To murmur and to lag, crying for food
And shelter. But we dared not answer Bran.
Wherever in the ranks the murmur ran
He’d find it—‘You, there, whispering. Up, you sneak,
Reactionary, eh? Come out and speak.’
33
“Then there’d be shrieks, a pistol shot, a cry,
And someone down. I was the third he caught.
The others pushed me out beneath his eye,
Saying, ‘He’s here; here, Captain.’ Who’d have thought,