For fully fifteen minutes, which seemed so many hours, did the little party wait, in order to allow the main body of the Mormon fraternity to get well on their way in the direction of the eastern bridge; and then, at a sign from Grenville, all cautiously worked their way forwards, crawling at full length upon the grass, and soon finding themselves, undiscovered, within fifty yards of the bridge which was now becoming visible by the light of the moon. Another short wait rendered all as clear as day; yet the trio, hidden within pistol-shot of the sentinels, remained altogether unseen by them, the men being evidently thrown off their guard by the rockets fired from the eastern bridge.
And now Grenville and his friends coolly rose to their feet, and, covering the Mormons with their rifles, commanded them to lay down their arms. The surprise was complete. The sentinels, however, instantly threw forward their guns; but ere the pieces had reached their level, they both fell, Winfield and Leigh having each marked his man with deadly accuracy.
Quickly taking possession of the guns and ammunition, which they hid in the scrub some little way off, Grenville then placed the dead Mormons in fairly upright postures, leaning over the outer edge of the bridge, as if the men were looking at the water below, and conversing together. This was simply an old Indian artifice, utilised in case any stray watcher, attracted by the firing, should take a fancy to see if there were guards on the bridge. If a regular inspection were made, the imposture would of course become evident at once; but at a reasonable distance, and under the moonlight, the corpses might well pass muster for living men.
Our friends soon cleared the two miles lying between the bridge and the Convent in which Dora Winfield was imprisoned, and reached the spot without falling in with a living soul.
This Convent proved to be a fine stone building of considerable size and height, and Grenville saw at a glance that only stratagem could obtain them an entrance into such a formidable-looking edifice, for nothing short of cannon would have any effect upon the massive walls.
There was, however, no difficulty for them to contend with in the way of gaining admission, Winfield having merely to give in his name through a grating, in order to be permitted to visit his daughter.
The moment the door was opened, Grenville and Leigh, who had kept in the background, quietly followed him in, revolvers in hand.
There was, however, but a slight disturbance, as it proved that the Convent was tenanted solely by womankind. The Superior, a matronly-looking dame, was summoned, and remonstrated with Winfield, whom she, of course, knew, as he had been in the habit of paying regular visits to his daughter.
“If you insist,” she said, “I must perforce give up your daughter, but you know well that neither you nor these misguided young men can ever escape from our mysterious country. Remember, the eyes of the Holy Three are unsleeping.”
“Excuse me, madam,” said Grenville with a quiet laugh, “but we have no time for parley. Our minds are made up; and if you will kindly produce Miss Winfield, we will be gone. Your miserable Trinity may serve to frighten women, but it has no terrors for honest men.” Then turning to Leigh, “Alf, guard this door; and if anyone—man, woman, or child—attempts on any pretext to leave this building, see that that creature dies, or remember that our own lives will pay the forfeit.”
At this the Superior lost her temper, and commenced to harangue Grenville in no measured terms; but he put her on one side without further ado, and when the woman found that these men intended to search every cell till they found Miss Winfield, she soon led them to that young lady’s apartment, which proved to consist of a small prison-like chamber, furnished only with a shabby bed and one wooden chair. The poor girl, who sat reading by a rushlight, flew joyfully into her father’s arms and fairly wept with delight at the thought of being free once more. Winfield introduced her to Grenville, and after briefly thanking him with a kindly smile for his share in her release, she expressed herself equally eager with themselves to get away from the Convent and its environs.
After a hasty introduction to Leigh, all passed out into the moonlight, Grenville locking the door from the outside, and taking possession of the key, hoping thereby to prevent the inmates of the Convent from prematurely giving the alarm.
As Miss Winfield followed the hasty strides of her father in the direction of the bridge, Alf Leigh walked by her side, conversing with her in low tones, and secretly wondering how her father could have been so careless as to risk such a treasure in the wilds of Africa.
He saw at a glance that Dora Winfield was a lady, and as thoroughly lovely a specimen, moreover, as one could find in a day’s journey through England. Her hair was of a lustrous golden hue, she had fine blue eyes, and a face which was singularly winning and beautiful, but which yet possessed an expression of self-reliance that in no way detracted from her charming countenance. Her voice was sweet and well modulated; and altogether she was a most lovable little person—at least, so thought Alfred Leigh from the vantage ground of his six feet two inches.
