"
For an instant there was absolute silence, in which Ingolby weighed his
chances. He was among enemies. He had meant only to move among the crowd
to discover their attitude, to find things out for himself. He had
succeeded, and his belief that Manitou could be swayed in the right
direction if properly handled, was correct. Beneath the fanaticism and
the racial spirit was human nature; and until Jethro Fawe had appeared,
he had hoped to prevent violence and the collision at to-morrow's
funeral.
Now the situation was all changed. It was hard to tell what sharp turn
things might take. He was about to speak, but suddenly from the crowd
there was spat out at him the words, "Spy! Sneak! Spy!"
Instantly the wave of feeling ran against him. He smiled frankly,
however, with that droll twist of his mouth which had won so many, and
the raillery of his eyes was more friendly than any appeal.
"Spy, if you like, my friends," he said firmly and clearly. "Moses sent
spies down into the Land of Promise, and they brought back big bunches of
grapes. Well, I've come down into a land of promise. I wanted to know
just how you all feel without being told it by some one else. I knew if I
came here as Max Ingolby I shouldn't hear the whole truth; I wouldn't see
exactly how you see, so I came as one of you, and you must admit, my
French is as good as yours almost.
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