two other colonial corps, and occupied Springfield, and the baggage train followed them; and after occupying the place, instead of waiting for infantry to come up, he moved on to a river. Some of his men, with extraordinary pluck, swam across and managed to bring the ferry-boat over under a very heavy fire. Then a number of them crossed, scattered the Boers like chaff, and took possession of a rough hill called Swartz Kop, and held it till support came up. It was a capitally managed affair, and one cannot but regret that the same care was not shown at Hlangwane. We are to go on this afternoon, but as we are not in Dundonald's brigade I expect that our duty will be, as it was in the last fight, to guard the baggage."

"But what will Dundonald's brigade do?"

"The general opinion is, that they will push round to Acton Homes. I am not sure that the whole force is not going that way. It would be a grand thing if it could be done; but I doubt whether the train could carry enough stores, for it would be a long way round, and we should probably have to fight two or three times at least, and it might take us five or six days."

"Then most of the infantry have gone on already?"

"Yes, Hart's and Hildyard's brigades have marched straight from Frere. By the way, did you hear of the Boer attack on Ladysmith on the night of the 6th?"

"No; that was the night we were at Glencoe. On our way up we did hear some very heavy firing. At least, we were not certain that it was firing, and rather thought it was a distant thunder-storm."

"The firing began at two o'clock in the morning," Captain Brookfield said, "and was so heavy that everyone turned out. It lasted four hours, and there was no doubt that the Boers were making a determined attack. Everyone wondered that we did not at once make a diversion. When the day broke it could be seen that numbers of mounted Boers were hurrying off from their camps among the hills towards Ladysmith, but it was not until two in the afternoon that five battalions of infantry marched down towards Colenso, and the naval guns opened in earnest on their lines. It had the effect of bringing the Boers scurrying down again to their trenches. Our fellows marched in open order and worked their way nearly down to Colenso, which was more strongly garrisoned than it had been at the time of our last attack. No doubt they had seen us preparing to advance, and strongly reinforced the garrison. Our guns were taken a long way down, and at six o'clock their trenches were bombarded; then it came on to rain, and the Boers ceased to fire, and at seven o'clock our men turned into camp. The firing in Ladysmith had ceased some time before that."

"And what had taken place there?" Chris asked anxiously, "for I know the place has not fallen or we should have heard of it."

"No, they beat the Boers off splendidly. However, they had hard work to do it, for the heliograph flashed a signal at about nine o'clock in the morning to say that they had so far beaten off the enemy, but were much pressed. We heard the next day that this had indeed been the case. Caesar's Camp had been taken and retaken several times—by our men at the point of the bayonet, by the Boers, by rushing up in overwhelming numbers. It is said that we have twelve hundred casualties, and the Boers at least fifteen hundred, of whom a large number were bayoneted. They say the loss fell chiefly upon the Free Staters, who were put in the front by the Transvaal people. They fought pluckily, and several of their commanders were among the killed. I should think that they would hardly try it again. A native got through two days afterwards with a despatch. We have not heard what it contained, but we fancy from what has leaked out that our defences were very weak."

"We ought to take a lesson from the Boers," Chris said. "I saw something of their trenches as we went up the railway valley, and they are wonderful."

"Yes, we must do the Boers the justice to say that they are not afraid of hard work. Ever since they first came here they have been at work everywhere every day in the week, including Sundays. Of course, as we are not standing on the defensive, there is no occasion for us to construct works to the same extent; but I cannot myself understand why we do not throw up batteries for our guns, pushing forward zigzags every night, and advancing the batteries until we can plant all our naval and field guns within a hundred yards of Colenso, when we should be able to smash their entrenchments in no time, and effectually cover an advance across the bridge or one of the drifts. When I was in the army it was always said that the next war would be fought with the spade as much as with the rifle, but so far we have seen nothing whatever of the spade, except just by the guns. We were also taught that strong positions held by steady troops armed with magazine guns and supported by good artillery were absolutely impregnable against direct attack. I grant that Dundee and Elandslaagte, and Belmont and Enslin on the other side, seemed to contradict that idea, but our experience here is all the other way; and if we keep on knocking our heads against those hills I suppose the axiom is likely to be finally confirmed."

"Then you don't think that we are going to fight our way into Ladysmith,

Captain Brookfield?"

"Not direct into Ladysmith. Possibly we may work our way round; but after what we saw of the fire from their position, trench above trench, and miles upon miles in length, my own conviction is, that allowing to the utmost for the gallantry and devotion of our men, we shall never win our way across those hills."

"Then we move off at two o'clock, sir?"

"Yes, fresh batches of waggons are going on, and we are to escort them, and if we reach Springfield by to-morrow night we may think ourselves lucky, for some of the officers who went with the first lot have come back, and say that the roads are simply awful—there are dongas to be passed where the waggons sink up to their axles—and that at one point ninety oxen were fastened to a single waggon and could not pull it out from a hole in which it was sunk, and there it would be now if one of the Woolwich traction engines hadn't got hold of it and drawn it out. They are doing splendid work, and if the War Office authorities can but take a lesson to heart, the next war we go into we shall have five hundred of them and not a single transport animal. They would cost money, no doubt, but they would eat nothing and drink nothing; they would only require to be oiled and cleaned occasionally to keep them in order, and when they were wanted they would do the work without our having to hunt the world over for transport animals. They would save their cost in one war; there would be a thousand drivers and stokers instead of twenty thousand camp followers; it would not matter whether the country was burnt up dry or deep in grass, they would drag their fuel with them; and would save the artillery horses by dragging the guns till they were in the neighbourhood of an enemy. It might not look so pretty or picturesque as the present system, but it would be enormously more useful, and in the long run vastly more economical. I should like to see Kitchener put at the War Office with authority to sweep it out; Hercules in the Augean stable would be nothing to it."

Chris laughed at the earnestness and vehemence with which the commander spoke.

He went on. "I am an old army man, and have been as staunch a believer in army traditions as any man, but I tell you fairly that I am disgusted at the amount of routine work, delay, and, if I may use the word, priggism, that I see going on. I am not surprised that the Colonials to a man are convinced that they would manage matters infinitely better if they were left to themselves. They would harass the Boers night and day, sweep their plundering parties out of the land, make a circuit no matter how far into Zululand, and come down behind and cut the line of railway, and blow up the bridges, and worry them out of the colony. I don't say they would succeed, but I am sure they would try, and I believe firmly that five thousand mounted Colonials fighting in their own way would relieve Ladysmith and clear Natal sooner than we with thirty thousand shall do. I am not saying that they would succeed in a Continental war, though they would certainly harass and bother any regular force four times their own strength. To succeed they would require guns and a greater degree of discipline than they have got, but such a force would be absolutely invaluable as an assistant to a regular army. Don't repeat what I say, Chris; there is a good deal of soreness of feeling on both sides already, and I don't want any utterance of mine to add to it. Still, I can assure you it has been a relief to me to let the steam off."

At the appointed hour the Maritzburg Scouts and another Colonial corps started with a train of two hundred waggons, and with immense exertion made eight miles before it became dark. The men were more often on foot than in their saddles, sometimes roping their horses to the sides of the waggons to aid the oxen, sometimes putting their shoulders to the wheels, or working with a score of others with railway sleepers that had been brought for the purpose, to lever the axles out of deep holes into which the wheels had sunk.

"I don't think I ever knew what it was to be really dirty before," Field said, as they finally dismounted and prepared to camp. "I thought I did know something about mud, but I can see that I did not. I feel that I am a sort of animated pie, and could be cooked comfortably in an oven. If we could but get a big fire and stand round it, our crust might peel off; and I really don't see any other way. There is one advantage in it, and that is that we shall be able to skirmish, if necessary, across either a sandy or muddy country, without the possibility of our being made out more than fifty yards away by the keenest-sighted Boer. What do you propose, Captain Chris? If there were running water near, the course would be clear. We would lie down by turns, and be rolled over and over, and thumped with stones, and rubbed with anything that came handy till we were in a state of comparative cleanliness."

"Why running water?" Chris asked. "Why not a pond?" "A pond!" Field said, contemptuously. "Why, sir, before our section alone was washed, the water of anything short of a lake would be solid."

There was a general burst of laughter.

"Well, Field, you do us almost as much good as a wash," Peters said. "Anyhow, we are better off than the others. We have got our tents and our spirit-lamp, and can have our tea with some degree of comfort, which is more than the others will be able to do. Now, as we have not running water, I think we might as well scrape as much of this mud off as we can."

"I would almost rather remain as we are," Field said. "Hitherto I have felt rather proud of our appearance. As we only got our uniforms when we came up here, and have always had our tents to sleep in, we looked a great deal cleaner than the average. Now we shall be conspicuous for our dirtiness."

"In spite of what Field says, I will adopt your suggestion, Peters. We had better help the Kaffirs to get up our tents first," Chris said, "then we can do the scraping while they are getting our supper ready. It is very lucky that we had the water-skins filled before starting. We should hardly taste the tea if it had been made from water from any of these spruits."

The tents were erected, and then jack-knives were taken out; and giving mutual aid to each other, they succeeded in removing at least the main portion of the mud. That done, they sat down to supper. Fortunately, the rain that had come down steadily the greater portion of the day had now ceased, and with a tin of cocoa and milk, and some fried ham and biscuits, they made an excellent meal. Their less fortunate comrades brought their kettles, which were boiled for them one after another, until all who had waited up in hopes of their turn coming had been served. As they carried tea and their ration bread, they were able to make a fairly comfortable meal, instead of going supperless to bed, which they would otherwise have done, as few would have cared after their hard work to go out into the veldt to gather soaked sticks, which they would hardly have been able to light had they found them. A small ration of spirits and water was given to each of the five natives, and then the lads crept into their tents feeling that after all, things might have been much worse.

CHAPTER XV

SPION KOP

The country immediately round Springfield was level and well cultivated, with pretty farmhouses and orchards scattered about. Some little distance to the west rose two hills, Swartz Kop, which had been occupied by the mounted infantry, and Spearman's Hill, named from a farm near its base. Here General Buller had established his head-quarters. Spearman's Hill, which was generally called Mount Alice, was a very important position, and here the naval guns were placed, their fire commanding the greater portion of the hills on the other side of the Tugela, and also Potgieter's Drift, where it was intended the passage of the river should be made. Swartz Kop was a less important position, though it also dominated a wide extent of country; but as ridges on the other side covered some important points from its fire, Mount Alice was selected as the position for the naval battery, and also for the signallers, as from here a direct communication could be kept up by heliograph and flash- light with one of the hills held by the defenders of Ladysmith.

It was late on the 16th when the convoy which the Maritzburg Scouts were escorting arrived at Springfield. All day they had heard the boom of artillery and the rattle of machine-guns and musketry along the line of hills on the other side of the Tugela and from the heights of Mount Alice, and groaned in spirit as they laboured at their work of assisting the waggons, that they were thus employed when hard fighting was going on within eight miles of them.

At half-past two that day Lyttleton's brigade had moved forward along the foot of Mount Alice to force the passage of the river at Potgieter's drift. As soon as the Boers caught sight of them, they could be seen galloping forward to take their places in the trenches.

A thunder-storm that burst and a torrent of rain screened the movements of the advancing troops from view for some time, and enabled them to near the river without having to pass through any shell fire from the Boer batteries on the hilltops. Between Mount Alice and the river the brigade passed across meadows and ploughed fields. They reached the ferry, but the boat was stuck fast, and an hour was lost at this point before a party of sailors and colonial troops accustomed to such work came forward to the aid of the Engineers, and speedily got it into working order. But in the meantime the Scottish Rifles and the Rifle Brigade had moved along the banks to the drift. Although usually almost dry, the water was now coming down it breast-deep. Two gallant fellows went across, and when they found the line of shallow water they returned and guided their comrades over. The rush of the water was so great that many would have been swept away; but, joining hands, they crossed in a line, and although this was broken several times, it was always reformed, and not many lives were lost.

As soon as some of the troops had passed, they lined the bank until the two battalions were over, and then advanced over some low hills, clearing out a few Boers who occupied some advanced trenches. By six o'clock the ferry-boat began to carry the main body across, taking over half a company at a time; but it was not until half-past three in the morning that the horses, waggons, the guns of the brigade, and a howitzer battery were on the northern bank, and the whole brigade established on a ridge a mile beyond the river.

The Maritzburg Scouts were delighted at receiving orders on the morning after their arrival at Springfield that they were to move forward at once and encamp close to Spearman's Farm, and to furnish orderlies for carrying messages for the general. They started at once, and after an hour's fast riding arrived at the point assigned to them.

Twenty men and an officer were at once sent to the farmhouse. They took with them three tents which they had brought in the regimental waggon, and erected these some fifty yards from the house; the rest of the troop established their camp at a point indicated by a staff officer a quarter of a mile away. It had been two o'clock in the morning before the convoy had reached Springfield, and horses and men were alike tired out; and as soon as breakfast had been prepared and eaten most of the troopers turned in to sleep. Chris and half a dozen of his party, however, obtained leave from Captain Brookfield to ascend Mount Alice and see what was going on. From half-past five a tremendous fire had been kept up on the Boer positions. The naval guns were distributing their heavy lyddite shells among the entrenchments distant from three to six miles, and occasionally throwing up a missile on to the summit of the lofty hill known as Spion Kop away to the left front. Not less steadily or effectively the howitzer battery was pounding the Boer position.

At eight o'clock the lads reached the top of Mount Alice, and watched with intense interest the picturesque and exciting scene. Here they were far better able than they had been when at Chieveley to see the general aspect of the country. On the right from Grobler's Kloof hill after hill, separated apparently by shallow depressions, rose, and from the higher points occasional flashes of fire burst out as the guns tried their range against those on Mount Alice, whose heights, however, they failed to reach. Spion Kop stood out steep and threatening, its summit being some hundred feet higher than that of Mount Alice. They could now see that it was not, as it had appeared from the distance, an isolated and almost conical hill, but was, in fact, connected with hills farther to the left by a ridge of which it was the termination.

Immediately behind it was a deep valley, and the ascent from this side was to some extent commanded by the guns on Mount Alice and Swartz Kop. Between Spion Kop and the river there was a flat belt of country, and it was along this that Lord Dundonald had ridden with his brigade of cavalry to Acton Homes, where he was still stationed. The point of greatest interest, however, was at Trichardt's Drift, lying six miles west of Mount Alice. From their look-out they could make out the division under the command of Sir Charles Warren advancing to the ford. As far as they could see, no serious opposition was being offered; they could, however, in the intervals of silence of the guns, hear a dropping musketry fire in that direction, and a few rounds of shot from Warren's field-guns, but it was evident that only a small party of the enemy could be disputing the passage.

Peters, who was intently watching what was going on through his glasses, said: "They are at work at two points on the river. I think they are building bridges."

The naval guns dropped a few shells among the farm buildings and orchards facing the spot where the troops were gathered, as a hint to the Boers that it was well within their range, and that they had best abstain from interfering with what was going on. In an hour from the time the troops reached the bank two bridges had been thrown across the river, and the passage began. By ten o'clock the whole were across, the firing soon after ceased, and Warren's troops bivouacked quietly. It was all over for the day, and the lads returned to their camp. The next day passed quietly, except that in the afternoon the Boer entrenchments near Spion Kop and Brakfontein, a hill facing the position occupied by Lyttleton's brigade, were pounded by the naval guns and howitzers. A message was heliographed from Ladysmith that two thousand Boers were seen moving towards Acton Homes, and as the occupation of that village was of no value until the infantry arrived there, the cavalry were recalled to a position where they could protect Warren's left flank from attack.

On the 19th, Warren pushed forward a portion of his force with a view to driving back the Boers' right and gaining the main road leading through Dewdrop to Ladysmith, while Woodgate's brigade watched Spion Kop. Fighting went on all day, the British forcing the enemy back step by step. On the 20th it began early and continued the whole day. Every inch of the ground was contested stubbornly by the Boers, but the Irish Brigade, who were in the hottest position, pressed them back fiercely with sudden rushes, and, had the rest of the division kept up with their advance, might have cleared the way through the enemy's centre. But the cannonade to which the advancing troops were exposed was terrible. Maxims and Nordenfeldts, the heavy cannon, and the field-pieces captured from us a month before, hurled shot and shell incessantly among them, while the rattle of the Boer rifles was continuous. Still, fair progress was made, and with less loss than might have been expected in such strife. Two officers only were killed, Captain Hensley of the Dublin Fusiliers, and Major Childe, who was a most popular officer. He had a presentiment that he would fall, and actually asked a friend the evening before to have a tablet placed over his grave with the inscription, "Is it well with the child? It is well."

At three o'clock the fighting slackened, and a heavy thunderstorm seemed to be the signal for firing to cease. Later Sir Charles Warren summoned all the officers commanding corps, and pointed out that there was not sufficient food remaining to allow of the wide circuit by Acton Homes to be carried out, and gave his opinion that now they had won so much ground, it was better to continue to advance by the shorter line on which they were pushing, but that in order to do this it was necessary that Spion Kop, whose fire would take them in the rear, should be captured. This was unanimously agreed to, and General Warren then saw the commander-in-chief, and obtained his consent to the change of plans. It was not, however, considered necessary to take Spion Kop until the troops had farther advanced. All Sunday, fighting was continued as before, but the progress made was slower, as the Boers were largely reinforced and fresh guns brought up.

The 22nd was comparatively quiet. The situation was not improving. Five miles of rough ground had been won in as many days' fighting, but the force was becoming lengthened out and the line weaker. Lyttleton's force had to guard the line from Potgieter's Drift to Warren's right against any attempt of the Boers to cut the lines of communication. Woodgate was similarly employed in keeping the line from Trichardt's Drift to Warren's left, and it became increasingly evident that not much further progress could be made until the left of the advance was protected by the establishment of guns on the great hill. It was then, on the 23rd, decided that Woodgate's brigade should assault Spion Hop that night. It was known that it was not strongly held.

Starting at six o'clock, the column made its way slowly and with vast difficulty up the ascent. This was everywhere rugged and rocky, and in many places so precipitous that men had to be pushed or pulled up by their comrades.

Colonel Thorneycroft led the way with a few men, finding out the spots at which an ascent was practicable, and scouting on either side to discover if Boers were hidden; behind him followed Woodgate leading his men. He was in bad health and quite unfit for such a climb, but in spite of remonstrances he had insisted upon going, although he was obliged to be assisted at the more difficult places. The distance was not more than six miles, but it was not until nearly ten hours after starting that the summit was gained. The hilltop was enveloped in mist, and they were unseen until the Lancashire Fusiliers, who were leading, were within fifty yards of the top. Then a Boer challenged them, and directly fired his rifle. Almost instantly a dozen of his comrades joined him, and bringing their magazines into play opened a fierce fusillade. But the aim was hurried, they could scarce see their foes, and the Lancashire men, cheering loudly, rushed up to the crest without loss.

The Boers did not await their arrival; only one of them was bayoneted before he turned to fly, and but two or three were overtaken by the eager soldiers. As soon as the Boers had gone, the troops set to work to construct breastworks to hold the spot they had gained against any attempts of the Boers to recapture. The ground was too rocky for digging, and the stones that were scattered thickly about were used for the purpose; but long before the breastwork could be completed a dropping fire was opened by the enemy. The morning was gray and misty, and the clouds hung heavily on the hilltop. As these cleared off slowly, it could be seen that the position was less favourable than it had seemed, for the flat crest extended some distance beyond the point they had entrenched, and from the rocks and low ridges a hot fire broke out. Before the mist cleared off, the Boers had crept up in considerable force, and were, it was evident, preparing to retake the position that had been wrested from them.

