LITMIR.BIZ

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conceive of it."

      "And—" Elmer Allen prodded.

      Jake Armstrong shrugged. "When it comes to governments and social institutions people usually come up with what they want, sooner or later. If those mobs down there want a leader, they'll probably wind up with one." He grunted deprecation. "And then probably we'll be able to say, Heaven help them."

      Isobel puckered her lips. "A leader isn't necessarily a misleader, Jake."

      "Perhaps not necessarily," he said. "However, it's an indication of how far back these people are, how much work we've still got to do, when that's what they're seeking."

      "Well, I'm landing," Cliff said. "The airport looks free of any kind of manifestations."

      "That's a good word," Abe said. "Manifestations. Like, I'll have to remember that one. Man's been to school and all that jazz."

      Cliff grinned at him. "Where'd you like to get socked, beatnik?"

      "About two feet above my head," Abe said earnestly.

       * * * * *

      The aircraft had hardly come to a halt before Homer Crawford clipped out, "All right, boys, time's a wasting. Bey, you and Kenny get over to those administration buildings and scare us up some transportation. Use no more pressure than you have to. Abe, you and Elmer start getting our equipment out of the luggage—"

      Jake Armstrong said suddenly, "Look here, Homer, do you need any help?"

      Crawford looked at him questioningly.

      Jake said, "Isobel, Cliff, what do you think?"

      Isobel said quickly, "I'm game. I don't know what they'll say back at AFAA headquarters, though. Our co-operating with a Sahara Development Project team."

      Cliff scowled. "I don't know. Frankly, I took this job purely for the dough, and as outlined it didn't include getting roughed up in some riot that doesn't actually concern the job."

      "Oh, come along, Cliff," Isobel urged. "It'll give you some experience you don't know when you'll be able to use."

      He shrugged his acceptance, grudgingly.

      Jake Armstrong looked back at Homer Crawford. "If you need us, we're available."

      "Thanks," Crawford said briefly, and turned off the unhappy stare he'd been giving Cliff. "We can use all the manpower we can get. You people ever worked with mobs before?"

      Bey and Kenny climbed from the plane and made their way at a trot toward the airport's administration buildings. Abe and Elmer climbed out, too, and opened the baggage compartment in the rear of the aircraft.

      "Well, no," Jake Armstrong said.

      "It's quite a technique. Mostly you have to play it by ear, because nothing is so changeable as the temper of a mob. Always keep in mind that to begin with, at least, only a small fraction of the crowd is really involved in what's going on. Possibly only one out of ten is interested in the issue. The rest start off, at least, as idle observers, watching the fun. That's one of the first things you've got to control. Don't let the innocent bystanders become excited and get into the spirit of it all. Once they do, then you've got a mess on your hands."

      Isobel, Jake and Cliff listened to him in fascination.

      Cliff said uncomfortably, "Well, what do we do to get the whole thing back to tranquillity? What I mean is, how do we end these demonstrations?"

      "We bore them to tears," Homer growled.

      They looked at him blankly.

      "We assume leadership of the whole thing and put up speakers."

      Jake protested, "You sound as though you're sustaining not placating it."

      "We put up speakers and they speak and speak, and speak. It's almost like a fillibuster. You don't say anything particularly interesting, and certainly nothing exciting. You agree with the basic feeling of the demonstrating mob, certainly you say nothing to antagonize them. In this case we speak in favor of El Hassan and his great, and noble, and inspiring, and so on and so forth, teachings. We speak in not too loud a voice, so that those in the rear have a hard time hearing, if they can hear at all."

      Cliff said worriedly, "Suppose some of the hotheads get tired of this and try to take over?"

      Homer said evenly, "We have a couple of bully boys in the crowd to take care of them."

      Jake twisted his mouth, in objection. "Might that not strike the spark that would start up violence?"

      Homer Crawford grinned and began climbing out of the plane. "Not with the weapons we use."

      "Weapons!" Isobel snapped. "Do you intend to use weapons on those poor people? Why, it was you yourself, you and your team, who started this whole El Hassan movement. I'm shocked. I've heard about your reputation, you and the Sahara Development Project teams. Your ruthlessness—"

      Crawford chuckled ruefully and held up a hand to stem the tide. "Hold it, hold it," he said. "These are special weapons, and, after all, we've got to keep those crowds together long enough to bore them to the point where they go home."

      Abe came up with an armful of what looked something like tent-poles. "The quarterstaffs, eh, Homer?"

      "Um-m-m," Crawford said. "Under the circumstances."

      "Quarterstaffs?" Cliff Jackson ejaculated.

      Abe grinned at him. "Man, just call them pilgrim's staffs. The least obnoxious looking weapon in the world." He looked at Cliff and Jake. "You two cats been checked out on quarterstaffs?"

      Jake said, "The more I talk to you people, the less I seem to understand what's going on. Aren't quarterstaffs what, well, Robin Hood and his Merry Men used to fight with?"

      "That's right," Homer said. He took one from Abe and grasping it expertly with two hands whirled it about, getting its balance. Then suddenly, he drooped, leaning on it as a staff. His face expressed weariness. His youth and virility seemed to drop away and suddenly he was an aged religious pilgrim as seen throughout the Moslem world.

      "I'll be damned," Cliff blurted. "Oop, sorry Isobel."

      "I'll be damned, too," Isobel said. "What in the world can you do with that, Homer? I was thinking in terms of you mowing those people down with machine guns or something."

      Crawford stood erect again laughingly, and demonstrated. "It's probably the most efficient handweapon ever devised. The weapon of the British yeoman. With one of these you can disarm a swordsman in a matter of seconds. A good man with a quarterstaff can unhorse a knight in armor and batter him to death, in a minute or so. The only other handweapon capable of countering it is another quarterstaff. Watch this, with the favorable two-hand leverage the ends of the staff can be made to move at invisibly high speeds."

      Bey and Kenny drove up in an aged wheeled truck and Abe and Elmer began loading equipment.

      Crawford looked at Bey who said apologetically, "I had to liberate it. Didn't have time for all the dickering the guy wanted to go through."

      Crawford grunted and looked at Isobel. "Those European clothes won't do. We've got some spare things along. You can improvise. Men and women's clothes don't differ that much around here."

      "I'll make out all right," Isobel said. "I can change in the plane."

      "Hey, Isobel," Abe called out. "Why not dress up like one of these Dogon babes?"

      "Some chance," Isobel hissed menacingly at him. "A strip tease you want, yet. You'll see me in a haik and like it, wise guy."

      "Shucks," Abe grinned.

      Crawford looked critically at the clothing of Jake and Cliff. "I suppose you'll do in western stuff," he said. "After all, this El Hassan is supposed to be the voice of the future. A lot of his potential followers will already be wearing shirts and pants. Don't look too civilized, though."

      When Isobel returned, Crawford briefed his seven followers. They were to operate

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