“Did my cousin not foresee the possibility of his recapture?” asked Leigh.
“Ay, Inkoos, that did he, and I now see that he even feared it; he told me to say to you that, if need be, you would do well to try and make more lightning-boxes (bomb-shells), as he thought another attempt would be made on this strong place when he was dead. Much more, therefore, will it be made now that the cunning men, the witch-finders, know of the death of the chief, my brother. Let the Inkoos, then, follow my father’s advice, for it is very good.”
“But what of him?” asked Leigh angrily; “are we to desert him and leave him to die like a dog?”
“Inkoos,” was the ominous answer, “do thou but say the word, and Amaxosa goes willingly to die with his father; but if he leaves the rock, then will the Rose and the Lily fall into the hands of these evil men, and thou Inkoos wilt be but as we are, even amongst the dark and misty shadows of the long-forgotten past.”
Rose listened to all this, and more, with flashing eyes, and heard the Zulu say that at sundown that night the man she loved would die, and die without knowing that she loved him; and she stole away to her little cave again, and sat down to cudgel her poor little brains for a way to save him.
That day had been indeed a day of utter prostration and misery to those at the plateau, but early in the afternoon Leigh had resolved at all hazards to go into ambush near the Mormon town, taking Amaxosa with him, in the hope that they might cause confusion amongst the executioners by a well-directed and unexpected attack, and thus give his cousin one more chance for life and liberty.
Of course this plan necessitated leaving the plateau to the females; but Dora Winfield, armed with a Winchester repeater rifle, was considerably more formidable than she looked, and it was the reverse of likely that any attack would be made until Grenville had been finally disposed of.
Leigh and his faithful friend had accordingly lain in wait all evening, a quarter of a mile from the town, at the unusual quiet of which they wondered, and had of course seen nothing, and returned to the plateau broken-hearted, late at night, only to find Miss Winfield nearly distracted, and to receive the dreadful news that Rose was missing.
The girl had stolen quietly away, leaving behind her the package of valuables, on which was written in pencil, in a school-girl’s hand, “For dear Dick, with Rose’s last and dearest wishes.”
The poor girl’s infatuation for his cousin was already known to Leigh, through the medium of his betrothed, and he now quite broke down; his sorrow, however, was nothing to the lamentations of the warlike Zulu at this fresh and overpowering calamity. “Ow! my little sister,” he cried, “why host thou left thy brother? Thou wast to me the chiefest among ten thousand friends? Alas, alas, for the lovely flower of Utah!”