By six o'clock the scattered fire had grown into a continuous roar, the Boers occupying not only the nek itself, but the flanks of the hill. Several times our men made rushes to endeavour to clear off the foe, but these proved too costly, and they were now lying or kneeling behind the unfinished barricade. In a very short time the clouds had lifted sufficiently for the Boer artillery to discover the exact position, and from the hills on three sides a terrible fire of shot and shell, from cannon great and small and machine-guns, rained upon them. Again and again parties of men started to their feet and dashed forward to drive the hidden Boers facing them from their hiding-places. Sometimes they succeeded for a time, but their numbers thinned so fast that the survivors were forced to fall back again. To add to the horror of the situation, the shot from our own guns also fell among the defenders, the officers commanding the batteries not having been informed of the intention to occupy the hill, and knowing nothing of the situation. Scores of men were killed or wounded, but the position was held unflinchingly.

At ten o'clock General Woodgate was mortally wounded by the fragment of a shell that struck him in the eye, and Colonel Crofton took the command. He at once flashed a message to General Warren, stating that Woodgate was killed, and that reinforcements must be sent at once; General Coke was therefore ordered to take the Middlesex and Dorset regiments, and assume the command. Immediately afterwards Warren received an order from General Buller to appoint Lieutenant-colonel Thorneycroft, who was colonel of a colonial force, to take the command. It was now hoped that all was well there. Unfortunately, neither Buller nor Warren was able to give his undivided attention to the struggle on the mountain, for Lyttleton's brigade had advanced before daybreak against the eastern slopes of the hills running north from Spion Kop. They advanced briskly, their Maxims clearing out the Boers, from whose fire they suffered but little; but they sustained some loss from the shell fire from Mount Alice, the sailors having been as uninformed of the advance the brigade were to make as they were of the capture of Spion Kop. The Scottish Rifles and the 3rd King's Royal Rifles pushed on rapidly and gained the spur farthest north. Had there been guns on Spion Kop the object of the movement would have been attained, and the advance by direct road on Ladysmith have become a possibility; but no guns had reached the summit, and the troops there were so far from being able to render assistance that they were with difficulty maintaining their desperate resistance. As the two rifle regiments were therefore exposed to a concentrated fire from the Boer batteries, and were without support, they were directed to withdraw, but the order had to be repeated three times before it was obeyed. The fire slackened at this point to some extent in the afternoon, no farther advance being attempted, but it raged as hotly as ever on the summit of Spion Kop.

As neither General Buller nor Warren had come up to see the state of things on the all-important position of Spion Kop, General Coke went down in the evening to explain the situation. He stated that unless the artillery could silence the enemy's guns the troops could not support another day's shelling. In the evening two naval twelve-pounders, the R. A. mountain battery, and one thousand two hundred men as reliefs, started to ascend the hill and to strengthen the entrenchments. On the way up they met Colonel Thorneycroft and the rest of the force coming down, that officer, who had displayed splendid gallantry throughout the day, having decided on his own responsibility that the position could not be longer held. Strangely enough, the news of the retirement was not communicated to General Buller, who, after reporting in his despatches written next morning that Spion Kop was firmly held, was riding to the front when he for the first time learned the news. Altogether it was a day of strange blunders, redeemed only by the splendid bravery of the troops engaged. The news came as a heavy blow to the army, but it was supposed that a fresh attempt would be made to capture the position by ascending the northern spurs that had been carried and held for a time by the two rifle battalions. But while soldiers think only of the chances of battle, and burn to engage the enemy, a feeling only accentuated by previous failures, generals in command have to take other matters into consideration. They may feel that they may conquer in the next fight, but what is to follow? In this case the chances of success would be smaller than before, the loss more serious, for the Boers from all parts had united to oppose us. Many of the cannon had been brought over from the positions from which Ladysmith was bombarded. The advantage of surprise gained by the long march from Chieveley had been lost; more serious still was it that a large proportion of the provisions, brought at the cost of so much labour and exhaustion of the transport animals, was consumed, and what remained would be insufficient had fresh battles to be fought to capture the positions, one behind another, held by the Boers.

General Buller was the last man to retire as long as there was a hope of success. He knew that not only at home, but all over the civilized world, men were anxiously awaiting the news of his second attempt to relieve Ladysmith, and it must have been hard indeed for him to have to acknowledge a second reverse; but in spite of this he sternly determined to fall back. The movement was admirably executed; every horse, waggon, gun, and soldier was taken safely across the Tugela without hindrance by the Boers, a fact that showed how deeply they had been impressed with the valour of our soldiers. Sullenly and angrily the troops marched away. Had they had their will they would have hurled themselves against the Boer entrenchments until the last man had fallen. To them the necessities of the situation were as nothing; to retreat seemed an acknowledgment that they had been beaten, a feeling that is seldom entertained by British soldiers. Their losses had been heavy, but there were still enough of them, they thought, for the work they had to do, and it was with a deep feeling of unmerited humiliation that they received the order to retire.

The feeling, however, was not of long endurance, for two days later, when they had settled down in camp near the Tugela and round Spearman's Farm, the general rode through the lines, congratulating the troops on the valour they had displayed, and promising them that ere long they would be in Ladysmith.

"I shall be heartily glad when we are there," Chris said when he heard what the general had promised, "not only for the sake of the town, but for our own. We are really doing no good here. It is hateful to look on when other fellows are fighting so desperately. If it were not that the orders were strict against the mounted Colonial corps going out over the country, to clear the scattered Boers out, we might be doing useful service; and as soon as Ladysmith is relieved—that is to say, if we can hold out till we get there—I should certainly vote that we come back here instead of staying with the army, and go on again on our own account."

"I quite agree with you," Carmichael said. "Still, it is something to have seen two big fights."

"Yes," Brown grumbled, "but if we tell anybody that we were there, naturally the first question will be, 'What part did you take in it', and we shall have to own that we took no part at all, and only looked on at a distance at the other fellows fighting. I call it sickening."

"Well, never mind, Brown," Chris said; "after all, during this business, we have killed twice our own number of Boers at the least, and if everyone had done as much the Boers would be pretty well extinct."

"Yes, there is certainly something in that," Brown admitted, "but if we had been allowed to scout on our own account it would be hard if we had not killed twice as many more by this time."

"We certainly might have done so, but you must remember, also, that a great many of us might have been killed too. One cannot always expect to have the luck we had in those two fights; and, I am sure, we should bitterly regret gaps being made in our number."

"That we should," Harris said warmly. "We were all good friends before, but nothing to what we are now after living so long together, roughing it and sharing each others' dangers. For my part I would rather go without any more fighting than that any of us should go down."

"I agree with you thoroughly, Harris," Chris said. "As most of us are likely to remain out here for life, we shall often meet, and I do hope that when we talk of these times we shan't have our pleasure marred by having to say how we miss so and so, and so and so. I should be sorry even to lose one of our blacks. They have stuck to their work well, and are always cheerful and willing in the worst of weather and under the most miserable conditions. I should really be very sorry if any of them were killed."

It needed but a day or two for the troops to recover their cheerfulness. It was certain that they would soon be launched against the enemy again, and it was known that General Buller would himself command. The ground was now more known than it was before, the plans could he better laid, and all looked forward confidently to the next engagement.

No thanks were due to the weather for the renewed spirits of the men. It rained almost unceasingly. The flat ground on which the troops were encamped was a sea of mud. There was one good effect in this: there was water in all the spruits, and the men were able to indulge in a wash-up of their clothes and an occasional bath; and although they had to put their clothes on wet, they were scarcely more damp than when they took them off. There was other work to be done. Two naval guns, a mountain battery, and some large cannon were with great labour got up on the top of Swartz Kop.

The lads had given up the two tents allotted to them to let the rest of the men have more room, and they now felt the full benefit of their little shelter tents. The allowance throughout the rest of the camp was sixteen men to a tent. On coming in and out, as the men were muddy up to the knees, it was impossible to keep these even tolerably clean, and the discomfort of so many men crowded together and obliged to live, eat, and sleep in such confined quarters was very great indeed.

The lads on the other hand, suffered from none of these inconveniences, and except that they could not stand up, and could only sit upright in the middle of the tent, they were perfectly comfortable. The tents were about seven feet wide on the ground, and as much long. Their natives had cut and brought in bundles of grass, which made them soft beds, one on each side of the tent. A blanket was stretched on each bed, another doubled lay over it. It was a strict rule that everyone should take off his boots on entering his tent, and leave them just inside the entrance. They had purchased at the sale of the effects of some of the officers killed in action some more blankets and rugs, and these were thrown over the entrance to the front of the tents at night, and made them perfectly warm and comfortable. A trench some eighteen inches deep was dug round each tent, and this kept the floor fairly dry.

Some blankets had been given to the Kaffirs, who constructed a little shelter, in which they squatted by day and slept at night, and in which cooking operations were carried on. The lads had no occasion to feel dull, for they now knew many officers in the line regiments, and among the Colonial troops, as well as the naval brigade; and "Brookfield's boys", as they were generally called, were always welcome, and it was seldom that more than half of them dined in their own camp. Chris could always have been an absentee, for the sailors had told to each other the story of his attempt to blow up the bridge at Komati-poort, and he received any number of invitations. But he by no means liked to have to retell the story, and generally made some excuse or other for remaining in camp.

Another battery of artillery arrived on the 31st of January, and on the 3rd of February there were sports in the camp of the South African Light Horse, and a camp-fire sing-song afterwards. The men were all now in high spirits, for it was certain that in a day or two another attack would be made. On Sunday, February 4th, it was known that the move would commence the next day.

General Buller's plan was to make a strong feint against Brakfontein, the highest hill of the ridge connected with the Spion Kop range, while the real attack was to be delivered against an isolated hill named Vaal Krantz, which, as viewed from Swartz Kop and Mount Alice, seemed to be the key to the whole position, and it was thought that its possession would open the way for a direct advance to Ladysmith. All was now in readiness for the attack, and the sailors had with steel hawsers, and the aid of the troops, got four more naval guns on to Swartz Kop.

Before daybreak the troops were ready to advance. The regular cavalry were near the base of Swartz Kop, while all the Colonial Horse, under Lord Dundonald, were near Potgieter's Drift. At six o'clock the cavalry went forward, but not far, for the morning was so misty that the artillery could not make out the Boer positions until an hour later, when a tremendous fire was opened from Mount Alice, Swartz Kop, and guns placed on a lower spur of Spion Kop. While this was going on, a bridge was thrown by the Engineers across another drift. Major-general Wynne led the Lancashire brigade in the direction of Brakfontein. They went forward in skirmishing order, supported by five field batteries and the howitzer battery, all of which kept up an incessant fire of lyddite, shell, and shot against the Boer position, their fire being guided by an engineer officer in a balloon, who was able from a lofty altitude to signal where the Boers were clustering most thickly.

When another bridge had been completed General Lyttleton advanced with his brigade across it, and as the feint against Brakfontein had succeeded in gathering the greater portion of the Boers at the spot they supposed to be most in danger, the Lancashire brigade was withdrawn, retiring in excellent order, the movement being covered by an incessant firing of the guns with them, which completely dominated those of the Boers. Lyttleton's brigade now pressed forward under a storm of musketry and shell from machine and other guns, which were answered even more thunderously by the British artillery. The din was tremendous—greater even than any that had been previously heard. It seemed impossible that men could live for a moment in such a storm of missiles. But they pressed on unfalteringly, and the batteries with them as steadily maintained their fire, though shells fell continually round and among them. The batteries that had gone out with the Lancashire Brigade now directed their fire against Vaal Krantz, having moved across from Brakfontein under a tremendous fire. One of the waggons lost all its horses; but the five artillerymen with it manned the wheels and brought it safely out of fire.

At three o'clock Lyttleton's brigade advanced in earnest, and dashed forward at the double against Vaal Krantz, heedless of the rifle fire from the hills on both flanks and from the front. The defenders soon lost courage, as they saw the Durhams and 3rd King's Royal Rifles dashing up the hill with bayonets fixed, and scarce two hundred of them remained till the British gained the crest. These were speedily scattered or bayoneted.

The position when won was found to be unsatisfactory, for it was dominated by a hill beyond, which could not be seen from the British look-out stations, and the cannon of Spion Kop were able to sweep the plateau. At one time the Boers gathered and made an effort to retake the hill, but two more battalions were sent up to reinforce the defenders, and the enemy were driven back and the fire gradually languished. The troops remained on the ground they had won during the night. From prisoners they learned that four thousand Boers occupied Doornkloof, the hill on their flank, and that the whole of the Transvaalers under Joubert were gathering in their front.

The baggage waggons were all collected by the river in readiness to advance; but the way was not yet sufficiently cleared for them, and the Boer guns on Brakfontein and Spion Kop commanded the road which they would have to traverse. It was evident to all that no advance was possible until the guns on these heights had been silenced or captured. For the same reason the two brigades of cavalry had remained inactive. During the night the Boers set fire to the grass on Vaal Krantz, and by the assistance of the light kept up a shell and Maxim fire upon the troops holding it. By morning they had brought up one of their big hundred-pound Creusot guns on to Doornkloof, and it added its roar to the chaos of other sounds. Under the shelter of its fire and that of the other guns the Boers made several attempts to recapture the hill, but were smartly repulsed each time they advanced.

All day Tuesday and Wednesday the uproar of battle never ceased. We could advance no farther. The Boers could not drive us back, although they made a very determined night attack on Hildyard's brigade. That afternoon General Buller held a council of war, at which all the generals were present. Their opinions were unanimous that the Boer position could not be forced without terrible loss, and that when they arrived at Ladysmith they would but add to the number shut up in that town, as it might be found as difficult to force their way out as to arrive there. General Hart pleaded to be allowed to make an attempt on Doornkloof with his brigade; but, strongly held as that position was, it was deemed impossible that it could be captured by a single brigade. The original intention was that guns should be taken up on to Vaal Krantz, and that with their assistance a strong force would wheel round and take Doornkloof in the rear; but owing to the discovery that the former hill was dominated from several points, it was found impracticable to carry the plan into execution. Orders were therefore given for the supply column, which had advanced some distance, to retire.

As the movement was being carried out, the Boers kept up a heavy fire upon the waggons and on the hospital, which, relying upon the protection of the Red Cross flag, had advanced within range, but here, as upon almost every occasion, the enemy paid no respect whatever to the Geneva emblem, although when, as once or twice happened, one of our shells fell near an ambulance of theirs, they had sent in indignant protests against our conduct. All that night and the next day the movement to the rear continued, and not only were the infantry moved across the Tugela, but the guns on Swartz Kop and Mount Alice were removed, and orders were given for a general retirement to Springfield, a proof that the next attack would be made in an entirely different direction.

CHAPTER XVI

A COLONIST'S ADVENTURE

In the morning after the battle orders were issued for the greater part of the troops to return to Chieveley, and among the first to leave were the Maritzburg Scouts. They were heartily glad to be off. During the three preceding days the position of the cavalry had been a galling one. They had seen nothing of the fighting, being kept down at Potgieter's Drift in readiness to advance the moment that orders came. They had nothing to do but to stand or sit down near their horses, watching the fire from the enemy's batteries on the hills, and the bursting of our lyddite shells among them, the outburst of brownish-yellow smoke rendering them easily distinguishable from the sudden puffs of white vapour caused by the explosion of the shrapnel shells of the artillery. How the battle was going was only known from the wounded men brought down from the front. The reports at first were encouraging, but it became evident on the following days that no progress was being made.

Each evening when the sun set both the colonial and regular cavalry returned to their camp, for it was certain that they could not act at night. When it became known on Wednesday evening that a retreat was ordered, the news came almost as a relief, for the suspense had been very trying.

After dinner Chris went into the tent where the officers of the troop were gathered. As usual, the talk was of the battle, but in a short time Captain Brookfield said:

"Let us try and get away from the subject. We have talked of nothing else for the past three days, and I defy anyone to say anything new about it; it is not a pleasant subject either. Richards, you were in the last war, I know, and took part in the defence of Standerton. Suppose you tell us about that; it is one of the few pleasant memories of that time."

"I don't know that there is much to tell you about it, but I will let you know how I came to take share in it. That was an exciting time for me, for I was never so near rubbed out in all my life. Just before the last business broke out I happened to be returning from Pretoria, intending to sell for anything that I could get a large farm that I owned in the Leydenburg district. Of late the Boers had been getting so offensive in their manner that I thought something would come of it, and made up my mind to sell out at any price and return to Natal. When I rode into Leydenburg I found that two hundred and fifty men of the 94th Regiment were starting next day with a large train of waggons for Pretoria. As I was frequently in the town, and had made the acquaintance of several of the officers, I thought it would be pleasant to ride down with them, as it made no difference whether I got into Pretoria a day or two earlier or later. The general idea was that war would come of it, but no one thought it would begin without the usual notice and warning.

"I told the officers that I would not trust the Boers further than I could see them, for that a more treacherous set of fellows are not to be found on the surface of the earth. Still, I must own that I had no more idea that an attack would be made upon us than they had. Well, you all know what came of it. We were going along a hollow with rising ground on either side when, without the slightest warning, a tremendous fire was opened from both flanks. It can hardly be said that there was any resistance. The troops were strung out along the line of waggons; numbers were shot down before a single musket was fired in defence. The main body, such as it was, fought stoutly, but as they could only catch an occasional glimpse of the heads of the enemy, while they were themselves altogether exposed, there could be but one end to it. A hundred and twenty men were killed or wounded in a few minutes, and to save the rest from a similar massacre the officer who commanded surrendered.

"I fired a few shots at first, but as soon as I saw how it would end I rode for it. I was with the rear-guard when the firing began, and so took the back track. As soon as the firing ceased I saw half a dozen Boers galloping after me. My blood was up, as you may imagine, and on getting to a dip I jumped off my horse, left it in shelter, and threw myself down on the crest of the hollow, and as they came within range I picked off the one who was nearest to me. That brought the others up with a round turn. They retired a little way, then dismounted and separated, and proceeded to stalk me. We exchanged shots for an hour or two. I killed another, and got, as you see by this scar on my cheek, a graze. However, I think they would have tired of the game first. But suddenly I saw a dozen Boers galloping across the country in our direction. They were doubtless a party who had arrived too late to take part in the fight, if you can call such a treacherous massacre a fight, and hearing the sound of shots were riding to see what was going on.

"I saw that things were getting too hot, and ran down to my horse again and rode along in the hollow, which fortunately hid me from the sight of either the men I had been fighting or those riding up. I had therefore about a quarter of a mile start when I heard a shout, and knew that they were after me. After what had happened I did not dare ride for Middleburg, as there was no saying whether that place might not have already risen; so there was nothing to depend upon but the speed and bottom of my horse. It was a fairly good animal, but nothing particular. It had had an easy time of it while on the march, for we had only done some fourteen or fifteen miles a day. I might have had hopes that I should outride the men in pursuit of me, but they would be joined by more men on fresh horses from any Boer farmhouse or village we came near. Besides, the news of this intended attack on the convoy must have been known far and wide. Occasionally a shot was fired, but as I was riding at a gallop, and the Boers were doing the same, I had no great fear of being hit. I gained a little at first, but after two hours' riding they were about the same distance behind as when they had first started on the chase.

