"He who takes the greatest danger, he who bears the heaviest burden,
that man is King," so the Master was reported to have spoken. And even as
this man cheered, and while the beads of sweat still chased one another
from the disorder of his hair, he heard the thunder of a greater tumult,
and in fitful snatches the beat and impulse of the revolutionary song. He
saw through a gap in the people that a thick stream of heads still poured
up the stairway. "The Master is coming," shouted voices, "the Master is
coming," and the crowd about him grew denser and denser. He began to
thrust himself towards the central groove. "The Master is coming!" "The
Sleeper, the Master!" "God and the Master!" roared the voices.
And suddenly quite close to him were the black uniforms of the
revolutionary guard, and for the first and last time in his life he saw
Graham, saw him quite nearly. A tall, dark man in a flowing black robe he
was, with a white, resolute face and eyes fixed steadfastly before him; a
man who for all the little things about him had neither ears nor eyes nor
thoughts....
For all his days that man remembered the passing of Graham's bloodless
face. In a moment it had gone and he was fighting in the swaying crowd. A
lad weeping with terror thrust against him, pressing towards the
stairways, yelling "Clear for the start, you fools!" The bell that
cleared the flying stage became a loud unmelodious clanging.
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