He had to control his impatience until after eleven o'clock, the hour
of the service at the church. Sophie wished to go with him and share
his peril, but he would not consent to this. He would not be able to
give the manifesto to everyone, but he could reach enough--the others
would hear about it! So, a full hour before the end of the service, he
took up his post across the street, his heart beating furiously. He
was feeling, it must be confessed, a good deal like a dynamiter or an
assassin. The weather was warm, and the door of the church was open,
so that he could hear the booming voice of Dr. Vince. The sound of the
organ brought tears into his eyes--he loved the organ, and he was not
to be allowed to listen to it! At last came the end; the sounds of the
choir receded, and the assassin moved over to a strategic position.
And then came the first of the congregation--of all persons, the
Olympian Mr. Curtis!

"Will you take one of these, sir?" said Samuel, with his heart in his
throat. And Mr. Curtis who was mopping his forehead with his
handkerchief, started as if he had seen a ghost. "Boy, what are you
doing?" he cried; but Samuel had darted away, trying to give out the
slips of paper to the people as they came out at both doors. He was
quite right in saying that everybody would know about it. The people
took the slips and read them, and then they stopped to stare and
exclaim to one another, so that there was a regular blockade at the
doors of the church. By the time that a score of the slips had been
given out the members had had time to get their wits back, and then
there was an attempt to interfere.

"This is an outrage!" cried Mr. Curtis, and tried to grab Samuel by
the arm; but the boy wrenched himself loose and darted around the
corner, to where a stream of people had come out of the side door.

"Take one!" he exclaimed. "Pass it along! Let everyone know!" And so
he got rid of a score or two more of his slips. And then, keeping a
wary lookout for Mr. Curtis or any other of the vestrymen, he ran
around in front again, and circled on the edge of the rapidly
gathering throng, giving away several of the dodgers wherever a hand
was held out. "Give them to everyone!" he kept repeating in his shrill
voice.

"The evil-doers must be turned out of the church!"

Then suddenly out of the crowd pushed Mr. Hamerton, breathless and red
in the face. "Samuel!" he cried, pouncing upon him, "this cannot go
on!"

"But it must go on!" replied the boy. "Let me go! Take your hands off
me!" And he raised his voice in a wild shriek. "There are thieves in
the church of Christ!"

In the scuffle the dodgers were scattered on the ground; and Mr.
Hamerton stooped to pick them up. Samuel seized what he could and
darted to the side door again, where there were more people eager to
take them. And so he got rid of the last he had. And for the benefit
of those whom he still saw emerging, he raised his hands and shouted:
"There are men in the vestry of this church who have bribed the city
council of Lockmanville! I mean to expose them in a meeting across the
street on Wednesday night!" And then he turned, and dodging an
outraged church member who sought to lay hold of him, he sped like a
deer down the street.

He had made his appeal to the congregation!




CHAPTER XXVIII


Samuel rushed home, breathless, to tell Sophie; and pretty soon came
the Bremers, who had been watching the scene from a distance. And the
thrilling tale had to be told all over to them.

Then Johann made a novel announcement. "For that meeting," he said,
"you must get a permit."

"A permit!" exclaimed Samuel. "From whom?"

"From the police," replied the other. "You must haf it for all street
meetings."

"And where do I get it?"

"At the station house, I think."

Samuel did not much fancy a visit to the station house, which he knew
far too well already; but he would have gone into a den of lions for
the sake of his cause. So, bright and early the next morning, he set
out. With Mrs. Stedman's help he had persuaded Sophie that she must
return to the Wygants, and so he walked part of the way with her.

There was a new sergeant at the desk, an Irishman. "Please, sir," said
the boy, "is this where I get a permit?"

"For what?" asked the other.

"To hold a meeting on the street, sir."

"What sort of a meeting?"

"Why--I've just got something to say to the people, sir."

"Something to say to the people!" echoed the other; and then,
suddenly, "What's your name?"

"Samuel Prescott, sir."

And the sergeant's eyes opened wide. "Oh!" he said. "You're that
fellow!"

"What did you say?" asked Samuel.

"The chief wants to see you," replied the other.

And so Samuel was escorted into the private room, where Chief
McCullagh, red-faced and burly, sat at his desk. When he saw Samuel he
bounded to his feet. "So here you are!" he cried.

