"Into the Unknown" (continued 2)

Chapter Eight.

A Night Attack.

Being perfectly secure from Mormon interference—at all events, for the moment—Grenville and the two Zulus proceeded somewhat leisurely on their way to the rock, for, truth to tell, all three were suffering from both hunger and fatigue, and their one single consolation consisted of a good smoke.

And now, as they gradually knocked off the weary miles which lay between the central river and the great rock, Grenville heard the details of the Zulu expedition to the eastern bridge.

These active children of the veldt had made a very wide détour during the first night, and safely reached the desired shelter of the timber about an hour before dawn, and had watched and slept by turns all day, having first satisfied themselves that no large force of the enemy was near at hand. On the bridge they found two guards instead of one, which, as they said, “made their hearts glad, as the fight would be a fair one,” for the astute Myzukulwa had determined that at least three rockets should go up, by hook or by crook. Instead, therefore, of alarming the sentinels by showing their persons at dusk, they came upon the miserable men in the most approved Zulu fashion, and settled them out of hand, without even giving them the chance of firing a shot.

The pair had then coolly sat down and talked, debating how many rockets to fire, and had ultimately concluded that Amaxosa, who was quite au fait with the method of sending up these aerial messengers, should despatch five, and thus cause the Mormons to believe that Winfield and the escaped Zulu had joined themselves to the audacious invaders of their secret kingdom.

No sooner was this operation satisfactorily performed than the brothers prepared to set out for the central bridge, when they were all at once assailed by five or six Mormons, who had sprung from somewhere close at hand, and a desperate battle of course ensued. One of the attacking party, in trying to shoot Myzukulwa, had kindly missed that worthy and “potted” one of his own friends, and in less time than it takes to tell, three of the enemy were dead and the others retreating at full speed; but not knowing how many more might be lying hid, the Zulus for a wonder concluded discretion to be the better part of valour, and after turning off the bridge had come at a slinging trot all the way to Grenville’s position, which, as we have already seen, they reached just in the very nick of time.

When the trio had put in nearly two hours’ solid work, poor Grenville grew faint with fatigue, exposure, and loss of blood. The grey ghostly mists of dawn were now hanging over the party on every side; but, as far as Amaxosa could judge, they were still an hour’s journey from the rock, and as the Mormons might have sent a fast detachment by the western bridge, it behoved our friends to lose no time.

For some way the faithful Zulus, themselves nearly dead beat, half supported, half carried Grenville, only to find, when they spoke to him, that he was fast asleep on his feet; laying him gently down, the pair looked at each other as if wondering what to do, when suddenly a colossal figure seemed to burst out of the mist and dash right down upon them at full speed; in one instant the Zulus sprang over their fallen chief and raised their spears to meet the foe, but all at once Myzukulwa lowered his weapon quietly. “Ow! Inkoos,” he said. “Ow!”

The new arrival was Alf Leigh, riding the quagga, which had shortly before carried the lovely Rose of Sharon. Seeing his cousin’s motionless and bloodstained body, he threw himself off the animal and fell on his knees beside it. “Dick! Dick! my poor old Dick—dead! dead! dead! Oh, God! oh, God! what shall I do? Would I had died for thee, my dear old Dick!”

“Stay, Inkoos,” said Amaxosa gently. “My father the lion-hearted chief is not dead; he does but sleep the sleep of the wounded and the weary. At yonder bridge, by the dark River of Death, did the sons of Undi find their father, the mighty warrior, surrounded by heaps upon heaps of dead and dying men, and also by men yet living who thirsted for his blood; but his faithful war-dogs chased away these evil ones; even as the chaff they flew before the fierce wind; but they were not, for the sons of Undi slew them. And but now, as you came, had we laid the Inkoos our father on the grass, for he sleeps a sleep of weariness, of cold, of hunger, and of blood; and we, his weary children, are too worn to carry him; yet if the Inkoos will take our father on the horse, we will aid him gladly.”

And so the noble fellows did; and Leigh, with fervent thanks to Heaven for the miraculous escape of his beloved cousin, lifted him on to the quagga, and held him there with Myzukulwa’s help, whilst Amaxosa took the animal’s head, and led the way at a quiet pace—not, however, before Leigh had first refreshed the Zulus with a strong nip of brandy.

At last they reached the rock, just as the sun rose, and laid the still unconscious Grenville down to have his rest out, whilst the Zulus flung their tired bodies down and were instantly asleep.

When our hero at last awoke, feeling stiff, sore, and very hungry, he stared about him in sheer astonishment, and wondered whether he still dreamed. He had no recollection of having reached the rock, yet he knew he was inside it, and quickly realised that he must have been in some way carried there.

To rest was soothing, but the pangs of hunger were gnawing his very vitals, and heaving a weary sigh he made a movement to rise. At this moment a small white hand was laid upon his shoulder, and a sweet voice, which he at once recognised, said in tones of playful command, “Lie still, sir; I can’t afford to let you become an invalid.”

“Ah! young lady,” he said, “and how is the Rose of Sharon this morning, and did her curious-looking pony bring her safely here?”

“Thank you, I am very well,” replied the young girl, coming round to the other side of the cavern and looking down upon him as he leaned lazily on one elbow; “only it isn’t morning, but four o’clock in the afternoon; and don’t you mock at my little horse—you would never have got here but for him. There now, don’t talk any more. Just lie down again and I’ll bring you some food, which Dora is getting ready;” but as Rose turned away Miss Winfield herself entered with a big plateful of boiled fish, the best food, she said, they could offer him at present.

Both girls looked fresh and hearty, and neat as new pins, much to Grenville’s surprise, for the storm of the night before was calculated to have ruined every garment they possessed.

Whilst he ate greedily, the girls explained that the storm had hardly touched them until near the rock itself, and by dint of making the poor quagga carry double burden they had practically arrived in shelter before any serious harm was done.

“Very hard on the animal, Mr Grenville, I can assure you,” said Dora; “two of Rose wouldn’t have mattered so much, you know, but when I got on his back I felt certain I could hear him groan. When the poor little beastie got here he thought, I suppose, that he could rest, but the moment the storm began to clear off Mr Leigh insisted on mounting him and riding away to look for you. He found you lying so fast asleep that he took you for dead, and the Zulus were at their wits’ end, not knowing what to do, so you were mounted and brought here in a state of unconsciousness.”

“Well done, Alf,” said Grenville; “it was a risky thing to set out by himself in this country so mounted and on such a night, but he always was a plucky fellow. Where is everybody, Miss Winfield?”

“My father and the Zulus have gone to Amaxosa’s cave to bring up the rest of the dried meat at nightfall, and have taken the quagga with them, and your cousin is here to look after Rose and myself.”

“And a very good judge, too,” said Grenville, noticing that the fair girl blushed when she named his cousin; “but Miss Winfield—”

“Won’t you call me Dora?” said the girl; “Mr Leigh does.”

“With pleasure,” said Grenville heartily, “provided you will play fairly and call me Dick.”

This was agreed upon, as also that Rose and himself should be equally intimate for the future.

“You see,” explained Miss Winfield, “we have been called Sister Rose and Sister Dora so long, that surnames sound odd to us, and I really think they are somewhat out of place in the African bush.”

“Well, Dora, I was about to say,” resumed Grenville, “that I have enjoyed the fish very much, and am extremely glad to know that we can procure such a valuable addition to our scanty bill of fare; but haven’t you been unwise to light a fire in the daytime? Believe me, these Mormon bloodhounds are to be feared, and we are by no means out of the wood yet.”

Both girls laughed, and then quoth Rose: “You forget I am a Mormon bloodhound, sir, and that this is my country; and let me tell you we own many strange and wonderful things—amongst them, a boiling spring, which bubbles up close to the rock, if you know where to find it, and therein we have cooked all our food. Seriously, I must thank you very, very much for helping me yesterday, and let me add that all the annals of our race contain no instance of such determined bravery and devoted heroism as you exhibited at the bridge last night. You saved me from death or worse than death, at the hands of the detested Holy Three; and when the time comes, remember that the Mormon queen will pay you life for life.” And with the tears starting from her fine eyes this strange girl swept imperially away, followed almost immediately by Dora, after she had first instructed Grenville to sleep again, which he did, dreaming alternately of fair-haired and dark-browed maidens, and Mormons thirsting for his blood.

All that night Grenville again slept soundly, and when he awoke in the morning he was quite his own man again, much to the relief of all concerned.

His first act was to make several necessary provisions for the comfort of the young ladies, after which he again inspected the defences of the rock with a dissatisfied air.

“What’s the matter with the place, Dick?” said Leigh; “it’s impregnable.”

“Not a bit of it, Alf,” was the reply; “if they attack any night before the moon rises, they can shoot us through our own loopholes like rats in a cage.”

