On the fourth day, as the troops were passing over a plain of sand which stretched away to the horizon all round, without a shrub to break the monotony, only here and there a block of rock, or the skeleton of a camel, showing where some wretched overtried animal had sunk under the too great presumption upon his wonderful powers of endurance, the scouts gave notice of Arab approach, and a figure could be seen coming over the summit of a sand-hill, thus proving that the ground, though apparently flat, was undulating.
Field-glasses were turned towards the object, which could then be recognised as a man mounted on a camel, and the distance beyond him was eagerly scanned for the host of which he was assumed at first to be the precursor. But no one else appeared; he was quite alone, and he came directly towards the troops.
As he was well mounted, and they were moving to meet him, it was not long before he was quite close, and then it could be seen that he was dressed in robe and turban, with a shawl round his waist, and that these garments, as well as his face, were stained with blood. And he leaned forward on his camel, as if well-nigh exhausted with wounds and fatigue.
When the officer out with the scouts met and accosted him, he demanded to be led to the chief, and when he was accordingly brought before the General, he said—
“I am the Sheikh Moussa. Neither I nor any of my tribe have acknowledged the Mahdi, whom we hold to be a False Prophet and impostor. Whereupon he sent a body of troops to attack the village where seven families of us dwelt. They came at the rising of the moon, and set fire to our huts, but we flew to arms, and thrice drove them back, slaying two for one. But they were ten to one, and at each onset we were fewer and more weary. At last the fight turned to mere slaughter. I sought my dromedary and fled, in hopes of vengeance. They have slain my wife, my children, my slaves; there is a blood feud between the Mahdi and me. Then I remembered that the Turks led by Englishmen were at Khartoum, preparing for an attack upon my enemy, and I said, I will seek the English Turk, the Hicks Pasha, and I will say, ‘I would be avenged upon my enemy, but I am alone, and what can one arm do? I have a sharp sword, I have a far-killing gun, I have a blood feud with your enemy. Let me fight in your ranks.’ I rode part of a night, and a day, and a second night; I had only filled my water-bottle once. It ran dry; my wounds grew stiff. I said, ‘I shall never reach Khartoum, I shall die unavenged. It is Allah’s will; praise to Allah, and the One Prophet, for whom I am.’ When lo! The English-led Turk army has risen up and gone forth to meet me. It is Fate.”
He had a drink of water given to him, and then the General asked him if he knew El Obeid well.
“Every street, every corner of the ramparts,” he replied. “Did I not take part in the defence when the Mahdi—may his grave be defiled!—was driven from them with slaughter?”
“You may ride with us,” said the General. “Look to his cuts, Howard,” he added, seeing him close by, with a sponge and a bandage already in his hand.
It was a sparing drop of water that was used, and that was presently drunk with avidity, defiled as it was. Howard declared the cuts to be mere flesh wounds of no consequence.
“I am the most unlucky fellow that ever was!” he exclaimed; “I never do get any gun-shot wounds, hardly.”