was now exposed to attack.

Never since the siege began had the foe shown such initiative and
audacity. They had relied on the pressure of famine and decimation by
sickness, the steady effects of sorties, with consequent fatalities and
desertions, to bring the Liberator of the Slaves to his knees. Ebn Ezra
Bey had sought to keep quiet the sheikhs far south, but he had been shut
up in Darffur for months, and had been in as bad a plight as David. He
had, however, broken through at last. His ruse in leaving the steamers
in the night and marching across the desert was as courageous as it was
perilous, for, if discovered before he reached the beleaguered place,
nothing could save his little force from destruction. There was one way
in from the desert to the walled town, and it was through that space
which Achmet and his men had occupied, and on which Ali Wad Hei might
now, at any moment, throw his troops.

David's heart sank as he saw the danger. From the palace he had sent an
orderly with a command to an officer to move forward and secure the
position, but still the gap was open, and the men he had ordered to
advance remained where they were. Every minute had its crisis.

As Lacey and himself left the town the misery of the place smote him in
the eyes. Filth, refuse, debris filled the streets. Sick and dying men
called to him from dark doorways, children and women begged for bread,
carcasses lay unburied, vultures hovering above them--his tireless
efforts had not been sufficient to cope with the daily horrors of the
siege. But there was no sign of hostility to him. Voices called
blessings on him from dark doorways, lips blanching in death commended
him to Allah, and now and then a shrill call told of a fighter who had
been laid low, but who had a spirit still unbeaten. Old men and women