As there was absolutely nothing else to do on the island--and it is always a good thing to engage in some more or less arduous work when one is inclined to take a pessimistic view of one's surroundings--I scrambled up to the top of Gebel Rojan, a rocky hill about three hundred feet high. From this Pisgah height one could trace far away to the south the faint outlines of the hills of Omdurman, our Promised Land! Below, on the desert plain, three Egyptian battalions were marching forward, their right flank guarded by squadrons of cavalry. The rifle barrels and steel scabbards glinted brightly in the rising sunlight, and the columns themselves looked like sinuous lines of ants threading their way through the scrub. We were all very bad-tempered when the _El Tahra_ returned once more; but this time, mercifully, the steamer was no longer in the hands of the punctilious sapper, with his combination of red tape and rudeness. The new commander ventured upon the independent exercise of his own common sense, and most kindly conveyed us across the river without further ado. Whether he was subsequently reprimanded by the authorities for this act of ordinary politeness I do not know. By the time we had landed from the steamer, and the servants had discovered the whereabouts of our camels and luggage, it was nearly two o'clock, and the camp had practically broken up. The native battalions had left early in the morning, as I had seen from the summit of Gebel Rojan, and had been followed by General Gatacre's division. The Sirdar and his staff, the Intelligence Department, the correspondents, and the baggage were to leave at four o'clock; so there was barely time to get a scratch meal before we saw to the loading of our camels, and again set out on our forward march towards Omdurman. Both Cross and I had intended to walk, but Steevens and Maud most kindly put a couple of their extra horses at our disposal. The animal I rode was a polo pony from Cairo, in excellent condition and full of "go." It hated to be alone for a moment, and if in the scrub it found itself separated from the rest of the column, either in the rear or on the flank, and the rein was at all loose, it would suddenly, without any warning, make a clean bolt to rejoin its companions; and when a borrowed horse tears at full gallop through mimosa bushes and over the rough sandy soil intersected with _nullahs_, one is precious glad to be able to return it to its owner in the evening without a couple of broken knees or worse.