and looked it over with an air of reflection.
‘I’ll make a clean one,’ he said. ‘I’d like a grown-up man to look at it and see if it’s all right. My father wasmore than half-drunk when I was drawing this, so I couldn’t ask him questions. He’ll kill himself before long. He had a sort of fit last night.’
‘Tell us, Rat, wot you an’ Marco’ll ’ave ter do. Let’s ’ear wot you’ve made up,’ suggested Cad. He drew closer, and so did the rest of the circle, hugging their knees with their arms.
‘This is what we shall have to do,’ began The Rat, in the hollow whisper of a Secret Party. ‘
The hour has come.
To all the Secret Ones in Samavia, and to the friends of the Secret Party in every country, the sign must be carried. It must be carried by someone who could not be suspected. Who would suspect two boys – and one of them a cripple? The best thing of all for us is that I am a cripple. Who would suspect a cripple? When my father is drunk and beats me, he does it because I won’t go out and beg in the streets and bring him the money I get. He says that people will nearly always give money to a cripple. I won’t be a beggar for him – the swine – but I will be one for Samavia and the Lost Prince. Marco shall pretend to be my brother and take care of me. I say,’ speaking to Marco with a sudden change of voice, ‘can you sing anything? It doesn’t matter how you do it.’
‘Yes, I can sing,’ Marco replied.
‘Then Marco will pretend he is singing to make people give him money. I’ll get a pair of crutches somewhere, and part of the time I will go on crutches and part of the time on my platform. We’ll live like beggars and go wherever we want to. I can whiz past a man and give the sign and no one will know. Sometimes Marco can give it when people are dropping money into his cap.We can pass from one country to another and rouse everybody who is of the Secret Party. We’ll work our way into Samavia, and we’ll be only two boys – and one a cripple – and nobody will think we could be doing anything. We’ll beg in great cities and on the highroad.’
‘Where’ll you get the money to travel?’ said Cad.
‘The Secret Party will give it to us, and we sha’n’t need much. We could beg enough, for that matter. We’ll sleep under the stars, or under bridges, or archways , or in dark corners of streets. I’ve done it myself many a time when my father drove me out of doors. If it’s cold weather, it’s bad enough but if it’s fine weather, it’s better than sleeping in the kind of place I’m used to. Comrade,’ to Marco, ‘are you ready?’
He said ‘Comrade’ as Loristan did, and somehow Marco did not resent it, because he was ready to labour for Samavia. It was only a game, but it made them comrades – and was it really only a game, after all? His excited voice and his strange, lined face made it singularly unlike one.
‘Yes, Comrade, I am ready,’ Marco answered him.
‘We shall be in Samavia when the fighting for the Lost Prince begins.’ The Rat carried on his story with fire. ‘We may see a battle. We might do something to help. We might carry messages under a rain of bullets – a rain of bullets!’ The thought so elated him that he forgot his whisper and his voice rang out fiercely. ‘Boys have been in battles before. We might find the Lost King – no, the Found King – and ask him to let us be his servants. He could send us where he couldn’t send bigger people. I could say to him, “Your Majesty, I am called ‘The Rat’because I can creep through holes and into corners and dart about. Order me into any danger and I will obey you. Let me die like a soldier if I can’t live like one.”’
Suddenly he threw his ragged coat sleeve up across his eyes. He had wrought himself up tremendously with the picture of the rain of bullets. And he felt as if he saw the King who had at last been found. The next moment he uncovered his face.
‘That’s what
‘I’ll make a clean one,’ he said. ‘I’d like a grown-up man to look at it and see if it’s all right. My father wasmore than half-drunk when I was drawing this, so I couldn’t ask him questions. He’ll kill himself before long. He had a sort of fit last night.’
‘Tell us, Rat, wot you an’ Marco’ll ’ave ter do. Let’s ’ear wot you’ve made up,’ suggested Cad. He drew closer, and so did the rest of the circle, hugging their knees with their arms.
‘This is what we shall have to do,’ began The Rat, in the hollow whisper of a Secret Party. ‘
The hour has come.
To all the Secret Ones in Samavia, and to the friends of the Secret Party in every country, the sign must be carried. It must be carried by someone who could not be suspected. Who would suspect two boys – and one of them a cripple? The best thing of all for us is that I am a cripple. Who would suspect a cripple? When my father is drunk and beats me, he does it because I won’t go out and beg in the streets and bring him the money I get. He says that people will nearly always give money to a cripple. I won’t be a beggar for him – the swine – but I will be one for Samavia and the Lost Prince. Marco shall pretend to be my brother and take care of me. I say,’ speaking to Marco with a sudden change of voice, ‘can you sing anything? It doesn’t matter how you do it.’
‘Yes, I can sing,’ Marco replied.
‘Then Marco will pretend he is singing to make people give him money. I’ll get a pair of crutches somewhere, and part of the time I will go on crutches and part of the time on my platform. We’ll live like beggars and go wherever we want to. I can whiz past a man and give the sign and no one will know. Sometimes Marco can give it when people are dropping money into his cap.We can pass from one country to another and rouse everybody who is of the Secret Party. We’ll work our way into Samavia, and we’ll be only two boys – and one a cripple – and nobody will think we could be doing anything. We’ll beg in great cities and on the highroad.’
‘Where’ll you get the money to travel?’ said Cad.
‘The Secret Party will give it to us, and we sha’n’t need much. We could beg enough, for that matter. We’ll sleep under the stars, or under bridges, or archways , or in dark corners of streets. I’ve done it myself many a time when my father drove me out of doors. If it’s cold weather, it’s bad enough but if it’s fine weather, it’s better than sleeping in the kind of place I’m used to. Comrade,’ to Marco, ‘are you ready?’
He said ‘Comrade’ as Loristan did, and somehow Marco did not resent it, because he was ready to labour for Samavia. It was only a game, but it made them comrades – and was it really only a game, after all? His excited voice and his strange, lined face made it singularly unlike one.
‘Yes, Comrade, I am ready,’ Marco answered him.
‘We shall be in Samavia when the fighting for the Lost Prince begins.’ The Rat carried on his story with fire. ‘We may see a battle. We might do something to help. We might carry messages under a rain of bullets – a rain of bullets!’ The thought so elated him that he forgot his whisper and his voice rang out fiercely. ‘Boys have been in battles before. We might find the Lost King – no, the Found King – and ask him to let us be his servants. He could send us where he couldn’t send bigger people. I could say to him, “Your Majesty, I am called ‘The Rat’because I can creep through holes and into corners and dart about. Order me into any danger and I will obey you. Let me die like a soldier if I can’t live like one.”’
Suddenly he threw his ragged coat sleeve up across his eyes. He had wrought himself up tremendously with the picture of the rain of bullets. And he felt as if he saw the King who had at last been found. The next moment he uncovered his face.
‘That’s what
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