To the sergeant he said, "Leave us alone." And when the man had shut
the door, he strode toward Samuel, and thrust a finger into his face.
"Young fellow," he cried, "you promised me you would get out of this
town!"

"No!" exclaimed the boy.

"What?" roared the other.

"No, sir! It was Charlie Swift promised you that!"

"And what did you promise?"

"I promised I wouldn't tell anyone about--about Master Albert, sir.
And I haven't done it."

"I told Charlie Swift to take you out of town. And why didn't you go?"

"He didn't--" And then Samuel stopped. He had promised to tell nothing
about Charlie.

"Go on!" cried the chief.

"I--I can't tell," he stammered.

"What?" exclaimed the other. "You want to hide things from me? Don't
you suppose I know that he's still in town; and that you and him have
been doin' jobs?"

"No--no!" cried Samuel in terror.

"You can't lie to me!" threatened the chief. "I know you, you young
villain!"

He stood glaring at the boy for a few moments. "And you have the nerve
to come here!" he cried. "What do you want anyway?"

"I--I want to hold a meeting, sir."

"Who's given you a license to make trouble in this town?"

"Nobody's given me one yet," replied Samuel. "That's what I came for."

"Don't you get gay with me!" snapped the chief. But Samuel was far
from the thought of getting gay with anyone--he was trembling in his
boots. The man towered over him like a huge gorilla, and his red face
was ferocious.

"Now look here, young fellow!" he went on. "You might as well get this
straight. You'll get no permit to make any speeches in Lockmanville!
D'ye see?"

"Yes, sir."

"And what's more, you'll not make any speech. D'ye see?"

"But--but--" gasped the boy.

And McCullagh shook his finger so that it almost hit Samuel's nose.
"You'll not make any speech! You'll not make it on the street, and
you'll not make it anywheres else in town! And you might as well get
that through your nut and save yourself trouble. And if I hear of you
givin' out any more papers on the street--you'll wish you hadn't--
that's all, young fellow! D'ye see?"

"I see," gasped Samuel.

"All right," said the chief. "And if you take my advice, you'll get
the first train out of Lockmanville and never show your face in it
again. Now get out of here!"

And Samuel got out, and went down the street dumb with dismay. So they
had got the police after him!

Of course he would make his speech. He could not let himself be
stopped by such a thing as that. But he saw at once how matters were
complicated--if the police were to stop him before he had made clear
what he had to say, they might ruin all his plans.

He must seek advice about it; and he went at once to the carpet
factory, and sought out the little room where the Bremers sat with
their drawing boards and paints.

"So that's it!" exclaimed Johann. "They vill shut you up!"

"Do you think they can?" asked the boy.

"Sure they can!" cried the other. "They hafn't let the Socialists
speak on the streets for years. We should haf fought them!"

He reached for his coat. "Come," he said. "I vill take you to see Tom
Everley."

"Who is Tom Everley?" asked the boy.

"He's a lawyer, and he vill tell you. He's the secretary of the
local."

"A Socialist!" exclaimed Samuel, startled. Again it was the
Socialists!

Everley sat in a little office in an out-of-the-way street. He was a
young chap, frank and boyish-looking, and Samuel's heart warmed to him
at once. "Comrade Everley," said the carpet designer, "here is a boy
you ought to help. Tell him all about it, Samuel--you can trust him."

So Samuel told his tale once more. And the other listened with
breathless interest, and with many exclamations of incredulity and
delight. When the boy had finished, he sprang up excitedly and grasped
his hand. "Samuel Prescott," he cried, "put it there! You are a
brick!"

"Then you'll stand by me!" exclaimed Samuel, breathless with relief.

"Stand by you?" echoed the other. "I'll stand by you until hell
freezes solid!"

Then he sat down again, and began tapping nervously on the desk with
his pencil. "I'll call a special meeting of the local," he said. "They
must take you up. The movement's been slow in Lockmanville of late,
and a fight like this is just what the comrades need."

"But I'm not a Socialist!" objected Samuel.

"That's all right," replied Everley, "we don't care about that."

Samuel had not meant it that way, but he could not think how to make
his trouble clear.

