ern Dervish post--was, as will be seen,
convenient to the continuance of the campaign whenever the time should
arrive. But a long delay in the advance was now inevitable, and nearly
a year was destined to pass without any collision between the forces of
the Khedive and those of the Khalifa.

The success of the operations caused great public satisfaction in
England. The first step had been taken. The Soudan was re-entered. After
ten years of defensive war the Dervishes had been attacked, and it was
clear that when they were attacked with adequate forces they were not so
very terrible after all. The croakers were silent. A general desire
was manifested in the country that the operations should continue, and
although the Government did not yet abandon their tentative policy, or
resolve utterly to destroy the Khalifa's power, it was decided that, as
the road had so far been safe and pleasant, there was at present no need
to stop or turn back.

A generous gazette of honours was published. With a single exception,
which it would be invidious to specify, all the officers of the Egyptian
army were mentioned in despatches. Sir H. Kitchener, Colonel Hunter, and
Colonel Rundle were promoted Major-Generals for distinguished service
in the field; a special medal--on whose ribbon the Blue Nile is shown
flowing through the yellow desert--was struck; and both the engagement
at Firket and the affair at Hafir were commemorated by clasps. The
casualties during the campaign, including the fighting round Suakin,
were 43 killed and 139 wounded; 130 officers and men died from cholera;
and there were 126 deaths from other causes. A large number of British
officers were also invalided.

CHAPTER VIII: THE DESERT RAILWAY

It often happens that in prosperous public enterprises the applause of
the nation and the rewards of the sovereign are bestowed on those whose
offices are splendid and whose duties have been dramatic. Others whose
labours were no less difficult, responsible, and vital to success are
unnoticed. If this be true of men, it is also true of things. In a tale
of war the reader's mind is filled with the fighting. The battle--with
its vivid scenes, its moving incidents, its plain and tremendous
results--excites imagination and commands attention. The eye is fixed
on the fighting brigades as they move amid the smoke; on the swarming
figures of the enemy; on the General, serene and determined, mounted
in the middle of his St