Chapter Four.
Into the Unknown.
Grenville briefly detailed to the Zulu all they had seen in the cañon, eliciting many wondering comments from him as to the possible utility of the figure in warfare, after which he gave them an account of his reconnaissance. Suffice it to say that he had rigidly examined the adjacent rocks, and found several small fissures which appeared quite practicable of defence, but had ultimately concluded their present position to be the best, as they were free to strike out upon the veldt, without—so far as he could judge—bringing themselves within range of any likely rifle-posts.
On repassing the stairway, he had heard a subdued murmur of voices, and guessed that their enemies were consulting over the body of the sentinel, and had now realised that three men, already accountable for the deaths of two of their comrades, were by this time at large somewhere within the jealously-guarded precincts of their own secret kingdom; and thinking that the sooner he regained his party the better, Myzukulwa had returned at speed.
The Zulu proposed that their party should hold the cañon against all comers. There was water to be had close by, he said, under cover of their rifles; they had sufficient dried meat to last them for fully three days, and in the meantime they could form an opinion of the number and quality of their enemies. Neither Grenville nor Leigh would, however, consent to this plan of action, for they argued that if the stupendous rock which bounded the cañon was thin enough to admit of the hideous facial transparency they had seen, it was also capable of being pierced with loopholes, and a single marksman thus posted would make the place untenable by their party. Truth to tell, the unexplained horror of that diabolical face was strong upon the cousins, and each was anxious to be gone from its neighbourhood at all risks.
The Zulu continued to urge his view of the case, when his opposition was very strangely disposed of. The moonlight, which had all this time been gradually leaving the cañon, now crept along the nearer wall, and the party perceived, to their dismay, a human figure, apparently watching their movements; an instant more, and the waning light revealed a gruesome spectacle which fairly froze their blood. The man they had seen was dead—recently and ignominiously crucified; and upon wooden crosses, ranged at intervals along that awful wall, hung eight or ten hideous skeletons, their naked bones gleaming white and inexpressibly ghostly in the silvery moonlight; and on approaching these they found over each individual horror identically the same inscription—“By order of the Holy Three”—and realised that this was the Golgotha in which the infamous Mormon Trinity quietly, yet with infinite cruelty, executed their victims, whether innocent or otherwise. Pausing before one skeleton, Grenville pronounced it unmistakably that of a young woman, and Leigh, usually unimpressionable, rapped out a string of oaths, and vowed to pile a hecatomb of Mormon bodies to her manes.
This revelation sufficed even the Zulu, and after a short consultation the party ate some food, and then struck out into the unknown, just as the fading moonlight began to be merged into the ghostly mists of approaching dawn, which, as they hung over the veldt, would effectually conceal the movements of the trio from prying eyes.
By common consent the party kept away to the left of the direct line supposed to lead to the Mormon stronghold as indicated by the single answering rocket they had seen, and by putting their best foot foremost trusted before the morning broke to find cover somewhere out of eye-shot of the stairway, and in this they were successful beyond their fondest hopes.
Silently the daylight came travelling over the grey and weird expanse of fog and veldt, lifting the wreaths of mist here and there—only, as it seemed, to render them by contrast with its own brightness even more opaque than ever; still our friends knew that at any moment the orb of day might be expected to rise and completely disperse the fog banks which afforded them such kindly shelter, and they were feeling consequently anxious, when the Zulu suddenly exclaimed that there were trees close by; and so it proved, for in another five minutes the trio were effectually concealed in a broad belt of bush which appeared to fringe a forest of considerable extent.
Hardly had our friends gained this welcome cover than they saw the mountains, now some dozen miles away, appear suddenly through the gauzy wreaths of vapour; it was as if an angel’s hand had withdrawn the intervening curtain of ghostly mist and revealed the wondrous scene in all the glowing, flashing splendour of a tropic sunrise. The mighty spurs of the mountain seemed instinct with life and beauty, as the clouds lifted and the glorious sunlight ran along their peaks and glinted upon their scarped sides in changing tints of varied loveliness; for but one moment was the picture seen, then the cloud fiend again obtained the upper hand, and only the rolling veldt could be seen both far and near.
