"IN YON STRAIT PATH A THOUSAND MAY WELL BE STOPPED BY THREE."
And now, as Grenville listened intently, he could distinguish the tramp
of a body of armed men approaching, and with a beating heart he kneeled
down upon the bridge, projecting his rifle over the wooden parapet to
steady it; and when the Mormon band, upwards of one hundred strong, came
into view, debouching from the trees a quarter of a mile away, he, to
their utter astonishment, challenged them in the most audacious fashion:
"Halt, or I fire!"
All the reply to this was a shout of derision, and the entire party
commenced a jog-trot over the space which intervened between the trees
and the bridge.
Grenville allowed the leaders to get within about three hundred and
fifty yards, then his rifle vomited its deadly contents, and two
Mormons, running one behind the other, bit the dust. With an angry cry
the remainder pressed forward, intent on vengeance; but again and again,
to their complete astonishment and utter consternation, did the unerring
messengers from the bridge speed forth upon their fatal mission, and by
the time the crowd had arrived within a hundred yards of Grenville's
position, seventeen men lay dead or dying upon the veldt, and he had
still five shots left in his magazine. These were coolly but hastily
despatched, and Grenville had the fierce gratification of knowing, in
that supreme moment, that not a single cartridge had been thrown
away--_every bullet had had at least one deadly billet_. Now, however,
the Mormons commenced to use their guns, and though the bridge in some
degree protected Grenville, still his head was exposed, and he could
hear the musket balls whistling past him.
So close were his opponents now that he could distinctly see their
faces, and his keen eye instantly detected a wavering movement upon
their part; and realising that they ignorantly ascribed an unlimited
number of shots to his strange and infernal weapon, he at once opened
fire with his revolvers; and after two more men had fallen to the first
three discharges, the attacking party broke up altogether, and simply
scrambled into cover at top speed, whilst our hero--for such we may now
fairly call him--heaved a sigh of relief, and proceeded with the utmost
care to reload his rifle.
Then followed a desultory guerilla sort of warfare, the Mormons trying
to creep into shooting range lying full length upon the grass, and this
stratagem, owing to the number of dead bodies lying about, was
comparatively easy work. Twice Grenville had narrow escapes of falling
a victim to these crouching marksmen, one shot actually grazing his left
ear and drawing blood; but not one of these individuals ever got a
chance of a second shot, the list of killed and wounded soon totalling
twenty-five, such difference was there between old-time guns and a
modern engine of warfare placed in a single pair of cool and skilful
hands.
Looking at his watch, Grenville found that his party had now had a start
of just one hour; but he felt that to be on the safe side they ought to
have another thirty minutes. Moreover, he well knew that the instant he
moved from his present position to try and escape, the Mormon herd
concealed amongst the trees five hundred yards away would make a
unanimous rush at him.
Presently, the situation becoming monotonous, he sallied out into the
open and began collecting the arms and ammunition of such of the dead
men as lay in closest proximity to the bridge. The Mormons fired an
angry volley, without effect; and after securing half a score of
muskets, he was about to return to the bridge, when he espied what
looked remarkably like a keg of gunpowder lying on the grass some fifty
yards nearer to the Mormon position. Quietly walking forward, he took
possession of this amidst a hail of bullets, all of which, however, fell
wide of the mark, and "spotting" the flash of one gun he replied in
kind, his shot being answered by the death-shriek, accompanied rather
than echoed by a yell of vengeance.
Grenville carefully carried off his treasure, feeling considerably
easier in his mind, as it was now competent for him to blow up the
bridge, and thus secure his retreat; but the Mormons, who thoroughly
understood his intentions, instantly resumed the offensive, with the
object of keeping him otherwise fully employed.
Hastily hiding the keg of powder in the scrub on the outer side of the
chasm, Grenville returned to his post, and made another determined
effort to check the advance of the enemy, feeling that every additional
minute gained for his friends was of incalculable value.
The Mormons, however, had learned a lesson by their dearly-bought
experience, and instead of again advancing in one compact body, now
spread out their force and endeavoured to "rush" our hero from several
points at one and the same time, and so spoil the accuracy of his
shooting.
Unfortunately for them Grenville was much too keen to be taken in by
such a simple artifice, for seeing that all their varied lines of
advance must finally converge upon his own position, he coolly withheld
his fire until a considerable number of his foes had joined forces
within two hundred yards of the bridge, and then poured it in with
frightful effect, the heavy shell-bullets committing terrible execution
at such short range.
The Mormons, however, kept on doggedly, and by the time that a score of
them had arrived within a hundred yards of him, Grenville's rifle was
empty.
Rapidly slipping cartridges into the magazine of his Winchester, he at
the same time warily watched the advancing foe, and when one pulled up
and raised his rifle, Grenville instantly dropped him.
Unfortunately, he had but had time to get in five cartridges, and when
five men were accounted for, and the rest quietly, but in a determined
manner, pulled up within fifty yards of him, and raised their rifles, he
was conscious of a sudden sinking of the heart.
Grenville continued, nevertheless, to ply his six-shooters, and the
instant the Mormon leader gave the word to his platoon to fire, threw
himself forward on his face with the speed of light, escaping by a
miracle almost unharmed.
Springing quickly to his feet, he deliberately emptied the remaining
chambers of his revolvers into the approaching Mormons at point-blank
range, as they rushed forward with their guns clubbed, and then, seizing
his own rifle by the muzzle, he swung the weapon round his head and
prepared to sell his life dearly.
Though bleeding from a wound in the shoulder and one in the fleshy part
of the neck, Grenville felt little the worse, as the last-named had
fortunately failed to touch the artery.
