t supply of water. They had, at starting, given Gregory
a gourd of water for his own use. This he had taken sparingly, and it
lasted him until they reached the Atbara.

It was now dead low water, and the river offered no obstacle to
crossing, as the bed was for the most part dry, with pools here and
there. The Arab encampment was formed in a thick grove of trees, which
afforded some shelter from the sun.

Day after day passed. Mahmud was now informed as to the strength of the
force he should have to encounter, and for the first time felt some
doubt as to the issue of the fight. He determined, therefore, to stand
on the defensive. This decision, however, he kept to himself. The
Dervishes were burning to be led to the assault, and became almost
mutinous, on account of the delay. Mahmud was obliged to take the
strongest measures, and several of those who were loudest in their
dissatisfaction were summarily executed. The rest were pacified with
the assurance that he was only waiting for a fortunate day.

In the meantime, the men were employed in fortifying the position. Deep
holes were dug along the edge of the wood, and behind these were
trenches and pitfalls. Mahmud's own temper grew daily more sullen and
fierce. His own fighting instinct was in favour of the attack his
followers longed to deliver, but in his heart he was afraid that the
result might be fatal. It was not the rifles of the infantry that he
feared--of these he had no experience--but the artillery, which he had
learned, already, could be used with terrible effect.

As Mahmud was drinking heavily, and as the fact that the white soldiers
were near at hand added to the fanatical hatred of the emirs and
tribesmen, Fatma sent a message by a slave to Gregory, warning him not
to show himself outside the little shelter tent, composed of a single
blanket, in which he now lived.

At length it became known that the English host was approaching. As
soon as the gunboats brought down news that the Dervishes were no
longer following the river bank, but were disappearing into the desert,
the Sirdar guessed their intentions. Nothing could have suited him
better. A battle now must be a decisive one. There was no way of
retreat open to the Dervishes, except to cross the waterless desert; or
to fly south, keeping to the course of the Atbara, which would take
them farther and farther from the Nile with every mile they marched.

Bringing up all his force, therefore, from Ke