"I felt that my horse was beginning to fag a bit, but the sun was setting, for the attack had taken place in the afternoon. I kept on till it was too dark for me to make out my pursuers, some of whom were not more than three hundred yards behind me; then, while my horse was going at full gallop I leapt of? without checking him, a trick that most hunters can do. I chose the spot because I could make out that there was some low scrub close to the road. Stooping among this I ran forward. I was glad to hear that my horse was still galloping at the top of his speed, and, deprived of my weight, would probably get a good bit farther before he was taken, if he did but keep on. This I hoped he would do, for he had evidently entered into the spirit of the chase, and had laid back his ears whenever the Boers raised their voices in a yell or a rifle was fired. They were yelling pretty hard when they passed me, urging their horses on in the belief that the chase was almost at an end. I heard no more of the Boers that time, for as soon as they had gone on I ran at the top of my speed for some distance, and then broke into a trot, and by the morning must have been thirty miles away.

"I decided to make for Standerton, for there I felt sure I should be safe, for at that place was a considerable English population, and they would certainly hold out. I had a Colt's rifle with me and a brace of revolvers, for even when I went down to Leydenburg I heard that several Englishmen had been maltreated, and one or two shot by Boers they met. I tramped for four days, and as the attack on our troops had been made on the 20th of December, it was now Christmas-eve. I had not ventured to go near a Boer farm, for fortunately I had shot a springbok, and was therefore under no trouble as to food; but on the previous day I had not come across water, and the heat was terrible, so I felt that whatever came of it I must go and ask for a drink. I saw a farmhouse about nine in the morning and made for it. As I approached, a woman came out of the door and, seeing me, re-entered, and two Boers with their guns in their hands ran out.

"Who are you?" they shouted. Of course I speak Dutch as well as English, and shouted back that I only wanted some water.

"'Are you an Englishman?' they shouted again.

"'Yes, I am,' I said; 'but what difference does that make?' I saw their guns go up to their shoulders, and flung myself down, and their shots went over my head. It was my turn now, and I fired twice, and the two Boers rolled over. I walked forward now ready to fire on an instant, as there might be more of them. Some women ran out but no man, and I went straight up. They were screaming over the bodies of the men, and heaped curses on me as I came up. I slung my rifle behind me, and taking out my pistols I said, 'Your men brought it on themselves. I only asked for water, and they fired at me. I don't want to hurt any of you, but if you attack me I must protect myself.' Several times I thought they would have done so, but the sight of my pistols cowed them, I walked straight into the house, dipped a pannikin into a pail of water, took a long drink, then I filled my water-bottle, and went out. Though they cursed me again, they did not attempt to stop me, as I rather feared they would; but I understood it when, before I had gone fifty yards, I heard a horse's hoofs, and looking round saw a girl riding at full speed across the veldt. She had no doubt gone to fetch the men who were away or to the next farm to summon assistance. The draught of water had done me a world of good, and I soon broke into a run, though I did not conceal from myself that I was in a bad fix. Once out of sight of the farm I changed my course, and did so several times in the course of the next two hours; then, on getting to the crest of high ground, I saw a river half a mile away. This, I felt sure, was Broot Spruit. Before starting to walk down I looked round, and a little over a mile away could see a party of some fifteen Boers. I ran at full speed down the slope, and could see no other place where I could make a fight of it; but many of the rivers have, like those here, steep banks, and I could at least sell my life dearly. It could only be for a time, for some of the Boers would cross the spruit and take me in rear. Still, there was nothing else to be done.

"When I reached the bank I gave a shout of satisfaction. The river was in flood; there must have been rain up in the hills, and you know how quickly the streams rise. Unless the Boers knew of some very shallow place, there would be no crossing it; for it was running like a mill- stream, and except at some waggon drift the banks were almost perpendicular. At any rate I could not hope to swim half across before the Boers came up, and so I must fight it out where I was. I had scarcely found a point where I could get a comfortable foothold on the bank, with my head just above the level, when the Boers appeared on the top of the hill. They stopped for a minute and then broke up, and scattering rode forward. They felt sure that I must have made for the river, as there was no other place where I could be concealed. When they came within a couple of hundred yards of it they dismounted, and three or four came forward on foot. When the nearest was within a hundred yards of me I fired.

"At so short a distance, and with so good a rest, I could not miss, and before the smoke cleared away I winged another, and the rest ran back hastily. I sent a shot or two among them as they were consulting, with the result that they rode off three or four hundred yards farther back. They did not attempt to return my fire, for, except when I raised my head for a moment, they could see nothing of me. They doubtless learned from the women that I had a Colt's rifle and a brace of revolvers, and that if they were to make a rush across the open not many of them were likely to reach me. After a talk two or three of them mounted their horses and rode so as to strike the river both above and below me, intending no doubt to cross if they found a place where there was a chance of doing so. I felt pretty sure that they would do nothing till it was dark, then they would crawl up and make a rush; I was certain, anyhow, that they would not give it up, as there were two of their number lying on the veldt besides the two at the farmhouse. There was, however, more pluck in them than I had given them credit for, for about mid-day they began to advance, crawling along the ground as if stalking a quarry. The men who had gone out on horseback had all returned, but just as the others started crawling up three of them galloped away down stream. I determined at once to shift my position a bit, so as to put off the evil hour. I pulled a stone as big as my head out of the clay of the bank and put it on the edge where my head had been, and then got down into the water. It was waist-deep at a couple of feet from the bank, which above was too steep to walk along. I had gone a hundred yards when I saw, seven or eight inches above the water-level, a hole, and pushing my arm in I found it was a place where a good bit of the bank had caved in. Laying my gun and pistols down on a ledge I felt about farther. At the top it went in nearly three feet, and was higher at the back than it was at the water's edge. At any rate it afforded a good chance of safety. Holding the revolvers, the chamber of the rifle, and my ammunition above water, I stooped until I could get into the hole, which was but just wide enough for the purpose; then I pushed myself back to the end. I found there was just height enough for me to sit with my mouth above water. The back sloped so that I had to dig my heels into the clay to prevent myself from slipping forward.

"It was not a comfortable position, but that was a secondary consideration. I had noticed as I came along that the river was already falling, so that I had no fear of being drowned as long as I kept my position. With some trouble I fastened my pistols and ammunition on the brim of my hat; the rifle I was holding between my knees. There I sat hour after hour. Fortunately, being pretty near midsummer day, the water was not cold. I had at least the consolation of knowing what a state of fury the Boers must be in. They would have seen by my footsteps where I had entered the river, just below where I had been standing. No doubt they would have gone along the top of the bank to see if I had come out of the water again, and when they reached their friends on horseback and heard that I had not swum down the river, they would have concluded that I must have been drowned. Had I managed to cross, they would have seen me climb the opposite bank.

"In an hour the water had fallen to my shoulders, and when it became dark it was but waist-deep where I was sitting. To make a long story short, by midnight the water was below my feet and still falling rapidly. I waited a couple of hours and then started to cross. It was about fifty yards wide, and I was fully half-way over before it reached my chin. The stream had lost much of its force, and I had no difficulty in swimming across the rest of the way, though the water was deep until I was within a couple of yards of the bank. Then I climbed the bank and made off. I saw nothing more of my pursuers, and three days later I arrived at Standerton, and remained there til the end of the war, for the gallant little town repulsed all attempts of the Boers to capture it."

"That was a narrow escape indeed, Richards," Captain Brookfield said. "If you hadn't had your wits about you the Boers would certainly have got you. It was a first-rate hiding-place, but I don't think many of us would have thought of adopting it. Now, will someone else give us a yarn?"

Two or three more stories were told, and then the party broke up, feeling all the better for having for an hour avoided the standing topic. Two days later all were settled at Chieveley again, and it was generally believed that the next attack would take place very shortly, and that it would probably be directed against Colenso. That evening a farmer came into camp. His horse had dropped dead a mile away. He stopped, as he passed through the tents of the scouts, and asked where he could find the general. Captain Brookfield, who heard the question, stepped out from his tent with Chris, to whom he had been talking.

"Why, Searle, is it you? I thought the voice was familiar to me. What is it?"

"I have ridden in to get help. The other day a raiding party of Boers came down through Inadi, and riding in between Dingley Dell and Botha's Castle—you know the hill—swept off a quantity of cattle. They have not penetrated so far before, and no one about thought that there was any danger while you were attacking them up here. One of the farmers rode to Greytown for help. Most of the young men there had joined one or other of the colonial troops, but fifteen of us said that we could go out. It seemed that there were not more than some fifteen or twenty Boers. Well, I can't tell you all about it, for, as it is a matter of life and death, I have not a moment to lose. However, we came up to them north of Botha's Castle. We had a sharp fight. Two of our men were killed and five of the Boers; the rest rode off. We set to work to bunch all the cattle, and as we were at it we were attacked suddenly by a party sixty or seventy strong. The fellows that we had driven off had evidently come across them and brought them down upon us. We made a running fight, but our horses were not so fresh as theirs; and seeing that they had the speed of us we made for an empty farmhouse, and as they rode up we brought down several of them.

"There was a wall round the yard, and the Boers drew off for a bit to consider. Then they dismounted and planted themselves round the house in such shelter as they could find within two or three hundred yards, and the affair began in earnest. The first day they kept up a heavy fire, to which we could make but little reply, for it was certain death to lift a head above the wall or to show one's self at a window even for a moment. We lost three men that way. During the night they tried to carry the place, but we were all at the wall; and had the best of it, as we had only to show our heads, while they were altogether exposed. There was not much firing next day, and it was evident that they meant to starve us out. There was not a scrap of food to be found in the place; but fortunately there was a small thatched kraal inside the yard which gave some forage for the horses. The next day we killed one of them for food.

"That night we agreed that when the Boers saw that we did not surrender in a day or two they would be sure that we must be eating the horses, as any food we brought with us must be exhausted, and they would then make a determined attack; for we knew we had killed eight or ten of them, and that they would not go away. So we decided that the only hope was for one of us to ride here; we tossed up who should try to get through the Boers, and the lot fell upon me. I took the best of the horses. We had agreed from the first that this would have to be done, and had given what scraps of bread we could spare to it; besides which, they were all in fair condition, as the yard was strewn with rubbish, and some party of Boers had ripped up all the beds and straw mattresses and scattered the contents about.

"Some of them were sure to be on watch, and I rode at a walk. I made for the north, as that side was less likely to be watched. I had gone about two hundred yards when a man jumped up just in front of me. My rifle was ready, and before he could lift his I shot him, and then clapped spurs to nay horse. There was a tremendous hubbub; shots were fired at random in all directions, but I doubt whether they could have seen me after I had gone fifty yards. I rode for a quarter of a mile due north, and then turned west. I had no fear of being overtaken, for although the Boers would all have their horses close, in readiness to mount if we should try to break out, I must have got a good quarter of a mile start, and they were not likely to keep up the chase long, as they could not tell which way I might have doubled, and if they pursued far, it would be in the direction of Greytown. It was about a seventy-mile ride, and as I started about twelve, I have done it in nine hours. I foundered the horse, but fortunately he did not drop till I was within half a mile of the camp. Now, where can I find the general?"

"You will find him at Frere, but I am afraid it will be of no use. We have tried him again and again—at least, one or other of us have done so—to let us go out scouting, but he will not hear of it, though the whole of us Colonials are terribly sore at leaving the whole country at the mercy of the Boer marauders; and now that we shall probably be at work here again directly, he is less likely than ever to let anyone go."

"You can't go without orders, I suppose?"

Captain Brookfield shook his head. "We are just as much under orders as the regular troops are, and it would be a serious matter indeed to fly in the face of his repeated orders on this subject." The farmer made a gesture of despair.

"Captain Brookfield," Chris said, speaking for the first time, "I think that by the terms of our enlistment in your corps we were to be allowed to take our discharge whenever we asked for it?"

"That was so, Chris, but—"

"Then I beg now, sir, to tender our resignation from the present moment."

"But Chris, you have but twenty men, and by what Searle says, there are sixty or seventy of them."

"Of whom ten or so have been killed. Well, sir, we have fought against nearly a hundred before now, and got the best of it; besides, we shall have the help of the little party shut up. However, now that we have resigned, that is our affair. I suppose that if we rejoin you, you will have no objection to re-enlist us?"

Captain Brookfield smiled. "I should have no objection certainly, Chris, but General Buller might have."

"I don't suppose he will know of our having been away, sir; he has plenty more serious things to think of than the numerical strength of your troop, and as the news of a skirmish some thirty miles north of Greytown is not likely to be reported in the papers, or at any rate to attract his attention, I don't think you need trouble yourself on that score. Besides, if it was reported, it could only be said that one of the besieged party escaping, returned with a small body of volunteers he had collected; and the name of the Maritzburg Scouts would not be mentioned. I am sure that Mr. Searle would impress the necessity for silence about that point, on his friends."

"Well, I accept your resignation, Chris; a headstrong man will have his way; and indeed I have great faith in your accomplishing, somehow, the relief of this party."

The farmer had listened with surprise to this discussion between the lad and Captain Brookfield. The latter now turned to him and said:

"This young gentleman is the commander of twenty lads of about his own age. They have been in two serious fights, and in both cases against a Boer force much superior to themselves in numbers, and I have as much confidence in them as in any men in my troop. They are all good shots, and admirably mounted, and you can be perfectly sure of them, and can take my assurance that if any twenty men can relieve your friends, they will do so."

"Will you be able to ride back again with us, sir? I can mount you."

"Certainly I can, if my friend Captain Brookfield can furnish me with a meal before I start."

"That I will with much pleasure. How long will it be before you are ready, Chris?"

"Half an hour, sir. I left them all rubbing down their horses when I came in here a quarter of an hour ago, and it will take but a very short time to pack up and start."

"Very well; I dare say that Mr. Searle will be ready by that time. Breakfast shall be ready for you in ten minutes, Searle, and while you are eating it I will tell you enough of these gentlemen's doings to reassure you, for I see that you do not feel very confident that they will be able to tackle the Boers."

"After what you have said, Captain Brookfield, I can have no doubt that they will do all they can, but it seems to me that twenty men—or twenty boys—are no match for fifty or sixty Boers. While they were speaking, Chris had returned to his camp. The lads were all engaged in rubbing up their saddlery.

"You can knock off at once," Chris said; "I have need for you. You no longer belong to the Maritzburg Scouts."

There was a general exclamation of astonishment.

"What do you mean, Chris?"

"I mean that I have resigned in my own name and yours, and Captain

Brookfield has accepted the resignation."

"Are you really in earnest, Chris?"

"Very much so; but I will not keep you in suspense. A small party of Greytown men are besieged near Botha's Castle; one of them has just ridden in for help. But you know well enough that Buller will not hear of detached parties going out all over the country; and Captain Brookfield told the farmer that it was of no use his going to the general, and that none of the Colonial troops could leave the camp without orders. As it was evident that there was nothing more to be done, and we could not leave the man's friends to be massacred, the only thing to do was to give in our resignation at once; and of course, now that it is done and accepted, we are at liberty to mount and ride off where we please. When we have done our work we will come back and reenlist, and no one will be any the wiser. We shall start in half an hour. We need not take the tent poles, or anything but a blanket and a waterproof sheet."

There was lively satisfaction at the news that they were again going to be employed in what they considered their proper work.

"What shall we do about the men and stores?" Willesden asked; "you know that those two big boxes of the things we ordered at Maritzburg arrived yesterday." "I think, Willesden, we will take Jack and the two Zulus, and leave Japhet and the Swazis here in charge of the stores, and blankets, and other things we leave behind us. Captain Brookfield will keep an eye on them for us. The farmer is going to ride back with us on one of the spare horses, and the three natives can ride the others. There is a hundredweight of biscuits in the sack that came with the boxes; each of us can take five pounds in his saddle-bag, a tin of cocoa and milk, and a pound or two of bacon. Jack can take a kettle and frying-pan, and the natives their blankets and twenty pounds of mealie flour for themselves and five times as much mealies for the horses. We can get them at the stores that were opened a few days ago."

Some of the men from the other tents walked over on seeing the tents pulled down and the waterproof sheets and blankets rolled up, and asked: "Where are you fellows off to?"

"We have resigned; we are sick of doing nothing."

As it was known that they drew neither pay nor rations, the news did not create much surprise.

"You are lucky fellows," one said. "We get no share of the fighting and a full share of the hardships; still, I wonder you do not stop till we are in Ladysmith."

"When is that going to be?" Field asked innocently. "We have been told that we shall be in Ladysmith in a week many times since we first came up here in the middle of December, and we are no nearer now than when we arrived here. Do you think that you could guarantee that we should be there in another week? because, if so, we might put off going."

The trooper shook his head with a laugh. "That is a question no man in camp can answer," he said. "Perhaps in a week, perhaps in a fortnight, perhaps," he added more gravely, "never. We know by the messages they flash out that they are nearly at the end of their food, and if we don't get there in a fortnight or thereabout, our motive for going on may be at an end. In that case I suppose we shall wait here till Roberts has relieved Kimberley and marches on Bloemfontein. That will send all the Free Staters scurrying back in a hurry, and even the Transvaalers will begin to think that it is time to go. Then I suppose we shall advance and clear Natal out."

"Well, perhaps we may be back again to help you by that time," Field answered; "but we are heartily tired of this place, and of watching the Boers making their positions stronger and stronger every day."

"It is about the same with us all," the trooper grumbled, "and I for one wish that I could go down with you to Maritzburg and have a week off. It would be such a comfort to sleep in a dry bed and to dress in dry clothes, that I doubt whether I should ever have the strength of mind to come back again. I wish that the general would issue an order dismounting us all and filling up the gaps in the line regiments with us. Then at least we should have a chance of fighting, which does not seem likely ever to come to us here. You are not going to leave those big boxes behind you, are you?"

"Yes, we are going to leave them in the care of the captain, with a note saying that if we do not turn up again before Ladysmith is relieved, they are to be handed over to the poor beggars there."

"There is one thing I cannot say, and that is that we have been short of food, for the Army Service Corps has done splendidly, and no one has ever been hungry for an hour, except when on a long march or engaged in a battle. If everything had been worked as well, we should certainly have no reason whatever to complain. If I were my own master, and could afford it, I would go down to Durban and take a passage for myself and my horse for Port Elizabeth, and then go up and enlist in one of the yeomanry corps with Roberts. When he once starts there will be plenty of movement on that side; while here, even if we get to Ladysmith, we may be fixed there for no one can say how long. You see what it is here, and if the Boers don't lose heart, and defend the Biggarsberg and the Drakensberg, we shall find at least as much difficulty there as we shall here. It is quite certain that the Ladysmith men will take a long time to recover from what they have gone through; and as for the cavalry, I fancy their horses have been eaten. If they had been out here with us, instead of being cooped up in there, we should have been able to make it hot for the Boers when they retire, and to keep them on the run, but with so small a force as we have we should hardly be able to do so. Besides, they have so many lines of retreat. The Free Staters can go over to the left to Van Reenen and the other passes; another commando can go east; there are plenty of fords on the Buffalo; and they would retire on Vryheid, while the main body could make a stand at the Biggarsberg; and as they always seem able to carry their cannon off with them, our cavalry would do nothing without artillery and infantry."

There had been no pause in the work of preparation while they were talking, and the horses were now saddled, the food divided, the saddle- bags packed, and the blankets and waterproofs strapped on. Chris went across to Captain Brookfield's tent. "We are all ready for a start, sir."

