rn
journey, or an answering rocket would have been fired from the eastern
bridge. You must push on with Miss Winfield and her father, and try to
make the Table Rock. I think we are in for a storm, but never mind that
I will stay by the bridge and stop any stragglers from pursuing; if you
come across the Zulus, send one to me and take the other one on with
you. Now be off, there's a good fellow," as Leigh was about to argue
the point.

"God bless you, dear old man!" burst from the other, as he wrung
Grenville's hand and turned away, for he knew that his cousin was facing
almost certain death to effectually cover their retreat; and but for
Dora Winfield's sake he would have insisted upon taking his own share of
the danger, as usual.

Another moment and Grenville was alone upon the bridge, the gathering
gloom around him, and the weird whispering veldt stretching out behind,
whilst beneath him the River of Death seemed to murmur hoarsely along
its eerie and unwilling course.

All at once he became aware of a figure, apparently on horseback,
approaching at full speed, and, challenging loudly, commanded the
advancing equestrian to halt on pain of instant death.

The horse was reined up less than a score of yards from the bridge, and
to Grenville's astonishment a sweet girlish voice cried out, "Oh! do
please let me pass, I want to go with Dora."

Just then the moon shone out again for a brief space, and Grenville saw
a lovely young girl, her luxuriant dark hair blown about her like a
curtain by the wind, sitting on the back of an animal which he at once
recognised as a quagga, and looking at him imploringly.

"Who are you?" he at length found voice to ask.

"I?" said the little creature, drawing herself up proudly, "I am the
Rose of Sharon, queen of the Mormons by right of birth, but kept in the
Convent prison by the wicked men who call themselves the Holy Three."
Then, in pleading tones, "You have a kind face, do let me join dear
Dora; you would surely not separate the Rose of Sharon from the Lily of
the Valley."

The girl was not more than eighteen years of age, and shut up from
almost all human intercourse as she had been for many years, her manners
were almost childlike, whilst her form was so _petite_ that Grenville
might well be excused for taking her, as he had at first done, for a
child of fourteen.

Catching the head of her strange mount, he quietly led her across the
bridge, telling the young lady whic