But at that moment i glanced round at the crowd that had followed me. it was an immense crowd, two thousand at the least and growing every minute. … i looked at the sea of yellow faces … faces all happy and excited over this bit of fun, all certain that the elephant was going to be shot. they were watching me as they would watch a conjurer about to perform a trick. they did not like me, but with the magical rifle in my hands i was momentarily worth watching. and suddenly i realized that i should have to shoot the elephant after all. the people expected it of me and i had got to do it; i could feel their two thousand wills pressing me forward, irresistibly. what makes the narrator in “shooting an elephant” by george orwell realize that he is going to have to shoot the elephant afterall?