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?”