"Richard Grenville, a subject of her Britannic Majesty," was the answer, given in clear and contemptuous tones.

"You are accused of the crime of wilful murder, and will be tried in three days. Guards, remove prisoner."

"And," bellowed the Satyr, "if he should escape, remember your life goes for his."

Grenville was then dragged away by his captors, who threw him into a damp underground cell, apparently cut out of the rock. Here, without food, water, or light, they left him, and, fastening the door upon him, placed an armed sentry outside.

As he was led away from the Common Hall, Grenville had noticed that the night had become clear and fine again, and through the grated door he could see the rays of silvery moonlight, and thought regretfully to himself that it was now shimmering down upon the plateau in all its radiant glory, and lighting up the anxious faces of the friends waiting for one who would return to them no more.

He thoroughly realised his awful position. The Mormon prophet's words meant that in three days' time Richard Grenville would be but dust and ashes, and that fearless and generous spirit of his would have returned to the G.o.d who gave it.

Even so, he had played for a desperate stake and won, but the victory was to be paid for with his life; a light price, it seemed to him, in return for the practical destruction of the Mormon town and the perfect future security of his own friends.

Grenville tried to engage the guard in conversation, but the surly brute began to whistle a tune instead of replying. Our hero then laid himself down on the rocky floor, and worn out with fatigue, and still weak from the effects of the blow he had received, slept soundly, until he was aroused by the entrance of the guard in the morning, with breakfast for him, which, it need hardly be said, was most acceptable.

The door was left open whilst Grenville ate, and the guard, who had been relieved by an officer, supported by two subordinates, seemed to be quite a different cla.s.s of man from the surly warrior of the previous night. The new sentinel, in fact, commenced to chaff Grenville while he ate, saying that he was surprised that a man of his ability, who had killed so many people, should have allowed himself to be floored with a stone; but our friend laughingly responded that he never was remarkable for being thick-headed.

He then asked the officer when and how he was to depart this life.

"Oh!" said the other, "don't be in a hurry, we've hardly begun to like you yet."

And in this manner he fenced with all the questions put to him.

"And now," said the Mormon, when Grenville had finished eating, "I am commissioned to place these irons upon your hands and feet if you choose to be at liberty in the Square here; but you are to have the option of staying in this black hole of a prison if you prefer it."

Grenville gladly accepted the alternative of being fettered, thinking he might as well see as much of the sun as he could while he had the chance.

The day pa.s.sed quietly enough; he was well fed and carefully guarded, but the men round him seemed decent people, and not at all of the bullying type.

Just about tea-time, as Grenville was sitting listlessly thinking, the dull boom of a distant explosion broke upon his ear. The guards stood still, gazed inquiringly at one another, and at that moment another smothered report followed.

Seeing Grenville smile, one of the men turned to him quickly, and asked him what the joke was.

"Why," replied he, "I was just wondering, when I heard the first explosion, how many of the men you sent against my friends this morning would come back alive; but when I heard the second one, I came to the satisfactory conclusion that not one of them would ever see East Utah again."

The guard looked angry for a moment, but then smiled and said, "You are a bold man; however, we shall see."

Soon after, Grenville was hurried away to his prison, and that night he heard wailing and lamentations in the city, and knew that he had guessed the truth, that another fearful calamity had befallen the Mormons, and that his friends at the plateau were now practically safe from further molestation.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN.

DARK DAYS.

Leaving poor Grenville in his dismal prison, we must now return for the time being to our friends at the plateau.

Despite the awful storm which followed Grenville's departure, Leigh and Myzukulwa kept diligent guard, for both were determined that they would never again be caught napping. One of Grenville's last instructions to Leigh had been to keep a double watch every night, and to at once get an enormous pile of thorn-bushes up to the plateau, "when," said he, "you can make a _chevaux de frise_ at the top of the path, which will keep the whole Mormon nation fully employed whilst you shoot them."

In the very height of the storm the watchers, by a flash of lightning, saw a figure approaching their position, and Leigh at once challenged, but received no reply. The next flash, however, showed him that the nocturnal wanderer was Amaxosa. The chief stalked up the path, shook himself like a great dog, and then, without saying a single word, entered the cave, deposited Grenville's weapons on the floor, and lay down by the fire.

Now, however, this extraordinary and unexplained return penetrated the reserve of even the well-trained Myzukulwa, who, after waiting in a state of suppressed excitement for some moments to give his brother time to speak, at length burst out with a torrent of questions.

"Since when has a child of the Undi learned to desert his chief? Thou didst go out into the dark night but a few short hours ago with my father, the great and mighty warrior; where is my father now? Myzukulwa asks thee. Is he perchance dead? Then will I, Myzukulwa, the son of Isa.n.u.si, follow on after the spirit of my father, and cry, 'Behold, my father, thy faithful war-dog of the race of Undi. Turn thine eyes, my father, towards Zululand, and wait for thy son Myzukulwa, who follows after thee, and is thy man to the death, ay, and ever after.'"

And the splendid fellow sprang to his feet, took his spears in hand as if ready to set out, and fixed his eyes, glowing with inquiry and fierce determination, full upon his brother.

For a short s.p.a.ce Amaxosa answered not, then his words came low and sadly:--

"The great white chief my father has chased away from his side his faithful dog, and the heart of Amaxosa is sad, my brother, and his breast heavy with fear that the evil men, the witch-finders, being so many, will overcome my father and prevail against him."

