ashed a sea of boiling,
bubbling water, lashed to frenzy, and heated red-hot, by the streams of
burning lava which, all the time poured themselves into the chasm. In
every direction this yawning abyss spread itself out, far as the eye
could see, and the effect of its presence was to practically divide the
land in two.

Of the Mormons who had held the mountain, and of their savage native
foes, not a vestige could be seen. The earth had simply opened her
mouth upon them, and down alive into the pit had gone thousands of men,
women, and children, both white and black, young and old, friend and
foe, consigned, in one dread prayerless instant, to an eternal stygian
grave.

But stop! The moonlight grows, the light increases as the clouds clear
off. And what moves on yonder pinnacle of rock? Two human forms, they
seem--they are. And now, 'fore God, see how they fight--fight wildly,
furiously, for life! Life! Life on such an awful place as this!
Better, far better, certain sudden death!

One moment Grenville watched, then springing to his feet, he sent a wild
cry of encouragement across the chasm; and in proud and instant answer,
pealing across the vast abyss, and waking every sleeping echo in the
mighty rocks, came the defiant Zulu war-song, and in one moment more,
every child of the Undi within that band was on his feet, ranging up and
down the chasm's edge, shouting the war-cry of his famous chief, and
seeking means to aid him.

Little help did the Lion of the Zulu require from mortal hands; unarmed
he was, but, dashing upon his single foe, he dexterously avoided a
swinging blow from the ready axe, and seized him by the throat. Down
went the pair, and over and over they rolled, fighting the while like
cats, whilst our friends watched, with parted lips and straining, eager
gaze, expecting each instant that both combatants would shoot into the
abyss of fire beneath. All at once the struggle ceased, for the Zulu
had dashed his opponent's head upon the rocks and stunned him.
Springing to his feet he sent a cry of victory pealing across the chasm;
there was an upward whirl of the foeman's shining axe, and next instant,
with a mighty effort, he cast a bleeding human head across the space
between.

The ghastly trophy fell at Grenville's feet, _and the head was the head
of Zero, the slaver-fiend_. Then lifting in his powerful arms the
headless trunk, the Zulu cast it into the wild abyss beneath his feet,
and thus r