That evening, as the four men sat together once more in their hut, the two younger drew from Meek the story which he had already related to Grinson on the way home. It was a very colourless narrative--a recital of the cold facts in the fewest possible words, without a touch of passion or indignation. Grinson, however, was not the man to leave his mate's story unadorned.
'He 's an 'ero, gentlemen, that's what Ephraim is!' he declared. 'If ever he gets back to the old country, I lay the name of Ephraim Meek--ay, and his picter too--will be in all the newspapers. I 'll see to that. And the cinemas too; by gosh, I hear 'em now, the cheers of the little kiddies and the sobs of the women and gals when they see Ephraim tied up, like that chap as defied the lightning, bidding of them German ruffians to do their worst; he 'd never dig coal for them, not him! P'r'aps one of you young gentlemen will make a pome out of it, like that one about "the boy stood on the burning deck," you remember, or one I used to know years ago when I went to school, about a British Tommy. I don't rightly recollect it, but 'twas a Tommy in some heathen land as wouldn't bob his head to an idol, or thing of the sort, though they killed him for it. 'Twud be a shame if Ephraim wasn't put into some pome too--an 'ero like him!'
'I ain't got the figger of an 'ero, Mr. Grinson,' said Meek. 'Now if it was you--a-going off singing to be eat--that 'ud made a picter. I couldn't sing if 'twas me--I 'm sure I couldn't.'
'Why, that was only like a sheep bleating on the way to the slaughter-house--'eroes don't baa. Ain't I right, gentlemen?'
'What do you say, Hoole?' said Trentham, feeling somewhat at a loss.
'Well,' drawled Hoole, 'I guess heroes ain't cheap, anyway, and I 'm proud to know two, that's sure.'
CHAPTER XV
DUK-DUK
Trentham took turns with Hoole and Grinson to keep watch through the night, leaving Meek to the recuperative force of sleep. No untoward incident disturbed the hours of darkness, but there was a good deal of noise in the village, the men chattering incessantly.
'Reminds me of the meetings of our old Urban District Council,' remarked Grinson once, when Hoole relieved him. 'Fust one, then another, then all together--and nothing settled after all.'