at a trot.  Accordingly, whenever the ground was favourable, the squadrons halted in turn for a few minutes to fire on them.  In this way perhaps half-a-dozen were killed or wounded.  The others, however, paid little attention to the bullets, and continued to pry curiously, until at last it was thought necessary to send a troop to drive them away.  The score of Lancers galloped back towards the inquisitive patrols in the most earnest fashion.  The Dervishes, although more numerous, were scattered about in small parties, and, being unable to collect, they declined the combat.  The great army, however, still advanced majestically, pressing the cavalry back before it; and it was evident that if the Khalifa’s movement continued, in spite of it being nearly one o’clock, there would be a collision between the main forces before the night.

From the summit of the black hill of Surgham the scene was extraordinary.  The great army of Dervishes was dwarfed by the size of the landscape to mere dark smears and smudges on the brown of the plain.  Looking east, another army was now visible—­the British and Egyptian army.  All six brigades had passed the Kerreri Hills, and now stood drawn up in a crescent, with their backs to the Nile.  The transport and the houses of the village of Egeiga filled the enclosed space.  Neither force could see the other, though but five miles divided them.  The array of the enemy was, without doubt, both longer and deeper.  Yet there seemed a superior strength in the solid battalions, whose lines were so straight that they might have been drawn with a ruler.

The camp presented an animated appearance.  The troops had piled arms after the march, and had already built a slender hedge of thorn-bushes around them.  Now they were eating their dinners, and in high expectation of a fight.  The whole army had been ordered to stand to arms at two o’clock in formation to resist the attack which it seemed the Dervishes were about to deliver.  But at a quarter to two the Dervish army halted.  Their drill was excellent, and they all stopped as by a single command.  Then suddenly their riflemen discharged their rifles in the air with a great roar—­ a barbaric feu de joie.  The smoke sprang up along the whole front of their array, running from one end to the other.  After this they lay down on the ground, and it became certain that the matter would not be settled that day.  We remained in our position among the sandhills of the ridge until the approach of darkness, and during the afternoon various petty encounters took place between our patrols and those of the enemy, resulting in a loss to them of about a dozen killed and wounded, and to us of one corporal wounded and one horse killed.  Then, as the light failed, we returned to the river to water and encamp, passing into the zeriba through the ranks of the British division, where officers and men, looking out steadfastly over the fading plain, asked us whether the enemy were coming—­and, if so, when.  And it was with confidence and satisfaction that we replied, and they heard, ‘Probably at daylight.’