“I never thought of that,” said Leigh, pulling a long face; and having called the rest of the fighting brigade into council, this serious difficulty was discussed at considerable length, but the only, and to Grenville unsatisfactory, conclusion arrived at was to lay on the ground after nightfall a number of small fires made of resinous wood, and connected with the rock by trains of powder. The Zulus were to patrol the neighbourhood from dusk until moonrise, and give notice of any hostile approach, when the trains would be fired and the beacons lighted, to enable the besieged to shoot accurately. This scheme had weak points about it which disturbed Grenville, who now knew the fighting qualities of the Mormons. Still he could suggest nothing better, and could only hope their enemies would altogether fail to discover the present position of the devoted little band. Scouting parties had several times been seen outlying on the adjacent veldt, but it was only after the lapse of three full days that Myzukulwa found a Mormon skulking in the woods, and clearly watching their movements: him he slew, but it was evident that the man was only an advance guard, for that very night, as soon as darkness set in, both scouts gave the danger signal within a few moments of each other, and as soon as they had regained the rock, Grenville lighted the fires, and sent his marksmen to the loopholes.

This movement was only executed just in time, for about three score Mormons were already half-way across the open glade. For another hundred yards they advanced steadily, under a murderous fire, and then gave way, and fled back to their covers, leaving upwards of a dozen men on the ground, having failed in getting within range to fire a single shot from their own guns.

“Alf,” said Grenville, “this won’t do at all: three of our shots were thrown away, for on three several occasions we both took the same man; you keep the left advance in hand and I’ll take care of the right.”

Winfield, who had loaded all the captured Mormon guns, was anxious to join in the fray, but the enemy was of course quite out of his reach, and the two Zulus were fairly itching to use their spears, where they stood guarding the entrance to the cave.

Again the Mormons tried a rush, and again were driven back by the deadly hail of bullets from the repeating rifles, and quickly retreating into the woods, all grew still as death. And but for the corpses strewn about the sward no one would have imagined that a fierce and bloody fight was even now in progress.

Half an hour passed, and dashing the butt of his rifle on the ground, Grenville swore roundly.

“Just what I expected; the cunning rascals are waiting till yonder beacons are burnt out, and then they’ll rush us.”

“Can’t we mend the fires?” anxiously suggested Leigh; “we’ve plenty of fuel.”

“No, old man, they’ve got a rifle hidden in the grass less than 100 yards from every fire. Just watch, and you’ll see. Yonder scoundrel is 500 yards if he is an inch, but I’ll see if I can’t rouse the snake out of that.”

A careful sight preceded the report, and the concealed Mormon bounded from his hiding-place, with a bullet through his shoulder, only to be shot dead before he could move another yard.

A cry of astonishment broke from the forest—the range of the English rifles exceeded all they had feared or believed.

And now fire after fire died out, and Grenville commanded his little party to take up certain positions, where they would be more or less screened, and also confided the two girls to a perfectly safe corner, and then waited the result, straining his eyes through the darkness to catch a glimpse of the foe, as he felt sure the Mormon crowd must now be on their way across the open space and speeding towards the rock.

Just at this critical moment the beleaguered party was relieved, and at the same time fairly astonished by an extraordinary occurrence. Half-way between the rock and the fringe of forest the ashes of one fire had been quietly smouldering for some moments, after all the other beacons were clean burnt out; and now, as all listened intently, expecting to hear the cautious tread of the approaching foe, a curious rumbling sound was heard, and a single instant later a liquid column of fire suddenly burst from the ground, shooting up to the height of thirty or forty feet, where it uniformly hung like a gigantic fountain of living flame, whose waves, as they reached the ground, scorched the grass and rolled irresistibly towards the forest like a sea of blazing boiling lava.

The fire had burnt through the earth’s crust and ignited a vast reservoir of petroleum, which now sprang heavenwards in a vivid pillar of lurid light, plainly revealing every stick and stone for fully half a mile around the rock.

All this Grenville realised as it were by instinct; but there was no time to observe the extraordinary natural phenomenon, for the whole Mormon army appeared to be rushing across the open glade within two hundred and fifty yards of the rock.

The fire of the besieged was close and deadly; and though upwards of twenty men fell to rise no more, whilst another score or two turned tail and incontinently fled into cover, still some ten in number, braver than their comrades, gained the rock and attempted to enter, only to fall a useless sacrifice to the spears of the Zulus and the revolvers of Leigh and Winfield.

Thus closed the Mormon attack on the rocky fortress of the little band.

Careful watch was kept all night, but at dawn not a living soul was to be seen, and ascending the rock Grenville soon found that the entire party had gone clean away, leaving only their dead and their shame.

He had at first feared that the molten stream of fire would ignite the forest; this, however, was prevented by the river near the rock, into which the boiling oil poured, and was carried harmlessly away, incalculable wealth thus being wasted hourly before their very eyes.

Chapter Nine.

Mining and Counter-Mining.

The party at the rock now passed some little time in quiet and comparative comfort. They were not in any way molested, and though strict watch was kept both by night and day, the Mormons never ventured near their position, despite the fact that the oil well had apparently exhausted itself. This, however, caused Grenville no serious uneasiness, for Winfield had found that by superficially boring the ground near to the rock, he could easily get at and ignite several similar reservoirs of inflammable oil.

It was nevertheless patent that their enemies had quite determined they should not leave the country, for from the commanding height of a neighbouring tree Grenville constantly saw large parties carefully patrolling the wide stretch of veldt lying between the rock and the great subterranean roadway, by which the little party hoped to escape.

And now, having nothing else to do, Grenville turned his mind to the acquisition of wealth, and soon had Winfield at his favourite occupation, aided by Leigh and himself, whilst the Zulus kept watch and ward, and the young girls enjoyed to the full their newly-acquired and delicious sense of freedom.

A neighbouring stream proved to be prodigiously rich in alluvial deposits of gold, and at the end of a week of hard work, the mining party found themselves possessed of close upon sixty pounds weight of the precious metal, mainly in small nuggets. In one pocket alone, which fell to the lot of Leigh, twelve pounds of gold was found and taken out in less than as many minutes, the bed of the river being a regular Tom Tiddler’s ground.

The method of procedure adopted by Winfield was somewhat curious, yet withal, extremely simple. Starting about two miles above their shelter, which was as far afield as the party dared to go, he followed the course of the stream down to, and even for some little distance beyond, the rock, and wherever he came across an eddy formed by the stones, placed a little flag on the bank to mark the spot; then damming up the narrow stream with rocks and fallen trees, he temporarily turned its course into an adjacent hollow in the ground, and set his party to work in the river-bed, on the spots where the eddies, as indicated by the flags, had formerly disported themselves.

The results were pleasing beyond their wildest anticipations, and in less than a fortnight the little river was again running peacefully along its former course, and our friends had acquired gold to the value of nearly twenty-five thousand pounds sterling—as much, in fact, as they could well carry. Only the Zulus looked on stolidly, and internally wondered how such a mighty warrior as “the Inkoos their father” could trouble his head about the “shining yellow sand.” Winfield told the cousins that the mountains in which the stream had its source had always, amongst miners, borne the reputation of a veritable El Dorado, but the insuperable difficulty—indeed, impossibility—of access from the outside world had rendered it the reverse of likely that Nature’s stores—at least in this place—would ever be rifled by the rude hand of man.

“When the alluvial workings pan out like this,” he said, “what must the fountain head be! A wretched old Kaffir once told me that he had seen an entire mountain of solid gold in these parts, and, i’ faith, I begin to believe that he was not telling such a colossal he as I at the time gave him credit for. If we could only carry the stuff away, I would risk a good deal to get at the spot; but as it is, we have quite as much as the quagga can well carry, and if we ever succeed in getting through again to the cave under the waterfall, it will puzzle us to raise either the animal or the gold up to the surface.”

These days of restful peace were, however, suddenly and rudely disturbed by an accidental discovery, which once again brought home to our friends the cunning and unscrupulous nature of the fiendish enemies with whom they had to deal.

Amaxosa, with the perversity of a native, had always insisted—all danger to the contrary notwithstanding—in sleeping outside the house of rock, in a sort of hollow in the scrub which he had dignified by the name of “bed”; but one night, just as Grenville was comfortably dozing off to sleep, whilst Myzukulwa kept watch, a hand was placed on his shoulder, and the voice of Amaxosa whispered, “Let my father rise and follow me; there is danger and witchcraft afoot.”

Springing to his feet, Grenville instantly joined the Zulus outside the cave, and heard strange and terrible tidings. It appeared that Amaxosa, when on the point of falling asleep in his “bed,” had been disturbed by singular noises, which apparently issued from the very bowels of the earth. Concluding, however, that the “spout of fire” was again about to burst out, he had paid but little attention, until the stroke of some iron instrument upon a rock and the muffled sound of a human voice had brought him to his senses in an instant.

Following the Zulu to the place indicated, Grenville listened for some little time, and clearly heard the sounds of mining underground, with now and then a word evidently of command or direction, the purport of which it was, however, impossible to guess, the voices being too deeply buried to admit of the words being heard.

After a moment of paralysed stupor Grenville realised the extent of the frightful danger to which his party was exposed by this diabolical plot. The Mormons were undermining their position, and in a few hours would blow them sky high with Winfield’s blasting powder.

Hastily, returning to the rock he awoke Leigh and Winfield, and explained matters, calling forth ejaculations of dismay from both men.