Dora Winfield was, however, no ordinary woman—she was quite five feet eight inches in height, and fortunately for herself and the all-night journey she had in prospect, possessed a well-knit figure and a constitution hardened by years of travel with her father, in the pursuit of his somewhat hazardous occupations.
Leigh was delighted to find her a quiet, modest young girl, whose tone had evidently been in no way lowered by her contact with the rough diamonds of advanced civilisation in the South African bush.
The girl had, indeed, been well-trained by a good mother, and after the death of that beloved relative had been so wrapped up in her father, of whom she was passionately fond, that she had never experienced any desire to mix with the outside world, of which Leigh soon discovered that she knew absolutely nothing.
As the party drew near the bridge, Leigh whispered a few words to his cousin, who at once moved on ahead, and, finding the bridge just as they had left it, coolly tipped the two lifeless sentinels over the parapet into the water, and a sullen plunge which reached Leigh’s ears as he approached with his fair companion told him that she would be spared the ghastly sight of those two livid corpses acting such a hollow, hideous mockery.
As the party crossed the bridge, Leigh laughingly observed that it was more like going home from a nineteenth-century dinner than leading the forlorn hope they had looked for.
Hardly were the words out of his mouth than a rocket again shot up from the Mormon stronghold and described an arc over their heads, and, turning to look behind them, all saw a singular spectacle.
From the roof of the Novices’ Convent shone a small cross of fire, and, even as they looked, this signal was answered by the startlingly sudden appearance of an enormous emblem of similar shape posted upon the very top of a steep hill just behind the town.
By this time the sky had darkened considerably, the lustre of both moon and stars were dimmed by driving belts of angry-looking scud, which shut out both the town and the hill behind it, and gave this extraordinary signal an altogether terrible effect. Soon the cross upon the Convent died out, but the one upon the mountain-top continued to glow more fiercely than ever, hanging as it seemed between earth and heaven, instinct with a wondrous radiant brilliancy. All at once the light died out, as suddenly as it had appeared; but rocket after rocket ascended from East Utah, still following the direction of the bridge, conveying to the whole Mormon community, with the help of the fiery cross, the fact of an escape from the Convent, and indicating that the fugitives were flying by the central bridge.
Grenville afterwards ascertained that these crosses were made of a pure crystal cut in slabs from the mountain-side, and were lighted by the same natural gas which had startled him in the subterranean road.
After watching the Eastern heavens for some moments Grenville turned to his cousin and said—
“I don’t half like it, Alf; the main body is already on its return journey, or an answering rocket would have been fired from the eastern bridge. You must push on with Miss Winfield and her father, and try to make the Table Rock. I think we are in for a storm, but never mind that I will stay by the bridge and stop any stragglers from pursuing; if you come across the Zulus, send one to me and take the other one on with you. Now be off, there’s a good fellow,” as Leigh was about to argue the point.
“God bless you, dear old man!” burst from the other, as he wrung Grenville’s hand and turned away, for he knew that his cousin was facing almost certain death to effectually cover their retreat; and but for Dora Winfield’s sake he would have insisted upon taking his own share of the danger, as usual.
Another moment and Grenville was alone upon the bridge, the gathering gloom around him, and the weird whispering veldt stretching out behind, whilst beneath him the River of Death seemed to murmur hoarsely along its eerie and unwilling course.
All at once he became aware of a figure, apparently on horseback, approaching at full speed, and, challenging loudly, commanded the advancing equestrian to halt on pain of instant death.
The horse was reined up less than a score of yards from the bridge, and to Grenville’s astonishment a sweet girlish voice cried out, “Oh! do please let me pass, I want to go with Dora.”
Just then the moon shone out again for a brief space, and Grenville saw a lovely young girl, her luxuriant dark hair blown about her like a curtain by the wind, sitting on the back of an animal which he at once recognised as a quagga, and looking at him imploringly.
“Who are you?” he at length found voice to ask.
“I?” said the little creature, drawing herself up proudly, “I am the Rose of Sharon, queen of the Mormons by right of birth, but kept in the Convent prison by the wicked men who call themselves the Holy Three.” Then, in pleading tones, “You have a kind face, do let me join dear Dora; you would surely not separate the Rose of Sharon from the Lily of the Valley.”
