fted 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.

CHAPTER EIGHT.

A NIGHT ATTACK.

Being perfectly secure from Mormon interference--at all events, for the
moment--Grenville and the two Zulus proceeded somewhat leisurely on
their way to the rock, for, truth to tell, all three were suffering from
both hunger and fatigue, and their one single consolation consisted of a
good smoke.

And now, as they gradually knocked off the weary miles which lay between
the central river and the great rock, Grenville heard the details of the
Zulu expedition to the eastern bridge.

These active children of the veldt had made a very wide detour during
the first night, and safely reached the desired shelter of the timber
about an hour before dawn, and had watched and slept by turns all day,
having first satisfied themselves that no large force of the enemy was
near at hand. On the bridge they found two guards instead of one,
which, as they said, "made their hearts glad, as the fight would be a
fair one," for the astute Myzukulwa had determined that _at least three
rockets should go up_, by hook or by crook. Instead, therefore, of
alarming the sentinels by showing their persons at dusk, they came upon
the miserable men in the most approved Zulu fashion, and settled them
out of hand, without even giving them the chance of firing a shot.

The pair had then coolly sat down and talked, debating how many rockets
to fire, and had ultimately concluded that Amaxosa, who was quite _au
fait_ with the method of sending up these aerial messengers, should
despatch _five_, and thus cause the Mormons to believe that Winfield and
the escaped Zulu had joined themselves to the audacious invaders of
their secret kingdom.

No sooner was this operation satisfactorily performed than the brothers
prepared to set out for the central bridge, when they were all at once
assailed by five or six Mormons, who had sprung from somewhere close at
hand, and a desperate battle of course ensued. One of the attacking
party, in trying to shoot Myzukulwa, had kindly missed that worthy and
"potted" one of his own friends, and in less time than it takes to tell,
three of the enemy were dead and the others retreating at full speed;
but not knowing how many more might be lying hid, the Zulus for a wonder
concluded discretion to be