en his lips parted
in a smile that savored of satisfaction.

"So Bear Cat Stacy goes dry!" he exclaimed with a contemptuous tone
intended to be generally overheard. Then in a lower voice he added for
Turner's ear alone:

"Son, ye've done made a damn' fool of yoreself, but hit hain't hardly
fer me ter censure ye. Hit suits me right well. Afore this day I feared
ye mout be troublesome ter me, but ye've done broke yore own wings.
From this time forward ye hain't nothin' but an eaglet thet kain't rise
offen ther ground. I was sensibly indignant whilst ye blackguarded me a
while ago--but now I kin look over hit. I reckon yore own people will
handle ye all right, without any interference from me."

The chief of the Towers clan turned insolently on his heel and walked
away and the crowd fell back to let him pass.

CHAPTER XX

When the Jews heard of a Messiah coming as a king they made ready to
acclaim him, but when they found him a moralist commanding the
sacrifice of their favorite sins, they surrendered him to Pilate and
cried out to have Barrabas freed to them.

That afternoon Turner Stacy, the apostate leader, saw his kinsmen
breaking into troubled groups of seething debate. The yeast of surprise
and palpable disappointment was fermenting in their thoughts. They had
come prepared to follow blindly the command of a warrior--and had
encountered what seemed to them a noisy parson.

Those who saw in the young man a bigger and broader leadership than
they had expected were those who just now said little. So some regarded
him with silent and pitying reproach while others scowled openly and
spat in disgust--but all dropped away and the crowd melted from
formidable numbers to lingering and unenthusiastic squads. They had not
even attached serious importance to his threat upon blockading--it was
mere bumptiousness indicating his mercurial folly.

In every indication he read utter repudiation by his clan. His eager
but limited reading had taught him that every true leader, if he is far
enough in advance of those he leads, must bear this bitter brunt of
misunderstanding, but he was young and a freshly inspired fanatic, and
that meant that he was in this respect, humorless--but he was not
beaten.

Standing somewhat apart with a satirical smite drawing his lips, Bear
Cat watched them ride away, and when most of them had gone his uncle,
Joe Stacy, came over and stood by his side.

"Ontil ter-day, Turner," he said wi