“In four or at most five hours,” said Grenville, “they will be under this spot, and unless we are clear away, Heaven help us; but on the other hand you may be certain that the forest is full of these outlying devils ready to cut off our escape.”

After a short but excited argument it was determined to try and counter-mine the foe, and starting to their feet the little party set to work to dig through their own floor with the home-made picks and shovels which they had used when seeking for gold.

All worked like blacks, and soon sank a hole forty feet deep in the soft yet firm clayey sand, and then commenced tunnelling, still, however, tending downwards. The labour was enormous and the heat stifling; still the stake, beyond all price, was the life and liberty of the whole party; and when the tunnel had been unceasingly bored for three hours Grenville pronounced it long enough, and ordered his party to strike work. He then carried down the keg of powder taken at the central bridge, which proved to contain about thirty pounds, and the contents of which were found to be in capital condition.

Then sending all back into the cave with instructions to awake the girls, pack the gold on the quagga, and prepare for a running fight to Amaxosa’s Cave, in the not improbable event of the rock being demolished, he returned to his burrow, bored the keg and laid a thick train of powder for thirty feet along the tunnel.

Then came a long anxious wait; but when our hero had been alone for nearly forty minutes, he at last heard the sound of a pick.

Gliding back to his friends, he found them ready for a start, and after seeing all outside in a safe place well on the leeside of the rock, he again crept into the tunnel. Here he waited for some little time in a fever of anxiety. He could distinctly hear the Mormons now, almost above him, and was in deadly fear lest the floor between their tunnel and his, should give way, when all would be lost. This, however, did not happen, for their enemies, overlooking the fact that the ground outside sank gradually towards the rock, and boring their shaft on the level, had approached dangerously near the upper crust of the earth.

At last the time came, and hearing the foe well above his position, and guessing by the sound of their voices that they were discussing the advisability of executing their diabolical scheme, our hero coolly stepped back some thirty feet, placed a light to his train, and as he saw the fire spurt forward along the sinuous inky-looking line of powder, darted out of his burrow, and reached the exit from the rock as the whole place seemed to be rent and torn by an ear-splitting report, and the outside air, which was for one brief moment lighted by the awful glare of the explosion, resumed its normal blackness, the silence of which was instantly broken by the groans of agony from the mutilated and dying Mormons, who had indeed been hoisted with their own petard. Quickly calling his party back to the rock, which, to his delight, was uninjured, Grenville directed Amaxosa to fire one of the oil wells, feeling sure that a Mormon rush would now be made under the impression that the audacious little band of invaders had perished.

Scarcely was this done than a small army of Mormons debouched from the woods at a run. Grenville let them get within three hundred yards of the rock, and then his party opened fire, knocking the astonished cowards over like ninepins, and in less than ten minutes the blazing pillar of fire showed only the open glade, strewn thickly with corpses, its sickly glare revealing also a mighty gaping rent in the ground, from which smoke still issued, looking as if Nature had herself prepared a Stygian grave for the dishonoured dead.

Seeing that all fear of another attack was over for the present, the little party thankfully regained the shelter of the rock, in order to discuss at their leisure the probable result of the latest Mormon disaster; and in a very short time the tired and hungry quintette of miners were enjoying a hearty breakfast, if a meal served at about three in the morning merits such a denomination.

The men were all so utterly worn out that the girls, upon their own earnest entreaty, were for once allowed to keep guard whilst the fighting brigade took their much-needed repose. Grenville felt that the watch was a mere matter of form, and so the result proved, for it was ten in the morning before he was awakened by the soft hand of Rose, who came with the astounding news that a Mormon had appeared on the edge of the forest belt, where he now stood waving a white flag, and signifying his desire to communicate with the besieged.

In a moment all had shaken off their sleep, and every man was standing at his loophole rifle in hand, the two girls being also directed to project the muzzles of two guns through the loops, whilst Grenville, from outside, guarded the opening to the rock.

Picking up his rifle, Grenville passed through the aperture, and waved his white handkerchief to the messenger as a sign to him to advance. This he did with a cautious mien, stopping altogether, however, when he had got half-way to the rock, and beckoning our friend to come and meet him. Seeing that the man was quite out of range of the rifles of his comrades, who were, no doubt, outlying in the bush, Grenville thought the proposal not unreasonable, and first, in a low voice, cautioning his little garrison to keep a watchful eye on the clearing in their rear, he strode boldly forward until he found himself within a few paces of the Mormon chief, for such he unmistakably was. A handsome man with an evil-looking face, and restless eyes, which seemed to avoid your own by instinct. A fine powerful fellow too, not much under six feet, and armed with a sword, a musket, and a brace of pistols.

The pair looked at each other for a few seconds, and then the Mormon reached out his hand with an affable smile, but Grenville contemptuously rejected his offered courtesy, saying coolly—

“No offence, my friend, but it will be time enough to indulge in handshaking when we understand each other better.”

Fire flashed from the Mormon’s eyes at this affront, for such he evidently considered it; he, however, suppressed all outward exhibition of feeling, and replied in English, as pure as Grenville’s own—

“You are right, sir! Now to business. I believe I am addressing the leader of your party, which is composed of brave men, and has given us a great deal of trouble.”

“You may consider me the head of my party,” replied Grenville.

“Well, sir, I am here by command of the Holy Three, and now propose, before matters go beyond the possibility of arrangement, that we should become allies. If you and your friends will take the oaths of our fraternity, you shall receive high personal rank in the nation, and yourself and friends will be liberally endowed with wives, with lands and cattle; Winfield the Englishman, and also the black man Amaxosa, must die by our laws, which they have transgressed; the Rose of Sharon becomes my property as Commander of the Forces, and the Lily of the Valley will fall to the lot of the Holy Three. All these munificent offers must be accepted before sundown, or—his voice growing hard and stern as it had hitherto been winning and courteous—Englishman you die, you all die like dogs, without the hope of help or mercy. I am but the mouthpiece of the Holy Three; they have spoken, and they will not repent.”

For fully half a minute Grenville looked the Mormon in the face, and gave no answer; he could not trust himself to speak.

Then in tones of thunder he uttered the one word. “Go!”

“And my answer?” snarled the Mormon.

“Tell your wretched Trinity that what Richard Grenville gets, he keeps with a strong hand, and that the English rifles which have already decimated the cowardly Mormon nation, will very shortly sweep the Holy Three themselves from the face of the earth. Go! I have spoken.”

The Mormon’s face worked convulsively, and his hand made a movement towards the pistols in his belt, but at that instant he happened to glance towards the rock, and saw the fervid sun glinting on the browned barrels of three rifles, whose muzzles were pointed directly at him, and shaking his fist at Grenville he retreated, hissing out, “Englishman, we shall meet again—beware!”

To which Grenville answered coolly, “The sooner the better, my friend; and when we do, look out for yourself—that’s all I have to say.” He then coolly retook his way to the rock, which he reached just as the Mormon regained the forest.

To the male portion of his friends Grenville gave the purport of the Mormon message, together with his answer, Leigh swearing by all that was holy that he would never quit the country until the insult from the Mormon Trinity to Miss Winfield was wiped out in rivers of blood.

Winfield ruminated upon the message for some time, then turning to Grenville, he said, “Look here, my boy, just let me advise you, in Yankee parlance, to keep your eyes skinned. That fellow who spoke to you just now—Radford Custance by name—is one of the hottest-tempered men I have ever met with in the course of my whole life; he twice kept his temper with you to-day under intense provocation, and let me tell you that that’s record for him, and I infer from it that the scoundrels have got a trump card to play; what it can be, Heaven alone knows.”

“Look here, Dick,” said Leigh, “things have got to such a pass that I for one should like to see the English flag over us—can’t we manufacture one?” At first the idea seemed rather foolish, but after consideration, Grenville could not but feel that his cousin was right, and with the help of the ladies, who produced all sorts of curious and unexpected odds and ends, as well as needles and thread, and assisted by the loan of several handkerchiefs, a rude Saint George’s ensign was contrived, and soon floated on the summit of the rock, over the heads of the little party, who saluted its appearance with three hearty cheers, and a volley from their rifles, Grenville, as they did so, taking possession of the country in the Queen’s name, with a laughing apology to the Rose of Sharon. This act was answered almost instantly by a salvo from the enemy, and a flag was hoisted on the very top of a huge tree, some six hundred yards away. This ensign was a curious production—a dead black ground, ornamented with three horrible-looking eyes, and having also a motto sewn upon it in white letters, which proved to be their usual legend about the eyes of their unsleeping Trinity. Taking a careful sight, Leigh sent a shell-bullet from his Winchester clean through the flag, in which it tore a hole about a foot long, entirely destroying the effect of the basilisk-looking eyes. Upon this, the symbol was at once run down, and did not again make its appearance.

Chapter Ten.

“All Hope Abandon, Ye Who Enter Here.”

Throughout that day perfect quiet prevailed, but Grenville, uneasy, he knew not why, and unable to get Winfield’s warning out of his mind, took his sleep early in the evening, and determined himself to keep watch until dawn.

