Here and there, too, horses were stretched motionless, or else tossed restlessly to and fro, unable to rise. I cannot account for the fact, but the sight of a wounded horse is much more painful to myself, and, I know, to many other men, than the sight of a wounded man. As one walks over a battlefield one gazes with indifference or vague curiosity on mangled heaps of human bodies, but where one sees a horse cruelly torn by a shell splinter, raising and drooping its head upon the sand, with terror and anguish in its beautiful eyes--such a sight as this must fill the heart of any lover of animals with pain and pity. Our native battalions were soon busily engaged in killing the wounded. The Sudanese undertook this task with evident relish, and never spared a single Dervish along their path. On our left front, at the foot of the Surgham slope, where the opening shell fire of the batteries on the left had covered the hillside with dead and wounded, a large number of servants and camp followers were also busy. These harpies, intent solely on loot, had armed themselves with various weapons. Some carried clubs or spears, others had managed to secure old rifles. They advanced with great caution, and I saw them fire repeatedly into bodies which were already quite dead, before they dared to rush in and strip the corpse of its arms and clothing. These cowardly wretches ought most certainly to have been prevented from carrying on this irresponsible shooting. They fired anyhow, without looking to see who was in front, and their bullets continually ricochetted against the rocks. One of these bullets passed quite close to the front of our brigade as we advanced, and I heard that an officer was wounded by another. The barbarous usage of killing the wounded has become traditional in Sudanese warfare, and in some cases it must be looked upon as a painful necessity. The wounded Dervishes--as I saw with my own eyes, and on one occasion nearly felt with my own body--sometimes raised themselves and fired one last round at our advancing line. On one occasion a wounded Baggara suddenly rose up from a little heap of bodies and stabbed no less than seven Egyptian cavalry troopers before he was finally dispatched. Still, when all has been said in defence of this practice, it is certain that in many cases wounded Dervishes, unarmed and helpless, were butchered from sheer wantonness and lust of bloodshed. The whole formed a hideous picture, not easy to forget.