Chapter Nine.
Mining and Counter-Mining.
The party at the rock now passed some little time in quiet and comparative comfort. They were not in any way molested, and though strict watch was kept both by night and day, the Mormons never ventured near their position, despite the fact that the oil well had apparently exhausted itself. This, however, caused Grenville no serious uneasiness, for Winfield had found that by superficially boring the ground near to the rock, he could easily get at and ignite several similar reservoirs of inflammable oil.
It was nevertheless patent that their enemies had quite determined they should not leave the country, for from the commanding height of a neighbouring tree Grenville constantly saw large parties carefully patrolling the wide stretch of veldt lying between the rock and the great subterranean roadway, by which the little party hoped to escape.
And now, having nothing else to do, Grenville turned his mind to the acquisition of wealth, and soon had Winfield at his favourite occupation, aided by Leigh and himself, whilst the Zulus kept watch and ward, and the young girls enjoyed to the full their newly-acquired and delicious sense of freedom.
A neighbouring stream proved to be prodigiously rich in alluvial deposits of gold, and at the end of a week of hard work, the mining party found themselves possessed of close upon sixty pounds weight of the precious metal, mainly in small nuggets. In one pocket alone, which fell to the lot of Leigh, twelve pounds of gold was found and taken out in less than as many minutes, the bed of the river being a regular Tom Tiddler’s ground.
The method of procedure adopted by Winfield was somewhat curious, yet withal, extremely simple. Starting about two miles above their shelter, which was as far afield as the party dared to go, he followed the course of the stream down to, and even for some little distance beyond, the rock, and wherever he came across an eddy formed by the stones, placed a little flag on the bank to mark the spot; then damming up the narrow stream with rocks and fallen trees, he temporarily turned its course into an adjacent hollow in the ground, and set his party to work in the river-bed, on the spots where the eddies, as indicated by the flags, had formerly disported themselves.
The results were pleasing beyond their wildest anticipations, and in less than a fortnight the little river was again running peacefully along its former course, and our friends had acquired gold to the value of nearly twenty-five thousand pounds sterling—as much, in fact, as they could well carry. Only the Zulus looked on stolidly, and internally wondered how such a mighty warrior as “the Inkoos their father” could trouble his head about the “shining yellow sand.” Winfield told the cousins that the mountains in which the stream had its source had always, amongst miners, borne the reputation of a veritable El Dorado, but the insuperable difficulty—indeed, impossibility—of access from the outside world had rendered it the reverse of likely that Nature’s stores—at least in this place—would ever be rifled by the rude hand of man.
“When the alluvial workings pan out like this,” he said, “what must the fountain head be! A wretched old Kaffir once told me that he had seen an entire mountain of solid gold in these parts, and, i’ faith, I begin to believe that he was not telling such a colossal he as I at the time gave him credit for. If we could only carry the stuff away, I would risk a good deal to get at the spot; but as it is, we have quite as much as the quagga can well carry, and if we ever succeed in getting through again to the cave under the waterfall, it will puzzle us to raise either the animal or the gold up to the surface.”
These days of restful peace were, however, suddenly and rudely disturbed by an accidental discovery, which once again brought home to our friends the cunning and unscrupulous nature of the fiendish enemies with whom they had to deal.
Amaxosa, with the perversity of a native, had always insisted—all danger to the contrary notwithstanding—in sleeping outside the house of rock, in a sort of hollow in the scrub which he had dignified by the name of “bed”; but one night, just as Grenville was comfortably dozing off to sleep, whilst Myzukulwa kept watch, a hand was placed on his shoulder, and the voice of Amaxosa whispered, “Let my father rise and follow me; there is danger and witchcraft afoot.”
Springing to his feet, Grenville instantly joined the Zulus outside the cave, and heard strange and terrible tidings. It appeared that Amaxosa, when on the point of falling asleep in his “bed,” had been disturbed by singular noises, which apparently issued from the very bowels of the earth. Concluding, however, that the “spout of fire” was again about to burst out, he had paid but little attention, until the stroke of some iron instrument upon a rock and the muffled sound of a human voice had brought him to his senses in an instant.
Following the Zulu to the place indicated, Grenville listened for some little time, and clearly heard the sounds of mining underground, with now and then a word evidently of command or direction, the purport of which it was, however, impossible to guess, the voices being too deeply buried to admit of the words being heard.
After a moment of paralysed stupor Grenville realised the extent of the frightful danger to which his party was exposed by this diabolical plot. The Mormons were undermining their position, and in a few hours would blow them sky high with Winfield’s blasting powder.
