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.