giment again drawn up, three squadrons in
line and the fourth in column, now wheeled to the right, and, galloping
round the Dervish flank, dismounted and opened a heavy fire with their
magazine carbines. Under the pressure of this fire the enemy changed
front to meet the new attack, so that both sides were formed at right
angles to their original lines. When the Dervish change of front was
completed, they began to advance against the dismounted men. But the
fire was accurate, and there can be little doubt that the moral effect
of the charge had been very great, and that these brave enemies were no
longer unshaken. Be this as it may, the fact remains that they retreated
swiftly, though in good order, towards the ridge of Surgham Hill, where
the Khalifa's Black Flag still waved, and the 21st Lancers remained in
possession of the ground--and of their dead.

Such is the true and literal account of the charge; but the reader
may care to consider a few incidents. Colonel Martin, busy with the
direction of his regiment, drew neither sword nor revolver, and rode
through the press unarmed and uninjured. Major Crole Wyndham had his
horse shot under him by a Dervish who pressed the muzzle of his rifle
into its hide before firing. From out of the middle of that savage crowd
the officer fought his way on foot and escaped in safety. Lieutenant
Molyneux fell in the khor into the midst of the enemy. In the confusion
he disentangled himself from his horse, drew his revolver, and jumped
out of the hollow before the Dervishes recoved from the impact of the
charge. Then they attacked him. He fired at the nearest, and at the
moment of firing was slashed across the right wrist by another. The
pistol fell from his nerveless hand, and, being wounded, dismounted, and
disarmed, he turned in the hopes of regaining, by following the line of
the charge, his squadron, which was just getting clear. Hard upon his
track came the enemy, eager to make an end. Beset on all sides, and
thus hotly pursued, the wounded officer perceived a single Lancer riding
across his path. He called on him for help. Whereupon the trooper,
Private Byrne, although already severely wounded by a bullet which had
penetrated his right arm, replied without a moment's hesitation and in a
cheery voice, 'All right, sir!' and turning, rode at four Dervishes who
were about to kill his officer. His wound, which had partly paralysed
his arm, prevented him from grasping his sword, and at