For hours he strained every faculty, but could neither see nor hear anything to cause him anxiety, and when the moon rose he felt much relieved, but after patrolling carefully round the rock he at length heard a curious sound he could not account for, so mounted up to the top, from whence he could see far and wide under the bright moonlight. The rock, as already said, was situated in a hollow, with belts of trees on almost every hand, one exception being on the side furthest from the veldt, consequently nearest to the Western range, and from this quarter a wide channel of rocks seemed to run for miles in the direction of the mountains. To Grenville it had the appearance of a roadway upon which giants had, here and there, flung heaps of stones and enormous masses of rock in the wildest confusion. Winfield, however, had pronounced it to be a quartz river, pregnant with gold beyond the dreams of avarice. Machinery would, however, he had said, be required to work the ore profitably, so that it was extremely improbable the locality would ever be disturbed. Grenville had more than once, in the last few minutes, been rendered uneasy by a distant sighing, soughing noise, such as is caused by wind among fir-trees, and as there was not a breath of air stirring, it was partly the anxious feeling generated by this unknown and uncanny sound which had caused him to ascend the rock.

Even from this coign of vantage he could see nothing alarming; all around and beneath him, bush and veldt and forest, lay sleeping peacefully under the lovely radiance of the African moon.

Still unable to conquer, yet secretly despising, the presentiments which oppressed him, Grenville raised a small silver whistle to his lips and blew a low call upon it, and in a few moments later was joined by Amaxosa, who stalked forth from his lair at the first sound made by his chief indicative of a wish to see him.

Grenville directed his attention to the curious sound, and for some little time the Zulu strained both sight and hearing, but could offer no suggestion as to the cause of the unusual noise. Our hero then sent him to fetch Winfield, who, when he came, listened intently for one brief instant and then wrung his hands in despair.

“My God!” he cried, “those hellish scoundrels have burst the rocky side of the great mountain lake and let loose thousands of tons of water, and in an hour’s time, or less, we shall be drowned out like rats! Whatever shall we do?”

“Go quickly,” said Grenville: “awake everyone pack the quagga with the gold and all the food we can carry. We must be gone in ten minutes. We are down in a hole here, and this place will be a lake in less than no time if you are correct as to the volume of water up yonder.”

“There can, I regret to say, be no doubt about it,” replied Winfield. “I have seen the place myself, and I feel certain that they have done as I say.”

“You are quite right,” rejoined Grenville. “I heard distant explosions once or twice this evening, but thought nothing of them, only congratulating myself, like a fool, at the waste of gunpowder which was going on.” Then, turning to Amaxosa, “Now, what does my brother, the Chief of the Sons of Undi, advise?”

The Zulu thought for a few moments, and then made answer. “Let my father with all the party make a big push for the great stairway; there will be but few guards there, and we will slay them and escape from this fearful country by the dark rood through the mountains; and if the evil ones be too many for my father’s sons, we can but take to the hills beyond the stairway until the water be gone, for it will surely pour itself into the River of Death until there be none remaining, and go far away to the great salt sea from which my father came.”

“Thou art a shrewd man as well as a brave one,” said Grenville, shaking the gratified Zulu by the hand; and instantly descending the rock, they rejoined the others, who were now quite ready, and telling all to follow him and look out sharply for the enemy, our hero, to the surprise of all, led off at a quick pace in the direction of the very danger they sought to escape.

Grenville, however, showed his wisdom by this action, for he thus kept the rock between his party and any prying eyes, and he well knew that large bodies of the foe would be posted on or near the veldt adjacent to the rock, expecting the party—if they were fortunate enough to detect the approach of the water before it overwhelmed them—to make a desperate effort to cut their way through to the stairway. This knowledge had decided Grenville to make a détour, which he successfully did, and the party gained the open veldt some miles further on, without their escape from the rock having been observed by the enemy, and were soon pushing across this rolling prairie, with the terrific sound of the advancing water in their ears, and hoping to gain the stairway without having been perceived.

Vain hope!—when, after some hours of unmolested and ceaseless travel, the little band arrived within earshot of the stairway, a blazing thread of light shot upwards to the sky, and the hissing of a second rocket was heard preparing to take its aerial flight. The Mormon in charge of this incautiously showed himself for one second, and promptly received Leigh’s bullet through his brain; and then, without waiting for orders, the active Zulus rushed up the steps and broke into the cavern, uttering their fearful war-cries, and a moment later were joined by Grenville and Leigh, and an awful battle took place between these four and seven heavily-armed Mormons. Fortunately a torch was burning, and, equally happily, the Zulus had taken the men by surprise and given them no time to prime the pans of their rifles; but even as the cousins entered the cave two men were diligently performing this interesting occupation, and instantly went down with revolver bullets through them. In a couple of minutes the Mormons were all disposed of, the only casualties being a pistol bullet through Myzukulwa’s shoulder, which had fortunately not injured the bone, and a nasty slash from a cutlass which Leigh had received on his left arm. Quickly the whole party passed up the cavernous road, again taking the precaution to carry away all the torches, and congratulating themselves upon the complete and unexpected success of their plan; for Winfield, with the help of Rose—to whom the beast was sincerely attached—had actually got the quagga up the staircase, when suddenly Grenville called a halt, listened carefully, and then turned to the others with the horror of a living death imprinted upon every line of his face.

“Back!” he said, and his voice sounded but a hoarse, dreadful whisper; “back, all of you, quick; the lake has broken out on both sides of the mountain, and the water is racing down, our road, and will be here directly!” With a cry of agony, Winfield seized his daughter by one hand, Leigh grasped the other, and all ran for the stairway, which fortunately was not far off; and having once seen the women safely down, and directed them to hurry on towards the Eastern Mountains with Leigh and Winfield, Grenville and the Zulus, after infinite trouble, succeeded in pushing and pulling master quagga on to terra firma once more, and they then put their best foot foremost, and rejoined their companions.

Soon gaining the shelter of the forest and the rising land, they watched carefully, and could see across the veldt a Mormon host speeding forward to the stairway, in answer to the rocket’s message, and not far behind them was a dull, angry line, which Winfield pronounced to be the advancing water. The band, which numbered some twenty men, was evidently uneasy at its near approach, and anxious to gain the stairway, and now, even as they reached their desired haven, an awful thing happened, and the wicked certainly did fall hopelessly into his own net for once—there was a rushing, roaring sound, and then, with a thundering boom, the torrent came sweeping through the mouth of the cavern in hundreds of tons of water at one awful burst, hung for a short second, as it seemed, in mid air, and then plunged down in one mighty, irresistible volume right upon the luckless Mormons, who were instantly lost to human ken, and in less time than it takes to tell, the two forces of water had combined, and the veldt far and near was blotted out in one vast rolling, tumbling sea of agitated foam, upon which nothing could be seen save here and there a corpse bobbing up and down as it took its gradual and apparently unwilling course towards the River of Death.

After searching for some little time our friends discovered a cave about a mile from the great stairway, into which they thankfully entered; and after setting a watch, though the precaution seemed a useless one, lay down to sleep. The rest of the night passed uneventfully; and when the sun again shone out, the eye rested only upon what was seemingly a vast and wandering waste of waters, for a thick steaming mist, which was already rising from the surface of this suddenly-created inland sea, caused one’s range of vision to be limited to a few miles.

One thing, however, our friends did notice, which filled them with dismay. Grenville had calculated that as soon as the volume of water was quite exhausted in the natural reservoir on the mountains, their way through the subterranean road would be clear, and they would have a long start and be able to get clean through the River Pass before ever their enemies had a chance of moving from their own side of the chasm. Now all hope of escape seemed to be cut off, for the mighty rush of water falling from the subterranean road had entirely demolished the great stairway, not a single step of which they could now see, and it was obviously impossible for them to ascend several hundred feet of a precipitous wall of solid rock, which was what they would now have to do in order to regain the rood.

After two days had been spent hopelessly and aimlessly in the cavern, the water was observed to abate as fast as it had risen, and on the third day the veldt could again be seen in every direction, steaming in a most unpleasant manner under the rays of a vertical sun. Our friends were, however, well situated at some height above the plain, and Amaxosa spent that day in prospecting for a safer hiding-place, which he found about three miles off, along the mountain-side, and which consisted of a three-roomed cave, quite two hundred feet above the veldt, in a commanding position, approached only by narrow paths, a wall of solid rock behind, and blessed with an ample supply of water. Grenville unhesitatingly approved of the place as a temporary residence, and thither the party removed at nightfall.

The following morning smiled down upon East Utah in all its revived loveliness—the veldt looked greener and fresher for its wholesale bath, and a newcomer would certainly have had no idea of the awful tragedies which had recently been enacted in this country, where all looked so quiet and peaceful.

On this morning a band of Mormons, some fifty in number, arrived at the great stairway, and appeared struck dumb by its destruction, for they ran about gesticulating madly, and wringing their hands over the great blocks of stone cast hither and thither about the adjacent veldt. It was, however, evident, as Grenville had foreseen, that they did not believe the enemy had left the country by the roadway. The river had broken through too soon after the rockets had been fired to admit of any possibility of their escape in that direction. The only doubt they entertained was if the invaders had really been drowned and their bodies, together with those of their own ill-fated comrades, carried away by the River of Death.

