The street fighting was over, darkness had fallen upon the city, and the weary troops at length bivouacked for the night. In addition to the wear and tear of the actual fighting, they had marched at least fifteen miles, for the most part in the full heat of the sun. Many of the men simply lay down as they were, and at once fell fast asleep. After the army an apparently endless succession of baggage animals filed wearily through the town. I gave up all hope of finding camels and servants amid the general confusion, and betook myself to the Camerons. The other correspondents went on, and, failing to discover their baggage, had to sleep on the ground without food or blankets. I fared much better. Inside my pocket was a small tin of potted meat, and, as Captain Maclachlan had some biscuits, we intended to devour these before going to sleep with our helmets for pillows. But a joyful surprise was in store for us. By a great piece of good luck, some of the regimental baggage camels happened to pass by, and these were speedily annexed, with splendid results. My kind host invited me to dinner, and what a meal we had! On a central packing-case, which served as a _buffet_, stood several tins of "Suffolk pie" and ox tongue, and for every man a biscuit or two. How delightful it was to eat these tinned dainties--the only meat-food which had passed our lips that day! Then came the crowning mercy. Maclachlan unearthed a bottle of champagne from some mysterious source, and we shared the generous wine between us. Our tumblers were the lower halves of whisky bottles, cut round by string soaked in turpentine and then set alight. We drank many toasts--the Sirdar, the Army, Friends in England now Abed, etc. Our fatigues were all forgotten, and we felt so amiable that I really think that if the Khalifa had been within reach we should have sent him an invitation to join us, and bring Osman Digna with him. This dinner-party in the open street of Omdurman was one of the pleasantest I have ever attended--_olim meminisse juvabit_! At length we wrapped ourselves in blankets for the night, and lay down upon the sand. All around was heard the heavy, regular breathing of strong men, utterly tired out by the excitement and labours of the eventful day. With the exception of occasional shots from Sudanese looters or Dervish "snipers" across the river, perfect stillness reigned over the thousands of men who lay in the large open spaces of the city. Not a sound broke the silence--the camp was asleep, and "All that mighty heart was lying still!"