I nodded. He picked up the crowbar, I bent down for the shovel; and for the next hour we made the rounds. By that time all the fires had taken good hold and could be left until morning. We were hot, dry, and tired, and with one accord found seats on a log. I crossed hands on the shovel handle, laid my chin on them, and thus fell to watching the fog bands form over the river. I was surprised Scottie was so quiet: he stopped talking so seldom. Now he was content to spit and fill his pipe. This filling was slow of completion and only ended when he had blown and coughed and gurgled through the pipe stem.
“Guv’nor,” he said presently, and I stopped watching the river and looked round, “the papers say there wull be a lot doing at home. We wull be fighting Germany in a day or two. Don’t you say so, Guv’nor?”
“Yes,” I answered.
He smoked on, pressing a finger into the bowl of his pipe. “If it’s a big thing, men wull go frae this country. Don’t you think so?”
“I expect so,” I said.
He cocked his head on one side. “Maybe one or two frae down here wull be going.”
“I shall be going,” said I.