In thick, musical tones she graciously accepted the invitation.
On the day of the banquet Zara flitted among the wine jars, pouring into them a concoction brewed of the sleeping herb and the juice of the white poppy. Practically all of the Helemite's store would be guzzled down the throats of the thirsty horde in one night. The people of Alma would drink none. That was a part of the game.
That night at the feast, when the atmosphere was redolent with perfume and the air vibrant with music, Amulon cornered Zara and with his compelling gaze fixed on her face demanded that she drink with him the toast, "For old time's sake," while Lamona watched with jealous eyes. Fearful that this virile leader would not drink enough for her purpose, she raised the goblet with quaking hand to her lips. They were almost driven white by a new fear. What if she herself should go to sleep in this dire exigency? Already the drugged soldiers were lying in heaps about the room. Some still kept up the feast, but even these were too far gone to notice that the halls were being strangely emptied of Nephites. Already their flocks and herds were being rapidly driven into the mountains, to be speedily followed by their owners, for the Helemites were abandoning their homes to their conquerors.
Outside in the starlit night, Zara a second time faced the desert. Seated on a horse, like another Mary, she fearfully clasped her little son to her bosom. He was Alma, son of Alma, future high priest of Zarahemla.
THE SACRIFICIAL STONE.
THE GADIANTONS.
"And it came to pass that the Lamanites did hunt the band of robbers of Gadianton; * * insomuch that this band of robbers was utterly destroyed from among the Lamanites."