"Houndin' them into it," the old man went on. "Yellin' for young men! By God, I'd be ashamed ... parsons an' women an' old men that can't fight themselves, houndin' young men into it! If they'd any decency, they'd shut up...."
"All right, father!"
"The man that owns this paper ... whatshisname!..."
"It doesn't matter, does it? Lie still and be quiet!"
"I can't be quiet. Like a damned big monster, yellin' for boys to eat. Has he any childher, will you tell me?..."
"I don't know, father!"
"Of course he hasn't. An' here he is, yelpin' in his damned rag every day, 'Fee-fo-fum, I smell the blood of a young man!' Why don't they shove him at the Front ... the very front!"
"You must keep quiet, father!"
"All right, Henry, all right!"
He was silent for a few minutes, and then he began again, in a quieter voice. "I'd have put the men that made it, the whole lot of them, in the front rank, and let them blow themselves to blazes. Old men sittin' in offices, an' makin' wars, an' then biddin' young men to pay the price of them! By God, that's mean! By God, that's low!..."