The Zulu was now despatched upon another scouting expedition, and, after an absence of half an hour, returned with the reassuring news that no enemy was in sight in any direction. The party then indulged in their customary frugal breakfast of dried meat and water, into which last—in consideration of the night’s exposure—Grenville introduced a dash of brandy from their carefully-husbanded store; then after enjoying their one luxury—a good lazy smoke—the cousins settled down to sleep, leaving Myzukulwa to keep watch, Grenville relieving him a few hours later, as the trio had resolved—at all events, until they knew more about the strange country they were operating in—to confine their travels strictly to the night-time.
Towards evening Grenville climbed a huge tree in order to obtain a general idea of their position, but came down without being very much wiser; and it was finally determined to keep along the edge of the veldt, utilising the shadow of the forest, so far as possible, as a defence against prying eyes.
This programme was carefully adhered to, and when daylight came again without further misadventure, it was a satisfaction to feel that they had at all events placed another twenty miles between themselves and the ghostly cañon which Leigh had christened “Execution Dock.”
On this morning all felt cold and tired, and would have given much for a warm breakfast; but it was thought altogether inexpedient to light a fire as yet.
After their usual sleep Grenville again ascended a tree, and came quickly down with the news that smoke was rising from the bush a few hundred yards off, and that he thought he could smell tobacco. Each man immediately seized his weapons, and in a trice the little party was gliding stealthily forward in the direction indicated by Grenville.
Just as Myzukulwa, who formed the advance guard, was about to enter a small clearing in the forest, he was arrested by the sound of a human voice. The tones were low and growling, but the speaker was still too far off for them to hear his words, and at a sign from the Zulu the trio were soon stealing snake-like through the bush, eager to see what was going on.
A curious scene now presented itself. In the very centre of an open space some fifty or sixty yards in circumference—for it was an almost complete natural circle fringed by trees and heavy bush—a white man was sitting on a fallen log, a big pipe in his mouth and a long rifle across his knees. His face, which looked low and brutal, seemed to peer out through a profusion of bushy beard and whiskers, and his manner of speech was aggressive and objectionable.
Within ten yards of him, bound hand and foot to a sapling, stood another white man, stripped naked to a waist cloth, yet looking, in spite of his degradation and emaciation, a brave man and a gentleman, whilst his style of address differed in a very marked degree from that of the scoundrel before him.
As our friends noiselessly gained their coign of vantage, the prisoner was speaking, and his voice, though clear, was so weak and low that the trio had to strain their ears to catch his words.
“Abiram Levert,” he said, “you have kept me bound to this tree for three days and nights without food, you have given me water to prolong my sufferings and keep me alive, and I tell you once and for all that your devilish ingenuity is utterly thrown away upon me. I am an Englishman, and a man, moreover, who fears and trusts the God you daily blaspheme in your false, infamous worship: and I warn you that no power on earth shall force or induce me to consent to my daughter’s union with such a wretched piece of carrion as yourself, having already half a dozen miserable so-called wives in your filthy harem. I would undergo a thousand horrible deaths sooner than agree to your proposals, and I pray God that Dora may die rather than fall into such abominable hands.”
The face of the Mormon assumed a positively Satanic aspect, and he nervously fingered the lock of his rifle, but suddenly rose and laughed a harsh discordant laugh, removed his pipe from his mouth, and expectorated violently. “All right, Jack Winfield,” he growled. “I guess I can wait; another week of this will bring you to your senses; and if it doesn’t—why, I’ll carry your pretty daughter off into the woods, and then perhaps she’ll be glad to form one of my establishment, if she can get the chance,” and the villain turned to walk away.
And now was enacted a singular drama—part tragedy, part comedy.
The cousins, with their rifles cocked, had been watching every action of the Mormon so closely that they had quite forgotten their Zulu friend, and just as the man who had been designated as Abiram Levert was about to leave the glade and betake himself to the forest on the side farthest from their hiding-place, to the utter astonishment of the watchers, Myzukulwa coolly stepped out into the open and barred his passage in a threatening manner. Quick as thought the Mormon threw forward his rifle, but before he could pull the trigger the active Zulu had struck up his muzzle and the piece was harmlessly discharged in the air.
Myzukulwa promptly followed up his advantage, and aimed a thrust at his enemy which would certainly have annihilated him, when his spear was deftly turned aside by a similar weapon, from which it struck a veritable shower of sparks, and the Zulu found himself fully employed in protecting his own epidermis from the spear of a splendid-looking man, who might easily have passed for one of his own people.
Taking advantage of this diversion in his favour, the cowardly Mormon drew a murderous-looking hunting-knife, and, walking up to the Zulu, prepared to strike him in the back. The moment he raised the weapon, however, Grenville’s rifle vomited a sheet of flame through the bushes, and Brother Abiram Levert bit the dust, with a heavy bullet through his brain.
