The general effect, however, was one of intense disappointment, followed by bitter resentment. They began to realize the unkindness of Fate in permitting the failure of an expedition which had started so promisingly. Also, they wanted a scapegoat—and Gran'pa was obviously the only one available.
Some hard words were flung at Gran'pa. He was accused of negligence, of bad stewardship, and even of breach of contract—especially by those who had contributed to the expenses of the club.
It was really a most disgraceful exhibition of narrow-mindedness and gross unfairness. To hear these people, one would have thought that Gran'pa had acted selfishly from beginning to end, that he had never considered their interests, and that none of us had even endangered our lives. No labor leader, about to be deposed by a yelling horde of fellow-workers, was treated more scurvily than Gran'pa. It made my blood boil; and Stringer's moustache and eyebrows were bristling with suppressed indignation.
I was almost hoping that there would be a free fight. And I am sure that there was not a finger on our platform that wasn't itching to do mischief to some of those venerable necks and heads.
Serene and dignified, Gran'pa raised a hand for quiet. But the uproar increased. Was there ever a worse example of obstinate, greedy old age?
"Confound them!" I heard Gran'pa say.
Then he stood on the table and shouted at them as if they were dogs.
"Be quiet!" he yelled.
A sudden silence followed his words and, roused to fury at last, Gran'pa shouted out:—
"If there's another murmur I'll scrap the damned lot of those glands! What the devil do you mean by all this commotion? A nice lot of miserable cowards you are . . ."