The gathering was characteristically a
mob made up of diverse elements. It was not swayed by a set purpose and a
common motive. It was not welded by coherence of intent. Its eddies rushed
here or filtered there, according as arguments or protests gained
attention by sharp clamor above the continuous diapason of voices. One who
was versed in the natures and the moods of mobs would have found that mass
particularly menacing by reason of the lack of unanimity. Too many men of
the component elements did not know what it was all about! The arguments
pro and con were developing animosities that were new, fresh, of the
moment, creating factions, collecting groups that were ready to jump into
an affray that would enable them to avoid embarrassing explanations of why
they were there.
A mob of that sort is easily stampeded!
Some men who captained the factions did know why they were there! A few of
them harangued; others went about, whispering and muttering, inciting
malice by their counsel.
The scum of that yeasty gallimaufry was on the outskirts.
When the Corson limousine rolled into the square and sought to part its
way through that scum somebody in the crowd made a proposition that was
promptly favored as far as the votes by voices went: "Tip the lapdog
kennel upside down!"
Chauffeur Wallace met the emergency with quick tactics.
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