The cousins watched anxiously for a chance of disposing of Myzukulwa’s opponent in like manner, but the evolutions of the combatants were much too complicated to admit of shooting one without very great risk to the other.
The Zulu had forced his man inch by inch into the centre of the forest glade, and the steely flashes of the spears were keen and vivid as the lightning on a stormy night; all at once Myzukulwa, who had manoeuvred so as to get the light into his opponent’s eyes, made an advance which Grenville knew to be a favourite and deadly point of his, and, on its being most unexpectedly parried, bounded back with a cry of astonishment, and stood quietly leaning on his spear, whilst his foe gazed at him, for the space of a few seconds, in sheer wonder, and then, concluding Myzukulwa had given in, prepared to finish him. The great Zulu, however, raised his hand, and, pointing to his foe, began a speech which was both wild and curious:—
“Tell me, white men, what is life? Is it not the breath of the Creator? Does it come and go like the blushes on a maiden’s cheek? Is it the shadow which comes to us at daybreak but to vanish with the setting sun? Here have we no daybreak, nor can it be evening; yet, how then, in this strange place of witchcraft, have I, Myzukulwa, the son of Isanusi, the last of the ancient chieftains of the race of Undi, met face to face and fought with my brother Amaxosa, the son of my own mother, he having been slain in the Pass of the Spooks sixty long moons ago?”
The other man emitted a strange wild cry, gazed for a moment at Myzukulwa as if spell-bound, and then the pair fell to embracing one another, vociferating the while in the Zulu tongue, whilst Grenville, who saw they had no more to fear from the new arrival, commenced unbinding the white prisoner with many commiserating expressions.
“Who are you?” he asked Grenville.
“Englishmen who have come in answer to your entreaty for help,” replied Leigh.
“Thank God—oh! thank God,” murmured the other, and then fainted dead away in their arms.
A little water sprinkled on his face soon brought him to life again, and he commenced to explain his position.
“My name,” he began, “is John Winfield, and I—”
“Look here, old chap,” cut in Leigh, “we’ve no time to hear your story now; we can see you don’t belong to this wretched Mormon herd, so just swallow this drop of brandy whilst we strip yonder scoundrel and get you something decent to put on, and we’ll try to feed you by-and-by. Dick, what a good thing it was you took that fellow in the head; I drew a bead on his ribs, and should have mauled his clothes horribly if you hadn’t fired first.”
With the help of the Zulus the dead Mormon was quickly despoiled of his apparel and Winfield rigged out in it, and by the time this was done, the shadows were lengthening and Myzukulwa said his brother was ready to take them to a place of safety, where they would find food, water, and sleep. Rapidly assenting to the plan, Grenville told the Zulus to lead on, and leaving the denuded body of Brother Abiram without compunction, they followed their new friend through the forest.
Plunging deeper and deeper into the bush, they found the country rough and stony; the trees were of unusual growth, and matted with curious creepers of the lichen species, whilst here and there tangled festoons of parasites hung from tree to tree in the likeness of gigantic swinging hammocks. The party at length heard the welcome sound of running water, and soon reached a small stream, into which, by direction of Amaxosa, all entered, following its course upward for quite a mile, so as to conceal every trace of their movements. Then, instead of climbing the bank, the active Zulu swung himself into a tree which overhung the water, and, working his way along a stout branch, was followed one by one by the entire party, all being thus enabled to drop on to some rocks a dozen feet off, without leaving any marks behind them. Another mile, mainly over stony ground brought the party to a second small river, up which they waded in like manner for some little distance, until they found that it issued from a great hole in the side of a curious ragged-looking cliff, which, erecting itself some hundred feet above them, seemed entirely to bar further progress through the forest.
Through this entrance Amaxosa passed, beckoning to the party to follow; and when the gloom began to grow deep some twenty yards from the outlet, he spoke for the first time, addressing Grenville in fairly good English, though he did not speak the language with the same fluency as his brother.
“Let the Inkoosis strike lights, and Amaxosa will find his torch.”
Grenville at once complied with this request, and when the match was once alight the Zulu stepped forward a couple of yards, picked up his torch from a ledge of rock, and having quickly ignited it, led the party out of the water, up a passage some fifty feet long, and into a spacious and lofty cavern, having the appearance of a vaulted room, with only one outlet.