The officer looked at his watch. "It is three minutes under the half- hour, Chris. How much ammunition are you taking with you?"

"A hundred and fifty rounds each, sir, of which I don't suppose we shall use above ten at the outside. Still, there is never any saying; and if we should get besieged we shall want it all. Your horse is ready for you, Mr. Searle."

"And I am ready too," the farmer said, getting up from the table and stretching himself. "I ought not to have sat down. I could ride as far as most at twenty, but I have not done so much for the last fifteen years, and I feel stiff in every limb. However, I shall be all right when I have gone a few miles, and that wash I had before breakfast has done me a world of good. Now, sir, I am ready, and whether we shall succeed or not, I thank you with all my heart for coming with me." "Good-bye, Chris!" Captain Brookfield said. "I expect you will all turn up again, like bad pennies, before many days have gone."

"I hope so, sir," Chris said. "I should be sorry to miss the end here after having seen it so far."

CHAPTER XVII

A RESCUE.

When Chris went out with Captain Brookfield and the farmer, the lads had shaken hands with all their friends, and were standing by the side of their horses ready to mount. Jack and the two Zulus were standing a few yards behind them. Japhet had brought up the other spare horse.

"It is a nice piece of horse-flesh," the farmer said as he looked at it critically.

"Yes, it was bred by Duncan. We purchased pretty well the pick of those he brought down the country."

"That accounts for it. They are in good condition, too."

"Yes; our horses all get two feeds of mealies a day, or, when it is wet, one feed of mealies and a hot mash made of mealie flour, besides what they can pick up, for we don't draw horse rations. Now, sir, we will be off;" and he gave the word "Mount!"

The lads all in a second swung into their saddles.

"Good-bye, lads, and good luck!" Captain Brookfield said; and the men standing by broke into a hearty cheer.

There was a strong suspicion that the party were not going down to Maritzburg. It was felt that they were not the sort to throw it up before Ladysmith was relieved. And their suspicions were heightened when they saw the farmer mount and ride by the side of Chris.

"It is all gammon about their resigning, is it not, Brookfield?" one of the officers said, as they stood looking after them. "Why should they have left two of their men here with some of their traps and stores if they had not been coming back? They would naturally give them all away. Besides, I noticed that farmer come in on foot half an hour ago; there was no talk of their leaving before he arrived, and he has gone off with them on one of their horses."

Captain Brookfield smiled.

"All I know about it officially is that this morning Mr. King resigned in the name of himself and his party; and as you know, I told you when they first joined us, they did so on the explicit understanding that they should be allowed to resign when they chose, and that provision was inserted when they were sworn in."

"That is all you know officially?"

"Yes. If they are missed, and the question is asked me what has become of them, that is the answer I shall give. What else I know I must for the present keep to myself."

"I suppose we shall see them back soon?"

"Well, I consider that that is within the limits of possibility."

"I suppose that you have formed no plan yet, Mr. King?" the farmer said, when they had left the camp.

"No; my present idea is to follow the line half-way down to Frere. If we were to strike off towards the country at once, we should, of course, be noticed; so I would rather get three miles on. You say it is about seventy miles?"

"About that."

"Well, allowing for a halt, we can do it in twelve hours; that would be just as it is getting dark. Of course we shall not show ourselves till they begin to attack the house. I hope we shall find your friends still holding out."

"I hope so indeed. You see, the Boers were quiet when I started, and I should hardly think that they would make an attack again after I left. They seemed to have settled down to starve us out; but it is quite possible that now I have got away they will grow nervous lest I should bring help up, and are very likely to make another attempt this evening. They would be pretty sure to succeed this time, for there are only seven of us left there; and though they could make a good fight in daylight, they would have no real chance if the Boers went at them in earnest, which they are sure to do next time. We agreed before I started that it would not do to try to defend the yard. After I left they were going to pile everything movable against the doors and windows and fight hard to keep the Boers out, and would then go upstairs and sell their lives dearly."

"How far are the Boer horses out?"

"About five hundred yards away, in a dip. We know they always keep three or four men on guard there, for we have seen them come out of the hollow sometimes."

"And the cattle, have they driven them off yet?"

"Yes; four of the Boers and twenty or thirty natives went straight on with them as soon as they had driven us into the farmhouse. I am afraid there is no use thinking of getting them back."

"It depends upon how far they have gone," Chris said. "The rains have brought the grass up, and as likely as not they may halt when they get to some good pastures and wait till the others join them. It is not likely that all that gang came from one place."

"I expect that they have been gathered up from lonely farmhouses where they have escaped the commandos, and they will want to divide their plunder between them; they don't trust each other a bit, and each would cheat his fellows of his share if he could. So I should think that what you suggest is likely enough, and that it has been arranged to wait when they come to a good place till the others arrive. But you are not thinking of rescuing them, are you?"

"If we thrash the Boers at the farm I shall certainly have a try. We did carry off two or three thousand head about two months ago from the hands of at least as large a party as this, and I don't see why we should not do it again. It was near Mount Umhlumba."

"Was it your party that did that?" the farmer exclaimed. "Why, it was the talk of the whole district, and some of the cattle belonged to a friend of mine. He told me how he had been saved from ruin. Well, sir, after that I shall feel more confident than I acknowledge I have been up to now. Captain Brookfield told me about your going into the Boer camp in disguise, and to Komati-poort, and how you surprised a party of Boers looting a farm near Dundee; but he did not mention that. In fact, he had only just finished telling me the other affairs when you came in saying that you were ready to start. Well, well, it is wonderful that a party of young gentlemen like yours should have done such things!"

They did not hurry their horses, but for the most part went at the steady canter to which the animals were most accustomed; occasionally they would walk for a bit.

At Weenan, where they crossed the Bushman river, they halted for half an hour, and for double that time after crossing the Mooi at Intembeni; then as the sun began to lose its power they went fast, until, when they reached one of the farthest spurs of Botha's Castle, the farmer said:

"When we get over the next rise we shall see the house."

Chris gave the order to dismount, and, going forward on foot, they threw themselves down when close to the crest, and crawled forward until they obtained a fair view. Sankey and Chris were again provided with glasses, having bought them on the day before starting at the sale of the effects of several officers who had fallen in a fight at Vaal Krantz, and all gazed intently for some time at the house. "Thank God they are all right so far!" Chris said to the farmer. "I can see the Boers lying all round the house, and that dark clump is their horses; so our ride has not been in vain. I suppose it is about a mile and a half from here. I don't see the gate into the yard. Which side is it?"

"That corner of the house hides it. It is on the eastern side."

"It will be quite dark in an hour; when it is so, we will move down a bit farther, then we will halt till we hear them attacking. We must not go nearer, for the moon will be up by that time. If I had known that we should have got here before dark, we need not have troubled to bring the Zulus. I intended to send them forward to see how matters stood, then they could have guided us right up to the gate. However, as they have all got guns, and can shoot, it will add to the panic our attack will create, and they will all be pleased at the chance of at last getting a shot at the Boers. They were complaining to me the other day that they were very happy in all other respects, but they were very much disappointed at not having had a fight."

The natives were indeed delighted when, on Chris rejoining them, he told them that they should take their share in the attack on the Boers. Chris and his friends all threw themselves on the ground, after sending up Jack to the crest to keep watch. But the farmer said, "I dare not lie down; if I did, I should never get up again."

He had, indeed, to be lifted off his horse when they dismounted.

"I can quite understand that," Chris said. "I feel stiff and tired myself, and you must be almost made of iron to have ridden one hundred and forty miles almost without halting."

"If anyone had told me that I could do it, I should not have believed him. Of course one is on horseback a good many hours a day. Often, after going round the farm, I start at two or three o'clock and ride into Greytown and back; but that is only a matter of some fifteen miles each way. Still, when one has got seven men's lives depending upon one, one makes a big effort."

"I tell you what, Mr. Searle. The best thing you can do is to strip and lie down. I will set the two Zulus to knead you. You will find yourself quite a new man after it."

"That is a good idea, King, and I will adopt it."

For half an hour the two men rubbed and kneaded the farmer's muscles from head to foot, exerting themselves until the perspiration streamed from them. Then one of them brought up one of the water-skins and poured the contents over him.

"That has certainly done me a world of good," the farmer said when he had dressed himself. "I don't say the stiffness has all gone, but I certainly don't feel any worse than I did when I got to your camp. I should never have thought of it myself."

"It is what is done after a Turkish bath," Chris said. "I have had them often at Johannesburg. The natives do something of the same sort. They make a little hut of boughs, and fill a hole in the middle with hot stones and pour water over them, and steam themselves, and I believe get rubbed too."

As soon as they considered it dark enough to be perfectly safe, they led their horses down until they judged that they were within half a mile of the house, then dismounted and waited. Chris had already made all arrangements. Carmichael, who was the leader for the time being of one of the sections of five, was with his party to ride straight for the Boers' horses directly the attack began. The firing at the house would act as a guide to the spot where they were placed, and he was, if possible, to attack them from behind. He was to shoot down the guards, but not to pursue them if the horses bolted on hearing the attack on the house.

"What you have to do is to stampede them," Chris said. "As soon as you have got them on the run, keep them going, and if they scatter, do you scatter too. The Boers without their horses will be at our mercy. Don't stop till you have driven them five miles away. Then you can halt till morning. As you come back, you are likely enough to hear firing, and can then ride towards it and join us. But don't get within rifle-shot of the Boers. I don't want any lives thrown away. If you hear three shots at regular intervals during the night ride towards the sound. I may want you here."

It was just ten o'clock when there was a violent outburst of fire at the farmhouse, and all sprung into their saddles.

"Now, Carmichael, do you gallop on. Get as close as you can to the horses without being observed. Go at a walk the last hundred yards or so; the horse guards are not likely to hear you, they are sure to be up on the edge of the dip watching the farm. Stay quiet till you hear our yell, and then go straight in to them. In that case you may manage without their getting a shot at you, for as likely as not they will have strolled up without their rifles."

As soon as Carmichael's little party had started, Chris moved on with the rest at a walk.

"There is no occasion to hurry," he said. "It will take the Boers some time to force their way in, and the hotter they are at work the less likely they will be to hear us." In two or three minutes he ordered them to canter. "It is of no use charging; I expect that they are all inside the yard." It was, however, at a fast pace that they rode up towards the wall. Chris blew his whistle, and the cheer of the whites and the warcry of the two Zulus burst out at the top of their voices.

"Give it to them hot, lads!" Chris shouted, for the benefit of the Boers. "Kill every man-jack of the scoundrels!" And at once nineteen rifles opened upon the dark figures clustered round the house. "Use your magazines," Chris shouted again. "Don't let a man of them get off."

Appalled by the sudden attack, ignorant of the number of their assailants, and mown down by the terrible fire, the Boers on the two sides of the house exposed to it did not think of resistance, but all who could do so made a rush round to the other sides, and, joining their companions there, clambered over the wall and made for their horses; but these had already gone. As Chris had anticipated, the four guards were watching the farmhouse, and did not hear the approach of Carmichael's party. As Chris's whistle sounded these galloped forward, and at their volley three of the Boers fell, the other fled. At once with loud shouts they charged in among the ponies, who were already kicking and plunging at the sudden sound of firearms. A minute later they were all in full flight, followed by the five lads shouting and yelling. The firing had been unnoticed by the Boers round the house, and these, when on arriving at the hollow they found their horses gone, gave vent to their alarm and rage in many strange oaths, and then scattered in flight all over the country.

"It is of no use trying to pursue," Chris said, as soon as it was found that all the Boers, save those lying dying or dead, had escaped from the yard. "We should only ruin the horses, and they have done a big day's work already."

The besieged could be heard hastily removing the barricades against the door, and in two or three minutes ran out, almost bewildered at the suddenness of their relief, when they thought that nothing remained to be done but to sell their lives dearly. A few hurried words explained the position to them, and their gratitude to Chris and his party was unbounded. Their first step was to attend to the fallen Boers. Of these there were eighteen wounded and eleven killed, and as soon as all in their power had been done for the former, and they had been carried into the house, a blazing fire was lit in one of the rooms and the party all gathered there.

"Now, Mr. King," Searle said, "you are the baas of this party; what do you think had best be done?"

"I think the first thing," Chris said, "is to post half a dozen men, three or four hundred yards away, round the house. We must not run the risk of the tables being turned on us by the Boers crawling up and surprising us; they may still be hanging about in numbers. Peters, you take Harris, Bryan, and Capper, and the two Zulus, and post them round the house. The natives' ears are much sharper than yours are, and if either of them thinks he hears anything let them crawl out in that direction and reconnoitre. When I whistle, do you come in to me, leaving the others on guard, then I will tell you what we have decided upon."

The four named at once went outside, and, calling the natives, left the yard. Jack had already filled the kettles the colonists had brought with them, and placed them over the fire.

"While the tea is getting ready," Chris said, "we had better give a good feed of mealies to all the horses. How many of yours are there left?" he asked one of the colonists.

"All the twelve we had at first were unwounded this evening, but I can't say whether any of them have been hit since. The wall was too high for bullets to touch them as long as the Boers were outside, but most likely as we were firing through the window we may have hit some of them."

"I don't suppose you did so, because I fancy that directly the Boers began fighting here the horses bunched in one corner of the yard. Well, will you feed them also, and see how many are uninjured. That is a matter of importance, for our horses will scarcely be fit for work in the morning. Do you think yours may be?"

"Yes, I think so; we have only been shut up three days, and they have had a good deal of pickings, what with the beds and what was lying about in the yard before; and a good feed now will certainly set them up. What do you propose to do?"

"Well, I want in the first place to get enough of the Boer ponies in to mount us all, and in the second to overtake and cut the Boers off if possible, and lastly to rescue the cattle. Five of our party are away after the horses, but their object was to scatter them. They were to halt about five miles away, and if they heard three rifle shots at regular intervals they were to ride towards them."

"Do you want them in here? if so, I will go out and give the signal. We have taken it by turns to sleep, so we are all fairly fresh."

"Yes, I want them in, but I specially want them to collect and drive in a score of the Boer ponies." "At daybreak we will all go," another of the farmers said, "and lend a hand."

"With this moon we ought to be able to find some of the men without waiting for daylight," Chris said. "It would be an immense thing if we could be after them before they have got too long a start."

"It would indeed. Well, we will feed our horses at once, and by the time we have had a cup of tea they will be ready to start. If we have luck, we ought not to be away more than a couple of hours."

"It would make our success pretty well a certainty if we could get the ponies by that time," Chris said.

In less than half an hour the seven farmers started. Only one of the horses had been killed, and they rode away at a rate that showed that the others were none the worse for their three days on somewhat short rations.

"Now," Chris said, after seeing them off, "we will get a couple of hours' sleep. I wish Peters and his party could do the same, but it would not do to trust to the Boers not coming back again."

All were asleep in a few minutes, but an hour later they heard a shot fired, followed by several others. They leapt to their feet, seized their rifles, and ran out into the yard. There was, however, no repetition of the firing, and a few minutes later Peters came in and reported that the Zulus had discovered a number of Boers making their way cautiously forward. Both had fired, and some shots had been returned, but the Boers had at once drawn off.

"I don't suppose we shall hear any more of them. They hoped they might catch us asleep. Now they find that we are on watch. I expect they will give up the idea and make off. It is a nuisance having been disturbed, but I am not sorry for it, for the Boers will have lost a couple of hours, and even if the horses do not come in we shall still have a chance of overtaking them. Now, Peters, you had better get forty winks; I will go out with Brown, Field, and Sankey, and relieve the three out there. I don't suppose they will come in, but they can take a nap where they are. You need not send out when the farmers come back; we shall see them."

Chris had been nearly two hours on watch when he made out in the bright moonlight a number of horses and mounted figures going towards the house. He at once woke the sleepers and called the others in, and by the time they reached the farm some thirty unmounted ponies, followed by Carmichael's party and the farmers, came up.

"We have been longer than we expected," one of the latter said as he dismounted, "but we were lucky at last in finding this lot together in a kloof. Have you seen anything of the Boers? We thought we heard a few shots."

"Yes, they came here and tried to turn the tables on us; but we had the Zulus and some of the scouts out. When they found that we were watchful they decamped. Now, Carmichael, go in with your party and get a cup of tea."

"What! are we going to start again?" Carmichael asked rather dismally; "we were only just getting off to sleep when Willesden, who was on watch, heard three shots."

"Some of us have only had an hour's sleep, Carmichael. But there is another day's work before us, and after that you may sleep for twenty- four hours if you like."

"Oh! I suppose I can do it if the others can; still, after seventy-five miles here, five miles out, and something like five miles chasing the horses, and five miles back again, I think we have done a pretty good day's work." "No doubt you have," Chris said, "a thundering good day's work; but a fellow is not worth calling a fellow if he can't manage to do two days' work at a stretch for once in a way. At any rate, the horses will be fresh, which is of much more importance than our being so; they have had three days' perfect rest. Now, while you are having your tea we will see about the other arrangements. Of course Mr. Searle will stop here; he has done double the work that we have. His friends can do as they like. Naturally we shall be glad to have them with us, but that is as they choose."

"Of course we will go with you," one of the colonists said.

"Thank you! At any rate two of you had better stop with Mr. Searle.

There are the wounded Boers to look after. I see there is a waggon in

the yard; I should think they had better be put in that and carried to

Greytown. If we recover the cattle, we will drive them down there."

None of the farmers was willing to stay, and at last they had to decide the question by lot.

"Now," Chris said, "you gentlemen know the country a great deal better than we do, and can tell us which way they are most likely to take their cattle."

"They are sure to go north, there is no other way for them to go. If the whole party were together and mounted, they might go up through Zululand; as it is, they would not venture to do that. They will cross the Tugela, I should say, between the point where the Mooi runs into it and its junction with the Buffalo, and go up through Colsie, and then either through Helpmakaar or Lazarath."

"Well, I hope we shall catch them long before they get to the Tugela."

"I expect the cattle will be somewhere near Inadi; there is some good grazing along there, and as all the loyalists have cleared off long ago they will have no fear of being disturbed."

The saddles were transferred from their own horses to the Boer ponies, and it was finally arranged that the waggon with the wounded should not start until their return. Jack and the two Zulus were left with them, and even should another party of Boers come along the six men would be able to defend themselves till the others returned. Half an hour after the arrival of Carmichael's party they started in pursuit, and directed their course for Inadi, as it would have been useless to search for the Boers, and it was certain that these would make for the point where it had been arranged that the cattle should cross. It was some fifteen miles away, and they were confident that they would arrive there before the Boers, who, bad walkers at the best of times, and disheartened by their failure, at the loss of many of their companions and of all their horses, would not have got more than half-way by the time they started.

It was half-past two when they left, and when they approached Inadi day was breaking. They had put on their Boer hats, and knew that the men in charge of the herd would take them to be some of their own party until they were quite close. To their satisfaction they saw the herd grazing half a mile south of the village, and it was not until they were within a hundred yards of the spot where the smoke of a fire showed that the guard were posted, that they saw any movement. Then a man rose to his feet, and, looking at them earnestly, gave a shout of alarm. The others leapt up at once and ran towards their ponies; these were fifty yards away, and before they could reach them Chris and his party dashed up, rifle in hand. "Surrender," he shouted in Dutch, "or we fire! Down with your rifles!"