The Mormons now examined the neighbourhood, with a keen scrutiny which let nothing escape unquestioned; but, having foreseen this search, Grenville had acted with the utmost caution, and no trace of their movements had been left behind, so that he was not in the least surprised when the Mormons—who were, he observed, led by Radford Custance—turned their backs on the stairway early in the afternoon, and set off across the veldt in the direction of their town.

On the day following, our friends went into council. Their position was fast becoming a dangerous one; food was running out and none coming in, and it was evident that unless steps were taken to replenish their larder at an early date, starvation must overtake them in the very midst of plenty, for on the eastern side of the mountains the streams were small, and so far had not even produced fish, which would have helped to eke out their stores.

After a long and earnest consultation it was decided to beard the lion in his den—in other words, Grenville and Amaxosa were detailed to cross the river, penetrate into the enemy’s country, and there endeavour to find in the rear of East Utah a strong position, which they, surrounded by plenty, could defend until they fairly wore the Mormons out and compelled them to make peace and let the party go.

It was a desperate venture; and when our heroes set out at nightfall the Rose of Sharon wept piteously, saying she never expected to see poor Dick again; and Leigh and Winfield, who were left in charge along with Myzukulwa, wrung Grenville’s hand in silence, and also felt the tears starting to their eyes.

The parting between the Zulus was a characteristic one.

“Let my brother,” said Amaxosa, “remember that the great chief our father will look to the sons of Undi for the safety of the gentle Rose of Sharon and the lovely Lily of the Valley. Amaxosa will bring back his father, or will die with him.”

And so the pair set out, instructing those they left behind, to have no uneasiness about them, as it was likely they would be gone at least ten days.

Pushing steadily on all night and lying hidden all day, Grenville and Amaxosa reached the neighbourhood of the eastern bridge just after dawn on the second morning, and crept up as close as they dared under cover of the heavy fog, which hung like a curtain upon the veldt. When the sun’s welcome rays had cleared away the mists, the pair saw, to their surprise, that the eastern bridge was still open, and lying flush with their own side of the chasm, just as the Zulus had left it weeks ago. The Mormons had evidently been too busy to pay any attention to that part of their country, and had considered care in that direction unnecessary whilst they knew the foe to be fifty miles away upon the western mountains.

This was in some degree unsatisfactory; for if our friends turned the bridge and crossed, as they were obliged to do, and the locality was visited by the Mormons in the interim, they would of course realise immediately that the obnoxious little band was still at large, and had, moreover, had the audacity to cross the river. This was an awkward position; yet there appeared to be nothing else for it, and Grenville lay down to sleep at four in the afternoon, determined, at all hazards, to proceed that night. On being awakened at dusk, however, Amaxosa had good news for him. About an hour ago, he said, several of the “witch-finders” had arrived by the outside of the veldt, and, turning on the bridge, had crossed over, laughing and talking. They were apparently in splendid spirits, and, having left two men to guard the bridge, had pressed on at a good speed in the direction of East Utah.

This simplified matters a little, and our friends were arranging in what manner they should rush the guards, so as to avoid the possibility of their getting at the rocket apparatus, when the quick-eared Zulu announced the approach of another party by the eastern veldt. The moon was now rising, and the pair ought to be gone before the advent of the new arrivals; but the guards, having also heard the approach of their comrades, were on the alert, and the only thing to do was to lie quiet and watch their opportunity.

Chapter Eleven.

The Death-Shot.

Gradually the band approached, and at last joined forces with the guards, and, to Grenville’s horror, he now saw that the whole of his own party were prisoners, with their hands bound behind them; and by the clear moonlight he could see that his cousin’s head was bandaged, whilst Winfield’s arm was in a sling. A second look, and he noticed that one person was missing, and that was Myzukulwa. Grenville could have sworn he had seen the Zulu an instant before, and glancing at his companion, he heard his low expressive “Ow!” and in another moment Myzukulwa presented himself before them with his hands tied. He was promptly cut loose and armed with a spear and one of Grenville’s revolvers; but at that moment his escape was discovered, and a tremendous commotion took place, Radford Custance commanding the guards to open the bridge again, so that the fugitive could not cross. He then walked up to the helpless Leigh, pointed that worthy’s own rifle at his head, and threatened to blow his brains out unless he told where the Zulu had gone. Leigh briefly replied that he neither knew nor cared, upon which the other brutally struck him in the face with his fist. It was the cowardly bully’s last act Grenville’s rifle leaped to his shoulder, a stream of fire divided the bushes, and the Mormon leader staggered back with the life-blood spirting from a ragged hole in his breast.

Then ensued a scene of horror and carnage. The Zulus uttered their terrible war-cry, and dashed into the fight, followed by Grenville, after he had first picked off five more of the enemy. Amaxosa had quickly freed Leigh, and put his revolver into his hands; and in less time than it takes to tell, Winfield was at liberty and hurrying the girls into the bushes, whilst the others were fighting desperately.

Here Grenville’s old coolness stood him in good stead. He never gave a single Mormon the chance to prime the pan of his musket; and having emptied his own rifle, he flung it down, and betook himself to Leigh’s weapon. It was the old story—the cowardly Mormons, finding themselves reduced to six, became demoralised, lost their heads, broke, and fled; but the Winchester effectually put a stop to that game, and in less than ten minutes from the commencement of the fight, the re-united friends were in undisputed possession of the ground.

A hasty explanation ensued, from which it appeared that the Mormons had stolen upon their position in the grey dawn, while Winfield was on guard. The poor fellow fairly broke down when Grenville questioned him sharply, and said they seemed to have sprung from the earth, and that he never heard them till they actually had their hands on him. He attempted to make a defence, and in the scuffle was shot through the wrist, whilst Leigh was knocked senseless with the butt of a rifle, and Myzukulwa overpowered by a dozen men, two of whom, however, he killed with his war-club. The Mormons had kept up a forced march through the heat of the day, and the two girls were more dead than alive. Grenville, therefore, turned on the bridge again and got all across, telling the Zulus to bring along such arms as they could find, as well as the case of rockets from the bridge, as he foresaw that when the runners who had gone on ahead found that the main body did not appear in due time, they would return to see what had happened.

Three miles from the bridge a strong position was selected upon the hill-side, and hardly had the party settled down than Amaxosa, who had left them at the bridge, rejoined them with some choice cuts from a fine young deer which he had killed; and getting well amongst the rocks, a fire was lighted, and all thoroughly enjoyed the first meal of fresh meat which had passed their lips for at least a month.

And now, having refreshed the inner man, the girls went off to sleep in a little cave close by, whilst Leigh and Winfield, who were both wounded, kept watch, and Grenville and the two Zulus made their way back to the bridge. Here Grenville coolly took up his post as if he were the guard, ordering the Zulus to lie down behind the timbers.

His calculations had been nicely made, for in less than a quarter of an hour four Mormons came up at a run, and walked blindly into the trap, and, without a shot being fired, were all disposed of—two falling into the chasm and the two others being accounted for by the Zulus. Rapidly rejoining his party, Grenville awakened the women and insisted upon their proceeding, which they did cautiously and with weary feet all night long. Just before the dawn our friends reached a position of which Amaxosa had told Grenville, and which the latter saw with delight was simply impregnable, and was, according to the Zulu, in the heart of the very best centre of the game resorts of East Utah.

To reach this desired spot the party had to ascend a steep narrow path for upwards of a hundred feet, and this brought them on to a grassy plateau some fifty yards square, the back of it being formed by the rocks, which towered away thousands of feet above their heads, and seemed to soar into the very heavens. The base, however, was pierced with several caves, in one of which was a tiny spring of water. The place was in fact like the huge grass-laid initial step of some giant stairway leading up the precipitous face of the mountain.

Amaxosa led away the quagga and hid it in a safe locality, where he thought it improbable the beast would be found, where it had food and water, and was walled in with a zareba of thorn-bushes—anyway, it must take its chance with the rest of them.

When the Zulu reappeared he brought a small deer on his shoulders, and indifferent now whether they were seen or not, the party cooked an excellent breakfast, which was duly appreciated, and then all, with the exception of Grenville, lay down to sleep. Upon his iron constitution the effect of the night’s work was simply nil, and as he had slept the previous afternoon he was fortunately still comparatively fresh.

Grenville now examined the new position of his party with increased care, and found that he could wholly approve of it. The place was admirably adapted for a sustained defence, so long as they had food; and as the game runs were, according to Amaxosa, less than three hundred yards away direct to a small stream, and as there was no scrub that would afford the enemy any cover against their rifles operating from such a height, he could only repeat to himself that the plateau was impregnable. Here neither fire, water, nor gunpowder could touch them, and the Mormon Three would have to devise some further hellish and wonderful scheme before they got the little band into their power again.

On inquiry it had turned out that someone at the cave near the stairway had incautiously knocked the tobacco ash out of his pipe into the little stream, and that the fragrant weed, absolutely still smoking, had been carried down the hill-side out on to the veldt, under the very noses of the astonished Mormon band, who, unknown to Leigh and his party, were camping out below to watch the neighbourhood. The rest, of course, had been a mere matter of careful advance and complete surprise.

