there never had been the something that was in his voice now, and in his
face there was a great friendliness, a sense of companionship, a Jonathan
and David something. He was like a comrade talking to a thousand other
comrades. There was a new thing in him and they felt it stir them. They
thought he had been made softer by his blindness; and they were not
wrong. Even the Manitou section were stilled into sympathy with him.
Many of them had heard his speech in Barbazon's Tavern just before the
horseshoe struck him down, and they heard him now, much simpler in manner
and with that something in his voice and face. Yet it made them shrink
a little, too, to see his blind eyes looking out straight before him.
It was uncanny. Their idea was that the eyes were as before, but seeing
nothing-blank to the world.

Presently his hand shot out again. "The same old crowd!" he said.
"Just the same--after the same old thing, wanting what we all want: these
two places, Manitou and Lebanon, to be boosted till they rule the West
and dominate the North. It's good to see you all here again"--he spoke
very slowly--"to see you all here together looking for trouble--looking
for trouble. There you are, Jim Barager; there you are, Bill Riley;
there you are, Mr. William John Thomas McLeary." The last named was the
butt of every tavern and every street corner. "There you are, Berry--old
brown Berry, my barber."

At first the crowd did not quite understand, did not realize that he was
actually pointing to the people whom he named, but presently, as Berry
the barber threw up his hands with a falsetto cry of understanding, there
was a simultaneous, wild rush forward to the platform.

"He sees, boys--he sees!" they shouted.