Then he broke out into a sort of funereal wail which made Leigh's blood run cold, it sounded so like ill-omened prophecy.

"Ow, my father, why hast thou left me? The stormy night is wet and cold, but the hand of death is colder--colder, and the mists of the grave are still more wet and deadly. Let my father call his sons to him, and they will follow along the dark and fearsome path that leads to the hereafter. Inkoos, the heart of Amaxosa is split in twain, and he fears the unknown evil which will befall the mighty chief he loves."

Leigh was about to answer the Zulu, when all of a sudden the heavens and earth seemed to meet in one vivid blinding sheet of flame, and as the astonished watchers held their breath, the very, mountains were shaken to their pro-Adamite foundations, by the explosion of the magazines in East Utah.

For a moment the countenance of Amaxosa brightened, and turning to Myzukulwa, as the flames in the Mormon town shot up towards the sky, "See, my brother," he cried, "the great chief our father has destroyed the wicked witch-finders, and set fire to their kraals. Oh that we, his sons, might be at his side to slay the evil ones who yet are left alive!

Great is the chief, our father; let us also die the deaths of mighty warriors, and let our last end be even as his."

The girls now rushed in, affrighted by the explosion, and asked if the thunder had torn the mountain in two.

Leigh briefly explained the position, when his betrothed, who saw his anxious face, looked very grave, and poor Rose burst into tears and threw herself into Dora's arms, crying, to Leigh's astonishment, "Oh! my darling, my darling, I have indeed lost you for ever!"

The grim Zulu Amaxosa turned to Leigh as Rose was led away by Dora, saying, "It is even so, Inkoos; the Flower of East Utah is laid low, for she loved my father, even as his sons loved him, and my heart is very sad for her." And then changing his manner to the old warlike tones, "And now let the Inkoos, my master, say what he wishes the sons of Undi to do. The storm is breaking, and if perchance my father has escaped from the evil men he will be here by daybreak; but whether he be here or no, the remnant of yon witch-finders will attempt to take our kraal before the sun is again at rest. Let my master open his ears that he may hear my words. With these bushes we will build a wall of thorns, which no living man can force--it must be placed below the rock, not upon it--and it shall be that when the whole army of devils are gathered in one place to uproot the bushes, then will the Inkoos my master command the sons of Undi, who will cast upon these low people the lightning-boxes--surely they are bewitched--which will tear them in pieces, even as they would have destroyed ourselves when last they came; and if any shall yet be left alive after the lightning of the thunder, then the spears in the right hands of my master's servants shall slay them; so will the faithful sons of my father, the great and mighty lion-hearted chief, revenge his death and make smooth his path to the shades as he views the bleeding, senseless bodies of his evil-minded foes."

After some little discussion Leigh accepted this cunning scheme in its entirety, subject, of course, to the approval of his cousin should he return.

The night wore on, and the grey dawn broke upon East Utah smiling and lovely as ever, but the poor watchers upon the rock sat haggard and anxious, for he whom they loved and waited for came not.

Almost broken-hearted, Leigh at last laid himself down and slept an uneasy and troubled sleep, from which he was awakened by the welcome news that the enemy was close at hand and advancing in considerable force. Welcome the news indeed was, for every man and woman upon that rocky shelf felt that at that moment they had but one object in life-- vengeance of the most awful character for the death of him they loved beyond all earthly considerations.

Disregarding the deadly fire of the Winchesters, which thinned their numbers in every direction, the Mormons marched on, a solemn silent ma.s.s. At one hundred yards they began to fire their guns, but did no execution of any kind; and now the party above fairly hailed bullets upon them from rifles, revolvers, and from the Mormons' own captured guns, and the ground was thickly strewn with dead and dying men.

Volley after volley the attacking party fired, till at last their salvoes dwindled down to a few sputtering shots, and then ceased entirely. _The Mormons had exhausted their last kernel of powder_, and now prepared to storm the plateau, sword in hand.

The matter fell out exactly as Amaxosa had foreseen, and when a full hundred of the enemy were busy with their swords trying to cut into the zareba, the Zulus plunged the two sh.e.l.ls into the ma.s.s of living men, which was promptly transformed into an awful heap of bleeding, groaning, human pulp. A few wounded men tried to limp away, but the Zulus were down the rock almost as soon as the sh.e.l.ls, and of one hundred and fifty men who had left the Mormon town that morning, not one returned to tell the awful tale of shame and woe.

The wounded were soon put out of pain by the unconcerned Zulus, who then brought up to the plateau a perfect mountain of weapons in the shape of guns, spears, swords, and knives, all the time chanting victorious notes over their fallen enemies, and adjuring their father, the mighty chief, to smile upon his children.

As Leigh had supposed, the Mormons had entirely exhausted their powder before they made the final charge which proved so fatal to themselves-- not a single grain of powder could be found in any of their flasks.

Thus ended another attempt of the Mormons upon the plateau; they had, as Grenville had foreseen, no more stomach for such desperate work as this, at present.

As soon as night fell, Amaxosa set out for East Utah, armed with Grenville's revolvers, and determined if possible to discover what had happened to his beloved chief.

Obtaining access to the town, as before, by the river, which was now reduced to its normal state, he prowled about in the shade, running awful risks, but hearing and seeing nothing, and was just about to leave the place in despair, when observing a number of Mormons approaching, he shrank back into a dark alley between two houses.

The band he sought to avoid was met at this point--in fact, directly opposite to his hiding-place--by a detachment travelling in the opposite direction, both parties stopping and entering into conversation.