In this quiet spot the party remained unmolested and apparently undiscovered for a full week, in which they not only recruited their health, but amply replenished their store of meat. On the eighth day, however, a change took place, for a small band of Mormons, evidently on a hunting expedition, espied our friends, gazed wildly at them for some little time, and then took to their heels in the direction of East Utah, whilst the party on the plateau prepared their arms.

In about three hours’ time the Mormon host appeared, sure enough, and drew a semicircle round the position, keeping about six hundred yards off; then coolly set to to pitch a large tent, upon which their standard was erected, and instantly replied to by the Saint George’s ensign of the beleaguered party.

Leigh was anxious to try his hand at the Mormon flag again, but Grenville would not permit it. “No, Alf,” he said; “I’ve an idea that that tent is meant for the infernal Mormon Trinity; and if it is, we’ll make them wish they’d planted it elsewhere; the impudent beggars evidently fancy they are clean out of range.”

Soon, however, a little diversion occurred; there happened to be only one spring available in this neighbourhood, and towards this water, which lay a shade over three hundred yards from the plateau, a Mormon now took his way, carrying a large water-ewer. When he neared the spring Grenville fired a couple of shots across him and shouted to him to keep away; the man, however, was obstinate, and this resulted in his getting himself shot. Then another pluckily tried the game, running as fast as he could, but was also knocked over. Lastly, the cowardly Mormons, relying on the gallantry of their foes, chased a wretched woman out to obtain the precious fluid. She filled the vessel, then, looking at the rock and seeing Grenville’s rifle raised, set down the water and fell on her knees, lifting her hands to the plateau in an agony of entreaty. This was just what Grenville wanted, and the next instant his bullet struck the water-vessel, which it shattered into fragments, and the woman hastily rushed back to her people, who vented their anger in shouts, curses, and gesticulations.

“They’ll get water at night,” said Leigh; “is it worth wasting powder on them, Dick?”

“I think so, Alf; for if we can only anger them into making an attack and coming into easy range, we’ll treat them to another dose such as we gave them at the Table Rock.”

The Mormons, however, were not to be drawn, and when darkness came down, they had made no further hostile movement. The Zulus now begged leave to slip down to the spring with their spears, and before they had been gone many minutes a fearful shriek was heard, announcing the death of another Mormon. A discharge of fire-arms followed, and by the flashes of the guns those on the plateau could see that a number of Mormons were quickly falling back to their own encampment, and upon these Grenville and Leigh opened fire with their Winchesters, doing considerable execution.

The Zulus were soon back again, bringing three more rifles and ammunition, of which they had forcibly despoiled the late owners.

Soon after this the moon rose, and the little party on the plateau found that the war was only about to begin according to the Mormon calculations.

The great tent was fully lighted up, and near to it the defenders of the rock could see what looked like a stand of arms. On this head they were quickly undeceived, for all at once a rocket rose from its rest and came directly at their position, striking the wall above their heads and falling upon the plateau, where it hissed about quite harmlessly, but alarmed the girls very much indeed.

Grenville ordered them into the cave, and had all the ammunition carefully stored away, and before half-a-dozen of these fiery messengers had reached them, sent two or three of the Mormons’ own bridge signal rockets into the very midst of the mob, the last one setting fire to the tent and causing several people—presumably the wondrous Holy Three and their iniquitous satellites—to scuttle about in a most undignified fashion.

The little band then sent a few shell-bullets into the enemy’s camp, where it was evident they caused fearful damage and confusion, the whole crowd promptly rushing off until they were nearly a mile distant from the Rock.

Our friends now lay down to rest again, as if nothing had happened, Grenville still keeping guard. The night passed away, however, without further disturbance, and when morning came, there was not a single enemy in sight.

After breakfast Winfield elected to go hunting with Amaxosa; his wrist was now practically well, he said, and he felt as if a little exercise would do him good. Grenville, whilst lazily smoking his pipe, was watching the motions of the pair, who were endeavouring, a quarter of a mile away, to stalk several head of game, when he sprang to his feet with a hurried exclamation of fear, and seizing his rifle, pitched it forward, and apparently taking aim at Winfield, fired quickly. Even as he did so a puff of white smoke shot up, apparently from the ground, within forty yards of Winfield’s position, and throwing up his hands he fell prone upon his face. The Zulu promptly sprang forward, and lifting the body in his arms commenced to carry it away, whilst two more shots spirted out from the ground, both fortunately being wide of the mark.

In another instant Leigh was down the rugged path and helping Amaxosa to carry Winfield up to the plateau. Grenville anxiously came forward as they reached their destination and laid down their ghastly burden. “Is he dead?” he asked in broken tones.

“Not quite, my father,” replied the Zulu, “but he cannot live, the evil men have shot him through the chest.” Winfield, as Amaxosa said this, opened his eyes, coughed up some blood, then faintly asked for water; and after receiving this, spoke very feebly to Grenville.

“Thank you for trying to save me, but you were a second too late this time—you have saved my life so often, and I hoped to live to save yours; and now let me say good-bye to Dora, for I am going, going fast;” and again he coughed up great streams of blood.

Leigh broke the awful calamity as gently as possible to the poor girl, and a moment later she sat with her father’s head upon her knee, with the scalding tears running pitifully down her cheeks, and in her heart the awful knowledge that in a few short minutes she would lose the only parent she had, and who was dear to her beyond anything else upon earth.

The end was coming fast; poor Winfield could only whisper, “If you ever get away from here, go home to England, my darling. Oh! how shall I leave you in the hands of strangers. Gentlemen, God be with you as you are kind to my friendless little girl.”

“Not friendless, old fellow,” said Leigh, kneeling beside him. “Winfield, will you give Dora to me? I love her very dearly.”

The poor fellow gazed fixedly at Leigh, then at his daughter, who smiled through her tears at him who had so boldly claimed her without even having asked her consent to the bargain. Leigh held out his hand.

“Won’t you say yes, darling?”

“Oh! yes, yes,” she sobbed, taking his hand for one brief instant.

Winfield smiled feebly.

“God bless you both, my children;” then with a wild choking cry, “Dora, my child, where are you? All grows dark with me, and I go—I go to her I love. Yes, my own sweet wife, I come—at last;” and choked by another awful rush of blood, poor Jack Winfield fell dead.

Who can describe the anguish of the poor orphan girl? Her father had for years been all in all to her, and the love which had lately sprung up in her heart towards Alf Leigh was still too young to act as a consolation to her; in this dread moment she felt as if the world for her was at an end.

Gently and tenderly her lover led her away, whispering words of comfort, and handed her over to Rose, who was weeping mournfully in concert; then leaving the girls sobbing in each other’s arms, he returned to the others, to find the body covered with the British ensign, and Grenville sternly examining the locality from which the death-shot had been fired.

“Alf,” he said, “they have burrowed a hole in the ground, put up an earthwork overhead, and thrown three rifles into it. One is dead, and now you shall see Jack Winfield avenged.” As he spoke a rocket directed by Amaxosa was fired straight into the cover chosen by the enemy, which in one second more was enveloped in a sheet of flame, the foolish Mormons having built it amongst the dried grass. Unable to stand the heat and smoke, both marksmen made a dash for life, but were tumbled over by the cousins before they had run a dozen yards.

Chapter Twelve.

Stormed at with Shot and Shell.

The next few days passed slowly and sadly on the plateau. Winfield was quietly buried close by, his grave being concealed from view, as it was most desirable that the Mormons should be kept in ignorance of the fact that the little band had lost a man.

The gloom of Winfield’s untimely death hung over all, and it was all Leigh could do to keep poor Dora from breaking down entirely; and when the Mormons, a week later, made a desperate attack on the plateau, it was a relief to the party to feel that the call for prompt and unanimous action had taken them out of their thoughts, and brought them back to their old ways of living and working.

The attempt of the Mormons proved utterly futile, as the main body never even succeeded in getting within shooting distance of Grenville’s party; and after some twenty of their bravest men had been sent to the shades to swell their already awful list of casualties they sullenly drew off and troubled our friends no more for a considerable period.

On the occasion of this attack Dora Winfield developed unexpected qualities. She calmly came forward, insisted on having Leigh’s rifle, and used it with a coolness and precision that astonished no one more than the Zulu Amaxosa. “Ow,” he said, “the lovely Lily of the Valley has slain two of the witch-finders. See! my brother, there they lie kicking like wounded oxen—ow! my sister, it is good.” Her face was set like a flint; and when the Mormons fell back, she returned the weapon to Leigh, expressing the hope that she might yet have a chance of avenging her father’s death by shooting at least one of the Holy Three.

All this time the Rose of Sharon was comporting herself very quietly, and though he knew it not, a passionate love was growing up in her heart towards Grenville. To Dora only was this revealed. “I would die for a kind word from him,” she said.

“Rose, you mustn’t say that,” remonstrated Miss Winfield; “poor Dick is very kind to everybody, but he has such a weight of responsibility on his shoulders you can’t expect him to think of love-making; only let us get clear of this horrible country, and I’m sure he will soon see what a lovely little woman my dear sister Rose can be. I think, too, he has some great scheme on hand, for of late he has asked me very many questions I have been unable to answer with regard to the Mormon city; and it was only yesterday that I referred him to you, dear, for information; so I daresay he will soon want you for a private conference;” and Dora slily pinched the cheek of the blushing girl.

