Leigh briefly explained the position, when his betrothed, who saw his anxious face, looked very grave, and poor Rose burst into tears and threw herself into Dora’s arms, crying, to Leigh’s astonishment, “Oh! my darling, my darling, I have indeed lost you for ever!”
The grim Zulu Amaxosa turned to Leigh as Rose was led away by Dora, saying, “It is even so, Inkoos; the Flower of East Utah is laid low, for she loved my father, even as his sons loved him, and my heart is very sad for her.” And then changing his manner to the old warlike tones, “And now let the Inkoos, my master, say what he wishes the sons of Undi to do. The storm is breaking, and if perchance my father has escaped from the evil men he will be here by daybreak; but whether he be here or no, the remnant of yon witch-finders will attempt to take our kraal before the sun is again at rest. Let my master open his ears that he may hear my words. With these bushes we will build a wall of thorns, which no living man can force—it must be placed below the rock, not upon it—and it shall be that when the whole army of devils are gathered in one place to uproot the bushes, then will the Inkoos my master command the sons of Undi, who will cast upon these low people the lightning-boxes—surely they are bewitched—which will tear them in pieces, even as they would have destroyed ourselves when last they came; and if any shall yet be left alive after the lightning of the thunder, then the spears in the right hands of my master’s servants shall slay them; so will the faithful sons of my father, the great and mighty lion-hearted chief, revenge his death and make smooth his path to the shades as he views the bleeding, senseless bodies of his evil-minded foes.”
After some little discussion Leigh accepted this cunning scheme in its entirety, subject, of course, to the approval of his cousin should he return.
The night wore on, and the grey dawn broke upon East Utah smiling and lovely as ever, but the poor watchers upon the rock sat haggard and anxious, for he whom they loved and waited for came not.
Almost broken-hearted, Leigh at last laid himself down and slept an uneasy and troubled sleep, from which he was awakened by the welcome news that the enemy was close at hand and advancing in considerable force. Welcome the news indeed was, for every man and woman upon that rocky shelf felt that at that moment they had but one object in life—vengeance of the most awful character for the death of him they loved beyond all earthly considerations.
Disregarding the deadly fire of the Winchesters, which thinned their numbers in every direction, the Mormons marched on, a solemn silent mass. At one hundred yards they began to fire their guns, but did no execution of any kind; and now the party above fairly hailed bullets upon them from rifles, revolvers, and from the Mormons’ own captured guns, and the ground was thickly strewn with dead and dying men.
Volley after volley the attacking party fired, till at last their salvoes dwindled down to a few sputtering shots, and then ceased entirely. The Mormons had exhausted their last kernel of powder, and now prepared to storm the plateau, sword in hand.
The matter fell out exactly as Amaxosa had foreseen, and when a full hundred of the enemy were busy with their swords trying to cut into the zareba, the Zulus plunged the two shells into the mass of living men, which was promptly transformed into an awful heap of bleeding, groaning, human pulp. A few wounded men tried to limp away, but the Zulus were down the rock almost as soon as the shells, and of one hundred and fifty men who had left the Mormon town that morning, not one returned to tell the awful tale of shame and woe.
The wounded were soon put out of pain by the unconcerned Zulus, who then brought up to the plateau a perfect mountain of weapons in the shape of guns, spears, swords, and knives, all the time chanting victorious notes over their fallen enemies, and adjuring their father, the mighty chief, to smile upon his children.
As Leigh had supposed, the Mormons had entirely exhausted their powder before they made the final charge which proved so fatal to themselves—not a single grain of powder could be found in any of their flasks. Thus ended another attempt of the Mormons upon the plateau; they had, as Grenville had foreseen, no more stomach for such desperate work as this, at present.