"I can get the local together to-morrow night," went on the other.
"There's no time to be lost. We must get out a lot of circulars and
cover the town."

"But I only wanted the people of the church to come," said the boy.

"But others will come anyway," said Everley. "And haven't the people a
right to know how they've been robbed?"

"Yes," said Samuel, "they have."

"And perhaps," added the other with a smile, "if the congregation has a
little pressure from outside, it will be much more apt to take action. What
we've got to do with this thing is to make a free speech fight out of it,
and open the eyes of the whole town. Otherwise the police will nip the
thing in the bud, and no one will ever know what we had."

"You must be careful how you give out those circulars," put in Johann.
"They will nip you there, if they can."

"That's all right," laughed Everley. "You trust the comrades for that!
We know a printer we can rely on!"

Samuel drew a deep breath of satisfaction. Here was a man who
understood things, and took hold with conviction--a man who was really
willing to do something. It was very disconcerting that he happened to
be a Socialist!

Everley took up a pencil and wrote the new announcement:

PEOPLE OF LOCKMANVILLE!

"Having made the discovery that members of the vestry of St. Matthew's
Church had been bribing the city council, I demanded an investigation,
and I was turned out of the church.

"I called a meeting to tell the congregation about it, but I was
refused a permit to speak. Chief of Police McCullagh declared to me
that I should never make my speech in this town.

"Will you stand by me?

"I intend to speak on Wednesday night, at 8 P.M., at the vacant lot
opposite the church.

"In the name of Free Speech and Civic Decency,

                            "SAMUEL PRESCOTT."

"How's that?" he asked.

"Fine!" exclaimed Samuel in delight.

"I'll take the risk of having it set up," added the lawyer. "And I'll
get the notices to the members of the local off in this evening's
mail. Come, we'll go to see one or two of them now and talk it over
with them."

So they went down, and while Johann hurried back to his work, Samuel
and Everley stopped in a cigar store a couple of doors down the
street, kept by a little Russian Jew with a merry face and dancing
black eyes. "Comrade Lippman," said Everley, "this is Mr. Prescott."

There came also "Comrade Minsky," from the rear workroom, a cigar
maker, bare-armed and very yellow and emaciated. To them Everley told
briefly the story of Samuel's adventures and what he proposed to do.
The glow of excitement with which they received the tidings left no
doubt as to their attitude. And a couple of blocks around the corner
was a little shop where a grizzled old carpenter, "Comrade Beggs,"
clutched Samuel's hand in a grip like one of his vises, while he
expressed his approval of his course. And then they called on Dr.
Barton, a young physician, whom Everley declared to be one of the
mainstays of the local of the town. "He got his education abroad," he
explained, "so he has none of the narrowness of our physicians. His
wife's quite a speaker, too."

Mrs. Barton was a sweet-faced and mild-looking lady, who reminded
Samuel of the picture of his mother. All the while that Everley was
telling his story the boy was staring at her, and trying to straighten
out the tangle of perplexity that was caused in his mind by the idea
of her being a Socialist speaker!

By and by the doctor came in, and the story had to be told yet again.
They were so much interested and excited that they begged their
visitors to remain to luncheon. They talked the whole problem out, and
Samuel was struck by the certainty with which their minds took hold of
it. There was no need of any long explanations with them--they seemed
to know just what to expect; it was as if they possessed some magic
key to the inner life of Lockmanville, enabling them to understand
everyone in it, and exactly how he felt and exactly how he would act
under any given circumstances.

All this was an amazing experience for Samuel. A few hours ago he had
been a voice crying in the wilderness; forlorn and solitary; and now
here was a band of allies, sprung up suddenly, from the very ground,
as it seemed. Men who knew exactly what was wanted, and exactly how to
get it; who required no persuading, who set to work without wasting a
word--just as if they had been doing such things all their lives! He
was so swept away with delight that for a while he was tempted to
forget what sort of people they were.

But it came back to him suddenly, when they had returned to Everley's
office. He sat gazing at the young lawyer with such a worried
expression on his face that the other asked, "What's the matter?"

Tell me, Mr. Everley," said the boy, "how can the Bartons believe in
free love?"

"Believe in free love?" echoed Everley. "What put that into your
head?"

