The Expedition—Enemy reported—Miles in a Dilemma.  
Every one has heard of the expedition, sent out under Sir John McNeill, in which that gallant general and his brave troops fought with indomitable heroism, not only against courageous foes, but against errors which, as a civilian, we will not presume to criticise, and against local difficulties which were said to be absolutely insurmountable.
 
Blame was due somewhere in connection with that expedition. Wherever it lay, we have a strong conviction—founded on the opinion of one who was present—that it did not rest with the commander of the force. It is not, however, our part to comment, but to describe those events which bore upon the fortunes of our hero and his immediate friends and comrades.
 
It was about four o’clock on an uncommonly hot morning that the bugle sounded in Suakim, and soon the place was alive with men of all arms, devouring a hasty breakfast and mustering eagerly, for they were elated at the near prospect of having “another slap at Osman!”
 
Strange, the unaccountably exultant joy which so many men experience at the prospect of killing each other! No doubt the Briton maintains that it is all in defence of Queen and country, hearth and home. An excellent reason, of course! But may not the Soudanese claim that the defence of chief and country, tent and home, is an equally good reason—especially when he rises to defend himself from the exactions and cruelty of those superlative tyrants, the Turks, or rather, the Turkish Pashas?—for we verily believe that the rank and file of all civilised nations would gladly live at peace if their rulers would deal in arbitration instead of war! We almost feel that an apology is due for introducing such a remark in a book about soldiers, for their duty is clear as well as hard, and bravely is it done too. Moreover, they are in no way responsible for the deeds of those:
 
    “Fine old English gentlemen
 
        Who sit at home at ease,
 
    And send them forth to fight and die
 
        Beyond the stormy seas!”
 
The troops composing this expedition consisted of one squadron of the 5th Lancers, one battalion Berkshire Regiment, one battalion of Marines, one Field Company Royal Engineers, a detachment of the Royal Navy in charge of four Gardner guns, a regiment of Sikhs, Bengal Native Infantry, Bombay Native Infantry, and a body of Madras Sappers. Along with these was sent an immense convoy of 1500 camels, besides a large number of mules with carts bearing iron water-tanks.
 
The orders for the expedition were that they should proceed eight miles into the bush, and there make three zerebas, or defensive enclosures of bushes, capable of sheltering the entire force.
 
The march was begun by McNeill moving off with his European troops in square formation. The Indian contingent, under General Hudson, followed, also in square, and in charge of the transport.
 
“A goodly force!” remarked Armstrong, in a low tone to Miles, as they stepped off, shoulder to shoulder, for, being both about the same size, and unusually tall, they marched together on the right flank of their company.
 
“Don’t speak in the ranks, Willie,” returned Miles, with a slight smile, for he could not shut his eyes to the fact that this strict regard for orders was due more to Marion Drew’s remarks about a soldier’s duty than to principle.
 
“H’m!” grunted Robert Macleod, who marched next to them, and had no conscientious scruples about talking, “we may mairch oot smert eneugh, but some o’ us’ll no’ come back sae hearty.”
 
“Some of us will never come back at all,” replied Armstrong, gravely.
 
By six o’clock the rear-guard had left Suakim, and the whole of the force moved across the plain, in parts of which the men and carts sank deep in the soft sand, while in other parts the formations were partly broken by thick bush, in which the force became somewhat entangled. The cavalry went in advance as scouts. The guns, water-carts, and ammunition-wagons were in the centre, and the Indian Brigade came last, surrounding the unwieldy mass of baggage-animals. Last of all came the telegraph detachment, unrolling as they went the wire that kept open communication with head-quarters.
 
That a mistake had been made somewhere was obvious; but as the soul of military discipline is obedience without question, the gallant leader pressed forward, silently and steadily, whatever he may have thought.
 
Soon the force became so hopelessly entangled in the difficulties of the way, that the rate of advance dwindled down to little more than one mile an hour.
 
Not long after starting a trooper was seen galloping back, and Miles, who marched at the right corner of his square, observed that it was his friend Johnson, looking very stern indeed. Their eyes met.
 
“Not half enough of cavalry,” he growled, as he flew past to report, “The enemy in sight—retiring in small parties in the direction of Tamai.”
 
In returning, Johnson again rode close past the same corner of the square, and, bending low in his saddle for a moment, said to Miles, “I have signed the pledge, my boy.”
 
A slight laugh from several of those who heard him greeted the information, but he probably did not hear it, for next moment his charger cleared a low bush in a magnificent stride, and in a few seconds man and horse were lost to sight in the bush.
 
“More need to sign his will,” remarked Simkin, in a somewhat cynical tone.
 
“He has done that too,” said Armstrong. “I heard him say so before we started.”
 
The troops were halted to enable the two generals to consult at this point.
 
While the men stood at ease, enjoying the brief rest from severe toil under such a burning sun, our hero heard a low voice at his elbow say—
 
“Have you signed your will, John Miles?” It was a startling, as well as a sudden, question!
 
Miles turned quickly and found that it was Captain Lacey who had put it.
 
The feeling of dislike with which our young soldier had regarded the captain ever since his interruption of the conversation between himself and Marion, on board ship, had abated, but had not by any means disappeared. He had too much sense, however, to allow the state of his feelings to influence his looks or bearing.
 
“Yes, sir,” he replied; “I made it out last night, as you advised me, in the service form. It was witnessed by our colonel and Captain Smart and the doctor. To say truth, I thought it absurd for a man who has nothing to leave to make his will, but as you said, sir, I should like my dear mother to get my kit and any arrears of pay that may be due to me after I’m gone.”
 
“I did not mean you to take such a gloomy view of your prospects,” said Captain Lacey, with a laugh. “But you know in our profession we always carry our lives in our hands, and it would be foolish not to take ordinary precautions—”
 
The order to resume the march here cut short the conversation, and the force continued its slow and all but impossible advance. Indeed it was soon seen that to reach the distance of eight miles out, in the circumstances, was quite beyond the power of the troops, willing, anxious, and vigorous though they were, for the bush became closer and higher as they advanced, so that a mounted man c............