Part 10 (1/2)

”Richard Grenville, a subject of her Britannic Majesty,” was the answer, given in clear and contemptuous tones.

”You are accused of the crime of wilful murder, and will be tried in three days. Guards, remove prisoner.”

”And,” bellowed the Satyr, ”if he should escape, remember your life goes for his.”

Grenville was then dragged away by his captors, who threw him into a damp underground cell, apparently cut out of the rock. Here, without food, water, or light, they left him, and, fastening the door upon him, placed an armed sentry outside.

As he was led away from the Common Hall, Grenville had noticed that the night had become clear and fine again, and through the grated door he could see the rays of silvery moonlight, and thought regretfully to himself that it was now s.h.i.+mmering down upon the plateau in all its radiant glory, and lighting up the anxious faces of the friends waiting for one who would return to them no more.

He thoroughly realised his awful position. The Mormon prophet's words meant that in three days' time Richard Grenville would be but dust and ashes, and that fearless and generous spirit of his would have returned to the G.o.d who gave it.

Even so, he had played for a desperate stake and won, but the victory was to be paid for with his life; a light price, it seemed to him, in return for the practical destruction of the Mormon town and the perfect future security of his own friends.

Grenville tried to engage the guard in conversation, but the surly brute began to whistle a tune instead of replying. Our hero then laid himself down on the rocky floor, and worn out with fatigue, and still weak from the effects of the blow he had received, slept soundly, until he was aroused by the entrance of the guard in the morning, with breakfast for him, which, it need hardly be said, was most acceptable.

The door was left open whilst Grenville ate, and the guard, who had been relieved by an officer, supported by two subordinates, seemed to be quite a different cla.s.s of man from the surly warrior of the previous night. The new sentinel, in fact, commenced to chaff Grenville while he ate, saying that he was surprised that a man of his ability, who had killed so many people, should have allowed himself to be floored with a stone; but our friend laughingly responded that he never was remarkable for being thick-headed.

He then asked the officer when and how he was to depart this life.

”Oh!” said the other, ”don't be in a hurry, we've hardly begun to like you yet.”

And in this manner he fenced with all the questions put to him.

”And now,” said the Mormon, when Grenville had finished eating, ”I am commissioned to place these irons upon your hands and feet if you choose to be at liberty in the Square here; but you are to have the option of staying in this black hole of a prison if you prefer it.”

Grenville gladly accepted the alternative of being fettered, thinking he might as well see as much of the sun as he could while he had the chance.

The day pa.s.sed quietly enough; he was well fed and carefully guarded, but the men round him seemed decent people, and not at all of the bullying type.

Just about tea-time, as Grenville was sitting listlessly thinking, the dull boom of a distant explosion broke upon his ear. The guards stood still, gazed inquiringly at one another, and at that moment another smothered report followed.

Seeing Grenville smile, one of the men turned to him quickly, and asked him what the joke was.

”Why,” replied he, ”I was just wondering, when I heard the first explosion, how many of the men you sent against my friends this morning would come back alive; but when I heard the second one, I came to the satisfactory conclusion that not one of them would ever see East Utah again.”

The guard looked angry for a moment, but then smiled and said, ”You are a bold man; however, we shall see.”

Soon after, Grenville was hurried away to his prison, and that night he heard wailing and lamentations in the city, and knew that he had guessed the truth, that another fearful calamity had befallen the Mormons, and that his friends at the plateau were now practically safe from further molestation.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN.

DARK DAYS.

Leaving poor Grenville in his dismal prison, we must now return for the time being to our friends at the plateau.

Despite the awful storm which followed Grenville's departure, Leigh and Myzukulwa kept diligent guard, for both were determined that they would never again be caught napping. One of Grenville's last instructions to Leigh had been to keep a double watch every night, and to at once get an enormous pile of thorn-bushes up to the plateau, ”when,” said he, ”you can make a _chevaux de frise_ at the top of the path, which will keep the whole Mormon nation fully employed whilst you shoot them.”

In the very height of the storm the watchers, by a flash of lightning, saw a figure approaching their position, and Leigh at once challenged, but received no reply. The next flash, however, showed him that the nocturnal wanderer was Amaxosa. The chief stalked up the path, shook himself like a great dog, and then, without saying a single word, entered the cave, deposited Grenville's weapons on the floor, and lay down by the fire.

Now, however, this extraordinary and unexplained return penetrated the reserve of even the well-trained Myzukulwa, who, after waiting in a state of suppressed excitement for some moments to give his brother time to speak, at length burst out with a torrent of questions.