his captain, Fitzgerald, in a rage.

"You confounded idiots!" he yelled to his men, "what's the use of firing
at them a mile off! What are you shooting at, Smith--a balloon? You
are no use at all, Strachan; why don't you make your section reserve
their fire? Steady, men, steady!"

All the other officers were making similar efforts, but for a time it
was no good. Bodies of Arabs kept sweeping round some seven hundred
yards off, watching their chance for a dash, and the men would keep
firing at them, and, what was worse, hurriedly, without a cool aim.
Indeed a good aim was not to be had, for they were only dimly seen
through the smoke. And it was this probably which bothered the men; the
ground in front was rough, and might conceal enemies close to them;
there were swarms in all directions, and they fired at those they got a
glimpse of.

Neither was the distance anything like out of range, only recent
experience had shown that it required very severe concentration of fire
at the closest quarters to make any impression on these brave Soudanese,
and the losses which can be inflicted at seven hundred yards are slight
comparatively, especially if the aim is not very cool and deliberate.

"Cease firing!" at last shouted a superior officer, and the word being
promptly echoed by all, and enforced by actually grasping the shoulders
of the most excited and flurried men, it slackened at length, and there
seemed to be a good prospect of the unsteadiness calming down; and after
all, this burst of wild firing had only lasted about three minutes. The
atmosphere, however, was heavy; there was not a breath of air stirring,
and the smoke hung in so thick a pall overhead, that it was impossible
to see what was going on.

"Steady!" cried our friend Tom, who really had not deserved his
captain's reproach, for he had been struggling all he knew to restrain
his men's fire, only they got out of hand with him as with everybody
else for a minute.

"Wait till the smoke clears, unless they come out of it a yard from your
muzzles. Not a shot at present, or ever without a steady aim."

"That's right," shouted Major Elmfoot; "stick to that, Strachan. No
more wild shooting, men. Ah!"

There is an infinite variety of expression in the various tones of the
human voice, and that simple "_All_!" conveyed more than I can give you
any idea of. There was surprise in it and dismay, but not a suspicion
of panic; on the contrary, determinatio