"Before Khartum had fallen, before Berber had surrendered.

But they would not." The magic of the sunset was not at all in Durrance's thoughts.

The story of the letter had struck upon a chord of reverence within him.

He was occupied with the history of that honest, great, impracticable soldier, who, despised by officials and thwarted by intrigues, a man of few ties and much loneliness, had gone unflaggingly about his work, knowing the while that the moment his back was turned the work was in an instant all undone.
Darkness came upon the troops, the camels quickened their pace, the cicadas shrilled from every tuft of grass.

The detachment moved down toward the well of Disibil.