"Most assuredly it is," replied Hanno.
"The most villainous stuff I ever tasted," said Himilco, the last to pass an opinion. "However, I think I will have a little more."
And he drained another horn.
"Disgusting!" he sputtered out; but he seemed so thoroughly to have reconciled himself to the flavour of what he abused, that I was only fearful that he would take more than was good for him.
By the time we had finished our refreshment, day was beginning to dawn, and Hanno was summoned outside; he returned almost immediately, ordered Jonah to sound his trumpet, and bade us all be prepared to start.
Jonah went to the doorway and delivered a ringing blast.
Himilco hastily emptied every one of the horns, protesting all the while that it was odious stuff, sickening to the palate, and almost as vile a drink as plain water.
In answer to Jonah's signal we soon heard the reverberation of our Phœnician trumpets, and without loss of time, Jonah and Hanno at our head, we marched out of the temple. The crowd outside, regarding us with a superstitious reverence, allowed us to pass freely through them, and to proceed onwards without hindrance, so that in the course of half-an-hour we were in the midst of our friends, Hanno clasping Chryseis in his arms, Jonah hugging Judge Gebal, and Chamai so engaged with Abigail, that he did not notice how Hannibal, Himilco, and Bichri had been mercilessly thrashing a group of the nearest savages.
