cause they seemed to exercise an
occult influence upon the gullible public. "Law," "Peace," "Order," "The
Greatest Good to the Greatest Number," he had used them all as an Indian
medicine-man shakes bone rattles, and waves a cow's tail before the
tribe, laughing behind his gaping mask at the servile acceptance of his
prophecies. One and all these Cunjar Gods he had believed to be only
bits of shell and plaited rope, had come to life--they _were_ gods, real
presences, real powers. He had invoked them only to deceive others--and,
behold! he it was who knew not the truth.

The high tower of his heaven-grasping ambitions seemed suddenly insecure
and founded upon shifting sands. The incense the sycophant world burned
before him became a stench in his nostrils. The fetishes he had tossed
to the crowd now faced him as real gods; and they were not to be blinded
with dust, nor bought with gold. The specious and tortured verbiage of
twisted law never for one moment deceived the open ears of Justice, even
though it tied her hands, and her voice was the voice of condemnation.
Honor--he had sold it. Faith--he had not kept it. Truth--he had
distorted to fit whatever garb he had chosen for her to wear. And,
withal, he had hailed himself conqueror; had placed his laurels himself
upon his head, ranking all others beneath him. The clamor of the mob he
had interpreted as acclaim. Now he heard above the applause the hoarse
chorus of disdain and fear. It had been his pride to see men fall back
and make way at the very mention of his name. Now he felt that they
shrank from him--not before his greatness, but from his very contact. He
had driven his fellow creatures from him, and in return, they withdrew
themselves.

If they came to him fawning, they but showed their lower natures. He had
not called forth the power for good, from these the necromancy of his
personality had touched. He had conjured evil, he had pandered to base
forces.

The realization had not come easily. His habits of thought would return
and blind him as of old. He had laughed at himself; he had derided the
new gods, he had disobeyed them and their strange commands--only to
return crestfallen, contrite, feeling himself unworthy. He became aware
that he had run a long and victorious race for a prize he had
craved--only to find that the goal to which it brought him was not that
of his old desires. That was but withered leaves, spattered with the
blood of those who lost. He