asked us whether
the enemy were coming--and, if so, when. And it was with confidence and
satisfaction that we replied, and they heard, 'Probably at daylight.'

When the gunboats had completed their bombardment, had sunk a Dervish
steamer, had silenced all the hostile batteries, and had sorely battered
the Mahdi's Tomb, they returned leisurely to the camp, and lay moored
close to the bank to lend the assistance of their guns in case of
attack. As the darkness became complete they threw their powerful
searchlights over the front of the zeriba and on to the distant hills.
The wheeling beams of dazzling light swept across the desolate, yet not
deserted, plain. The Dervish army lay for the night along the eastern
slope of the Shambat depression. All the 50,000 faithful warriors rested
in their companies near the flags of their Emirs. The Khalifa slept in
rear of the centre of his host, surrounded by his generals. Suddenly the
whole scene was lit by a pale glare. Abdullah and the chiefs sprang up.
Everything around them was bathed in an awful white illumination. Far
away by the river there gleamed a brilliant circle of light--the cold,
pitiless eye of a demon. The Khalifa put his hand on Osman Azrak's
shoulder--Osman, who was to lead the frontal attack at dawn--and
whispered, 'What is this strange thing?' 'Sire,' replied Osman, 'they
are looking at us.' Thereat a great fear filled all their minds. The
Khalifa had a small tent, which showed conspicuously in the searchlight.
He had it hurriedly pulled down. Some of the Emirs covered their faces,
lest the baleful rays should blind them. All feared that some terrible
projectile would follow in the path of the light. And then suddenly it
passed on--for the sapper who worked the lens could see nothing at that
distance but the brown plain--and swept along the ranks of the sleeping
army, rousing up the startled warriors, as a wind sweeps over a field of
standing corn.

The Anglo-Egyptian army had not formed a quadrilateral camp, as on other
nights, but had lain down to rest in the formation for attack they had
assumed in the afternoon. Every fifty yards behind the thorn-bushes were
double sentries. Every hundred yards a patrol with an officer was to be
met. Fifty yards in rear of this line lay the battalions, the men in all
their ranks, armed and accoutred, but sprawled into every conceivable
attitude which utter weariness could suggest or dictate. The enemy,
twice as strong as the