Seeing that resistance was useless the Boers threw down their weapons, and in a minute were tied hand and foot with the ropes from their saddles. They were then lashed to bushes at some little distance from each other, so as to prevent their rolling together and loosening each other's cords. The natives with them had at the first alarm fled at full speed, and were already out of sight. Then the whole party rode to a ridge a quarter of a mile back, dismounted at its foot, and crawled up to the crest. A mile away some fifty men could be seen wearily making their way on foot towards them.

"We have done quite enough in the way of fighting," Chris said, "and I should think that they have had more than enough; we will get them to surrender if we can. We will wait till they are within forty or fifty yards and then fire a few shots over their heads, and see what comes of it. We have good cover here, and they are in the open. They will know very well that there is not a chance of their getting away, for, as we have horses and they have none, we could defend any eminence we chose to occupy, and ride off to another if they were likely to take it. Besides, they would never be able to cross the river under our fire."

When the Boers were within eighty yards half a dozen rifles were discharged. They at once threw themselves on the ground.

"I will give them a chance of talking it over," Chris said, "then I will hail them."

A pause ensued, and the Boers could be heard talking excitedly together. When he thought that he had given them time enough to appreciate their condition, Chris shouted in Dutch:

"Hullo, Boers! We don't want to have to kill you all, which we could certainly do. You must see that you are at our mercy. If you choose to surrender you may go home; if you don't, we shall let you lie there as long as you like, and shoot you down when you get on your feet. I will give you five minutes to make up your minds."

At the end of that time one of the Boers held up his rifle with a white flag tied to it.

"That is not good enough for us," Chris shouted. "That trick has been tried too often. If you surrender, you will take off your bandoliers and belts and leave them and your rifles behind you, and come forward unarmed."

There was a shout of fury among the Boers as they found that their treacherous design had failed in success.

"I will give you another five minutes," Chris shouted; "and if you don't do as I tell you we shall open fire on you."

Before that time was up the Boers were seen to be taking off their bandoliers, and one by one they rose and came forward in a body without their rifles. Chris allowed them to come half-way, so that they could not, when they found themselves in superior force, run back to their arms again. He gave the word, and his party rose to their feet.

"Now," he said, as the Boers came up, "you will turn all your pockets inside out. I have not the least doubt that you are all taking off mementos of your visit here."

Indeed, the pockets of the prisoners were all bulging out. Sullenly the Boers obeyed the order. The collection was a miscellaneous one. They had between them the spoil of a dozen farms. Women's finery formed a large proportion of their loot, and was evidently intended for their wives at home. Besides this were spoons, forks, and cutlery, chimney ornaments, children's clothes, several purses, and packets of spare cartridges.

"That will do very nicely," Chris said, when it had been ascertained that all the plunder had been disgorged. "Now, gentlemen, you are at liberty to go, and I wish you a pleasant walk home. It is only about a hundred miles. Your friends with the cattle shall join you at once. I have no doubt that you will be able to obtain food from your countrymen as you go along. You are sure to find friends at all the villages, and some of you may get ponies at Helpmakaar."

Then, paying no attention to the curses and threats of the Boers, the party rode forward and collected the Boer guns, emptied the bandoliers and belts, and then rode back to the cattle and released the four Boers with them, and, pointing to their comrades, told them to rejoin them. Then they collected the cattle, and, driving them before them, rode off. When they had gone five miles away they halted, and the farmers undertaking to keep watch by turns, the lads, throwing themselves down, were in a few minutes fast asleep.

In four hours they were roused, and continued their course till they reached the farm. Here they rested till the next morning, then at daybreak the wounded Boers were placed in a waggon; the ammunition was divided among the farmers; and the rifles taken from the Boers, and those that belonged to the killed and wounded, amounting in all to eighty-one, were, after the charges had been carefully drawn, also placed in the waggon, Chris saying, "They would be useless to us, and they may be useful to you, for they will arm all the people in Greytown; and with eighty magazine rifles you ought to be able to beat off any parties you may meet. As the cattle are all branded you will have no difficulty in returning them to their owners; as to the Boer ponies and saddles, no doubt there are many who have lost their horses who will be glad of them."

Then, after renewed expressions of gratitude from the farmers, the party separated, the colonists going south to Greytown, while the scouts rode west by the line they had come, and late that evening arrived at Chieveley. They had intended to halt after crossing the Bushman's river at Weenan, but they heard the sound of artillery and knew that Buller was again moving forward.

Their return created quite an excitement in the camp of the Maritzburg

Scouts, and innumerable questions were asked.

"We have been on a little business of our own," Chris said. "Beyond the fact that it has been successful we have nothing to say. You know how strict the orders are against scouting, and therefore I can only say that we wanted to give our horses a change of food, and have taken them three days off."

"Your horses don't look any better for the change, anyhow," one of the troopers said. "They look as if they had been worked off their legs."

"Yes, they look a little drawn, but in a couple of days they will feel the benefit of it; they were getting too fat before. Some day we may be able to tell you more about it, but just at present we feel that it is as well to keep the matter to ourselves. What has been doing here? We heard the firing; that brought us in, or we should not have been back till to-morrow."

"Nothing particular, except that we have been battering them all along the line. No move has been made yet, but the general idea is that we shall this time make a try at Hlangwane to-morrow." "I hope we shall take it," Chris said. "We shall have a good deal more trouble about it than we should have had at the attack in December, when it was virtually in our hands, whereas now it looks stronger than any point along the line."

Chris, however, was much more communicative to Captain Brookfield, who said as he entered his tent, "Well, Chris, did you get there in time?"

"Yes, sir; we caught them as they were attacking the house at ten o'clock that night. They were too busy to notice us, and we killed eleven and wounded eighteen, and stampeded their ponies. They bolted on foot, but came back in hopes of surprising us two hours later, which I need hardly say they failed to do. Then they made off for the place where the herds they had captured were waiting for them. We drove their ponies in, as our own were too much done up to go on, and intercepted the Boers close to Inadi, and made them surrender. We took their guns, ammunition, and loot from them, and let them go. There were forty-nine of them altogether, and we did not see what we were to do with them. We could not have brought them here without the whole thing being made public, and we were certainly not disposed to escort them down to Maritzburg. They will have at least a hundred miles to tramp home. We recovered all the cattle, about two thousand head. We gave them to the farmers to find their proper owners, and thirty of the Boer horses that we captured. I dare say they will pick up some more of them; for as we were in a hurry, we only drove in as many as we wanted. We have no casualties. It could hardly be called a fight, it was a sudden surprise, and they did not stop to count us."

"Bravo! bravo, Chris! And now I suppose you are going to enlist again?"

"Yes, sir, if you will take us."

"Certainly I will. Fortunately Buller was at Frere until they moved on again yesterday, and nobody has missed your little camp as far as I know, so I don't think that there is any chance of questions being asked. I will swear you all in again if you will bring the others round."

CHAPTER XVIII

RAILWAY HILL

There was little talking that evening. As soon as the tents had been erected, a cup of cocoa and a biscuit taken, all turned in, and even the constant booming of the artillery and the occasional sharp crack of musketry had no effect whatever on their slumbers. Just before Chris lay down, however, an orderly told him that Captain Brookfield wished to see him.

"I have just received orders, Chris, that our brigade of cavalry is to turn out tomorrow morning to support the infantry. Hildyard, Lyttleton, and Barton are going. Their object is to carry Cingola, which is the small peak at the end of the nek extending from it to the high peak of Monte Cristo. The duty of the mounted infantry will be to clear the eastern side of the southern end of the range, and to hold the nek separating it from the highest peak, and so prevent the Boers from their main position reinforcing the defenders of the lower peak. I think that your party had better remain in camp, for after doing over seventy miles today they won't be fit for work tomorrow." "We should not like to be left behind here, sir, and the hill is not very far away, so that it would not be hard work for the horses. No doubt we should be dismounted a considerable part of the day."

"Then you would rather go, Chris?"

"Much rather, sir. We should all be terribly disappointed if we could not go out the first day that there has been a chance of our doing something."

"It is always as well to be on the right side, but I hardly think so many troops will really be required; and I think it is a symptom that a serious attack will be made in a day or two on Monte Cristo and Hlangwane. You see, the possession of Cingola and Monte Cristo will take us pretty well round its flank, and I do not expect the Boers will be so much prepared there as they are in front."

An hour before daylight all were out engaged in grooming their horses, which, having received a hot mash of mealie flour directly they came in on the previous evening, looked better than could have been expected after their hard work on two days out of three. By the time they had finished, the natives had breakfast ready, and they had scarcely eaten this when a trumpet sounded to horse. Five minutes later the mounted infantry belonging to the regular regiments and the Colonial Horse formed up, and, led by Lord Dundonald, marched north-east, followed by the three infantry brigades and some batteries of artillery. When within a couple of miles of the nek, the mounted infantry galloped forward, and selecting a spot where the ascent was gradual, pushed rapidly up the hill until they reached its brow. Here the horses were placed in a depression, and the men scattered themselves across the crest. They were but just in time, for a considerable force of Boers from Monte Cristo were hurrying along to assist the defenders of Cingola, it having now become evident to them that this was the point to which the infantry moving across the plain were making.

A brisk fire was opened as they approached, and the Boers at once stopped in surprise, for as they came along they had been unable to see that the cavalry had quitted the rest of the column, and had therefore no idea whatever that their way to Cingola was barred. As the rapid fire showed them that the nek was held in force, they did not think it prudent to advance farther, but after an exchange of fire fell back to Monte Cristo. The task of the infantry was now comparatively easy. Cingola was not held in any great force; and seeing that their retreat along the nek was cut off, and that they could not hope to resist the strong force that was approaching, the enemy contented themselves with keeping up a brisk fire for a time, and then retreated hastily down the northern face of the hill, and scattered among numerous kopjes between it and the river. Lyttleton and Hildyard's brigades occupied the peak, and Barton, with the Fusilier battalions, remained to the left of its base.

As the mounted infantry had, before opening fire, taken shelter behind bushes and rocks, there were only two or three casualties, and they were much disappointed that the affair had been so trifling. It was afternoon now, and for the rest of the day comparative quietude reigned, although Monte Cristo threw an occasional shell on to the crest of Cingola. The mounted infantry remained all night in their position, acting as an advanced guard to the infantry; but they had orders to descend the hill before daybreak and return to Chieveley, there being no water obtainable for their horses, and their services not being required for the succeeding operations. The next morning (Sunday) a battery of field- artillery, which had been taken half-way up Cingola, began to shell Monte Cristo, and as if this had been the signal, the whole of the artillery on the plain opened a terrific fire on the entrenchments of Monte Cristo, Hlangwane, and Green Hill, which was close to Monte Cristo.

On the morning of the 18th, Lyttleton and Hildyard's brigades moved forward to storm the precipitous peak, and Barton's brigade marched against the tangled and difficult ground that surrounded Green Hill. The Queen's on the right and the Scotch Fusiliers on the left led the attack against the peak. The hillside was partly wooded, but although the smokeless powder gave little indication as to the progress the troops were making, occasional glimpses of the Boers flitting among the trees showed that these were falling back. The roar of musketry was continuous, as Hildyard's brigade and Lyttleton's were both engaged. For a short time there was a pause, and then Lyttleton's men, having gathered at the edge of a wood some couple of hundred yards from the summit, advanced with a rush up the terribly steep rocks. The Boers fired hurriedly, but the bullets flew for the most part far over the heads of the Queen's, and then, fearful of being caught by Hildyard's men, who were also rapidly coming up, they fled hastily.

The opposition had finally been trifling. The vast majority of the Boers had cleared off, and the rest, after emptying their magazines, had followed their example before the troops gained the summit, upon which a heavy cannonade was at once opened from Grobler's Hill, Fort Wylie, and other Boer positions. This, however, gradually slackened under the storm of lyddite shells with which they were pelted by the naval guns, and the important position of Hlangwane was at last secured, and no time was lost in getting up guns and preparing for a farther advance. Barton's brigade had been equally successful in their attack, and half an hour after the capture of Monte Cristo the Fusiliers crowned the summit of the wood-covered Green Hill.

The Boers' defences were now examined, and proved to be of a most formidable nature. On the south face of the hill the trenches were in tiers, line behind line. Most of them were fully six feet deep, and in many cases provided with shelter from the weather by sheets of corrugated iron, taken from the roofs of the houses in Colenso. In some cases these were supported by props, and covered with six feet of earth. These had evidently been used for sleeping and living places. The ground was strewn with straw, empty tins, fragments of food, bones, cartridge- cases, old bandoliers, and large quantities of unopened tinned food and sacks of mealie flour. Here and there were patches of dried blood, showing where the wounded by our shell had been brought in, and laid down until they could be removed to the hospital under cover of night. On the plateau the scene was similar. Here every irregularity of ground had been utilized, and long lines of trenches intersected it, showing that the Boers had intended to make a desperate resistance even after we had won our way up the hill. These were in a similar state of litter and disorder.

Although they had saved their guns, they had left behind them large quantities of ammunition and provisions in the hurried flight, necessitated by our attack being delivered in a direction from which no danger had been apprehended, Four waggons full of ammunition had been left by them in a kloof near the river. These had been observed by the Engineers in the balloon, and their position had been signalled to the naval brigade, who, turning their guns upon them, before long succeeded in blowing them up.

When the infantry prepared for their final rush the Boers appeared, indeed, to be entirely disconcerted at an attack from an altogether unexpected direction. While for weeks they had been working incessantly to render the hill impregnable, they had prepared it only on the face against which they made sure the British infantry would dash itself. Nevertheless, in this, as in every action, the Boers, as soon as they saw that there was a risk of the position being taken, began early to make preparations for retreat. While keeping up a very heavy musketry fire on the woods through which the British infantry were advancing, they began to withdraw their guns.

The speed and skill with which on every occasion throughout the war they shifted heavy pieces of artillery from one point to another, or withdrew them altogether, was a new feature in warfare. Except when the garrison of Ladysmith, on two occasions of night sorties, surprised and destroyed three of their guns, they scarcely lost a piece either in the numerous actions during our advance to Ladysmith, or in their final retreat from that town. And similarly on the other side, of the very large number of guns employed at the fight on the Modder, at Magersfontein, and in the siege of Kimberley the whole were, with the exception of a few pieces captured when Cronje was surrounded, withdrawn in spite of the hurried evacuation of their position, a feat almost unparalleled even in an army accompanied only by field-artillery, and extraordinary indeed in the case of works mounting heavy siege-guns.

No farther advance was made till the afternoon, when General Buller arrived on the summit of Green Hill, and seeing that Hlangwane was not entrenched on its northern side, which was completely turned by our advance, sent Barton's brigade against it. But the loss of Monte Cristo had for the time quite taken the fight out of the Boers, and after maintaining a brisk fire for a short period, they evacuated the position as soon as the infantry neared the summit, and, hurrying down the western slope, crossed the Tugela. Three camps full of provisions, blankets, and the necessaries of Boer life fell into the hands of the captors, together with a large amount of rifle and Maxim ammunition. The place had been turned into a fortress. Trenches and some breastworks covered all the approaches by which the Boers might look for an attack, and as the whole mountain was covered with huge boulders, they were able to withstand even the storm of lyddite shell that was poured upon them.

On the following day Hart's brigade received orders to advance towards Colenso. This was still held in force by the Boers, but was now commanded by guns that had been got up the slopes of Hlangwane, and on Tuesday morning General Hart captured the position without serious loss, the Boers suffering severely from our shrapnel fire as they retreated, some by the iron bridge and others by a ford. Thorneycroft's Mounted Infantry, which was called up in the evening, took advantage of the discovery that a drift existed there, and a squadron forded the river in spite of a scattered fire from the Boers on the opposite bank. Another portion of the colonial force occupied Fort Wylie, a redoubt that had been thrown up by our troops when they occupied Colenso, but had been abandoned when the advance of the Boers to cut the line between Colenso and Frere forced them to retire.

The next morning Thorneycroft's regiment crossed, and, moving to the left, seized the kopjes facing Grobler's Kloof; the Boers, still suffering from the effect of their unexpected reverses, offered no resistance, but, abandoning all their camps, trenches, and redoubts, retired at once to the hill. The Scouts had followed Thorneycroft's Horse in support, and now, placing their horses under shelter in the abandoned entrenchments, prepared to act as infantry should the Boers take the offensive. This, however, they showed no intention of doing, and in the afternoon the troops who had crossed were able to examine the deserted camps. They presented very much the same appearance as those on Monte Cristo and Hlangwane. Many of them appeared to have been occupied by men of a better position, as many articles of luxury, choicer food, wearing apparel, newspapers, Bibles, fruit, and other signs of comfort littered the places; but even here dirt had reigned supreme. Although they must have been inhabited for a long time, it could be seen that no attempts had been made to clear away the refuse, or to make them in any degree tidy. As was natural, the effect of the heat of the sun on scraps of food, vegetables, and refuse of all kinds caused a sickening stench, and the soldiers spent as short a time as possible over their investigations. One article which would have been found in a British camp was altogether absent from those of the enemy, and it was a joke among our troops that the only piece of soap ever captured was found in the pocket of a dead Boer, and that its wrapper was still unopened.

The strength of the position was, however, even more surprising than the state of filth; every trench was enfiladed by another, great boulders were connected by walls of massive construction, this being specially the case where guns had been placed in position. Colenso itself had been in a similar manner rendered almost impregnable to a frontal attack, and could hardly have been captured by an assaulting force until Hlangwane had been taken.

The hills beyond the railway still covered the road bridge by their fire, and had the troops marched across it they would have suffered severely. Accordingly a pontoon train was sent through an opening in the Hlangwane range, and a bridge thrown over the Tugela north of Fort Wylie. The Dorsets, Middlesex, and Somersets crossed at once, and, ascending the kopjes, extended their line south until they were in communication with Thorneycroft's men, holding therefore the railway line along the river bank nearly half the distance between Colenso and Pieters station. Other regiments and artillery followed.

It was now six days since the advance had commenced, and for the past four fighting had been almost continuous. On Wednesday the three regiments advanced towards Grobler's Hill in order to ascertain what force was occupying it. They met with no opposition until they reached the lower slopes, nor could any Boers be seen moving. Then suddenly a heavy fire broke out from the boulders which covered the whole face of the hill, and afforded such perfect shelter that it had not been considered necessary to form entrenchments. As only a reconnaissance, and not an attack, had been ordered, the force retired, the Somersets, who were the leading regiment, having nearly a hundred casualties. The other regiments had as many more between them. The next day a continuous fire from all the points held by the Boers showed that large reinforcements had reached them. The Lancashire Brigade, under Colonel Wynne, started at two o'clock that afternoon to carry the kopjes up the Brook Spruit, which ran in the rear of Grobler's Kloof. The Royal Lancasters led the way, but as soon as they left the shelter of the ridges by the side of the railway they were exposed to a terrible fire, both in front and from Grobler's Kloof. The artillery on Hlangwane, and those still on the plain, endeavoured to silence the enemy's guns, but though they poured numbers of lyddite and shrapnel shells among them they were unable to do so. The Lancasters advanced with the greatest coolness up the spruit, followed by the South Lancasters. As they pressed forward they were met by a heavy rifle fire both from the kopjes in front and on the left. The Boers stuck to the hill until the Lancasters were within a hundred yards, then most of them slunk off. Not knowing this, the Lancasters lay under shelter for a few minutes until their ammunition pouches had been replenished, then, being joined by the South Lancasters and King's Royal Rifles, they rushed to the crest.

