"It doesn't matter what I've done," he said, quietly, but in a tone that carried his words to the corners of the yard. "But I'll tell you what I'll do, and if I know my friend Mr. Randall, he'll do the same. If you men will enlist, we'll enlist with you, and share and share alike."
The man was taken aback. He looked from Kenneth to Randall: his mates watched him curiously. "One for you, Ginger!" cried the irrepressible boy.
"D'you mean that, sir?" asked the man.
"Certainly," said Kenneth.
"It's a firm offer, Ginger," added Randall.
"Privates--no kid?"
"A bob a day," said Kenneth.
For a half-minute or so Ginger had the air of one who is caught out. He looked round among his mates, grinning awkwardly, avoiding their eyes. They were silent, watching him. All at once he burst into a guffaw, wiped his mouth, and with frank good-humour cried:
"Well, hanged if you ain't good sports. Come on, mates. Who's for Kitchener's army and a smack at the Germans? I'm number one."
The crowd was captured by the sporting spirit. Striking while the iron was hot, Randall and Kenneth headed a procession to the recruiting office. Mr. Randall, called to his window by the tramp of many feet and the strains of "It's a long long way to Tipperary," was amazed to see hundreds of his young workmen marching with linked arms behind the two young fellows. He rang for Griggs.