He couldn't see the crowd so well. There was something the matter with his eyes. Sort of misted up.
Funny way for them to act. And his heart was pounding. Too much excitement. Bad for the heart.
'Speech!' roared the ten thousand down below. 'Speech! Speech!'
They wanted him to make a speech! They wanted old Gramp Parker to talk into the mike so they could hear what he had to say. He'd never made a speech before in all his life. He didn't know how to make a speech and he was scared.
Gramp wondered, dimly, what Celia would think of all these goings-on. Hoppin' mad, probably. And little Harry. But Harry would think his grandpa was a hero. And the bunch down at Grocer White's store.
'Speech,' thundered the convention hall.
Out of the mist of faces Gramp picked one face-one he could see as plain as day. Jurg Tec, smiling at him, smiling that crooked way the Martians smile. Jurg Tec, his friend. A dog-gone Marshy. A Marshy who had stood shoulder to shoulder with him out on the surface. A Marshy who had stood with him against the metal beasts. A Marshy who had slogged those bitter miles beside him.
There was a word for it. Gramp knew there was a word. He groped madly in his brain for the single word that would tell the story.
And then he had it. It was a funny word. Gramp whispered it. It didn't sound right. Not the kind of word he'd say. Not what anyone would expect old Gramp Parker to say. A word that would fit better in the mouth of Senator Sherman Brown.
Maybe they'd laugh at him for saying it. Maybe they'd think he was just a damn old fool.