Hastily, returning to the rock he awoke Leigh and Winfield, and explained matters, calling forth ejaculations of dismay from both men.
“In four or at most five hours,” said Grenville, “they will be under this spot, and unless we are clear away, Heaven help us; but on the other hand you may be certain that the forest is full of these outlying devils ready to cut off our escape.”
After a short but excited argument it was determined to try and counter-mine the foe, and starting to their feet the little party set to work to dig through their own floor with the home-made picks and shovels which they had used when seeking for gold.
All worked like blacks, and soon sank a hole forty feet deep in the soft yet firm clayey sand, and then commenced tunnelling, still, however, tending downwards. The labour was enormous and the heat stifling; still the stake, beyond all price, was the life and liberty of the whole party; and when the tunnel had been unceasingly bored for three hours Grenville pronounced it long enough, and ordered his party to strike work. He then carried down the keg of powder taken at the central bridge, which proved to contain about thirty pounds, and the contents of which were found to be in capital condition.
Then sending all back into the cave with instructions to awake the girls, pack the gold on the quagga, and prepare for a running fight to Amaxosa’s Cave, in the not improbable event of the rock being demolished, he returned to his burrow, bored the keg and laid a thick train of powder for thirty feet along the tunnel.
Then came a long anxious wait; but when our hero had been alone for nearly forty minutes, he at last heard the sound of a pick.
Gliding back to his friends, he found them ready for a start, and after seeing all outside in a safe place well on the leeside of the rock, he again crept into the tunnel. Here he waited for some little time in a fever of anxiety. He could distinctly hear the Mormons now, almost above him, and was in deadly fear lest the floor between their tunnel and his, should give way, when all would be lost. This, however, did not happen, for their enemies, overlooking the fact that the ground outside sank gradually towards the rock, and boring their shaft on the level, had approached dangerously near the upper crust of the earth.
At last the time came, and hearing the foe well above his position, and guessing by the sound of their voices that they were discussing the advisability of executing their diabolical scheme, our hero coolly stepped back some thirty feet, placed a light to his train, and as he saw the fire spurt forward along the sinuous inky-looking line of powder, darted out of his burrow, and reached the exit from the rock as the whole place seemed to be rent and torn by an ear-splitting report, and the outside air, which was for one brief moment lighted by the awful glare of the explosion, resumed its normal blackness, the silence of which was instantly broken by the groans of agony from the mutilated and dying Mormons, who had indeed been hoisted with their own petard. Quickly calling his party back to the rock, which, to his delight, was uninjured, Grenville directed Amaxosa to fire one of the oil wells, feeling sure that a Mormon rush would now be made under the impression that the audacious little band of invaders had perished.
Scarcely was this done than a small army of Mormons debouched from the woods at a run. Grenville let them get within three hundred yards of the rock, and then his party opened fire, knocking the astonished cowards over like ninepins, and in less than ten minutes the blazing pillar of fire showed only the open glade, strewn thickly with corpses, its sickly glare revealing also a mighty gaping rent in the ground, from which smoke still issued, looking as if Nature had herself prepared a Stygian grave for the dishonoured dead.
Seeing that all fear of another attack was over for the present, the little party thankfully regained the shelter of the rock, in order to discuss at their leisure the probable result of the latest Mormon disaster; and in a very short time the tired and hungry quintette of miners were enjoying a hearty breakfast, if a meal served at about three in the morning merits such a denomination.
The men were all so utterly worn out that the girls, upon their own earnest entreaty, were for once allowed to keep guard whilst the fighting brigade took their much-needed repose. Grenville felt that the watch was a mere matter of form, and so the result proved, for it was ten in the morning before he was awakened by the soft hand of Rose, who came with the astounding news that a Mormon had appeared on the edge of the forest belt, where he now stood waving a white flag, and signifying his desire to communicate with the besieged.
In a moment all had shaken off their sleep, and every man was standing at his loophole rifle in hand, the two girls being also directed to project the muzzles of two guns through the loops, whilst Grenville, from outside, guarded the opening to the rock.
Picking up his rifle, Grenville passed through the aperture, and waved his white handkerchief to the messenger as a sign to him to advance. This he did with a cautious mien, stopping altogether, however, when he had got half-way to the rock, and beckoning our friend to come and meet him. Seeing that the man was quite out of range of the rifles of his comrades, who were, no doubt, outlying in the bush, Grenville thought the proposal not unreasonable, and first, in a low voice, cautioning his little garrison to keep a watchful eye on the clearing in their rear, he strode boldly forward until he found himself within a few paces of the Mormon chief, for such he unmistakably was. A handsome man with an evil-looking face, and restless eyes, which seemed to avoid your own by instinct. A fine powerful fellow too, not much under six feet, and armed with a sword, a musket, and a brace of pistols.
