He was all alone in his high place above this trouble, while his world slumbered peacefully under the breathless tropic noon.
Nobody replied, and he repeated his demand, more of mastery in his voice this time, and a hint of growing anger.

The blacks moved uneasily, like a herd of cattle, at the sound of his voice.

But not one spoke.

All eyes, however, were staring at him in certitude of expectancy.

Something was about to happen, and they were waiting for it, waiting with the unanimous, unstable mob-mind for the one of them who would make the first action that would precipitate all of them into a common action.