The girl was not more than eighteen years of age, and shut up from almost all human intercourse as she had been for many years, her manners were almost childlike, whilst her form was so petite that Grenville might well be excused for taking her, as he had at first done, for a child of fourteen.
Catching the head of her strange mount, he quietly led her across the bridge, telling the young lady which direction to take in order to come up with her friend, and being much relieved to learn from her that this quagga was an altogether unique specimen in East Utah, as he had feared that the Mormons might have a cavalry troop so mounted, and this would complicate matters fearfully so far as his own party was concerned.
In a few seconds the hoof-strokes of her strange pony died out upon the veldt, and Grenville was once more alone with a mighty struggle before him, but with an additional reason to nerve his arm in the voluntary presence of this fair creature pleading for protection from the common foe.
This, however, was no time for sentiment, and the moon again making her appearance, Grenville looked carefully to his weapons and prepared to make the best defence in his power, determined that no Mormon should cross the bridge except over his dead body. The sky had partly cleared in front of him, and he was relieved to notice this, as his only chance of a prolonged resistance was to put in accurate shooting at a range quite beyond that of the Mormons’ rifles; behind him over the veldt the clouds stretched away to the horizon black as ink and ominous in their sudden death-like quietude.
In the distance he could see the outline of the Convent and the lights actively twinkling in the Mormon town, then some three miles to the eastward the sky-line was broken by a stream of fire, as a rocket sailed up on its errand of inquiry, and was answered almost simultaneously by a like vivid messenger despatched from the Mormon stronghold in the direction of the bridge.
And now, as Grenville listened intently, he could distinguish the tramp of a body of armed men approaching, and with a beating heart he kneeled down upon the bridge, projecting his rifle over the wooden parapet to steady it; and when the Mormon band, upwards of one hundred strong, came into view, debouching from the trees a quarter of a mile away, he, to their utter astonishment, challenged them in the most audacious fashion:
“Halt, or I fire!”
All the reply to this was a shout of derision, and the entire party commenced a jog-trot over the space which intervened between the trees and the bridge.
Grenville allowed the leaders to get within about three hundred and fifty yards, then his rifle vomited its deadly contents, and two Mormons, running one behind the other, bit the dust. With an angry cry the remainder pressed forward, intent on vengeance; but again and again, to their complete astonishment and utter consternation, did the unerring messengers from the bridge speed forth upon their fatal mission, and by the time the crowd had arrived within a hundred yards of Grenville’s position, seventeen men lay dead or dying upon the veldt, and he had still five shots left in his magazine. These were coolly but hastily despatched, and Grenville had the fierce gratification of knowing, in that supreme moment, that not a single cartridge had been thrown away—every bullet had had at least one deadly billet. Now, however, the Mormons commenced to use their guns, and though the bridge in some degree protected Grenville, still his head was exposed, and he could hear the musket balls whistling past him.
So close were his opponents now that he could distinctly see their faces, and his keen eye instantly detected a wavering movement upon their part; and realising that they ignorantly ascribed an unlimited number of shots to his strange and infernal weapon, he at once opened fire with his revolvers; and after two more men had fallen to the first three discharges, the attacking party broke up altogether, and simply scrambled into cover at top speed, whilst our hero—for such we may now fairly call him—heaved a sigh of relief, and proceeded with the utmost care to reload his rifle.
Then followed a desultory guerilla sort of warfare, the Mormons trying to creep into shooting range lying full length upon the grass, and this stratagem, owing to the number of dead bodies lying about, was comparatively easy work. Twice Grenville had narrow escapes of falling a victim to these crouching marksmen, one shot actually grazing his left ear and drawing blood; but not one of these individuals ever got a chance of a second shot, the list of killed and wounded soon totalling twenty-five, such difference was there between old-time guns and a modern engine of warfare placed in a single pair of cool and skilful hands.
Looking at his watch, Grenville found that his party had now had a start of just one hour; but he felt that to be on the safe side they ought to have another thirty minutes. Moreover, he well knew that the instant he moved from his present position to try and escape, the Mormon herd concealed amongst the trees five hundred yards away would make a unanimous rush at him.
