All was quiet, except for a few 'sniping' shots from the top of Surgham.
But gradually as Maxwell's brigade--the third in the echelon--approached
the hill, these shots became more numerous, until the summit of the peak
was spotted with smoke-puffs. The British division moved on steadily, and,
leaving these bold skirmishers to the Soudanese, soon reached the crest of
the ridge. At once and for the first time the whole panorama of Omdurman--
the brown and battered dome of the Mahdi's Tomb, the multitude of mud
houses, the glittering fork of water which marked the confluence of the
rivers--burst on their vision. For a moment they stared entranced.
Then their attention was distracted; for trotting, galloping, or halting
and gazing stupidly about them, terrified and bewildered, a dozen riderless
troop-horses appeared over the further crest--for the ridge was flat-topped
--coming from the plain, as yet invisible, below. It was the first news of
the Lancers' charge. Details soon followed in the shape of the wounded,
who in twos and threes began to make their way between the battalions,
all covered with blood and many displaying most terrible injuries--
faces cut to rags, bowels protruding, fishhook spears still stuck in their
bodies--realistic pictures from the darker side of war. Thus absorbed,
the soldiers hardly noticed the growing musketry fire from the peak.
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