Chapter Six.
The Fiery Cross.
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.