And now by the light of one torch the party proceeded in single file at a good speed, for the roadway was fair, and, when the first hill had been climbed, proved decidedly on the down grade. This surprised Grenville, as he had been of opinion that the water had formerly come from the inside of the cavern and emptied itself into the basin; the reverse, however, had evidently been the case.
After they had travelled about half a mile, the road, to Grenville’s delight, twisted almost at a right angle—this would, of course, hide the light from their pursuers—and directly after the turn had been negotiated, Leigh called attention to a niche in the rock where several more torches were found; these they promptly annexed, and the party again hurried on, the air momentarily growing fresher and keener.
Truly this cavernous road was a strange and awesome affair; the roof here and there vanished from human ken in utter and indescribable blackness, but uniformly it hung some fifteen to twenty feet above their heads, and had been worn quite smooth by the rapid action of water, but was quickly becoming a vast bed of growing stalactites, which flashed back the rays of the torch like a sparkling sea of vivid radiance set with many-hued and lovely diadems.
After the party had accomplished quite five miles, Grenville suddenly called a halt, whilst all listened intently for a moment, and then, having first examined his matches, he extinguished the torch, and, holding one another’s hands, the trio crept cautiously forward. Despite all their care, however, in turning a corner some hundred yards further they fairly walked into another sentinel, who promptly flew at their throats, and for a full minute Pandemonium seemed let loose in the bowels of the mountain. Grenville, with his customary coolness, quickly extricated himself from the scrimmage and struck a light, only to find Leigh and an awkward-looking customer locked in a deadly grip. The draught here proved strong, and the match was blown out as soon as lighted; but its flash showed the Zulu all he needed to know—enemy from friend—and in another instant the sentinel lay a corpse, and Myzukulwa was eulogising his war-club. Quickly the party passed on, and in another minute found themselves at the top of a massive stone stairway, and again under the lovely canopy of heaven, with the welcome moon shimmering down upon them in all the weird, glittering glory of an Equatorial African midnight.
The scene revealed to them by the moonlight was inexpressibly beautiful and magnificent; below them some hundred feet only the rolling veldt in all its mysterious silence swept sheer away as far as the eye could reach, whilst to the right and left towered the majestic spurs of the mountain-range, their snowcapped crests gleaming white under the brilliant moon, and rendered even more vivid by contrast with the awful chasms which here and there rent the precipitous rocks with unfathomed depths of yawning blackness.
No sign of any living creature could they see; yet each knew that it would be sheer madness to strike out into the unknown veldt, without water, almost without food, and with the knowledge that a few minutes, more or less, would in all likelihood bring their pursuers to the head of the stairway, whence, under such a clear light, the movements of their party over the scrub would be distinctly visible for miles. After a brief colloquy, they descended the stairway and glided along the wall of rock, stepping on the stones and keeping carefully in the shadow, meantime seeking keen-eyed for a secure hiding-place adjacent to water.
Almost within gun-shot of the stairway, the party hit upon a narrow cañon in the rocks, into which they entered, and, posting Leigh as a sentinel, Grenville consulted with Myzukulwa, and, after they had whispered together for a few moments, the Zulu slipped out of the opening and was instantly engulfed in the shadows of the mountain. Taking up his position opposite his cousin, Grenville looked at his watch and found it was after two o’clock in the morning; the pair then proceeded carefully to wipe out their Winchester rifles, and each felt happier when he lowered his gun with the magazine chock-full of cartridges. These rifles, though made on the Winchester pattern, carried a heavy shell-bullet, and had proved themselves uncommonly serviceable weapons amongst the heaviest game, and, as both men were crack shots, any hostile person getting within range was likely to have an unpleasantly hot time of it. The Zulu alone carried no rifle, but he had so far overcome the traditions of his race as to use a heavy service revolver, whilst each of the cousins possessed a brace of Smith and Wesson’s six-shooters. This and the knowledge that they had plenty of ammunition, having only parted with their bearers two days before at the foot of the Pass, was reassuring. And now, as the pair awaited the Zulu’s return, a very curious and fearsome thing happened: the cañon, which, when they entered it, had been as dark as Erebus, was being gradually lighted by the moon, and, as the silvery radiance illumined the centre of the gulf, a guarded exclamation broke from the astonished watchers as they saw that the cañon terminated abruptly some two hundred yards from them in a gigantic wall of apparently solid rock; yet from the very centre of this mighty but otherwise commonplace mass looked out a prodigious and perfect model of a human face, about five times the size of life, complete in every detail, and most diabolical in its expression; the eyes, from which streamed scintillating rays of fire, appeared to be rigidly examining every nook and corner of the cañon, and the cousins, who felt somewhat creepy, almost involuntarily drew outside the entrance and kept close in the shadow.
At this juncture a cloud crossed the moon, and it was at once evident that the unearthly-looking figure borrowed no light from the heavenly orb, for the exaggerated lineaments showed up as if cut with a sword of fire out of the inky blackness of the chasm, and on its brow they could now read, in English, the words:—
“The Eyes of the Holy Three are Unsleeping.”
And each knew he was gazing upon the fateful and universally-hated emblem of the false and filthy prophet of the Mormon creed. The cloud passed from the moon, and even as it did so, the light behind the hideous face died out, and the wall of rock regained its normal appearance, scarcely revealing to the straining eyes of the watchers that the counterfeit presentment of the human head had ever existed, save in their excited imaginations.