For the past two days the Dublin Fusiliers had been lying near Colenso. They had suffered very heavily in the first attack at Potgieter's Drift, but they now volunteered to take Grobler's Hill; and this, aided with the fire of the artillery and Colonel Wynne's brigade, they did in gallant style, the Boers being evidently nervous that they might find their retreat cut off should the Lancasters advance farther up the spruit.

On Friday afternoon the Irish Brigade advanced along the line, and then turned off towards Railway Hill, a steep jagged eminence almost triangular in shape, with one angle pointing towards the river. The sides were broken with sharp ledges covered with boulders. The railway passed through this, separating the last jagged ledge from the higher portion of the hill, which rises almost precipitously. Running back several hundred yards at the base of this line was a dip full of thorn trees. This deep winds round the rear of the hill, and here there was a large Boer Camp.

A little farther to the rear was another steep hill, on which the enemy's Creusot guns were now mounted. Several trenches were cut alongside the hillsides, and on the crest were some strong redoubts. It was a most formidable position, but as it seemed to bar all progress farther up the line, it was necessary to carry it at all costs. The mounted infantry had, after the skirmish towards Grobler's Kloof, returned to the camp, as the country was so terribly broken as to be altogether impracticable for mounted men.

On Thursday, Captain Brookfield had obtained a pass for himself and three other officers to go to Hlangwane to view the operations, but one of these being unwell, Captain Brook-field invited Chris to take his place. After inspecting the plateau, they made their way down to the left. Hearing that an attack was about to be made on Railway Hill, they clambered down until they reached a point where, seated in an open spot among the trees, they could command a view of what was passing.

"It is an awful place," Chris said, "and it seems to me almost impossible to be carried."

"It is an awful place," Captain Brookfield agreed. "This is one of the times, Chris, when one feels the advantage of belonging to a mounted corps, for without being less brave than other men, I should regard it as an order to meet certain death were I told to attack that rugged hill. Ah, there are the Irish Brigade!"

The storming party consisted of the Inniskillings, with companies of the Dublins, the Connaught Bangers, and the Imperial Light Infantry. From a building called Platelayer's House at the mouth of the spruit, to the foot of the hill, the ground was perfectly open to the point where the left face of Railway Hill rose steeply up, and across this open ground, a distance of half a mile, the assailants had to march.

"Here they come!"

As, in open order, with their rifles at the trail, the Inniskillings appeared in view, a terrible fire broke out from every ledge of Railway Hill, while the cannon joined in the roar. The guns on Hlangwane, and those on the slopes nearer the river, with Maxims and quick-firing guns, replied on our side.

"It is awful," Chris said, speaking to himself rather than to the captain who was standing beside him. "I don't think that even at Badajos, British soldiers were ever sent on a more desperate enterprise. It looks as if nothing could live under that fire even now; what will it be when they get closer?"

Not a shot was fired by the advancing infantry in reply to the storm of bullets from the Boer marksmen. Every round of ammunition might be wanted yet, and it would only be wasted on an invisible foe. They took advantage of what little shelter could be obtained, sometimes close to the river bank, sometimes following some slight depression which afforded at least a partial protection. At last they reached a deep donga running into the river; this was crossed by a small bridge, and in passing over it they had to run the gauntlet of the Boer fire. Many fell here, but the stream of men passed on, and then at a double rushed to a sheltered spot close to the foot of the ascent, where they had been ordered to gather. Here they had a breathing space. Their real work was yet to begin, but already their casualties had been numerous. The Inniskillings alone had lost thirty-eight killed and wounded. Not a word had been spoken among the little group on the hill, for the last ten minutes; they stood with tightly-pressed lips, breath coming hard, and pale faces looking at the scene. Occasionally a short gasp broke from one or other as a shell burst in the thick of the men crossing the little bridge, a cry as if they themselves had been struck. When the troops gained their shelter there was a sigh of relief.

"They will never do it," Captain Brookfield said decidedly. "It would need ten times as many men to give them a chance."

This was the opinion of them all, and they hoped even now that this was but the advance party, and that ere long they would see a far larger body of men coming up. But there were no signs of reinforcements, and at five o'clock the troops were re-formed and the advance began. They dashed forward up the hill under a heavy fire, to which the supporting line replied. The boulders afforded a certain amount of shelter, and of this the Inniskillings took every advantage, until they reached the last ledge with comparatively little loss. But the work was still before them. Leaping over, they rushed down on to the railway line. Here a wire-fence arrested their course for a moment, and many fell while getting through or over it. Then they ran across the line, passed through a fence on the other side, and dashed up the steep angle of the hill to the first trench. Hitherto the fire of the Boers had been far less destructive than might have been expected, their attention being confused and their aim flurried by the constant explosion of lyddite shell from the British batteries. They had but one eye for their assailants, the other for the guns, and as each of the heavy pieces was fired, they ducked down for shelter, only to get up again to take a hasty shot before having to hide again.

Thus, then, they were in no condition to reckon the comparatively small numbers of their assailants, and as they saw the Irishmen dashing forward, cheering loudly, with pointed bayonets, they hesitated, and then bolted up the hill to the next trench. Instead of waiting until the supports had come up for another rush, the Irishmen with a cheer dashed across the trench in hot pursuit. But the next line was far more strongly manned, and a storm of bullets swept among them. Still, for a time they kept on, but wasting so rapidly that even the most desperate saw that it could not be done; and, turning, the survivors retreated to the trench that they had already won, while the supports fell back to the railway, both suffering heavily in the retreat. No fewer than two hundred of the Inniskillings had fallen in that desperate charge, their colonel and ten officers being either killed or wounded, while the Dublins also lost their colonel.

All through the night the trench was held sternly, in spite of repeated and desperate efforts of the Boers to dislodge its defenders. Nothing could be done for those who lay wounded on the hill above. Morning broke, and the fight still continued. At nine o'clock another desperate charge was made; but the Boers were unable to face the steady fire that was maintained by the defenders of the trench, and they again turned and ran for their shelters. Just as this attack was repulsed, Lyttleton's brigade arrived on the scene, exchanging a hearty cheer with the men who had so long borne the brunt of this terrible conflict. The Durham Light Infantry at once relieved those in the trenches, and these descended the hill for the rest that was so much needed. All that day the fighting continued, and while Lyttleton's men held to the position on Railway Hill, there was fierce fighting away to the left, where the Welsh Fusiliers and other regiments were hotly engaged. The roar of artillery and musketry never ceased all day, but towards evening white flags were hoisted on both sides, and a truce was agreed upon for twelve hours to bury the dead.

The scene of the conflict presented a terrible sight. The hillside between the two trenches was strewn with dead and wounded. The sufferings of the latter had been terrible. For six-and-thirty hours they had lain where they fell, their only relief being a little water, that in the short intervals during the fighting some kindly Boers had crept down to give them. The truce began at four o'clock in the morning of Sunday the 25th, and the foes of the previous day mingled with each other in the sad work, conversing freely with each other. The Boers expressed their astonishment that such an attempt should ever have been made, and their stupefaction at the manner in which the Irish had pressed on through a fire in which it had seemed that no human being could have existed for a minute. When informed of the relief of Kimberley, and the fact that Cronje was hopelessly surrounded, they scoffed at the news as a fable, and were so honestly amused that it was evident they had been kept absolutely in the dark by their leaders. Captain Brookfield and his party had remained at the lookout until darkness set in. After the first exclamation of pain and grief as they saw the attack fail, and the fearfully thinned ranks run back to shelter, there had been little said. "It was impossible from the first," Captain Brookfield sighed as they turned. "If the relief of Ladysmith depends on our carrying that hill, Ladysmith is doomed to fall."

They returned to the spot where they had left their horses in charge of two of the blacks, and rode back to Chieveley. It was a sorrowful evening. The men's hopes had risen daily as position after position had been carried, and now it seemed that once again the enterprise had hopelessly failed. On Monday there was a continuation of the lull of firing. Many of the officers in camp who were off duty rode up to examine the scene of the fight, and they were not surprised when they saw the infantry recrossing the pontoon bridge. All wore a dejected aspect, but especially the men who had fought so heroically and, as it now seemed, in vain. They sat watching until the last soldier had crossed, and then rode to the top of Hlangwane. All Chris's party had come out, and those who had not before seen the view waited there for a couple of hours, ate some refreshment they had brought with them, discussed the difficulties that lay in the way of farther advance, and the probable point against which General Buller would next direct his attack.

"Hullo!" Chris exclaimed suddenly, "that pontoon train is not coming back to camp. Do you see, after moving to the point where it passed through this range, it has turned to the north again and not to the south. Hurrah! Buller is not going to throw up the sponge this time. The Boers have not done with us yet." This indeed was the case. The general, seeing that Railway Hill was too strong to be carried by assault, unless with an enormous loss of life, had caused the river to be reconnoitred some distance farther up, and this had resulted in the discovery of a spot where, with some little labour, the troops could get down to the river and a pontoon bridge be again thrown. Such a spot was found by Colonel Sandbach of the Royal Engineers, and a strong working party was at once set to work to make a practicable approach. The point lay some three or four miles below Railway Hill, and the most formidable of the obstacles would therefore be turned. That night the troops crossed, and the Boers—who were in ignorance of what had been going on, the point chosen for the passage being at the bend of the river and hidden by an intervening eminence from their positions—were astonished at finding a strong force again across the river.

As soon as the news reached the camp that the army was again crossing, satisfaction took the place of the deep depression that had reigned during the past two days, and the situation was eagerly discussed. Those who at all knew the country were eagerly questioned as to the ground farther on near the line of railway. All these agreed that the hill called Pieter's was a formidable position, almost, though not perhaps quite, as strong as Railway Hill, but that beyond it the line ran through a comparatively open country, and that if this hill could be captured the relief of Ladysmith would be ensured. The Scouts had not escaped altogether scatheless. At the reconnaissance towards Grobler's Hill, Brown, Harris, and Willesden had all been wounded, but none very seriously, although at first it was thought that Willesden's was a mortal injury, for he had been hit in the stomach. The doctors, however, assured his anxious comrades that there was every ground for hope, for very many of those who had been so injured had made a speedy recovery.

"Poor old Willesden!" Field had said as they talked it over; "it is hard that he should have been hit in the stomach, for he was a capital hand at taking care of it."

"And of ours too, Field. He has been a first-rate caterer. I do hope he will pull through it." The lad himself had not seemed to suffer much pain, and three days later the surgeon had been able to assure his friends that as no fever had set in they had little fear of serious consequences ensuing. The boys had not been allowed to see him. Captain Brookfield, however, reported that he was going on capitally, but was in a very bad temper because he was allowed to eat nothing but a piece of bread and a sip of milk, while he declared himself desperately hungry, and capable of devouring a good-sized leg of mutton.

"I don't think you need worry about him," he said to Chris; "the doctor told me that in a fortnight he would be very likely to be about again, and none the worse for the wound, the bullet having evidently missed any vital point, in which case its passage would heal as quickly as the little wounds where the bullet enters and passes out usually do."

Harris had his arm broken just above the elbow, and Brown a flesh wound below the hip. He was the stoutest of the party, and jokingly said, as he was carried back, that the bullet had passed through the largest amount of flesh in the company. Chris once or twice went into the hospitals with a doctor whose acquaintance he had made. They offered a strong contrast to the scene that had taken place after the battle of Elandslaagte, as in the hospitals at Chieveley and Frere everything was as admirably arranged as they would have been in one of a large town. In the daytime the sides of the marquees were lifted to allow of a free passage of air. The nurses in their neat dresses moved quietly among the patients with medicines, soups, jellies, and other refreshments ordered for them. There were books for those sufficiently convalescent to be able to read them, and those who wished to send a letter home always found one of the nurses ready to write at their dictation. By some of the bedsides stood bouquets of flowers sent by the ladies of Maritzburg, and all had an abundance of delicious fruit from the same source.

CHAPTER XIX

MAJUBA DAY

"Did you hear of that plucky action of Captain Philips, of the Royal Engineers, last night?" an officer who had just ridden in from the front asked Chris that evening.

"No; I heard that the Boers set up a tremendous musketry fire in the evening after the truce was over, but no one that I have spoken to knew what it was about."

"Well, we ourselves didn't know till next morning. The general idea was that it was a Boer scare. They thought that we were crawling up to make a night attack, and so blazed away for all they were worth. We found out afterwards that Philips had conceived the idea that it was possible to destroy that search-light of the Boers. He had learned from prisoners that it was the last they had with them, and although we have not made any night attacks yet, it was possible we might do so in the future, and so he made up his mind to have a try to smash it up. He took with him eight blue-jackets, crawled along in the dark beyond our lines, and got in among the Boers. He had taken particular notice of points he should have to pass, boulders and so on, and he found his way there without making a blunder. There were plenty of Boers round, but no one just at the search-light. The blue-jackets all understood the working of their own search-lights; but the Boers have no electric lights, you know, and work their signals with acetylene, and so they stood on guard while Philips opened the lamp, took out the working parts, whatever they are, and shut the lamp again. Just as they had done so they heard four Boers who had been sitting talking together get up. He and his party dropped among the bushes and lay there quiet while the Boers came up to the lamp.

"'We are to keep it going to-night,' one of them said, 'for they may take it into their heads to make an attack, thinking that after having had a truce all day we shall not be expecting trouble, and they may catch us unprepared. I expect our German officer in a few minutes; he said he would be here about ten o'clock, for the rooineks are not likely to move until they think we are asleep.'

"They moved away again, and Philips and his men stole quietly off, but before they rejoined our fellows they heard a sudden shot, and in a minute a tremendous rifle fire broke out. Evidently the German had arrived and found the search-light would not act, and they concluded at once that we were marching against them, and for twenty minutes every man in the trenches blazed away at random as fast as he could load. I should say that they must have wasted a hundred thousand cartridges. As there was no reply they began to think that they had been fooled. Our fellows were just as much puzzled at the row, and fell in, thinking that the Boers might possibly be going to attack them. However, matters quieted down, and it was not until the next morning that anyone knew what it had all been about."

"That was a plucky thing indeed," Chris said; "though, as I should hardly think we should attack at night, it may not be of much service, for the Boers have long since given up trying with their feeble flash- lights to interrupt our night signalling with Ladysmith, especially as, now the weather is finer, we can talk all day if we like with our heliograph."

Chris was just turning in when Captain Brookfield came to the entrance of his tent. "I have just heard, Chris, that the pontoon bridge has been successfully thrown across just below the cataract, and that the troops are all crossing. I just mention it to you. I cannot get away myself, but if I find you and your boys are—not here in the morning, I shall say nothing about it. We certainly shall not be wanted. The orders are out, and there is no mention of our corps nor any of the mounted colonials."

"Thank you, sir! I am very much obliged." Chris went round to the tents and told the others that they must be up an hour before daybreak and be ready to start at once, as there would probably be another very big fight. Then he told the natives, who were, as usual, still talking together in their tent, that they were all going off very early, and that chocolate must be ready at daybreak, and the water-skins filled, as the horses would probably be out all day.

"Will you want anything cooked, baas?" Jack asked.

"No; we will take some tins with us. There is going to be another big fight to-morrow; as we are all going, you can go too if you like. We shall want you for the horses. Three of you can stop with them at a time, and the others can go and see what is doing, and then change about, you know, so that you can all see something. The spare horses must have plenty of food left them, and must have a good drink before we start."

They were all astir in good time. The natives had made some hot cakes, and these they ate with their chocolate. Then they saw that the horses had a good feed, and a stock of biscuit and tinned meat for themselves was put into the saddle-bags, and when daylight broke they were across the plain and arrived at the dip in the hills through which the pontoon train had gone. Knowing where the cataract was, they were able to calculate pretty accurately where they had best dismount. This they did in a small clump of trees. Then each took a tin of meat and a couple of pounds of biscuit in his pocket. "Now," Chris said to the natives, "you had better all stay here quietly till you hear firing begin; then, Jack, you can go with the two Zulus. You can stay and look on till the middle of the day. When the sun is at its highest you must come back and let Japhet and the Swazis go. At sunset you must all be here again, and wait till we come. Perhaps we may be back sooner, and if so we shall ride away at once; and those of you who are away when we start must go back to camp at once if you find that the horses have gone when you get here. Now let's be off."

They made their way up the hills, well pleased that there were enough trees and bushes to shield them from observation. The roar of artillery and the rattle of musketry had been going on for some time, but not with the fury that marked the commencement of an attack. A fortnight before it would have seemed to them that a great battle was in progress, but by this time they were accustomed to the almost incessant fire, and knew that although the cannonade was heavier than usual, no actual fighting was going on. They met no officers as they went along, nor did they expect to do so, for none of these would be able to leave their regiments, as even were these not included in the force told off to assault, they might be called upon later in the day. At last they reached the top of a hill whose face sloped steeply down to the river, and from here they could obtain a view of the Boer position, and of the line of railway up and down.

To the right was Pieter's station, with a steep hill of the same name rising close to it. To the left of this was another strongly-posted hill, while beyond it was the scene of the fighting on Friday and Saturday, Railway Hill, which had been rechristened Hart's Hill, in honour of the commander of the brigade that had fought so valiantly. It was evident that at these three points the whole of the fighting force of the Boers had gathered. A heavy rifle fire was being kept up against the British infantry, whose passage of the river had now been discovered, and who were lying crouched behind boulders and other shelter.

They now saw that the guns had all been brought forward during the night, had taken up commanding positions, and were pouring a terrible fire into the enemy's encampment at a distance of little over a mile. The enemy's guns were replying, but at this short range the naval guns were able to fire point-blank, and their shells ripped the defences erected to shelter the Boer camp into fragments, and carried destruction everywhere.

On a kopje about a quarter of a mile behind and above them General Buller and his staff had taken up their position, and the lads kept themselves well within the trees to avoid observation.

"See, Chris, there are some of our fellows creeping along by the side of the river. They must be hidden from the sight of the Boers. I expect they will be the first to begin."

All their glasses were turned upon the column of men. They were two battalions of the eth Brigade and the Dublin Fusiliers, and these, under General Barton's command, made their way down the river bank for a mile and a half. Then the lads saw that they were leaving the river and crossing the line of railway.

"They have evidently gone down there," Sankey said, "because that spur just this side must hide them from the Boers on Pieter's Hill."

The column were lost sight of for upwards of an hour, and then they appeared on the opposite crest, five hundred feet above the line; then they were lost sight of again as they passed beyond the crest.

"That is a splendid move!" Chris exclaimed. "By working round there they will gain the top of Pieter's Hill, and come down like a thunderbolt upon the Boers."

The roar of artillery continued unabated. Clouds of yellowish-brown smoke floated over the Boer entrenchments, lit up occasionally by a vivid flash of a bursting lyddite shell. So terrible was the bombardment that the rifle fire of the Boers against the troops crouching behind their shelters was feeble and intermittent, as they dared not merge from their shelter-places to lift a head above their line of trenches. It was a long time before Barton's troops were again seen. Doubtless they had orders to wait for a time when they had gained their desired position, in order to allow the bombardment to do its work, and prepare the way for the assault of the other positions by the fourth and eleventh brigades. It was not, indeed, until the afternoon that the lads saw Barton's brigade sweeping along to the attack of Pieter's Hill.