Presently, the situation becoming monotonous, he sallied out into the open and began collecting the arms and ammunition of such of the dead men as lay in closest proximity to the bridge. The Mormons fired an angry volley, without effect; and after securing half a score of muskets, he was about to return to the bridge, when he espied what looked remarkably like a keg of gunpowder lying on the grass some fifty yards nearer to the Mormon position. Quietly walking forward, he took possession of this amidst a hail of bullets, all of which, however, fell wide of the mark, and “spotting” the flash of one gun he replied in kind, his shot being answered by the death-shriek, accompanied rather than echoed by a yell of vengeance.
Grenville carefully carried off his treasure, feeling considerably easier in his mind, as it was now competent for him to blow up the bridge, and thus secure his retreat; but the Mormons, who thoroughly understood his intentions, instantly resumed the offensive, with the object of keeping him otherwise fully employed.
Hastily hiding the keg of powder in the scrub on the outer side of the chasm, Grenville returned to his post, and made another determined effort to check the advance of the enemy, feeling that every additional minute gained for his friends was of incalculable value.
The Mormons, however, had learned a lesson by their dearly-bought experience, and instead of again advancing in one compact body, now spread out their force and endeavoured to “rush” our hero from several points at one and the same time, and so spoil the accuracy of his shooting.
Unfortunately for them Grenville was much too keen to be taken in by such a simple artifice, for seeing that all their varied lines of advance must finally converge upon his own position, he coolly withheld his fire until a considerable number of his foes had joined forces within two hundred yards of the bridge, and then poured it in with frightful effect, the heavy shell-bullets committing terrible execution at such short range.
The Mormons, however, kept on doggedly, and by the time that a score of them had arrived within a hundred yards of him, Grenville’s rifle was empty.
Rapidly slipping cartridges into the magazine of his Winchester, he at the same time warily watched the advancing foe, and when one pulled up and raised his rifle, Grenville instantly dropped him.
Unfortunately, he had but had time to get in five cartridges, and when five men were accounted for, and the rest quietly, but in a determined manner, pulled up within fifty yards of him, and raised their rifles, he was conscious of a sudden sinking of the heart.
Grenville continued, nevertheless, to ply his six-shooters, and the instant the Mormon leader gave the word to his platoon to fire, threw himself forward on his face with the speed of light, escaping by a miracle almost unharmed.
Springing quickly to his feet, he deliberately emptied the remaining chambers of his revolvers into the approaching Mormons at point-blank range, as they rushed forward with their guns clubbed, and then, seizing his own rifle by the muzzle, he swung the weapon round his head and prepared to sell his life dearly.
Though bleeding from a wound in the shoulder and one in the fleshy part of the neck, Grenville felt little the worse, as the last-named had fortunately failed to touch the artery.
As he stood bravely waiting the onslaught of his remaining foes, our hero was dimly conscious that the air was growing dark and very still, and that the storm clouds were creeping up again in ponderous and wicked-looking masses; but ere he had time to reflect on the probable result of this, the Mormons flew at him like hounds on a stag at bay. Blow after blow was given and received, our hero at length getting in a sweep with his weapon that drove one opponent headlong into the awful chasm beneath, into which he fell with a horrid shriek. This blow, however, cost Grenville a nasty knock on the side of the head, and as his enemies redoubled their violence, he felt that the end was very near; the bridge, the sky, the veldt, were turning round and round with him, and he realised that his spirit was indeed about to speed its eternal flight; and now, as he made one glorious final effort to maintain his post, a glittering streak of steel whizzed past his face, and the nearest foe fell backwards, grasping in the death agony at the razor edge of the Zulu spear imbedded in his throat, whilst, almost simultaneously, a second of the attacking party was despatched to the shades by a similar weapon from another hand, and poor Grenville’s sinking heart was cheered by the war-cry of Amaxosa and the cool voice of his brother Myzukulwa—
“Let the Inkoos load his rifle,” said the latter, “and leave these low people to us.”
The remaining assailants now turned tail and fairly ran for it. Too late! As well might they seek to outstrip the wind as to escape from the fleet-footed Zulus, and in less than two minutes every man was on the ground with his life-blood welling from the awful gashes inflicted by the broad-bladed spears of the savage conquerors, who stood chanting a rude note of victory.
