own.

One of the guards, more inquisitive than the rest, asked why he did
this, and our friend boldly answered, "I'm not dead yet, you know; and
if I do get away, I swear to you I will kill a man of you for every drop
of blood that it has taken fifty of you cowards to draw from yonder
brave and true-hearted man."

For a time his captors preserved impassive silence, only hurrying him
along as fast as he could move whilst hampered by his fetters, and then
at length he was asked "what had become of the traitor."

"What traitor?" asked Grenville.

"What traitor? why, your late guard of course."

"Mormon," was the stern answer, "I might by admitting the truth of your
suspicion strengthen the position of my friends in your eyes, but I
cannot dishonour the memory of the brave and upright dead. Your
officer's corpse will be found in the River of Death, whither the hand
of the Zulu sent him. He was far and away the best man you had, and his
loss is an infinitely greater one to your community than that of the
wretched Prophet, as you call him, whose corpse you are at so much
trouble to carry now."

When at length the party reached East Utah, Grenville was at once
re-introduced to his prison, which was guarded by a patrol of ten men,
who were kept on duty for the remainder of the time of his imprisonment,
with drawn swords in their hands--such terror had the warlike address of
the little party at the plateau struck into the craven souls of the
Mormons; indeed, so much afraid were they of losing their prisoner that
a grave consultation was held as to whether he should not be killed at
once, to prevent any further risk arising from his escape. This,
however, they dared not do without the consent of the whole nation, the
Trinity having ceased to exist; and for the sake of saving one day it
was of course foolish to think of convoking a general assembly of the
Saints.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN.

VAE VICTIS!

For the rest of the night Grenville lay racked with mental agony.
Before another dawn came stealing over the Eastern Mountains he was to
die a violent death; still, the thought of that did not trouble him
nearly so much as the loss of his faithful Zulu friend. The fact that
he himself had been unable to lift one finger to assist Myzukulwa
against the common foe was gall and wormwood to Grenville. Again and
again he pictured to himself the anguish of those at the plateau when
they learned not only of the entire failure