These men were not slow to see through his intentions, and with an awful yell rushed out of the place, and tried to close the door upon him. Grenville was, however, too quick for them, braining one man, who fell across the door and blocked it open.
The street beyond, he saw, was already alive with his foes, who were rushing away from him in every direction, and dashing outside he fired his revolver into the train and flew along the street towards the river. For one instant the success of the plot hung upon a thread, and that thread was the dead sentinel His death in point of fact almost saved the Mormons from the fearful calamity which was now rushing madly upon them.
The miserable man’s blood had trickled along the floor and damped the powder, which fizzed and sputtered in the gory stream, and for one brief instant seemed to be extinguished; then a single spark caught the dry material beyond the tiny crimson rivulet, the serpentine flame spurted across the rooms in one lightning flash of fire, and in the next moment East Utah was shaken to its foundations by the explosion of fifty barrels of gunpowder, which rent the earth and seemed to dwarf into utter insignificance the thunder of the heavens, which still pealed and crashed overhead.
For the succeeding moments nothing could be heard but the crash of falling houses, accompanied rather than succeeded by the awful cry of “Fire! Fire!” And almost immediately the whole city, or rather what was left of it, could be plainly seen in the fearful conflagration which broke out.
Fortunate was it for the hapless Mormons that that night of terror was a night of storm, for had the tropic rain not stood their friend, every soul in the place would have been left houseless and homeless; as it was, however, the sheets of water which were teeming down, soon extinguished the fires on every side, and the city once more settled down into ominous and tangible darkness.
The author of all this ruin was meantime speeding in the direction of the river, but as he turned the last corner, only a hundred yards from the water, he ran right into a mob of Mormons, to whom a vivid flash of lightning revealed his hated and now well-known personality. With a hoarse cry like the angry roar of wild beasts they went at him, looking for an easy victory, but planting his back against the wall Grenville used his revolver freely, laughing in their faces as they discharged at him gun after gun at point-blank range without penetrating his singular armour. Then, taking advantage of the darkness which succeeded an unusually brilliant flash of lightning, he charged through them, killing two or three with his war-club, and then dived boldly into the stream, which was now boiling down its angry course towards the River of Death. Thither Grenville dared not go; against the stream he found it impossible to swim; so, rather than be drowned like a dog, he sprang out of the water and again faced his enemies, determination in his countenance, strength and activity in every nerve of his body, but without a shadow of hope in his heart. Once more getting to the wall, Grenville fought desperately with his club, killing man after man, and then, when he felt himself getting weak, pitched his revolver into the river and again prepared for a final charge. At this moment, however, a cowardly Mormon who had gained an adjacent roof, dropped a great piece of rock full upon our hero’s defenceless head, and he fell to the earth stunned and unconscious.
When Grenville regained his senses, he found himself pinioned hand and foot, and lying in a great hall, which was thickly packed with Mormons of both sexes.
Anxious to get an idea of his position he did not immediately open his eyes, but he was keenly watched, and detecting him in the act of trying to look through his half-open eyelids, Grenville’s guards brutally jerked him on to his feet, one of them calling out, “The prisoner has come to, your Holiness.” Pulling himself together, though feeling very weak, our friend saw he was gazing down upon a perfect sea of faces, and this multitude, as soon as he stood up, gave vent to one common roar of vengeance and execration.
Coolly turning his back upon them with a gesture of ineffable contempt, Grenville found himself face to face with the Mormon Trinity, and for a few moments the Holy Three gazed wonderingly upon this man who had penetrated their secret kingdom, worsted and defeated them at every turn, held them up to the ridicule of their own people, slaughtered at least one-fourth of the whole nation, and finally had, single-handed, almost entirely destroyed their town, and at one fell swoop wrested from their grasp the precious gunpowder which was to have sustained and defended them for many years to come.
On his part, Grenville was quietly saying to himself that these three men were very much what he had expected them to prove.