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CHAPTER 5 – TWO SHIRTS OF FLAME 
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There was a crowd of village children -- boys in front and girls behind -
- with sticks in their hands and their eyes shining; and from behind the 
little house opposite heads peeped out -- the men were waiting with some 
misgiving as to how I should take this knocking. 
"What is it you want?" I asked the children, and turning toward the 
half-hidden heads, I almost shouted, "Why don't you all come out and tell 
me what you want?" This made them recede a little farther, but the 
urchins were fearless, almost drunk with the joy of hunting a living 
creature.
"We know Fatish has hidden the slut in your yard. We want her. Our 
fathers will kill her." 
"Who are your fathers? How can they kill a woman?" 
"She has broken an old woman's arm. We will kill her. Our fathers will 
kill her. They have sticks, they have ropes." 
I knew that the only way to handle a mob is not to be afraid of it. No 
pretense of courage, no sham bullying; they sense that at once. And the 
next thing is never to threaten them. You can scold them, you can 
harangue them, you can appeal to them without any show of weakness, 
but never threaten them. So I went ahead and harangued them and 
enjoyed myself immensely. I have never enjoyed a public speech as much 
as I did that wild one I made on the veranda. It is the only public speech 
in which I gesticulated, fell into demagogics, dramatized and scolded and 
scorned and appealed... The noses, the tips of beards, the end of sticks 
receded more and more. When the backs were turned, I addressed the 
urchins, who were less impressed by my heroics than their elders.
"What are you waiting for? Go at once... and don't let me see you 
again. Killing a woman whose husband is not in the village, indeed! You 
sham champions and heroes... go at once!" They did go; but they 
returned several times, and I had to raise my tone higher and higher, and 
to my surprise it was at a moment when I had really become angry and 
meant to go down in person that they dispersed. Sham heroics, anger, 
and assault can cow grown-ups any time, but you must be genuine with 
children. 
When I saw the crowd walking away through the open field I ran in: 
"Quick, Fatish, bring the woman." 
She came up, holding her shoes in her hand, her whole dress and hair 
covered with hay. No one can realize the fear in an individual's face who 
is hunted by a crowd unless one has seen it. 
"Why did you break that old woman's arm?" I asked severely. I meant 
to stand by her at the moment of her danger, but I did not mean to like 
her or even be nice to her. 
"It is not really broken... they are all cowards -- Halimé has stirred 
them up against me -- and since my man is away they treat me like dirt. 
She called me slut. Could I bear to be called a slut?" 

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