The missionary fears losing his Good Works—he sits on the wooden bench holding his hands in his lap. He cannot calm them. The crowd outside has risen to a mass over two hours. The jail is small—it's door and walls are made from thin sheets of wood. Sheriff prays the army will arrive. He drinks Coca-Cola, pacing near the cell door, is told over the radio the children were found (playing ball in a field outside the village)—the crowd believes by witchcraft. Witnesses insist the children were dismembered, placed in Diane Weinstock's red nylon pack. The people are told Americans steal their babies. Rumor, the hundred mouthed, rolls gargantuan, flashes a hundred grim smiles. The army is delayed. The mob overtakes the building. The missionary, the sheriff and his men flee, the crowd uniformly beats Diane Weinstock unconscious.