It fell out exactly as Miss Winfield had said, for that very evening Grenville led Rose apart, and sitting down beside her, began to question her very closely with regard to the position, defences, public offices, and so forth, of East Utah—particularly asking in what portion of the city the Holy Three resided.

As Grenville catechised her he wondered at the eager comprehensive answers, and the blushing face of the young girl, particularly when he thanked her warmly for the information, and noted the tears which started to her eyes. Still, it never occurred to the stupid fellow that this lovely flower of the wilderness had lost her heart to him. Grenville was, as a matter of fact, one of those unimpressionable men who rarely fall in love, unless moved by some mighty and overmastering passion. All his life he had made honour and fame his mistress. The path of glory looked none the less inviting to his intrepid soul, because he well know that sooner or later it would, in all probability, lead to a premature and bloody grave. He was fond of saying that he knew no grander record in English history than that of the famous warrior of the Elizabethan period whose name he bore, and though he was unrelated to him he should consider it sacrilege to mar in any way a name which would be written in the annals of England in golden letters as long as the nation existed.

Miss Winfield, moreover, was right. Grenville had a deep-laid scheme which was just now hatching in his fertile brain, and what this superbly audacious project was, will presently appear. Do not, however, gentle reader, go away with the idea that Dick Grenville, for the sake of a little cheap glory, bought perhaps with his life-blood, was willing to sacrifice all his friends. Far from it; his scheme meant salvation to them, and to his Mormon foes destruction and death in their most awful forms.

Grenville’s next move was to turn Amaxosa inside out by a simple method of cross-questioning, which was yet complete enough in its results to satisfy even an astute detective.

One of the points he was particularly anxious about was the presence of Game in this curious country. Grenville had now recognised almost every known species of deer, yet had seen no destructive beasts, such as lions; nor was there, Amaxosa assured him, a single one in the place, nor yet an elephant, though he had once trapped and killed a rhinoceros. Eager questions with regard to this latter animal resulted in the Zulu going off next day and returning late in the evening with the rhinoceros hide, which was the very thing Grenville wanted. Putting this up at twenty yards, he fired two or three of the Mormon muskets at it, the balls all failing to penetrate its horny thickness, and in a short time he had contrived a regular suit of clumsy armour out of the hide—armour which, he felt sure, would prove absolutely bullet-proof, unless hit in the seams where he had had to shave it to a mere skin in order to unite the edges with cord.

However, to return to the subject of the deer. Amaxosa declared that the animals were not in any way preserved. On the contrary, the Mormons killed them off freely; but he had always noticed that in the driest season the herds seemed to increase; it was also at the latter end of the dry season he had settled the rhinoceros, and this season was now rapidly drawing to a close—in fact in six weeks, at the outside, the rains would begin.

Over this information Grenville puzzled his brains for days without coming to any satisfactory conclusion. His own opinion coincided with Amaxosa’s, and from the vantage ground of the plateau he carefully watched the animals feeding, and on several days noted entirely new classes arriving. Did these beasts migrate from some other feeding-ground in East Utah, or had they some means of entrance into the country as yet unknown to man and undiscovered even by such keen instinct as that of the Zulu chief?

Amaxosa reiterated his assurance that he had searched every foot of the country for a way of escape, and had never found one. Still, remembering that the Zulu had never hit upon the subterranean roadway, Grenville thought it possible that some other exit might exist without him having any knowledge of it.

Putting aside this important subject for the nonce, however, our hero’s mind reverted to his pet scheme, and to the best methods of carrying it out he now directed all his faculties.

Night after night, accompanied by Amaxosa, did Grenville creep up to the walls—ay, into the very streets of East Utah—until its ways and buildings were as familiar to him as were the streets of fashionable London. The Zulu accompanied his chief in utter wonder, but his splendid training withheld him from asking any explanation—indeed, if “his Father” had asked him to jump into the River of Death he would have complied without hesitation, such power can a brave and fearless leader wield over the heart of any true follower, be he white or black.

Dawn after dawn saw the pair cautiously retaking their devious way to the plateau, comforting the anxious watchers there, who heaved a sigh of relief on being assured of the safe return of the wanderers.

Devious their way certainly was, for the pair invariably went and came along the course of a river which they struck a few miles from the town, through which it ran and emptied itself into the River of Death. By means of this small stream they were able to pass the walls unseen and obtain access to the very heart of the city.

One morning, however, soon after Grenville had lain down to rest, being exhausted with the labours of the night, he was awakened by Leigh, with the news that the Mormons were again approaching in force; and on taking up his position on the plateau our hero found that the enemy had brought with them a new engine of warfare in the shape of an enormous catapult somewhat after the ancient Roman style, but worked with india-rubber springs, the country being of course alive with rubber-trees. The operators, moreover, were securely ensconced behind a sheet and roof of the same product, the thickness of which must have been immense, as the rifle-bullets of the little party had evidently not the remotest effect upon it. This curious-looking half-house on wheels was moved forward by its defenders to within fifty feet of the rock, and after some little time had elapsed the engine correctly pitched its first missile right upon the plateau, where, to the horror and consternation of our friends, it revealed itself fuming and hissing, in the shape of an explosive shell. “Where ignorance is bliss, ’tis folly to be wise;” still, the sight of that infernal bomb must have roused suspicions as to its capacity for evil in even the ignorant mind of Amaxosa, and he could read a confirmation of some unknown horror in the countenances of his friends. Coolly stepping forward, he took up the shell in his powerful hands, and with a mighty effort threw it, with the fuse still smoking, right on to the top of the covered catapult, where it spontaneously exploded with a fearful roar, tearing the entire engine to pieces and killing its miserable occupants. The Mormon band, watching at a distance to see their foes destroyed, at once made a stampede in the direction of the town, and disappeared from view.

On descending to the plain it was found that the catapult had been worked by five men, all of whom were fairly cut to pieces; and lying close by, Grenville discovered two more shells with fuses attached. These bombs were evidently home-made, being simply a lead casing filled with powder and ball, and ignited by a long fuse. They might, however, come in most useful in case of a concentrated Mormon attack upon the plateau; so these instruments of destruction were carefully stowed away in one of the smaller caves, and Grenville was again able to betake himself to his prematurely-disturbed slumbers.

The effect of this last attempt was, however, an added determination upon his part to read the whole Mormon community—and particularly, if it were possible, the Holy Three—such a salutary lesson as would forcibly and unpleasantly bring them to their senses, and teach them for the future to leave our friends severely alone, if it did not indeed deprive them of all power to render any future attack upon their position otherwise than sheer waste of human life without the very faintest hope of success.

As yet Grenville had not given anyone upon the plateau an inkling of the deadly project which his fertile brain had matured, and the putting into operation of which was only hastened by the latest ingenious and vindictive though futile effort of the enemy.

On that afternoon, being anxious to draw a small plan of the city for the purpose of defining his exact intentions to the party, Grenville applied to everyone for a scrap of paper on which to work his diagram. No one was, however, possessed of the desired commodity. All at once Leigh recollected that he had a Bank of England note for one hundred pounds in his purse, and this was forthwith produced, and was the outcome of a curious statement.

Taking the note with a laugh, Grenville laid it out upon a rock to remove the creases, and then proceeded to delineate with pencil upon its back his modus operandi.

Rose, however, suddenly exclaimed, “Oh! how did you get that?”

“Get what?” asked Leigh, mystified.

“That wonderful paper money which belongs to the Holy Three.”

“Holy Three be hanged,” replied Leigh. “I got it from my bankers, Rose.”

The young girl was then questioned, and stated that amongst the treasures of the Community was a box which had formerly belonged to her father, and of which she had been deprived by the Holy Three; and this receptacle was, she averred, filled with this paper money, which her grandfather had, her father said, obtained in exchange for gold dust.

“Why then, Rose, you are an heiress,” said Grenville, laughing, “and we must get you back your inheritance.”

“I don’t want it,” said the impulsive girl; “I will give it to you if you can get it, Dick; but don’t run any risks, I implore you.”

Wondering inwardly where the old Mormon could have found the opportunity of converting his gold into English bank paper, Grenville resumed his operations, and for the instruction of Leigh drew on the back of the note a small plan of East Utah and its principal streets and offices, and then in an undertone said a few words to his cousin which made the other turn pale with fear and dread.

“The scheme is a grand one, Dick,” he at length gasped out; “but even if it succeeds, I don’t see how you personally can possibly make your escape from the town. Don’t risk it, old man,” he pleaded; “we can’t afford to lose you. And if you got caught, what am I to do? I shall never be able to keep these scoundrels off, or get Dora and Rose out of the country with only the Zulus to help me.”

“Now, Alf,” replied Grenville, “you know I always make my mind up beforehand, so it’s no use you arguing; besides, I really think I can escape from the place. Remember, the confusion created will amount to a positive wholesale panic, and a man less or more in the streets will never be noticed. Moreover, if the plan succeeds, it will mean at all events practical immunity from interference in the future, and will probably result in our finding an exit from the country. Of this I am determined—either I will find a way out or I will make one.”