As he stood bravely waiting the onslaught of his remaining foes, our
hero was dimly conscious that the air was growing dark and very still,
and that the storm clouds were creeping up again in ponderous and
wicked-looking masses; but ere he had time to reflect on the probable
result of this, the Mormons flew at him like hounds on a stag at bay.
Blow after blow was given and received, our hero at length getting in a
sweep with his weapon that drove one opponent headlong into the awful
chasm beneath, into which he fell with a horrid shriek. This blow,
however, cost Grenville a nasty knock on the side of the head, and as
his enemies redoubled their violence, he felt that the end was very
near; the bridge, the sky, the veldt, were turning round and round with
him, and he realised that his spirit was indeed about to speed its
eternal flight; and now, as he made one glorious final effort to
maintain his post, a glittering streak of steel whizzed past his face,
and the nearest foe fell backwards, grasping in the death agony at the
razor edge of the Zulu spear imbedded in his throat, whilst, almost
simultaneously, a second of the attacking party was despatched to the
shades by a similar weapon from another hand, and poor Grenville's
sinking heart was cheered by the war-cry of Amaxosa and the cool voice
of his brother Myzukulwa--
"Let the Inkoos load his rifle," said the latter, "and leave these low
people to us."
The remaining assailants now turned tail and fairly ran for it. Too
late! As well might they seek to outstrip the wind as to escape from
the fleet-footed Zulus, and in less than two minutes every man was on
the ground with his life-blood welling from the awful gashes inflicted
by the broad-bladed spears of the savage conquerors, who stood chanting
a rude note of victory.
Grenville reloaded all his weapons, and after indulging in a nip of
brandy, felt more like himself again, though considerably knocked about,
and a perfect mass of bruises upon the arms and shoulders. Amaxosa now
approached, and saluting him gravely and deferentially, delivered
himself as follows:--
"The Inkoos, my father, is indeed a great and very mighty warrior. In
one short hour he has slain in fair fight more men than Amaxosa has
killed in his whole lifetime; but my father is wounded and very weary
after so great a fight, and it is meet that he should now follow on the
track of the Lily of the Valley and the Inkoosis to the great black rock
and the spring of sweet water; and when these evil men, my old masters,
the wicked witch-finders, seek to follow on the road, then it shall come
to pass that my father's faithful war-dogs, the sons of Undi, shall slay
them, and if perchance they should by force of numbers overcome the
children of my race, then in the evening of his life will my father, the
lion-hearted chief, sometime remember Myzukulwa and Amaxosa, the sons of
Isanusi, who fought and died for him on the narrow bridge which spans
the River of Death. Let my father's ears receive the words of the voice
of his son, for they are good words."
Grenville, who was deeply touched by the devotion of the Zulus, shook
hands warmly with them and thanked them for their timely aid, which had
undoubtedly saved his life, but steadfastly declined to desert them or
to yield the post of honour.
"Unless my rifle is here to keep the rascals out of range," he said to
Amaxosa, "you would soon fall to their guns; a brave man, my friend, is
no more proof against a bullet than is a coward."
"Fear not their bullets, Inkoos," was the quick reply; "the
witch-finders will shoot no more to-night, the rain will stop them."
And even as the Zulu spoke, the clouds over their heads, which had
gradually grown denser and more threatening, were rent asunder by a
vivid flame of fire which for one brief instant revealed the whole
countryside in a dazzling, blinding glare of lurid light and then
vanished into darkness which might be felt, and which was rendered still
more awful by the terrific peals of thunder, loud as the trump of doom,
which shook the earth and appeared to rend the very vault of heaven
itself; the hellish clamour being returned in varying and deafening
tones by every rugged rock and echoing glen in the mountain-range, till
the whole craggy chaos quivered with the conflicting reverberations.
Flash succeeded flash in rapid succession, until the sultry air seemed
instinct with blazing levin brands, whilst the forked streams of arrowy
fire darted hither and thither, as if impelled by the hand of a giant.
Then all of a sudden came the tropic rain. Rain! It was simply a vast
steaming sheet of vaporish water, which in one instant blotted out the
landscape, flooded the veldt, and sent the sullen sluggish River of
Death roaring down its active course, where it enlivened the rocks with
hoarse and angry murmurings, and clothed the sides of the dreadful chasm
with weird and ghostly echoes.
Grenville now suggested to his followers that it would be a good
opportunity to blow up the bridge, before the powder, which they were
protecting to the best of their somewhat limited ability, began to get
damp; but when Amaxosa understood this wish, he replied--
"Why should my father destroy the bridge? Let him withdraw it, and keep
the witch-finders on the other side. Amaxosa thought he wished to kill
them all to-night."
On being questioned, the Zulu explained that these bridges all hinged on
pivots which worked on the outer side of the river; this, he said, was
to enable the Holy Three and their immediate satellites to effectually
prevent any spying upon their movements when they undertook their
murderous errands either inside or outside their own country.
"Good!" said Grenville; "the evil deeds of these scoundrels will recoil
upon their own heads." And in a few moments more, with the help of the
Zulus, the bridge was open and lying flush with their own side of the
river, and Grenville and his two sable friends were stealing away with
cautious steps, carefully carrying the powder and a score of Mormon
guns.
Ere the party had reached the fringe of bush less than a mile away, the
rain ceased, as suddenly as it had come on, the moon again shed her soft
and beauteous radiance on mountain, veldt, and forest, sparkling in
every direction with lovely raindrops, which glistened as if all Nature
were smiling through her happy bridal tears. As the little party
entered the scrub a wild, angry shout was wafted to their ears, and
across the rolling veldt, and beyond the now protecting chasm, the
Mormons could be seen ranging up and down, like bloodthirsty tigers
baulked of their hard-won prey.