stupendous. There was not a man, woman, or child in Troy but felt
the demonstration must be hearty, and determined to make it a
success.

"What _can_ have caused this riot?"

The stranger paused with a half-timid air, but after a while resumed
his walk. The shouts broke out again, and louder than ever.

"Welcome, welcome to Troy! Hooroar! One more, lads! Hooroar!" and all
the handkerchiefs waved anew.

"Bless my soul, what _is_ the matter?"

Then suddenly he became aware that all this frantic display was meant
for _him_. How he first learnt it he could never afterwards explain,
but the shock of it brought a deathly faintness.

"There is some horrible mistake," he murmured hoarsely, and turned to
run.

He was too late. The crowd had closed around him, and swept him on,
cheering, yelling, vociferating towards the town. He feebly put up a
hand for silence--

"My friends," he shouted, "you are--"

"Yes, yes, we know. Welcome! Welcome! Hip-hip-hoo-roar!"

"My friends, I assure you--"