ered about the dark-green standard of their leader
and chanted defiance to the infidels till one by one they fell. The
chief himself, unworthy object of this devotion, fled away on a swift
dromedary some time before the last group of stalwarts bit the sand.

[Illustration: KHARTUM.]

Despite the terrible heat and the thirst of his men, the Sirdar allowed
only a brief rest before he resumed the march on Omdurman. Leaving no
time for the bulk of the Dervish survivors to reach their capital, he
pushed on at the head of Maxwell's brigade, while once more the shells
of the gunboats spread terror in the city. The news brought by a few
runaways and the sight of the Khalifa's standard carried behind the
Egyptian ensign dispelled all hopes of resisting the disciplined
Sudanese battalions; and, in order to clinch matters, the Sirdar with
splendid courage rode at the head of the brigade to summon the city to
surrender. Through the clusters of hovels on the outskirts he rode on
despite the protests of his staff against any needless exposure of his
life. He rightly counted on the effect which such boldness on the part
of the chief must have on an undecided populace. Fanatics here and there
fired on the conquerors, but the news of the Khalifa's cowardly flight
from the city soon decided the wavering mass to bow before the
inscrutable decrees of fate, and ask for backsheesh from the victors.

Thus was Omdurman taken. Neufeld, an Austrian trader, and some Greeks
and nuns who had been in captivity for several years, were at once set
free. It was afterwards estimated that about 10,000 Dervishes perished
in the battle; very many died of their wounds upon the field or were
bayoneted owing to their persistence in firing on the victors. This
episode formed the darkest side of the triumph; but it was malignantly
magnified by some Continental journals into a wholesale slaughter. This
is false. Omdurman will bear comparison with Skobeleff's victory at
Denghil Tepe at all points.

Two days after his triumph the Sirdar ordered a parade opposite the
ruins of the palace in Khartum where Gordon had met his doom. The
funeral service held there in memory of the dead hero was, perhaps, the
most affecting scene that this generation has witnessed. Detachments of
most of the regiments of the rescue force formed a semicircle round the
Sirdar; and by his side stood a group of war-worn officers, who with him
had toiled for years in order to see this day.