Those who had slunk
away came running back. Muskets rose to shoulders, sticks were again
brandished, and the eyes of the people, a moment ago averted and
downcast, rose defiantly. On every face there was a broad grin of
delight. Even Paul Hubbard's cynical lips were wreathed with a smile
of the keenest satisfaction, and he threw upon Perez one of the few
glances of genuine admiration which men of his sardonic type ever have
to spare for anybody.
For a few moments Woodbridge hesitated, uncertain what to do. To
remain standing there, was impossible, with this crowd of his former
vassals on the broad grin at his discomfiture. To retire was to
confess defeat. The question was settled, however, when one of his
official associates, unable longer to endure the din of the drum,
desperately clapped both hands over his ears. At this the crowd began
to guffaw uproariously, and seeing that it was high time to see about
saving what little dignity he still retained, Woodbridge led the way
into the tavern, whither he was incontinently followed by his
compeers.
Instantly, at a gesture from Perez, the drum ceased, and his voice
sounded strangely clear in the sudden and throbbing silence, as he
directed little Pete to head the column, and gave the order to march.
Pages:
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121