The tact of Clark was infinite, or he would not have been the successful leader that he was. He saw now that he had made a mistake, and pulled up his horse by the crowd, saying, quietly:
“Stand out of my way, men. I want to enter that building.”
He looked at the door of the arsenal, and there stood beautiful Ruby Roland, with her savage allies round her, stern and impassive, looking straight at him.
Not a man stirred out of his path. Some of them crowded closer in his way, and he saw that they all carried their rifles. For the first time in his life, Clark was at a loss what to do. The instinct of discipline impelled him to violence, but his experience of the reckless Kentuckians told him that such a step would be useless.
Moreover, Bowman and all his officers stood in a group at a fire near by, with their backs resolutely turned to the scene of disturbance. Clark was too intensely proud to call for assistance from them which he saw they were unwilling to grant. He was also too politic to precipitate a fight by attempting to ride into the crowd.
For fully a minute an ominous silence prevailed, and then Clark spoke to Ruby, in a clear, loud voice:
“Mademoiselle, is my adjutant in your quarters? If so, I call on you, as my ally, to deliver him up to me.”
Like a silver trumpet came back Ruby’s answer.
“He is here. He shall not go forth till he is released from arrest, except to be tried by a court-martial.”