and set fire to. This kept burning, hissing, and firing
shots like a gigantic and malevolent cracker for a long time. But the
Blue Jackets recovered the gun. When the victorious troops crowned the
last ridge, the valley of Tamai lay below them, and there was spread the
camp of Osman Digna, the object of their march, the prize for which they
had been fighting. The enemy made no further attempt to defend it; they
had proved to their cost that the Mahdi's assurance that the infidel
guns would "spit water" was a lie.

They were disheartened, beaten at all points, and hundreds of their best
and bravest lay in heaps on the hills and in the valleys to feed the
vultures and the jackals. It was no retreat such as they often made,
stalking slowly and sullenly from the field where they had been foiled,
but a disorderly flight, a rout.

The camp was left to the conquerors, with two standards, all their
ammunition, tents, stores, and the spoils of former victories, and
before noon the English, without fear of molestation, were slaking their
thirst at the wells.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN.

A SEARCH.

"May I go back to look for Strachan, sir, if you please?"

"Yes, Green," replied the colonel, "but take a file of men with you. I
think there are none of these fellows left about, but some of the
wounded may prove dangerous. Where did you last see him?"

"In the _melee_, sir, when the square was forced to retire. He was all
right then."

"And did no one see him after that?"

"No one that I can hear of, sir."

"Ah, poor lad! Well, we must hope he will turn up alive. A good
officer."

"Well, has the colonel given you leave to go?" asked Fitzgerald. "I
knew he would, but Stacy did not care to take the responsibility, for
fear anything should happen to you. You had better take a file of men
of my company; they knew him best. I wish I could go, but I have too
much to do. Of course, you will take a stretcher from the ambulance; it
will be probably useful for some other fellow, if not for poor Tom."

Directly Green had turned from Fitzgerald, a sergeant brought a man up
to him.

"James Gubbins wishes to speak to you, sir," he said, saluting.

"I beg your pardon, sir," said Gubbins when called upon to unfold his
wishes, "but I heerd say as you was a-going back over them hills to look
for Mr Strachan, sir."

"Yes, Gubbins, what then?" asked Green.

"Well, sir, might I ask to go too? He was very kind to me, and I w