s he pointed towards the open plains and
hills.

"You can never get to Khartoum," he said. "Make for the desert."

"Yes," said the officer calmly, as he fully grasped the position; for
rapidly passing their left flank, and gradually cutting off their way,
they saw a regiment of the Egyptian cavalry tearing along, riding down
scores of the dervishes as they went.

It seemed to be their only chance, and the two young men joined with
their leader in heart and soul to hurry the camel train along.

Turning then at right-angles, the leading man made for the shelter of
some hills a couple of miles to the west, and as the camels were hurried
along, there seemed for a few minutes a prospect of getting right away.

"From Scylla into Charybdis," cried Harry bitterly.

"But can we do better?" said Frank excitedly.

"There is no better," said Harry sadly, "in a rout. It is every man for
himself now. No one has a friend."

They rode on as fast as they could get the groaning and complaining
camels along, and were rapidly nearing the hills, when a warning cry
came from their leader, in answer to which the guard turned back,
leaving the camels to proceed alone, for the Emir's officer had suddenly
become aware of the fact that a band of at least a hundred of the
mounted dervishes in full retreat had swooped round, and were dashing at
them, certainly with no peaceful intent.

"It's all over, Frank, lad," cried Harry. "Let's get alongside Morris
and Landon. They may make us prisoners, but the wretches' blood is up,
and their only thoughts are to plunder and slay. Try and save them;
here the wretches come."

"Look, look!" cried Frank, for from their right front some four hundred
yards away there was a gleam of steel, a glimpse of white helmets, and
an opening outline of galloping horses racing out of a hollow.

The evolution was brilliant, and before it seemed possible, the line of
horsemen with lowered spears were upon the advancing dervish band, which
had already got amongst the Emir's guard, fighting and dying in defence
of their charge.

A minute? More likely half a minute, and a couple of squadrons of
British cavalry had ridden through the dervishes, leaving the earth
cumbered with dead and wounded men, whose horses galloped wildly here
and there.

On went the cavalry, wheeled, and came back, cutting down all who
resisted, the major portion of the enemy flying for their lives to east
and north, for from the west