"El Hassan is turning out to be a hangover all right," Elmer Allen grunted, choosing to misinterpret his teammate's words. He peered down below. "And there the poor blokes are, rioting in favor of the product of those beer bottles."
"It was crazy beer, man," Abe protested. "Real crazy."
Homer Crawford said, "I wish headquarters had more information to give us on this. All they said was there were demonstrations in favor of El Hassan and they were afraid if things went too far that some of the hard work that's been done here the past ten years might dissolve in the excitement; Dogon, Mosse, Tellum, Sonrai start fighting among each other."
Jake Armstrong said, "That's not my big worry. I'm afraid some ambitious lad will come along and supply what these people evidently want."
"How's that?" Cliff said.
"They want a leader. Someone to come out of the wilderness and lead them to the promised land." The older man grumbled sourly. "All your life you figure you're in favor of democracy. You devote your career to expanding it. Then you come to a place like North Africa. You're just kidding yourself. Democracy is meaningless here. They haven't got to the point where they can 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."