The Boers saw them now, and could be seen leaping out of their entrenchments, regardless of the redoubled fire of the artillery now concentrated upon them, and climbing up the hill to oppose this unexpected attack. But before they could gather in sufficient numbers the British were upon them, keeping up a terrible fire as they advanced. The Boers, however, fought sturdily. Many, indeed, had already begun to make their way along the southern face of the hill, either to join their comrades on the hill between Pieter's and Hart's, or to escape up the valleys between them, and so make their way to Bulwana, where a large force was still encamped.

"We may as well help," Chris said; "the general can but blow us up."

Delighted to be able to do even a little towards the success of the day, the party at once picked up their rifles lying beside them.

"It is about a thousand yards, I should say, to the middle of the hill.

Take steady aim and try and pick them off as they leave their trenches."

The firing began at once slowly and steadily, and occasionally there was an exclamation of satisfaction when a bullet found its mark. Five minutes later a dismounted staff-officer came down to the trees behind them.

"What men are these?" he asked; "the general wishes to know."

"We are the Johannesburg Scouts," Chris said.

"Are you in command, sir?"

"Yes."

"Then, will you please to accompany me at once to the general."

On arriving at the spot where the general was standing a little in advance of his staff, the latter at once recognized Chris. "Oh, it is you, Mr. King!" he said. "I was afraid some of the men had left their stations. And what are you doing here?"

"We are trying to lend a hand to the troops over there, and as we are all good shots, I think we are being of some assistance."

"You had no right to leave the camp, sir. I suppose you call this independent service?"

"I do, general. I hope that we are affording some help here, and we should not be doing any good in camp; and as we have been nearly out of it through all this fighting, and there were no orders for the corps to do anything to-day, we thought we might be of use."

"You did wrong, sir," the general said, his face relaxing into a smile at the lad's defence of himself. "Well, as you are there, you may as well stop."

"Thank you, sir!" Chris said, saluting, and then hurried off to rejoin his comrades.

"He is a plucky boy," the general said to his staff. "I heard the other day—though not officially, so I was not obliged to take notice of it— that he, with the twenty lads with him, rode out to a place seventy miles away, and rescued some farmers who were besieged by Boers, defeated their assailants, killed and wounded more than their own number, made the rest of them, still double their own strength, lay down their arms, and recaptured nearly two thousand head of cattle they had driven off. The news came to me from the mayor of Maritzburg, who had heard of it from a friend who had ridden in from Grey town. He wrote to me expressing his admiration at the exploit. I sent privately to their captain and questioned him about it, intending to reprimand him severely for letting them go; but he said that they had all resigned, as they had a right to do, for they are all sons of gentlemen, and draw no pay or provisions, and that he had therefore no control whatever over their actions after they left camp. I told him not to say anything about his having seen me, for that, as they had returned, I should be obliged to take notice of the matter if it came to be talked about. That young fellow who came here is the one who, with three of the others, tried to blow up the bridge at Komati-poort. He could not do that, but he played havoc with a large store of rifles, ammunition, and six or eight guns. After that I could not very well scold him." And he again turned his glass on the opposite hill.

Here the fighting was almost over, and in a very short time all resistance had ceased. Some of the Boer guns on the next hill had now been turned round, and opened upon the captured position, which took their own in flank. An aide-de-camp was sent off to order some of the guns to be taken, if possible, up to the top of Pieter's Hill, and after immense exertions two batteries were placed there. As soon as this was accomplished, orders were sent for the rest of the infantry to advance. General Warren was in command, and the fourth brigade, under Colonel Norcott, and the eleventh, under Colonel Kitchener, now moved forward, taking advantage of what shelter could be obtained as they advanced. At the same time a strong force of colonial infantry moved to the right to attack the Boer trenches farther up the line of railway, and were soon hotly engaged. The defenders of Hart's Hill, and the position between that and Pieter's, opened a heavy fire as soon as the British infantry showed themselves; but their morale was so shaken by the terrific bombardment to which they had been subjected, by the loss of Pieter's Hill, and by the rifle fire now opened by its captors, that their fire was singularly ineffective. Many men dropped, but the loss was comparatively much smaller than that suffered by the Irish division when moving across the open on the 23rd.

Taking advantage of every shelter, the troops moved steadily forward, maintaining a heavy fire whenever they did so, and winning their way steadily. Colonel Kitchener's Brigade pressed on towards Hart's Hill, which on the side by which they now attacked was far less formidable than that against which the Irish had dashed themselves. It had never entered the Boer's minds that they would be attacked from this side, and their most formidable entrenchments had all been placed to resist an assault from Colenso. Arrived at its foot, the troops were in comparative shelter among the boulders that covered the slopes. Foot by foot they made their way upwards, until at last they gathered for a final assault, and then with a loud cheer scrambled up the last slope and with fixed bayonets drove the Boers in headlong flight. A similar success attended the eleventh brigade, who just at sunset carried the centre position, and a mighty cheer broke out all along the line at the capture of what all felt to be the last serious obstacle to their advance to Ladysmith. On the right, the Colonial troops had driven the Boers in front of them for nearly three miles, capturing entrenchment after entrenchment, until they arrived at Nelthorpe station. The three camps of the Boers contained an even larger amount of spoil than had been discovered in those of Monte Cristo and Hlangwane. It seemed that they had been perfectly confident that the positions were impregnable, and had accumulated stores sufficient for a prolonged residence. It was evident, too, that the wealthier men with them had preferred this situation to the more exposed camps on the summit of the hills. The amount of provisions and stores of all kinds was large, Great quantities of rifle ammunition were found in every trench. Clothes of a superior kind proved that their owners had been residents of Johannesburg or Pretoria, and of a different class altogether from the farm-labourers and herdsmen who formed the majority of the Boer army. The haste with which they had fled, when to their astonishment they discovered that the British attack could not be repulsed, was shown by the fact that a good many watches were found on bed-places and rough tables where they had been left when the Boers rushed to arms, and in the hurry of flight had been forgotten.

The number of rifles that had been thrown away was very large. Among the dead bodies found were those of two women, one quite young and the other over sixty. It was notorious that women had more than once been seen in the firing ranks of the Boers, and there were reports that Amazon corps were in course of formation in the Transvaal, the Boers, perhaps, remembering how sturdily the women of Haarlem had fought against the Spaniards in defence of their city.

So complete had been the panic evinced by the headlong fight of the enemy that the general opinion was that it would be some time before they would again attempt a stand against our men, and that unless any entrenchments higher up the valley were held by men who had not witnessed what had taken place, and were commanded by leaders of the most determined character, Ladysmith would almost certainly be relieved within a couple of days, and the rescuing army would be thus rewarded for its toils and sacrifices.

In a state of the wildest delight the lads returned to the spot where they had left their horses, where they found that Japhet and the two Swazis had arrived just before them. They and the Zulus were exhibiting their intense satisfaction at the defeat of the Boers by a wild war- dance. The party rode fast back to camp, for their spirits did not admit of a leisurely pace, and they left the natives to follow them more deliberately. The news had already been received in camp by the return of officers who witnessed the scene from a point near to that which the lads had attained, and its occupants were in a frenzy of delight. The Colonial corps were especially jubilant. This was the anniversary of Majuba Hill, the blackest in the history of the Colony, and one that the Boers in the Transvaal and Orange State always celebrated with great rejoicings, to the humiliation of the British Colonists. Now that disgrace was wiped out. A position even stronger than that of Majuba, fortified with enormous pains, defended by artillery and by thousands of Boers, had been captured by a British force, and although it was as yet unknown in camp, the old reverse had been doubly avenged by the surrender on that day of Cronje and his army.

Late that evening an order was issued that Lord Dundonald with a squadron of Lancers and some Colonial corps, in which the Maritzburg Scouts were included, were to reconnoitre along the line of railway. All felt sure that no serious opposition was likely to be met with; the defeat of the Boers had been so crushing and complete that assuredly few of the fugitives would be found willing to again encounter the terrible artillery fire, followed by the irresistible onslaught of the infantry. That evening, in spite of the scarcity of wood, bonfires were lighted, and the Scouts gathered round them. Every bottle of spirits and wine that remained in the camp was broached, and a most joyous evening was spent.

"I shall be able to breathe freely;" one of the colonists, a man from Johannesburg, said, "on Majuba Day in future. I have made a point for years, whenever I wanted to do any business in Natal, to put it off till that date, so that I could get out of the Transvaal. When I could not manage it, I shut myself up and stopped in bed all day, though even there I used to grind my teeth when I heard the brutes shouting and singing in the streets. Still, to me it was not half such a humiliation as surrender day. The one was a piece of carelessness, a military blunder, no doubt; the other was a national disgrace. And though I saw Majuba myself, it did not affect me half as much as did the abject backing down of the British Government after they had collected an army at Newcastle in readiness to avenge Majuba. We could not believe the news when it came. The fury of the troops was unbounded, and I would not have given a farthing for the lives of any of the men who were the authors of the surrender, had they been in the camp that day."

"What were you doing there?" Chris asked.

"I had a farm near Newcastle at that time, and two of my waggons had been taken up by the military for transport purposes. I was not on the hill, as you may suppose, or I might not be here to tell the story. I went forward with Colley. It was just the same then as it was at the beginning here. There were plenty of colonists ready to take up arms, but the military authorities would have none of them; they could manage the thing themselves without any aid from civilians. They knew that the natives had over and over again beaten the Boers, and what natives could do would be, merely child's play to British soldiers. Sir George Colley was a brave officer, and I believe had proved himself a skilful one, but he knew nothing whatever of the Boer style of fighting, while we colonists understood it perfectly, and could match them at their own game. As it turned out, the British soldiers on that occasion did not, and it made all the difference. If Sir George Colley had accepted a few hundreds of us, who knew the Boers well, as scouts and skirmishers, the affair would have turned out very differently; for, as you know, they did not succeed through the whole affair in taking one of the places held by our colonists.

"Well, we started from Newcastle, and the blundering began from the first. It was but twenty-five miles to Laing's Nek. At the time we started there was not a Boer there, for they were doubtful which line we should advance by. That twenty-five miles could have been done in a day, and there we should have been with our difficulties at an end; the baggage and stores could have come up in two or three days, and then another advance could have been made. Instead of that, six days were wasted in going over that miserable bit of ground. The Boers, of course, took advantage of the time we had given them to prepare and entrench Laing's Nek. I don't think that troubled the military authorities at all; an entrenchment thrown up by farmers and peasants could be but a worthless affair, and would not for a moment check the advance of British infantry. The consequence of all this was that we got the licking we deserved. Their entrenchment at the crest of the ridge was held by something like three thousand men. Colley had but three hundred and seventy infantry, a force in itself utterly inadequate for the work in hand. But, seeing some parties of Boer horsemen riding about, he thought it necessary to leave a strong body for the defence of his baggage, and accordingly sent only about two hundred and fifty men forward to attack the place.

"Well, we among the waggons hadn't a doubt how it was going to turn out. The one battery with us opened fire upon the entrenchment, but you who know what their entrenchments are will guess that there was little damage done; and when the soldiers went up the hill the Boers held their fire until they were close, and then literally swept them away, and, leaping over the entrenchments, took many of them prisoners. None would have got away at all if a few mounted infantry, who had managed to get up the Nek at another point, hadn't charged down and so enabled the survivors to escape. One hundred and eighty out of the two hundred and fifty were killed or taken prisoners. Colley at once fell back four miles. The Boers on their part, making sure that they had got him safe, sent a strong force round, and this planted itself on the road between him and Newcastle, but before they did so some small reinforcements joined us. Three or four days passed, and then we Colonials quite made up our mind that there was nothing for it but surrender. Colley determined at last to try and open the road back, and with about two hundred and fifty men, with four cannon—two of them mountain guns— moved out. Some sixty soldiers were left on a commanding spot to cover the passage of the Ingogo. As soon as the force under Colley had got to the opposite crest of the ravine through which the river runs, they were attacked in great force. They took shelter among the boulders, and fought as bravely as it was possible for men to fight. The guns, however, were useless, for in half an hour every officer, man and horse, was killed or wounded. However, the Boers could not pluck up courage to make a rush, and the little force held on till it was dark, by which time more than two-thirds of them were killed or wounded. A lot of rain had fallen, the Boers thought that the Ingogo could not be forded, and so, believing they would have no trouble in finishing the little force in the morning, they were careless. Colley, however, sent down and found that the water had not risen so high as to make it impossible to pass, and in the darkness, covered by the blinding rain that was falling, he and the survivors moved quietly off, crossed the river, picked up the party left on the eminence commanding it, and returned to camp.

"It was certain now that unless succoured our fate was sealed, but fortunately Evelyn Wood came up to Newcastle with a column that had been pressing forward from the sea. Colley, of course, ought to have waited for him to arrive before he moved at all, and if he had done so, things might have turned out very differently. But he made the mistake of despising the Boers, and thinking that it was nothing but a walk over. When they heard that the column had reached Newcastle the Boers cleared off the line of communication, and Colley rode into Newcastle and saw Wood. We felt that we were well out of a bad business; and were sure that the Boers, who are no good in attack, however well they fight behind shelter, would not venture to attack us, and that even if they did so we could keep them off till help came. But Colley could not let well alone. Instead of waiting till Wood came up and joined him, lie thought he might make a good stroke on his own account, and so retrieve the two defeats he had suffered; so when the 92nd Regiment came up he determined to seize Majuba Hill.

"It was well worth seizing, for it completely commanded the Boer's position on Laing's Nek, and had the whole force come up the Boers must have fallen back directly it was captured. However, Colley decided not to wait, and with about five hundred and fifty men and officers he started at night. The hill was only four miles off as the crow flies, but the ground was frightfully cut up, and it was not until after six hours of tremendous work that they reached the summit. Two hundred men were left at the bottom of the hill to keep open communications with the camp.

"From a hill close to the camp we could make out what was going on. Soon after daybreak we saw a party of mounted men ride towards the hill, where they usually stationed vedettes. They were fired at as they approached, and directly a turmoil could be seen on Laing's Nek. Waggons were inspanned, and we thought at first that they were all going to move off, but this was not so. They were only getting ready to go if they failed to recapture the hill, and in a short time we could see all their force moving towards it. Well, from where we were it seemed that the force on Majuba could have kept a hundred thousand Boers at bay, and so they ought to have done.

"For a time the Boers did not make much progress. With glasses, puffs of smoke could be made out all along the crest, and among the rocks below. The firing began in earnest at seven, and between twelve and one the Boer fire had ceased and ours died away. We thought it was all over, and went back to our waggons again. Soon after one o'clock there was a sudden outburst, and the men with the glasses observed that the Boers were close up to the top of the hill. A few minutes later it was on the plateau itself that the firing was going on.

"Colley had not known the Boers. No doubt his men were completely done up with their six hours' toil among the hills and six hours' fighting, and I don't think a tenth of them were ever engaged, for Colley thought it was impossible that the position could be stormed; so he only kept a handful of men at the edge of the plateau and allowed the rest to lie down and sleep. Certainly that was the case when the Boers, who had been crawling up among the rocks and bushes, made their rush.

"Well, you all know what happened. The few men on the edge were cut down at once. The Boers dashed forward, keeping up a heavy fire. Our fellows jumped up, but numbers were shot down as they did-so, and in spite of the efforts of their officers, a panic seized them. They had far better rifles than the Boers, and had they been steady might still have driven them back; but only a few of them ever fired a shot, and but one Boer was killed and five wounded; while on our side eight officers, among them Colley himself, were killed, and seven taken prisoners. Eighty-six men were killed, one hundred and twenty-five wounded, fifty-one taken prisoners, and two missing. A few managed to make their way down the hill, and joined the party that had been left there at the bottom.

"These were also attacked, but beat off the Boers, and, maintaining perfect order, fought their way back to camp. You can imagine the consternation there was when the hideous business became known. We fell back at once to Newcastle, and mightily lucky we thought ourselves to get there safely. Fresh troops came up, and we were on the point of advancing again, confident that, after the lesson the Boers had given us, things could be managed better. Suddenly, like a thunderclap, the news came that the British Government had surrendered to the Boers, given up everything, abandoned the colonists, who had so bravely defended their towns, to their fate; and, with the exception of making a proviso that the natives should be well treated—but which, as nothing was ever done to enforce it, meant allowing the Boers to enslave and ill-treat them as they had done before—and another proviso, maintaining the purely nominal supremacy of the Queen, the treaty was simply an entire and abject surrender.

"There is not a colonist who, since that time, has not known what must come of it, and that sooner or later the question whether the Dutch or the British were to be masters of the Cape would have to be fought out. But none of us dreamt that the British Government would allow the Boers to import hundreds of thousands of rifles, two or three hundred cannon, and enormous stores of ammunition in readiness for the encounter. Well, they have done it, and we have seen the consequences. Natal has been overrun, and a considerable portion of Cape Colony. We have lost here some ten thousand men, and half as many on the other side, and we may lose as many more before the business is finished. And all this because a handful of miserable curs at home twenty years ago were ready to betray the honour of England, in order that they might make matters smooth for themselves at home." Just as the story came to an end the assembly blew in the camp of the Scouts, and on running in the men found that Captain Brookfield had received an order to mount at once and ride to join the cavalry under Lord Dundonald at the front, as a reconnaissance was to be made in the morning. Five minutes later all were in the saddle and trotting across the plain towards Colenso, as they were to follow the line of railway up.

CHAPTER XX

LADYSMITH

It was exciting work as the mounted horse under Lord Dundonald rode along. As far as could be seen from the various points in our possession the passage was clear, but experience had taught how the Boers would lie quiet, even when in large numbers, while scouts were passing close to them. At Colenso Colonel Long had sent two mounted men on ahead of his battery. They had been permitted to pass within a hundred yards of thousands of Boers among the bushes on the river bank, and had even crossed the bridge and returned without a rifle shot being fired or a Boer showing his head. And it was on their report that there were apparently no Boers in the neighbourhood that the batteries were pushed forward into the fatal trap prepared for them. So Chris and his companions, at the rear of the colonial cavalry, trotted along ready at a moment's notice to swing round their rifles for instant action. They watched every stone and clump of bushes on the slopes of the valley for any foe that might be lurking there, and who at any moment might pour out a rain of bullets into the column. Very few words were spoken on the way, the tension was too great. They knew that Ladysmith had telegraphed that the Boers appeared to be everywhere falling back. But a few thousands of their best fighting men might have remained to strike one terrible blow at the troops who in open fight had shown themselves their superiors, and had driven them from position after position that they believed impregnable. However, as one after another of the spots where an ambuscade would be likely to be laid passed, and there were still no signs of the enemy, the keenness of the watch began to abate, and the set expression of the faces to relax. Then as the hills receded and the valley opened before them a pleasurable excitement succeeded the grim expectation of battle. The task that had proved so hard was indeed fulfilled; the Boers were gone, and the siege of Ladysmith was at an end. As they emerged from the valley into the plain in which Ladysmith is situated, there was an insensible increase of speed; men talked joyously together, scarcely waiting for replies; the horses seemed to catch the infection of their riders' spirits, and the pennons of the Lancers in front to flutter more gaily. Onward they swept, cantering now until they approached the town.

