28 The Light That Failed spash in the distance, and the clamor about him seemed to die down to a very far-away whisper, like the whisper of a level sea. There was the revolver and the red light... . and the voice of some one scaring something away, exactly as had fallen somewhere before, — a darkness that stung. He fired at random, and the bullet went out across the desert as he muttered, “Spoilt my aim. There aren’t any more cartridges. We shall have to run home.” He put his hand to his head and brought it away covered with blood. “Old man, you’re cut rather badly,” said Torpenhow. “TI owe you something for this business. Thanks. Stand up! I say, you can’t be ill here.” Throughout the night, when the troops were encamped by the whale-boats, a black figure danced in the strong moonlight on the sand-bar and shouted that Khartoum the accursed one was dead, — was dead, — was dead, — that two steamers were rock-staked on the Nile outside the city, and that of all their crews there remained not one; and Khartoum was dead, — was dead, — was dead! But Torpenhow took no heed. He was watching Dick, who called aloud to the restless Nile for Maisie, — and again Maisie! “Behold a phenomenon,” said Torpenhow, rearranging the blanket. “Here is a man, presumably human, who mentions the name of one woman only. And I’ve seen a good deal of delirium, too. — Dick, here’s some fizzy drink.” “Thank you, Maisie,” said Dick.