were those black figures moving along the side of yonder dune?
His hand went to the butt of his revolver as he saw them. But he was
presently reassured; they were only vultures and eagles over-gorged by
the fruits of war; the only beings besides wolves and hyaenas, who pluck
them.

CHAPTER ELEVEN.

A GLIMPSE AT A TRAGEDY.

As the power of the sun increased, Harry Forsyth found that his renewed
strength was but partial, and though considerable compared to his
weakness before that long sleep, was by no means up to his powers
twenty-four hours previously, before he got that cut down through his
scalp and lost all that blood. And soon the thirst began; but thirst
was his familiar now, and he had learned to bear it as we do what is
constantly recurring and inevitable.

But as time passed on the thought would intrude upon his mind. Was he
going in the right direction? El Obeid, indeed, must lie to the west,
if the guides were to be depended upon, but would not the General
diverge very likely on approaching the place? It could not be told
beforehand from what side he would find it best to attack it, and Harry
might be going quite away from his friends. Still, if he once caught a
glimpse of the town, he should feel fresh confidence, for then he would
certainly get round to the army, somehow, and in time for the attack.
But this last consideration was not so important a matter with him as it
had been some hours before. He did not feel particularly keen after
fighting just now. A beefsteak and a pot of porter, and then to turn
into a comfortable bed, with a lump of ice on the top of his head, would
have formed his programme of perfect bliss. And yet, if his friends
were in the thick of it, he would like to be there, and take his share
in what was going, too.

Pshaw! He must not get nervous, he said to himself. Unless the guides
were treacherous, he must sight the minarets of El Obeid soon _Unless
the guides were treacherous_! Was there a chance of that? Experience
showed that there was always. And that professed friendly sheikh, who
had come in with his scratches and told such a plausible tale, was he to
be trusted?

Hark! What was that? Dropping shots away to his right front. Again,
others; and now a volley; more single shots, increasing to a continuous
roll of musketry.

"They are at it, and I am not there!" Harry cried aloud, as, forgetting
fatigue, weakness, even thirst, he pressed forward in th