The plan, which seemed feasible enough, was discussed in every detail, and all, with apparently one exception, felt sanguine of its success. That exception was the Zulu Myzukulwa. Not that he had anything to urge against the scheme, but he seemed dull, distrait, and cautious, and would only express his hope that it might succeed, and that “the sight of the great chief, his father, might make his heart glad before he died.”
In the afternoon the brothers lay down to sleep, and as Leigh sat and watched them, and smoked his pipe, he could not help thinking that any of the miserable Mormons who got in their way that night would have a rough time of it. At sunset he awoke the pair, and after they had indulged in a hearty meal, hands were shaken all round, and the Zulus, slipping down from the plateau, were instantly swallowed up in the eerie shadows of the veldt and mountain, and proceeded on their way to East Utah, followed by the prayers and good wishes of their friends upon the rock.
We must now return to poor Grenville, who had spent the day, as usual, surrounded by his guards, and occupied with the all-absorbing topic provided by the death of two members of their Trinity. Our friend learned that the Mormons would have been very awkwardly placed had the prophet before he died not given instructions to issue the necessary proclamation of the death of his colleague Warden, and the consequent need for the appointment of some member of the community in his place. Had this not happened, it was more than probable that the last surviving representative of the Trinity would have arrogated supreme power to himself, and declined to co-operate with anyone else, and he being as universally despised, as his father had been respected and as Ishmael Warden had been hated, a revolution would in all probability have resulted, by which the remnant of the latter day Saints would have suffered more severely than ever. To his friend the officer Grenville could not help remarking that he was surprised to find a people so intelligent as the Saints allowing themselves to be guided and led by the nose by their false prophets through the medium of their superstitious fancies.
The officer, however, grew quite stern, and ordered him not to blaspheme; then unbending again, “Come,” said he, “you are to die, so I don’t mind convincing you before you go of the genuineness of the power conferred upon our Holy Three;” and leading Grenville along, still in chains, he brought him to the top of the hill overlooking the city, and upon which stood the signal of the Fiery Cross, fixed above a curious pepper-box-shaped wooden house.
Entering the door, the Mormon signed to Grenville to follow him, which our hero did, wondering to find himself in a darkened room containing a tables surrounded by wooden seats, upon one of which last his guide, whispering in awe-struck tones, instructed him to place himself.
This done, the Mormon gave muttered utterance to a doggerel rhyme of some kind, the words of which Grenville could not catch, but which was evidently supposed to act the part of a spell or incantation; he then pressed a knob in the woodwork, which admitted a dim religious sort of light through some aperture apparently in the roof, and reverently withdrawing a cloth from the table, motioned to Grenville to look thereon. This he did, and had much ado to restrain his laughter at the utter simplicity of the fraud thus foisted—as a holy revelation—upon grown and intelligent men.
The place our friend sat in was neither more nor less than a very poorly contrived “camera obscura,” such as can be seen in so many seaside and other places of holiday resort any day of the week.
Here it was that the Mormon rulers sat, carefully watching and noting all that went on in East Utah during the day, returning to the town at night-time and oracularly relating to their superstitious subjects all that had taken place in their absence. This, however, was not quite sufficient to satisfy some of the more inquiring spirits among the saints, and the Mormons found themselves obliged to resort to prophecy concerning men and things in general; and however awful these predictions were—and awful they certainly became when Ishmael Warden was elected a member of the triumvirate—they never failed to prove correct, the prophets took good care of that.
The guard soon withdrew his “holy wonders” from the unhallowed gaze of the Gentile before him, and when outside again heaved a breath of relief, asking our friend in solemn yet triumphant tones what he thought of that. This was really too much for Grenville, and he burst out laughing in his companion’s face.
The Mormon eyed him with evident doubt as to his sanity, but Grenville noticed that he was careful to drink in every word of the explanation of the “mystery” subsequently given to him by this strange and well-informed prisoner.