Needley had faith in the Patriarch—a faith that never before had been questioned. But Needley had more than that—Needley held the Patriarch in affection, as a cherished thing, almost sacredly, almost as an idol. Faith the simple people of Needley had always had—to a certain point—but it faltered before this grotesque, inhuman, twisted shape that squatted in the road before the Congress Hotel like a hideous caricature of an abnormal toad. Their faith failed to bridge the span that gave the Patriarch power over such as this, and they saw their idol shattered
in their own eyes, and held up to mockery before the eyes of these strangers who had so suddenly and tempestuously swarmed upon them.
Hiram Higgins, seeking out Doc Madison inside the hotel, was in a state bordering on distraction.
"I druve him over from the station 'cause he couldn't walk, him an' a man, an' two women, an' a wheel-chair," Mr. Higgins explained. "But what's to be done now? He wants me to drive him out to the Patriarch's. I got faith in the Patriarch, but I never said he could work miracles—there ain't no one on earth could straighten that critter out. Don't stand to reason that the Patriarch's to be made a fool of."
"Certainly not," agreed Madison emphatically. "It's most unfortunate. I suppose all of us here in Needley"—he looked around at the assembled group of leading citizens—"feel the same way, too?"
"Of course we do," said Mr. Higgins helplessly. "Couldn't feel no ways else."
Madison laid his hand suddenly, impressively, upon Mr. Higgins' shoulder and looked meaningly into Mr. Higgins' eyes—and into the eyes of the selectmen, the overseers of the poor, the general-store proprietor, and the school committee.
"Don't drive him over, then," he said significantly. "Don't any of the rest of you do it either—and tell everybody else not to. Make him crawl. If he's determined to go, let him get
there by himself if he can, make him crawl—he'll never be able to do it."
"That's so," said Mr. Higgins, brightening, while the others nodded; then, dubiously: "But s'pose he does get there—how be we goin' to stop him?"