The pair looked at each other for a few seconds, and then the Mormon reached out his hand with an affable smile, but Grenville contemptuously rejected his offered courtesy, saying coolly—
“No offence, my friend, but it will be time enough to indulge in handshaking when we understand each other better.”
Fire flashed from the Mormon’s eyes at this affront, for such he evidently considered it; he, however, suppressed all outward exhibition of feeling, and replied in English, as pure as Grenville’s own—
“You are right, sir! Now to business. I believe I am addressing the leader of your party, which is composed of brave men, and has given us a great deal of trouble.”
“You may consider me the head of my party,” replied Grenville.
“Well, sir, I am here by command of the Holy Three, and now propose, before matters go beyond the possibility of arrangement, that we should become allies. If you and your friends will take the oaths of our fraternity, you shall receive high personal rank in the nation, and yourself and friends will be liberally endowed with wives, with lands and cattle; Winfield the Englishman, and also the black man Amaxosa, must die by our laws, which they have transgressed; the Rose of Sharon becomes my property as Commander of the Forces, and the Lily of the Valley will fall to the lot of the Holy Three. All these munificent offers must be accepted before sundown, or—his voice growing hard and stern as it had hitherto been winning and courteous—Englishman you die, you all die like dogs, without the hope of help or mercy. I am but the mouthpiece of the Holy Three; they have spoken, and they will not repent.”
For fully half a minute Grenville looked the Mormon in the face, and gave no answer; he could not trust himself to speak.
Then in tones of thunder he uttered the one word. “Go!”
“And my answer?” snarled the Mormon.
“Tell your wretched Trinity that what Richard Grenville gets, he keeps with a strong hand, and that the English rifles which have already decimated the cowardly Mormon nation, will very shortly sweep the Holy Three themselves from the face of the earth. Go! I have spoken.”
The Mormon’s face worked convulsively, and his hand made a movement towards the pistols in his belt, but at that instant he happened to glance towards the rock, and saw the fervid sun glinting on the browned barrels of three rifles, whose muzzles were pointed directly at him, and shaking his fist at Grenville he retreated, hissing out, “Englishman, we shall meet again—beware!”
To which Grenville answered coolly, “The sooner the better, my friend; and when we do, look out for yourself—that’s all I have to say.” He then coolly retook his way to the rock, which he reached just as the Mormon regained the forest.
To the male portion of his friends Grenville gave the purport of the Mormon message, together with his answer, Leigh swearing by all that was holy that he would never quit the country until the insult from the Mormon Trinity to Miss Winfield was wiped out in rivers of blood.
Winfield ruminated upon the message for some time, then turning to Grenville, he said, “Look here, my boy, just let me advise you, in Yankee parlance, to keep your eyes skinned. That fellow who spoke to you just now—Radford Custance by name—is one of the hottest-tempered men I have ever met with in the course of my whole life; he twice kept his temper with you to-day under intense provocation, and let me tell you that that’s record for him, and I infer from it that the scoundrels have got a trump card to play; what it can be, Heaven alone knows.”
“Look here, Dick,” said Leigh, “things have got to such a pass that I for one should like to see the English flag over us—can’t we manufacture one?” At first the idea seemed rather foolish, but after consideration, Grenville could not but feel that his cousin was right, and with the help of the ladies, who produced all sorts of curious and unexpected odds and ends, as well as needles and thread, and assisted by the loan of several handkerchiefs, a rude Saint George’s ensign was contrived, and soon floated on the summit of the rock, over the heads of the little party, who saluted its appearance with three hearty cheers, and a volley from their rifles, Grenville, as they did so, taking possession of the country in the Queen’s name, with a laughing apology to the Rose of Sharon. This act was answered almost instantly by a salvo from the enemy, and a flag was hoisted on the very top of a huge tree, some six hundred yards away. This ensign was a curious production—a dead black ground, ornamented with three horrible-looking eyes, and having also a motto sewn upon it in white letters, which proved to be their usual legend about the eyes of their unsleeping Trinity. Taking a careful sight, Leigh sent a shell-bullet from his Winchester clean through the flag, in which it tore a hole about a foot long, entirely destroying the effect of the basilisk-looking eyes. Upon this, the symbol was at once run down, and did not again make its appearance.