!"

VIII

STARVES SOME GERMANS

After parting with the scarecrow Mr. Lavender who felt uncommonly
hungry' was about to despair of finding any German prisoners when he
saw before him a gravel-pit, and three men working therein. Clad in
dungaree, and very dusty, they had a cast of countenance so unmistakably
Teutonic that Mr. Lavender stood still. They paid little or no attention
to him, however, but went on sadly and silently with their work,
which was that of sifting gravel. Mr. Lavender sat down on a milestone
opposite, and his heart contracted within him. "They look very thin and
sad," he thought, "I should not like to be a prisoner myself far from my
country, in the midst of a hostile population, without a woman or a dog
to throw me a wag of the tail. Poor men! For though it is necessary to
hate the Germans, it seems impossible to forget that we are all human
beings. This is weakness," he added to himself, "which no editor would
tolerate for a moment. I must fight against it if I am to fulfil my duty
of rousing the population to the task of starving them. How hungry they
look already--their checks are hollow! I must be firm. Perhaps they have
wives and families at home, thinking of them at this moment. But, after
all, they are Huns. What did the great writer say? 'Vermin--creatures
no more worthy of pity than the tiger or the rat.' How true! And
yet--Blink!" For his dog, seated on her haunches, was looking at him
with that peculiarly steady gaze which betokened in her the desire for
food. "Yes," mused Mr. Lavender, "pity is the mark of the weak man. It
is a vice which was at one time rampant in this country; the war has
made one beneficial change at least--we are moving more and more towards
the manly and unforgiving vigour of the tiger and the rat. To be brutal!
This is the one lesson that the Germans can teach us, for we had almost
forgotten the art. What danger we were in! Thank God, we have past
masters again among us now!" A frown became fixed between his brows.
"Yes, indeed, past masters. How I venerate those good journalists and
all the great crowd of witnesses who have dominated the mortal weakness,
pity. 'The Hun must and shall be destroyed--root and branch--hip and
thigh--bag and baggage man, woman, and babe--this is the sole duty of
the great and humane British people. Roll up, ladies and gentlemen, roll
up! Great thought--great language! And yet----"

Here Mr. Lavender broke into a gentle sweat,