Grenville reloaded all his weapons, and after indulging in a nip of brandy, felt more like himself again, though considerably knocked about, and a perfect mass of bruises upon the arms and shoulders. Amaxosa now approached, and saluting him gravely and deferentially, delivered himself as follows:—
“The Inkoos, my father, is indeed a great and very mighty warrior. In one short hour he has slain in fair fight more men than Amaxosa has killed in his whole lifetime; but my father is wounded and very weary after so great a fight, and it is meet that he should now follow on the track of the Lily of the Valley and the Inkoosis to the great black rock and the spring of sweet water; and when these evil men, my old masters, the wicked witch-finders, seek to follow on the road, then it shall come to pass that my father’s faithful war-dogs, the sons of Undi, shall slay them, and if perchance they should by force of numbers overcome the children of my race, then in the evening of his life will my father, the lion-hearted chief, sometime remember Myzukulwa and Amaxosa, the sons of Isanusi, who fought and died for him on the narrow bridge which spans the River of Death. Let my father’s ears receive the words of the voice of his son, for they are good words.”
Grenville, who was deeply touched by the devotion of the Zulus, shook hands warmly with them and thanked them for their timely aid, which had undoubtedly saved his life, but steadfastly declined to desert them or to yield the post of honour.
“Unless my rifle is here to keep the rascals out of range,” he said to Amaxosa, “you would soon fall to their guns; a brave man, my friend, is no more proof against a bullet than is a coward.”
“Fear not their bullets, Inkoos,” was the quick reply; “the witch-finders will shoot no more to-night, the rain will stop them.” And even as the Zulu spoke, the clouds over their heads, which had gradually grown denser and more threatening, were rent asunder by a vivid flame of fire which for one brief instant revealed the whole countryside in a dazzling, blinding glare of lurid light and then vanished into darkness which might be felt, and which was rendered still more awful by the terrific peals of thunder, loud as the trump of doom, which shook the earth and appeared to rend the very vault of heaven itself; the hellish clamour being returned in varying and deafening tones by every rugged rock and echoing glen in the mountain-range, till the whole craggy chaos quivered with the conflicting reverberations.
Flash succeeded flash in rapid succession, until the sultry air seemed instinct with blazing levin brands, whilst the forked streams of arrowy fire darted hither and thither, as if impelled by the hand of a giant.
Then all of a sudden came the tropic rain. Rain! It was simply a vast steaming sheet of vaporish water, which in one instant blotted out the landscape, flooded the veldt, and sent the sullen sluggish River of Death roaring down its active course, where it enlivened the rocks with hoarse and angry murmurings, and clothed the sides of the dreadful chasm with weird and ghostly echoes.
Grenville now suggested to his followers that it would be a good opportunity to blow up the bridge, before the powder, which they were protecting to the best of their somewhat limited ability, began to get damp; but when Amaxosa understood this wish, he replied—
“Why should my father destroy the bridge? Let him withdraw it, and keep the witch-finders on the other side. Amaxosa thought he wished to kill them all to-night.”
On being questioned, the Zulu explained that these bridges all hinged on pivots which worked on the outer side of the river; this, he said, was to enable the Holy Three and their immediate satellites to effectually prevent any spying upon their movements when they undertook their murderous errands either inside or outside their own country.
“Good!” said Grenville; “the evil deeds of these scoundrels will recoil upon their own heads.” And in a few moments more, with the help of the Zulus, the bridge was open and lying flush with their own side of the river, and Grenville and his two sable friends were stealing away with cautious steps, carefully carrying the powder and a score of Mormon guns.
Ere the party had reached the fringe of bush less than a mile away, the rain ceased, as suddenly as it had come on, the moon again shed her soft and beauteous radiance on mountain, veldt, and forest, sparkling in every direction with lovely raindrops, which glistened as if all Nature were smiling through her happy bridal tears. As the little party entered the scrub a wild, angry shout was wafted to their ears, and across the rolling veldt, and beyond the now protecting chasm, the Mormons could be seen ranging up and down, like bloodthirsty tigers baulked of their hard-won prey.
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.
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.