310 
SAVAGE SUDAN 
hundreds not dissimilar scattered throughout the deserts. 
Twice we have encamped on its plutonic slopes at the 
precise spot whereat, on that (to them) fatal First of 
September 1898, the Dervish hosts spent their last 
bivouac. At dawn, from the rock-ridge above, where 
the Kalipha’s “Black Flag” flew on the decisive day, 
it was easy to “reconstitute” the whole tragic scene 
with its stirring incidents and once critical moments. 
Three miles northward, low and dark, lies the Kerreri 
range, and it was upon the interposed plain that the 
Kalipha, greatly daring, challenged British power. 
The result is visible to-day. For miles in all direc¬ 
tions, the desert is scored and punctuated by long lines 
of head-stones, each denoting a dead Dervish-—fanatics ; 
yet brave men who faced death for the faith that was 
in them. As such we must respect them; none the 
less is it true that the only good Dervish is a dead 
Dervish. To-day (1919), after more than twenty years, 
the graves of the fallen Emirs, Osman Azrak, Yakub, 
Bishara, and other mighty men of war, are still marked 
by white stones and adorned by white flags fluttering 
from bamboos—still renewed, still venerated. But the 
only animate objects within sight are the big, plover-like 
desert-larks ( Certhilauda) and perhaps, away to the 
southward, a troop of gazelles. 
The ravine where the 21st Lancers were ambushed 
by Osman Digna and his Hadendowas lies behind, 
towards the river-—a dry torrent-bed, shallow, and sur¬ 
prisingly insignificant. Nowhere does the exposed rock- 
formation exceed a yard in vertical height; nor does its 
breadth average a dozen yards. That 3000 armed men 
could find concealment in so puny a ditch bespeaks the 
fieldcraft of that wily Arab chieftain. On the other 
hand, one realises at a glance how easy it was for the 
charging Lancers to overlook the danger. From 200 
yards’ distance, the paltry khor is practically invisible, its 
lip hidden by bent-grass and dwarf mimosa-scrub. 