In vain Leigh urged his view of the question—our hero had indeed come to a determination, and met all opposition, remonstrance, and entreaty with the same inflexible resolve.

His cousin next pleaded to be permitted to share the danger, but neither would Grenville allow this.

“I will,” he said, “risk no one’s life or liberty except my own upon such a fearfully hazardous expedition. I intend that Amaxosa shall accompany me inside the walls, to carry my heavy armour; and when once I have reached my destination, he will return to you. And remember, Alf, that if I happen to be taken or killed before or, possibly indeed, after the execution of my project, the Mormons will at once deliver a tremendous attack upon your position. Keep them off as long as you can with the rifles—for I shall leave you mine, as also my revolvers—and then when they are massed together and absolutely climbing the rock, light those infernal machines of theirs and throw them into the crowd. Let the fuses burn at least thirty seconds before you throw them down, though; and I guess you won’t have much more trouble with the Mormons. And if you, or I, or both fail, God help us, old man.”

“You don’t mean to tell me you are going unarmed amongst those devils, who are raging for your blood?” remonstrated Leigh.

“Not a bit of it,” was the reply; “I’m going to take that heavy revolver of Myzukulwa’s. If needful, it will come in handy as a club after it is emptied. Besides, my game this time is not fighting, but hiding and then running; and I am specially anxious that should I have the ill-luck to fall into their hands, they may not along with me obtain any of our own modern weapons of warfare. Had I not had the luck to drop Radford Custance before he had time to hand your Winchester over to the community, we should all have gone under a month ago. Let me tell you, these fellows are not bad shots—remember the man who nearly dropped us in the Pass; and above all, don’t forget poor Winfield’s end.”

“I see, nothing can move you,” groaned poor Leigh.

“No earthly consideration will induce me to forego the attempt, Alf,” was the quick reply; “so help me, instead of seeking to divert me from the end I have in view; and above all do not mention my project to the girls. It will be time enough for them to hear it when the result is a matter of history.”

Chapter Thirteen.

Guy Fawkes Redivivus.

All the following day Grenville rested and slept, and when the night closed in he saw with growing satisfaction that there was likely to be a heavy storm, and this in itself indicated the probable advent of the rainy season at no very distant date.

Not wishing to be delayed in any way, he set out early with Amaxosa, and by midnight, when the storm broke, had arrived within pistol-shot of the town.

By this time everywhere had grown dark as pitch, and looking up, Grenville saw that all the stars had disappeared, whilst at that very moment the surrounding landscape as well as the town stood revealed in a blinding glare of lightning, instantly succeeded by a terrific clap of thunder.

Quickly gaining the cover of the walls, Grenville hastily donned his protective armour, exchanged weapons with the Zulu, much to that worthy’s astonishment, and then armed exactly as he had intended to be, and with a dozen spare cartridges in his pocket, commanded Amaxosa to return to the plateau as fast as he possibly could.

The indignation of the Zulu knew no bounds.

“Why,” he said, “does my father distrust his faithful war-dog? Does he fear that when the time of danger comes his son will not be there? Has my father forgotten how the children of the Undi fought for him at the narrow crossing by the River of Death, has he forgotten the battle of the rock, the fight in the great black cavern, or the mighty struggle at the eastern bridge, where the red blood flowed in streams? Does he not remember how Amaxosa bore away the body of the Inkoos Winfield when he had fallen by the bullets of the witch-finders, or how, with his own hand and the box of lightning (Anglice bombshell), he slew five men and destroyed their moving castle? Why does the Inkoos, my father, doubt me? Amaxosa the son of Undi has but one heart, which beats true with the heart of his father; and the poor Zulu war-dog has but one body, but it would fain stand between the great white chief and the death he seeks to meet.”

Grenville was sincerely moved by this impassioned burst of feeling, exhibited by a man usually so dignified and self-contained, and it took him quite ten minutes before he could convince the chief of the wisdom of his plan; but when he had at last succeeded, and somewhat pacified his friend by accepting the loan of his war-club, the Zulu raised himself to his full height, and shaking his spear at the city, delivered himself thus:—

“Beware, witch-finders—beware, ye evil men! Touch but one hair upon the head of my father, the great white chief, beloved of his faithful children, and the sons of the Undi will rip open every fighting man in your accursed land.”

Then, grasping Grenville’s hand, he stalked moodily away, and the last our friend saw of him, by the help of a vivid flash of lightning, was as he slowly entered the cover half a mile off, walking in a heavy and dejected manner, with his head sunk upon his breast.

And now our hero proceeded to effect his entry into the city; for if the rain came on, as it usually does in these latitudes, in the form of a vast sheet of water, the little river might become too much swollen for him to obtain his usual safe and easy access.

Had he been able to count upon the night being as dark as it proved to be, and had the lightning not been so much in evidence, Grenville would gladly have taken the Zulu with him; but he well knew that where a white man might possibly pass undetected amongst a half-paralysed and wholly terror-stricken mob of his own colour, the black skin of his faithful friend would at once draw down upon him stern and unfailing punishment, or rather retribution.

The thunder now sounded like one uninterrupted roll of heavy artillery, and the utter blackness of the atmosphere was cut by the almost incessant flashes of lightning, which, to our hero’s discomfiture, kept the whole countryside in a constant and brilliant state of illumination.

Creeping carefully on, Grenville soon gained the welcome shadow of the houses, and at this moment the storm broke with added fury, the wind howling as if all the fiends of hell were let loose, and, sweeping along the earth, carried with it a perfect avalanche of stones, leaves, and branches. Blast followed blast, and crash succeeded crash, until, with a shock like an earthquake, two large buildings suddenly gave way and came to the ground like houses of cards, crushing their wretched inmates under their ruins, and drawing half of East Utah to the scene of the calamity.

Silently gliding away like the spirit of evil, Grenville at last approached the public offices of the town, which consisted of a large rough building pierced with one small door below, at the rear, and entered from the front by a handsome flight of steps through a portal of commanding appearance.

Towards the back door, however, Grenville directed his tortuous course, constantly hiding, yet cautiously and continuously approaching, until, hidden by a stone buttress, he stood within a dozen feet of the little door, and within half that distance of the guard pacing up and down before it with his musket on his shoulder, and from time to time casting uneasy glances at the sky. Waiting for the next flash, Grenville sprang upon the sentry and felled him like a log with a blow from Amaxosa’s war-club, and with a second blow from the same weapon burst open the door and dragged the man’s body inside.

The first drops of rain now began to fall, and in another moment the water was coming down in sheets, and Grenville knew that for some minutes at least, the absence of the sentry was likely to remain unperceived.

Striking a light, he found himself in a sort of low cellar, and seeing another door before him, he burst this in, and, to his complete satisfaction, found himself exactly where he had hoped to be, yet feared the possibility of penetrating. There before his eyes lay piled up barrel upon barrel of what—wine? No, gentle reader. Richard Grenville’s desperate scheme was now realised beyond his fondest hopes, and he stood in the powder magazine of East Utah.

Grenville lost no time, but knocking in the heads of a number of barrels with his club, he filled his hat with powder, and laid a thick train across the ground to the outer door; this operation, however, took some little time, for it had unfortunately to be performed entirely in the dark; and when our friend thought he had reached the door he was considerably taken aback to find he was pouring powder on the dead face of the hapless sentinel. Quietly striking a match, Grenville with the utmost caution inspected his work. He found the train perfect, and was about to leave the place, when a low horrified exclamation caused him to turn, and find himself confronted by several Mormons.

These men were not slow to see through his intentions, and with an awful yell rushed out of the place, and tried to close the door upon him. Grenville was, however, too quick for them, braining one man, who fell across the door and blocked it open.

The street beyond, he saw, was already alive with his foes, who were rushing away from him in every direction, and dashing outside he fired his revolver into the train and flew along the street towards the river. For one instant the success of the plot hung upon a thread, and that thread was the dead sentinel His death in point of fact almost saved the Mormons from the fearful calamity which was now rushing madly upon them.

The miserable man’s blood had trickled along the floor and damped the powder, which fizzed and sputtered in the gory stream, and for one brief instant seemed to be extinguished; then a single spark caught the dry material beyond the tiny crimson rivulet, the serpentine flame spurted across the rooms in one lightning flash of fire, and in the next moment East Utah was shaken to its foundations by the explosion of fifty barrels of gunpowder, which rent the earth and seemed to dwarf into utter insignificance the thunder of the heavens, which still pealed and crashed overhead.

For the succeeding moments nothing could be heard but the crash of falling houses, accompanied rather than succeeded by the awful cry of “Fire! Fire!” And almost immediately the whole city, or rather what was left of it, could be plainly seen in the fearful conflagration which broke out.

Fortunate was it for the hapless Mormons that that night of terror was a night of storm, for had the tropic rain not stood their friend, every soul in the place would have been left houseless and homeless; as it was, however, the sheets of water which were teeming down, soon extinguished the fires on every side, and the city once more settled down into ominous and tangible darkness.