alternate roars and silence as of waves breaking on 2 rock-bound coast. There was no doubt in our minds now that the tactics of the Atbara had been repeated, and that the zareebas were being shelled preparatory to being stormed; the conjecture was wrong, as we learned later. Then the rattle of musketry was borne down on the wind; it was not the rattle of dervish rifles either; we knew the sound of these when fired. Then followed a long silence, only to be succeeded by another terrific fusillade; to us prisoners, it was the reserve zarecba which was now being carried. But the tale of the battle is old, and who has not heard of that second fight on the day of Omdurman, when MacDonald's brigade withstood the combined attack of the armies of Sheikh ed Din and Yacoub?
One must go amongst the survivors of that attack to learn the details of the fight. Those having glasses in the British lines must have noticed Yacoub prancing about on horseback in front of his lines; this was in imitation of the man he could see on horseback in front of the brigade which was mowing down his men by hundreds at each volley. They have learned since who the man was, and "MacDonald" with "Es Sirdar" is now a name to conjure with in the Soudan. It was not the first time MacDonald had so terribly which they had expected would throw down their arms and bolt, as in olden days.
While all this was occurring on the field of battle, I in prison, to hide my excitement — and really to calm my overstrung nerves, — took the Ratib of Ibrahim
