CHAPTER VI.


So the _Korosko_ had been taken, and the chances of rescue upon which
they had reckoned--all those elaborate calculations of hours and
distances--were as unsubstantial as the mirage which shimmered upon the
horizon. There would be no alarm at Halfa until it was found that the
steamer did not return in the evening. Even now, when the Nile was only
a thin green band upon the farthest horizon, the pursuit had probably
not begun. In a hundred miles, or even less, they would be in the
Dervish country. How small, then, was the chance that the Egyptian
forces could overtake them. They all sank into a silent, sulky despair,
with the exception of Belmont, who was held back by the guards as he
strove to go to his wife's assistance.

The two bodies of camel-men had united, and the Arabs, in their grave,
dignified fashion, were exchanging salutations and experiences, while
the negroes grinned, chattered, and shouted, with the careless
good-humour which even the Koran has not been able to alter. The leader
of the new-comers was a greybeard, a worn, ascetic, high-nosed old man,
abrupt and fierce in his manner, and soldierly in his bearing.
The dragoman groaned when he saw him, and flapped his hands miserably
with the air of a man who sees trouble accumulating upon trouble.

"It is the Emir Abderrahman," said he. "I fear now that we shall never
come to Khartoum alive."

The name meant nothing to the others, but Colonel Cochrane had heard of
him as a monster of cruelty and fanaticism, a red-hot Moslem of the old