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.