"Alas, I know not!" wailed the other. "I turned, m'lord, and she was gone. Some power of magic—" he dodged a heavy bronze vase that Amulon, in his rage, hurled, at his head. It crashed into the door beyond and splintered it.
The chief priest clapped his hands. Slaves appeared.
"Take him," he commanded. "Let him be lashed. Send soldiers to search the house of Zeezrom, and arrest every one you find there."
All night Amulon paced the palace, and all night rose the shrieks of Mulek, lashed to the whipping post.
In the meantime Zara, after her escape from Mulek, was being borne through tall hedges of organ cactus on the outskirts of the city. Through fields of maguey—the large century plant—until they reached the prairie where the mesquite grew, they continued their flight.
ALMA BAPTIZING IN THE WATERS OF MORMON.
Beyond, palm trees were gracefully silhouetted against the sky. Plantains rattled in the wind. As they neared the oasis, they felt the dread stillness of the tropic jungle, for the night was coming on. The rich velvet of the sward was flecked with the wild tulip, and long mosses cast black shadows in a pool as clear and deep as a woman's eyes.
Such were the Waters of Mormon, where Alma, the sweet-spirited, baptized believers and taught the gospel of the Savior, thus carrying on the work of Abinadi.