endeavoured to rob them of the fruits of their victories.  They now realised that while they had been devoting themselves to great military operations, in broad daylight and the eye of the world, and prosecuting an enterprise on which they had set their hearts, other operations—­covert and deceitful—­had been in progress in the heart of the Dark Continent, designed solely for the mischievous and spiteful object of depriving them of the produce of their labours.  And they firmly set their faces against such behaviour.

First of all, Great Britain was determined to have Fashoda or fight; and as soon as this was made clear, the French were willing to give way.  Fashoda was a miserable swamp, of no particular value to them.  Marchand, Lord Salisbury’s ‘explorer in difficulties upon the Upper Nile,’ was admitted by the French Minister to be merely an ’emissary of civilisation.’  It was not worth their while to embark on the hazards and convulsions of a mighty war for either swamp or emissary.  Besides, the plot had failed.  Guy Fawkes, true to his oath and his orders, had indeed reached the vault; but the other conspirators were less devoted.  The Abyssinians had held aloof.  The negro tribes gazed with wonder on the strangers, but had no intention of fighting for them.  The pride and barbarism of the Khalifa rejected all overtures and disdained to discriminate between the various breeds of the accursed ‘Turks.’  Finally, the victory of Omdurman and its forerunner—­the Desert Railway—­had revolutionised the whole situation in the Nile valley.  After some weeks of tension, the French Government consented to withdraw their expedition from the region of the Upper Nile.

Meanwhile events were passing at Fashoda.  The town, the site of which had been carefully selected by the old Egyptian Government, is situated on the left bank of the river, on a gentle slope of ground which rises about four feet above the level of the Nile at full flood.  During the rainy season, which lasts from the end of June until the end of October, the surrounding country is one vast swamp, and Fashoda itself becomes an island.  It is not, however, without its importance; for it is the only spot on the west shore for very many miles where landing from the river is possible.  All the roads—­mere camel-tracks—­from Lower Kordofan meet at the Government post, but are only passable in the dry season.  The soil is fertile, and, since there is a superabundance of sun and water, almost any crop or plant can be grown.  The French officers, with the adaptive thrift of their nation, had already, in spite of the ravages of the water-rats, created a good vegetable garden, from which they were able to supplement their monotonous fare.  The natives, however—­aboriginal negroes of the Dinka and Shillook tribes—­are unwilling to work, except to provide themselves with the necessaries of life; and since these are easily obtained, there is very little cultivation, and the fertility of the