Then men could be seen running towards the road; from every house they poured out, men and women, some waving hats and handkerchiefs, some too much overpowered by their feelings for outward demonstrations. As the columns reached this point they broke into a walk, and answered with ringing cheers the fainter but no less hearty hurrahs of those they came to rescue; and yet the troopers themselves were scarcely less affected than the crowd that pressed round to shake them by the hand. They had known that provisions were nearly exhausted in the city, and that for some time past all had been on short rations; but they had not dreamt of anything like this. It seemed to them that they were surrounded by a population of skeletons, haggard and worn, almost too weak to drag themselves along, almost too feeble to shout, their clothes in rags, their eyes unnaturally large, their hands nerveless, their utterances broken by sobs. They realized for the first time how terrible had been the privations, how great the sufferings of the garrison and people of Ladysmith. For the soldiers were there as well as the civilians. There was little military in their appearance; there was no uniformity in their dress, save that all were alike ragged, stained and destitute of colour.

Could their rescuers have seen them, themselves unseen, a few days earlier, they would have been even more shocked. Then the listlessness brought about by hope deferred, and of late almost the extinction of hope, weakness caused by disease and famine, had been supreme; and had the Boers had any idea of the state to which they were reduced, a renewal of the attack of the eth of January could hardly have failed of success. The last few days, however, had revived their hopes. They had learned by the ever-nearing roar of the cannon that progress was being made, and for the past four days had from elevated points near the town been able to make out the movements of our troops on the positions they had captured. They had seen the Boers breaking up their camps, carrying off their stores either by waggon across the western passes or by the trains from Modder Spruit. They had seen the cannon being withdrawn from their positions on the hills, and felt that their deliverance was at hand.

Through an ever-increasing crowd the column moved on.

From barrack and hospital, from dwelling-house and the dug-out shelter- caves on the railway bank people flocked up. Sir George White and his staff, the mayor, and the town guards, every officer and soldier, joined in the greeting. But no stay was made. After a few minutes' talk with Sir George White, Lord Dundonald gave the order, and the cavalry moved forward, and as soon as they were free from the crowd trotted on at a rapid pace in hopes of overtaking the retiring Boers, and glad that the scene to which they had looked forward with such pleasant expectations was at an end. There had not been a dry eye among them. None could have witnessed the sobbing women, the men down whose cheeks the tears streamed uncontrolledly, and have remained himself unmoved.

"It is terrible," Chris said to Sankey, who was riding next to him. "I could not have imagined anything so dreadful as their appearance. I did not realize what it was like when, two or three months before I left Johannesburg, I read in Motley's book about the war in the Netherlands of the state of things in Leyden when the Prince of Orange burst his way through to their rescue, and of the terrible appearance of the starved inhabitants, but now I can quite understand how awfully bad it was. It must have been even worse then. Here there were some rations distributed—little enough, but some. There the people had nothing but the weeds they gathered, and boiled down with the scraps they could pick up. There they died in hundreds of actual starvation; it cannot have been quite so bad here. But as we see, though there has been just enough food to keep life together, that has been all, and it has been from disease brought on by famine, and not by famine itself, that they have died. Then, too, shells were always falling among them, and at any moment they might be attacked. I expect that anxiety and fever have had as much to do with it as hunger."

"Yes, Chris. You know, when we were grumbling sometimes at not being employed in the fighting, we have wished we had stopped in Ladysmith, and gone through the siege there; now, one can thank God that one did not do so. We have pictured to ourselves everyone actively employed, the vigilance at all the outposts, the skirmishing with the Boers who crept up too closely, the excitement of repelling their attack, and all that sort of thing. It is all very good to read about, but now we know what it really meant one sees that we were a pack of fools to have wished to be there."

"Yes; I suppose one never knows what is g'ood for one, Sankey. Now as I look back I think that we have been extraordinarily fortunate. We have had some fights, just in the way we had expected, and, thanks principally to our being so well mounted, we have done very well. We have lived well; I don't say we have not had a certain amount of discomfort, but of course we expected that. What I am most pleased at is that not one of us has been killed, and only a few of us wounded, the only serious one being Willesden, and he is fairly on the way to recovery. For boys we have done a very good share, and I expect that now we have driven the Boers back here, and Kimberley has been relieved, and there is a tremendous force gathering on that side, it will soon be over."

"Yes, I think with you, Chris. And I fancy that the others are all beginning to long for the end of it. I should say that those whose people have gone to England may stop on for a bit, but the rest of us will go to our friends at Durban or the Cape, at any rate for a time, till we see how things go. We know that Lord Roberts has got Cronje surrounded and shut up. I expect that is one of the reasons that the Boers have been moving from here. The Free Staters will certainly wish to get back to defend Bloemfontein, and the Transvaal people must feel that it is no use stopping here when their own country will be shortly invaded."

"Yes; I expect that is the reason for their shutting up as suddenly as they have done after fighting so hard for the first five or six days of our advance."

On arriving at Modder Spruit it was found that the last train had left an hour before; they pushed on, however, until a smart fire from a hill in front of them, which was evidently held in force, broke out suddenly, and two cannon from another eminence joined in. Having thus discovered that the Boers were not entirely evacuating the country, but intending to defend the Biggarsberg, at any rate until a strong force came up, Lord Dundonald returned to Ladysmith. In the afternoon General Buller rode over attended by only one or two of the staff. He stayed but a very short time, to learn from General White the state of affairs, and then returned.

"Do you think that we shall pursue at once, sir?" Chris asked Captain

Brookfield.

"Not at once, Chris. Practically, as you see, there is not a soldier here fit to carry arms, nor a horse fit for work, and I should say that it will be a month before General Buller can reckon upon any assistance from the garrison. As to his own army, I expect he will keep the main portion round Chieveley. No doubt he will bring the greater part if not all the garrison of Ladysmith back to Frere and Estcourt, both to get them out of the pestilential air here and for convenience of feeding them. The civilian population will leave, of course, as soon as they possibly can. I should think that Buller will leave in garrison here an infantry brigade, part of the cavalry, and two or three batteries, and this with the sick who cannot be moved, will be about as much as our transport will be able to manage until the railway bridge is repaired and the line put in running order. Till that is done there is no possibility of a general advance; and indeed there will have to be a great accumulation of stores here, as this will then become our base instead of Chieveley.

"No doubt a great deal will depend on how things are going on the other side. Now that Roberts has as good as captured Cronje and his force he will of course advance to Bloemfontein and occupy it. He will then be no more able to advance farther than Buller can—in fact, less able. Our line of railway is secured, and we can be fed by it; but at present we have not crossed the Orange River from the south, and the railway between that and Bloemfontein is in the hands of the Boers, and we know that they have blown up the bridges across the river. Until these are restored, and the line secure in our hands, Roberts's army will have to live on the stores that they have brought with them. Then the work of forming a base depot from the coast will begin, and it needs something enormous in the way of provisions and carriage to supply an army of sixty or seventy thousand men, all of whom must as they advance be fed from Bloemfontein.

"As long as he is stationary there it is likely enough that the bulk of Joubert's army will cling to Natal, knowing well enough that before we shall be in a condition to move forward they can entrench their positions on the Biggarsberg and the Drakenberg until they are quite as formidable as those we have been knocking our heads against. I should not be at all surprised if it is a couple of months before Roberts is in a position to advance. Of course at present we have no idea what the plans are, but likely enough at least half the force here may be sent down to Durban, and then by water to East London, and from there to Bloemfontein by rail. It would be ridiculous for us to renew the sort of fighting we have been doing when the enemy are sure to clear out when Roberts crosses the Vaal, and Natal be thus freed without any further loss of life. Possibly the troops may not be sent round by sea, but will remain here until Roberts gets as far as Kroonstadt. Then, no doubt, a division will be sent down through Bethlehem to Harrismith, and so open Van Reenen's Pass, in which case the troops from here can go up by train to Bethlehem. At any rate, I am afraid that most of us will remain here for at least two months.

"You see, most of the colonial irregulars were enlisted for only three months, and that is up already, and no doubt a great many of them will not extend their time, and I don't suppose the military authorities will want them to do so. There is no doubt that while mounted men were invaluable in the fighting in Cape Colony, and will be so in the Orange Free State, they are of very little use in this mountainous country in the north of Natal—they are so many more mouths to be fed, man and beast, without any corresponding advantage. They have done splendidly where they have had a chance, and the Imperial Light Horse have suffered heavily, but as a whole I think that we should have been more useful as infantry than as mounted men. Infinitely more useful if, instead of being kept at the head-quarters of the army as we have been, for no possible reason that anyone can see, we had all been scattered over the country to the east, in which case we should have kept the marauding Boers from wandering about, should have saved hundreds and hundreds of loyal farmers from being ruined, and the loss of many thousands of cattle and horses, which will have to be paid for after the war is over. I do not think that there is a single colonist who is not of opinion that the way in which we have been kept inactive from the beginning of the war, instead of being employed as irregular cavalry should have been, in protecting the country, preventing the Boers from drawing supplies, and forcing them to keep in a body as our own troops have done, has been a stupendous mistake."

Chris repeated this conversation to his comrades. "I think," he said, "that if there is no chance of doing anything for another two or three months, we might as well break up. I have no doubt a good many of the Colonials will re-enlist. Numbers of them are working men, either from Johannesburg or belonging to Natal; they would find it very difficult to get work here, and the five shillings a day pay is therefore of the greatest importance to them. But it is different with us. We don't draw pay, we simply agreed to band ourselves together to have an opportunity of paying out the Boers for their treatment of us. At the time we agreed to that, we had no idea that they would invade Natal. Of course that was an additional inducement to us to fight. As loyalists, and capable of bearing arms, it would have been our duty, even if we had no personal feeling in the matter, to enlist to help to clear the country of the enemy who invaded it. Now that Ladysmith is rescued and there are certainly enough troops in South Africa to finish the business up, I do not see that it is our duty to continue our service. Anyhow, I have pretty well made up my mind to resign and go round to Cape Town. There I am almost sure to find my mother, and perhaps my father, for we know that they have expelled almost all the English remaining about the mines, and he may have been among them."

"I agree with you heartily," Sankey said. "At any rate, I should vote for our breaking up for the present. It will be beastly for us to have to stop here doing nothing for another month or two, and then perhaps, when Buller moves forward to join Roberts, to be told that the colonial force will no longer be required."

Twelve of the others expressed similar opinions. The friends of the eight who did not do so had returned to England. Carmichael was one of these. "Well," he said after a pause, "I do not say that you are not quite right, but I have no one to go to here. My people went home as soon as they reached Durban. If I were to join them I might hear when I landed that the war was just over, and that they had either started to come back again, or were on the point of doing so. I was born out here, and have never seen any of my relations in Scotland. Though I should like very much to spend a few months in the old country, it would not be worth while going home for so short a time; for I am sure my father will hurry back to his work at the mines as soon as Johannesburg is taken by us. I fancy all those who have not spoken are in about the same situation that I am."

There was a murmur of assent. "I don't say," he went on, "that I should care, any more than you do, to stop here for the next two months. The smell of dead horses and things is enough to make one ill. The water of the river is poisonous, for we know the Boers used to throw their dead animals in it on purpose. So I shall go down to Maritzburg and wire to my people where I am, and ask for orders. There remains, Willesden said the other day, still about £80 apiece at the bank, and I expect we shall get as much for the horses as we gave for them, so that we who have no friends here could live very comfortably for two or three months, or have enough to pay our passage home in case they send for us. I shall tell them to telegraph, so in a week after sending off my wire I shall get an answer."

The others who had no friends in South Africa expressed their intention of doing the same.

"I don't think we need bother about the horses," Chris said; "being such good animals, I have no doubt that there are plenty of officers in the cavalry regiments here who will be glad to buy them as remounts for the money we gave for them. That would save us all the trouble of getting them down by train to Maritzburg and selling them there. Well, then, as there are no dissentients, I will tell Captain Brookfield what we have settled."

"I quite agree with you," the officer said when Chris had told him of their intentions. "In the first place, it would be a serious waste of time for you to remain here. Still, that is of comparatively little consequence, but I do think that it would be a grievous pity for you to risk your lives further. You have done wonderfully good service. You have had an experience that you will look back upon with satisfaction all your lives. You have done your duty, and more than your duty. You have before you useful lives, and have amply shown that in whatever position you may be placed you will be a credit to yourselves and your friends. Therefore, Chris, I think in every respect your decision is right. It will be some relief to me, for to tell you frankly, when you started on that expedition to Komati, and the other day, when you all rode off to the farm, I felt that it would probably be my duty to write to some of your parents to tell them of your deaths. Therefore, by all means give me your resignations. I dare say that a good many of the men in my own and other corps will be leaving also; and in that case those who remain will, I should think, be formed into one strong regiment, which will be of a good deal more use than half a dozen small corps."

It was agreed among the party that as they had decided to go they might as well go at once.

"I hear," Chris said, "that General Buller is going to make a formal entry here on Saturday, and that the garrison will line the road. I don't know whether Dundonald's brigade will have anything to do with it; but if he does, Brookfield will certainly like to make a good show. So until that is over I won't do anything about the horses."

On the day appointed the garrison turned out to receive the general and the troops who had struggled so long and gallantly to effect their rescue, and the Devons, Gloucesters, Rifles, Leicesters, Manchesters, Liverpools, sappers, artillerymen, and the Naval Brigade marched out from their camps and lined the road as far as the railway-station, where the remnant of the cavalry brigade were drawn up. At eleven o'clock Sir George White, Sir Archibald Hunter, and Colonel Duff and his staff rode up and took their place in the front of the shattered tower of the town- hall. Here, too, Captain Lambton and many other officers took their place. Not far from these were a score of civilians who had not shared in the general exodus that had been going on from the day on which the town was relieved, but had delayed their departure in order to witness the historical scene. At last the head of the column was seen approaching. Lord Dundonald's men had ridden down on the previous day, and the mounted Colonial Volunteers had now the honour of forming the general's escort. They led the way, and after them came General Buller with his escort. The Dublin Fusiliers were placed at the head of the column in acknowledgment of the gallantry displayed by them in every fight; then came the men of Warren's, Lyttleton's, and Barton's brigades, with their artillery. Great indeed was the contrast between the sturdy, bronzed, and well-fed soldiers who cheered as they marched, many of them carrying their helmets on their bayonets, and the lines of emaciated men through whom they passed. These cheered too, but their voices sounded strange and thin, and many, indeed, were too much overcome by weakness and emotion to be able to add their voices to the shouts. The enthusiasm of the troops rose to the highest when they passed a group of women and children, who, with streaming eyes, greeted them as they passed.

The pipes of the Highlanders and the beating of drums added to the roar of sound. The contrast between the dress of rescuers and rescued was as great as their personal appearance. Sir George White's men had of late had but little work, and had prepared for the occasion to the best of their power, as if for a review at Aldershot. They had done what they could. Their khaki suits had been washed and scrubbed until, though discoloured, they were scrupulously clean. The belts, accoutrements, and rifles had all been rubbed up and scoured. On the other hand, the uniforms of regiments that marched in were travel-stained, begrimed with the dust of battle and the mud of bivouac, until their original hue had entirely disappeared. They looked as if they had at first been dragged through thorn bushes and then been given a mud-bath.

Captain Lambton rode forward to meet the sailors of the Terrible with the guns that had done such service, followed by the howitzers which had almost equally contributed to the final success of the operations. He was loudly cheered by the sailors, and the heartiest greetings were exchanged between him and their officers. Both in attack and defence the Naval Brigade had performed inestimable services.

Behind the column came a large body of men in civilian dress. Their appearance was as unkempt as that of the troops, but among these there was no approach to military order, and yet their heroism had been in no way inferior to that of the troops. These were the stretcher-bearers, who had in every fight carried on their work of mercy under the heaviest fire, and that without the excitement that nerves soldiers to face danger. Many of them had fallen while so engaged, but this had in no way unnerved their companions, who had not only carried on the work during daylight, but had often laboured all night until the last wounded man had been found and carried down to the hospital. When the names of the heroes of the force that relieved Ladysmith are recounted those of the stretcher-bearers are worthy of a place among them.

After the troops had been dismissed and matters had settled down a little, Chris went over to the camp of the cavalry brigade, and spoke to the first officer he met. "I have come across, sir," he said, "to ask if any of you wish to buy remounts. The party to which I belong have twenty-five horses; they are exceptionally good animals, and cost us sixty pounds apiece last October. We furnished our own equipment. As we are all sons of gentlemen at Johannesburg, we did not much mind what we paid. Anyhow, we are ready to sell them at the price we gave for them."

"We all want remounts badly enough," the officer said. "Will you come in with me to the colonel?"

Entering the mess tent, where the colonel and several officers were standing talking, Chris's guide introduced him to them, and repeated the offer he had made. "Well, at any rate, Leslie," the colonel said, "you and Mainwaring may as well go down and look at the horses; it would certainly be a comfort to get remounts, for more than half of our chargers are gone, and the rest are skeletons. I can't ask you, Mr. King, if you would like to take anything to drink. I suppose it will be another ten days before we are in a position to be able to offer even the smallest approach to hospitality."

"I quite understand that, sir," Chris said. "In that respect we have been nearly as badly off at Chieveley. We have had plenty to eat and drink, but a cup of tea or chocolate has been the only refreshment we have been in a position to offer to a visitor, for the line has been so fully occupied with government transport that it has been next to impossible to get up any private stores. I am afraid that very little in that way can be brought up here until the bridge is repaired and the line in working order, for it is as much as the transport will be able to do to bring food enough from Chieveley for the troops and people here."

The two officers were more than satisfied with the appearance of the horses. On their report all their comrades went down, and eleven of the animals were at once taken; a visit to the camps of two other regiments resulted in the sale of the remainder. None of the officers was able to pay in gold, as the paymaster's department had not a coin left, though small payments were made to the men until nearly the end of the siege. Chris, however, readily accepted their drafts and cheques, as these could be paid into the bank at Maritzburg.

"That is all done," he said to his friends. "Now we will get rid of our remaining stores which the men brought up yesterday. I propose that instead of selling them we divide them into three and send them down to the three cavalry messes. I am sorry we have not a few bottles of spirits left, but the tea, and chocolate, and sugar, and so on, will be very welcome to them."

The six natives carried the things down, and brought back with them notes of warm thankfulness from the colonels.

"How about our saddles, Chris?"

"We can take them with us to Maritzburg. We can hand over the kettles and so on, and the waterproof sheets, to Brookfield's men who remain here, and the blankets can be given to the natives when we get there."

The next day, after a hearty farewell from Captain Brookfield and their comrades, who sent them off with a ringing cheer, the party started, marching by the side of one of the waggons that had brought up stores; in this they placed their saddles and blankets. When they arrived at Chieveley they had no difficulty in getting a place in a covered truck. In this they travelled to Maritzburg. Here they stayed for three or four days; then, after making a handsome present in addition to what they had promised to the natives, and further gladdening their hearts by giving them their blankets, Chris and those who were going down said good-bye to Carmichael and his party, with hopes that they would all meet again at Johannesburg before long. Three or four whose friends had remained at Durban stayed there, the rest took passage together for Cape Town.

At Maritzburg Chris had found a letter awaiting him from his mother, saying that his father had a fortnight before joined her there, as the Boers had commandeered the mines and had ordered him to leave, as he would not work them for their benefit and so provide funds for the support of the Boer army. She said that they intended to leave at once for England, and that he was to follow them when he gave up his work with the army. He therefore, with Field, Brown, and Capper, continued the voyage straight on to England, and joined his parents in London, where he enjoyed a well-earned rest, his pleasure being only marred by the necessity for telling the story of his adventures again and again to the relations and friends of his parents.

THE END

Table of Contents

March to Magdala

The Dash for Khartoum

By Sheer Pluck

The Young Colonists

With Kitchener in the Soudan

With Buller in Natal