"’What about Belgium?’ says the nipper. What has Belgium done for us? Perhaps the nipper will tell us. Speak up.... Not a word, and why? Because Belgium has done nothing for us. Then I ask you in the name of common sense why on earth we should do anything for Belgium? Belgium has only herself to thank. The Germans have promised to leave Belgium as soon as they have settled with the French, and even if they don’t----" "Way there!" shouted Randall, elbowing his way through the crowd. Cries of "Way for the young governor!" drowned the speaker’s voice. "Time’s up, Stoneway!" sang out the boy who had questioned him. Kenneth followed his friend, hoping that he would be discreet. Stoneway descended from the tub, Randall mounted in his place. "Look here, men," he cried, "I came to listen, to get at your ideas, not to speak, but I can’t keep quiet when I hear such stuff. We’re free men: that’s all right; but we’re men of our word. An Englishman’s word: you know what people say about that. We’ve given our word to Belgium: if we break it we’re mean skunks, we’re disgraced for ever. Besides, every decent chap loathes a bully, and Germany’s just a great hulking bully. If you see a big chap hurting a little ’un, you want to knock him down. My father tells me that only about a dozen of you have enlisted. What’s the reason of it? You’d feel jolly well insulted if I called you cowards. Are all you hundreds going to skulk at home while your mates do the fighting for you? What’ll you feel like in ten years’ time? You won’t be able to look ’em in the face. Here I’ve come 6000 miles to do my bit; buck up and show what you’re made of." Randall’s words tumbled out in a boiling flood. There was some cheering, mingled with cries of "Ginger!" which grew in volume until the din was deafening. Presently there edged his way through the crowd a thin lank fellow with lean clean-shaven cheeks, deeply furrowed, and a touzled mop of reddish hair. A red scarf was knotted about his neck. He slouched forward, hands in pockets, murmured "Afternoon, Mr. Harry," as he passed Randall, mounted the tub, hitched up his breeches, drew the back of his hand across his mouth, and looked round, with a grin, upon his shouting fellow-workmen. The noise subsided, and the crowd gazed expectantly up into their favourite’s face. "We’re all glad to see the young governor, mates," he said, in the broad accents of a north-countryman. There was a volley of cheers. "But we don’t hold with him--and no offence. I hold with Stoneway--every word of it." He thumped the air. "Who made this war? Not us: we wasn’t consulted. No: it was the nobs done it. Are we going to let ’em force us into it?" (Shouts of "No!") "We won’t be druv. It’s all very well for the officers: they get a comfortable billet and good pay. Tommy gets the kicks and Percy gets the ha’pence." ("Go it, Ginger!") "Now, Mr. Harry, you’ve come 6000 miles--what for, sir? an officer’s job, I take my oath."