"I am acting on the staff," said Strachan; "only galloping, you know.

And I was sent out to find you if I could, and tell you to make for Shebacat, and, if you could, to get on to Abu Klea at once. If I found any of the enemy out in this direction, and could not get on, I was to return at once, and a force was to be sent to relieve you; but it was important to avoid this if possible, I was given to understand.

However, I had no chance of returning, for the first glimpse I got of the enemy consisted of a small body of mounted Arabs, who cut off my retreat, and chased me all the way here."

"We are not to make back to Gubat, then?" asked Reece in surprise.

"No," said Strachan.

"Matammeh has not been carried?"

"Not yet; I suppose it may be soon; everybody seems to expect it. But I don't see the use now."

"Why not?"

"Well," said Strachan, "one hates to be the bearer of bad news, but it must come. The expedition has been too late: Khartoum has fallen."

The two other officers had come up and heard this, and their faces showed the blank dismay which had fallen upon their hearts, as the words fell upon their ears.

Khartoum fallen! Why, then, what were they fighting for? What was to happen next? All seemed chaos.

"And Gordon?" was the first question which rose to all lips.

"There is no certain news, yet," said Strachan; "but the rumours of his death are only too probable. He was not the sort of man to be taken alive, I think, was he?"

"No, no!"

"But when did you hear this?" asked Reece.

"Only last night," replied Strachan. "Gordon's four steamers arrived while you were at Abu Kru, the camp at Gubat, I think?"

"Yes, and two of them, the _Bordein_ and _Telh-howeiya_, had started with Sir Charles Wilson up the river. That was on the 24th of January."

"Exactly. Well, it seems when they got to Khartoum they found it in the hands of the Mahdi, and it was with the greatest difficulty they got away, having to run the gauntlet of several batteries and a tremendous fusillade. Both steamers were wrecked coming down, and Sir Charles Wilson, with the crews and the Royal Suss.e.x men who went with him, is on an island watched by the enemy, who have got guns posted, waiting to be brought off. Stuart Wortley came down in a small boat with the news last night."

"I could go straight to Shebacat; but for Abu Klea I am not so certain,"

said Reece.

"I can guide you as straight as a die," replied Strachan.

"Indeed, from Shebacat you cannot miss the track."

Captain Reece then said he had some immediate business to look to, and retired to the watch-tower, partly to have another look round, but princ.i.p.ally to get away alone for a bit to think. It was clear to him that he must get away as soon as possible, but yet leaving would cause him to incur responsibility, which he hated. He was a brave man enough where personal danger was concerned, but to have to decide upon a matter where grave interests were at stake threw him into a cold sweat. Let a superior officer be in command, and he was as jolly as possible under any circ.u.mstances; supposing he got killed, and all got killed, it had nothing to do with him--that was the commanding officer's look-out; and he obeyed him cheerfully, reserving the right to criticise him freely afterwards, supposing he were alive to do so.

But here he himself had to take a decided step; he was commanding officer, and Strachan had brought him no definite orders. Suppose they were intercepted, and cut to pieces. The blame would fall on him. Why did he quit the zereba? Suppose he delayed, and a force had to be sent to his rescue, and it were proved afterwards that he could have saved the small main body all that risk and trouble, and very likely loss, if he had shown a little more enterprise. Or suppose that the enemy, now a small body, a.s.sembled in force, cut off his retreat, now open, prevented all rescue, and cut them to pieces. In any case he would be blamed. He dreaded the second alternative most, because then he would be alive and ashamed. Still it made his ears burn to think what would be said of him, even after he could not hear or know, if he failed.

The more he thought about it, however, the more he saw that the first risk was the best to incur, and he finally determined to march that night and stand the racket. He examined the enemy's position once more carefully through his field-gla.s.s, and could only make out a few camels and a couple of horses. Indeed, they could not have watered any large number, especially as they had to do so entirely by night, the well being under the fire of the zereba all the daytime. And from men on foot they had nothing to fear, let them get the shortest of starts.

There was the cavalry which had hunted Strachan, but they were but a handful. And the route to Shebacat was open desert, so far as the eye could reach from the balcony, with but few mimosas or black rocks.

When he had quite settled his plans he felt easier, and returned to the others. The two juniors had shown Strachan what little hospitality was in their power, including an iron tea-cupful of muddy water for himself and a pint for his horse, who asked for more, poor fellow! With all the earnestness of Oliver Twist in the workhouse.

"Are you Strachan of the Blankshire?" asked Grant.

"Yes," said Strachan.

"Were you not wounded at Tamai last spring?"

"Yes, I was; but I soon got all right."

"Is not Edwards in your battalion?"

"Yes, he is; do you know him?"

"Very well; we were at Sandhurst together."

And this discovery of a common friend made these two feel like comrades at once.

"Well, Strachan," said Reece, coming up, "are you ready to pilot us to- night?"

"Perfectly ready, sir," replied Strachan.

"Well, then, we will be off directly after sun-down. Since Khartoum has fallen, the troops before it will be set free, and the country perhaps will be flooded with them. This may be our best chance."

"Certainly."

The three officers of camelry had to prepare their men for the start, and see that they got the saddles and other packages, which had been piled together to make an inner defence, separated and placed in proper position for instant adjustment.

Tom Strachan, left alone, wandered off to the watch-tower, to have a look at it and mount to the balcony. On his way across he met a soldier, who advanced his rifle and brought his right-hand smartly across in salute, whom he recognised.

"Kavanagh!" he cried.

"Yes, sir, here I am," replied Kavanagh. "No, please don't shake hands now or here," he added, hurriedly. "I do not want to be recognised at all. My captain has not remembered being with me at Harton, I am glad to say."

"I have your sword still," said Strachan.

"Yes, and did good work with it at Tamai," replied Kavanagh.

"I am glad of that."

"It is a good one, indeed," said Strachan; "but I don't know that I have done anything wonderful with it!"

"Oh, yes, I read about it in the papers. You were mentioned in despatches."

"They were very kind, because I was wounded. Have you heard anything of the missing will, or Harry Forsyth?"

"Not a word; but I hope for better times still," he replied.

"So do I, Reginald, with all my heart. You have found life as a private soldier a severe trial, I fear."

"Not out here, campaigning," replied Kavanagh. "At home it was certainly trying at first. But the sergeant is waiting for me."