Their
upturned faces, lit with wrath, with malice, with despair, with
cynical humour, were covered by long growths of beard, but with the
exception of a few who had pined perceptibly away, they seemed to be a
well-fed, healthy lot.
Braddock Washington drew a garden chair to the edge of the pit and sat
down.
"Well, how are you, boys?" he inquired genially.
A chorus of execration, in which all joined except a few too
dispirited to cry out, rose up into the sunny air, but Braddock
Washington heard it with unruffled composure. When its last echo had
died away he spoke again.
"Have you thought up a way out of your difficulty?"
From here and there among them a remark floated up.
"We decided to stay here for love!"
"Bring us up there and we'll find us a way!"
Braddock Washington waited until they were again quiet. Then he said:
"I've told you the situation. I don't want you here, I wish to heaven
I'd never seen you. Your own curiosity got you here, and any time that
you can think of a way out which protects me and my interests I'll be
glad to consider it. But so long as you confine your efforts to
digging tunnels--yes, I know about the new one you've started--you
won't get very far. This isn't as hard on you as you make it out, with
all your howling for the loved ones at home. If you were the type who
worried much about the loved ones at home, you'd never have taken up
aviation.
Pages:
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182
183
184
185
186
187
188
189
190
191
192
193
194