clean, neatly arranged in streets and squares, and stretching for miles.  The aspect of this strange deserted town, rising, silent as a cemetery, out of the awful scrub, chilled everyone who saw it.  Its size might indeed concern their leader.  At the very lowest computation it had contained 20,000 people.  How many of these were fighting men?  Certainly not fewer than 8,000 or 9,000.  Yet the expedition had been sent on the assumption that there were scarcely 1,000 warriors with the Khalifa!

Observing every precaution of war, the column crawled forward, and the cavalry and Camel Corps, who covered the advance, soon came in contact with the enemy’s scouts.  Shots were exchanged and the Arabs retreated.  The column halted three miles to the east of this position, and, forming a strong zeriba, passed the night in expectation of an attack.  Nothing, however, happened, and at dawn Mitford was sent out with some mounted ‘friendlies’ to reconnoitre.  At ten o’clock he returned, and his report confirmed the conclusions which had been drawn from the size of the Aigaila camp.  Creeping forward to a good point of view, the officer had seen the Dervish flags lining the crest of the hill.  From their number, the breadth of front covered, and the numerous figures of men moving about them, he estimated not fewer than 2,000 Arab riflemen in the front line.  How many more were in reserve it was impossible to say.  The position was, moreover, of great strength, being surrounded by deep ravines and pools of water.

The news was startling.  The small force were 125 miles from their base; behind them lay an almost waterless country, and in front was a powerful enemy.  An informal council of war was held.  The Sirdar had distinctly ordered that, whatever happened, there was to be no waiting; the troops were either to attack or retire.  Colonel Kitchener decided to retire.  The decision having been taken, the next step was to get beyond the enemy’s reach as quickly as possible, and the force began their retreat on the same night.  The homeward march was not less long and trying than the advance, and neither hopes of distinction nor glamour of excitement cheered the weary soldiers.  As they toiled gloomily back towards the Nile, the horror of the accursed land grew upon all.  Hideous spectacles of human misery were added to the desolation of the hot, thorny scrub and stinking pools of mud.  The starving inhabitants had been lured from their holes and corners by the outward passage of the troops, and hoped to snatch some food from the field of battle.  Disappointed, they now approached the camps at night in twos and threes, making piteous entreaties for any kind of nourishment.  Their appeals were perforce unregarded; not an ounce of spare food remained.