the Jamaican.

The two Africans were taken aback by the term of address. They were
unprepared to continue further debate, not to speak of physical action,
against a holy man.

Elmer said with dignity, "He spoke against El Hassan, our great leader."

For a moment the two Africans seemed to be willing to deny that, but Abe
Baker took up the cue and turned to the crowd that was beginning to
gather. He held his hands out, palms upward questioningly, "And why
should these young men beset a Holy One whose only crime is to love El
Hassan?"

The crowd began to murmur and the two hurriedly picked up their fallen
companion and took off with him.

Homer said in English, "What really happened?"

"Oh, this chap was one of the hot heads," Elmer explained. "Wanted some
immediate action. I gave it to him."

Abe chuckled, "Holy One, yet."

Spotted through the square, holding forth to various gatherings of the
mob were Jake Armstrong, Kenny Ballalou and Cliff Jackson. Even as Homer
Crawford sized up the situation and the temper of the throngs of
tribesmen, Bey entered the square from the far side at the head of two
or three thousand more, most of whom were already beginning to look
bored to death from talk, talk, talk.

Isobel came up and looked questioningly at Homer Crawford.

He said, "Abe, get the truck and drive it up before the entrance to the
mosque. We'll speak from that. Isobel can open the hoe down, get the
crowd over and then introduce me."

Abe left and Crawford said to Isobel, "Introduce me as Omar ben Crawf,
the great friend and assistant of El Hassan. Build it up."

"Right," she said.

Crawford said, "Elmer first round up the boys and get them spotted
through the audience. You're the cheerleaders and also the sergeants at
arms, of course. Nail the hecklers quickly, before they can get
organized among themselves. In short, the standard deal." He thought a
moment. "And see about getting a hall where we can hold a meeting of the
ringleaders, those are the ones we're going to have to cool out."

"Wizard," Elmer said and was gone on his mission.

Isobel and Homer stood for a moment, waiting for Abe and the truck.

She said, "You seem to have this all down pat."

"It's routine," he said absently. "The brain of a mob is no larger than
that of its minimum member. Any disciplined group, almost no matter how
small can model it to order."

"Just in case we don't have the opportunity to get together again, what