"But don't they believe in free love?" persisted Samuel.

"Why, of course not. Who said they did?"

"But they are Socialists!"

And the other put down his work and laughed heartily. "Where did you
pick that up?" he asked.

"Why," stammered the boy, "I've read everywhere that Socialists
believe in free love!"

"Wait till you get well going in this reform of yours!" laughed the
young lawyer, "and then see what you read about yourself!"

"But," gasped Samuel, aghast, "don't Socialists believe in free love?"

"Some of them do, I suppose," was the reply. "I know one who believes
in ghosts, and one who believes in the Pope, and one who believes in
Adam and Eve. How can I help what they believe?"

There was a pause. "You see," explained Everley, "we are a political
party; and we can't keep anybody from joining us who wants to. And
because we are an advanced party, all sorts of wild people come to us.
How can we help that?"

"But," exclaimed Samuel, "you are against religion!"

"We have nothing to do with religion," replied the other. "I told you
we are a political party. Some of us have found it necessary to leave
the capitalist churches--but you will hardly blame us for that!"

"N-no," admitted the boy; then he added, "But don't you want to
destroy the Government?"

"On the contrary, we want to strengthen it. But first we have to get
it away from the capitalists."

"Then, what DO you believe?" asked Samuel in perplexity.

Then the other explained that they were seeking to organize and
educate the working class, for the purpose of bringing about an
economic change. They wished to take the land and the mines, the
railroads and the factories out of the hands of the capitalists. "We
believe that such things should not belong to individuals," he said,
"but to the people. Then there will be work for everyone, and everyone
will get the full value of his labor, and no man will be able to live
without working."

There was a pause, while Samuel was getting the meaning of this into
his mind. "But," he exclaimed in amazement, "that is exactly what _I_
believe!"

"Of course," replied the other, "it is exactly what everyone with
sense believes."

"But--but--" gasped the boy, "then am I a Socialist?"

"Nine tenths of the people in the country are Socialists," replied
Everley--"only they haven't found it out yet."

"But," cried Samuel, "you ought to teach them!"

"We're doing our best," laughed the other. "Come and help us."

Samuel was quite dumfounded. "But how do people come to have all these
false ideas about you?" he asked.

"Those are the ideas that the masters want them to have."

Samuel was clutching at the arms of his chair. "Why--it's a
conspiracy!" he cried.

"Precisely," said the other. "A conspiracy of the ruling class. They
own the newspapers and the books, the colleges and churches and
governments. And they tell lies about us and keep us down."

And so Samuel found himself face to face with the ultimate horror of
Capitalism. It was bad enough to own the means whereby the people
lived, and to starve and exploit their bodies. But to own their minds,
and to lead them astray! To keep them from finding out the way of
their deliverance! Surely that was the crime of crimes!

"I can't believe it!" he panted.

And the young lawyer answered, "Come and work with us a while and see
for yourself."




CHAPTER XXIX


Samuel went home and faced a surprising experience. There was a dapper
and well-dressed young man waiting to see him. "My name is Pollard,"
he said, "and I'm from the Lockmanville "Express." I want to get a
story from you."

"A story from me?" echoed the boy in perplexity.

"An interview," explained the other. "I want to find out about that
meeting you're going to hold."

And so Samuel experienced the great thrill, which comes sooner or
later to every social reformer. He sat in Mrs. Stedman's little
parlor, and told his tale yet again. Mr. Pollard was young and just
out of college, and his pencil fairly flew over his notebook. "Gosh!"
he exclaimed. "But this is hot stuff!"

To Samuel it was an extraordinary revelation. He was surprised that
the idea had not occurred to him before. What was the use of holding
meetings and making speeches, when one could have things printed in
the papers? In the papers everyone would read it; and they would get
it straight--there would be no chance of error. Moreover, they would
read it at their leisure, and have time to think it all over!

And after Mr. Pollard had gone, he rushed off in great excitement to
tell Everley about it. "You won't need to print those circulars," he
said. "For I told him where the meeting was to be."

But Everley only smiled at this. "We'll get out our stuff just the
same," he said. "You'd better wait until you've seen what the
"Express" prints."

"What do you mean?" asked the boy. But Everley would not explain--he
merely told Samuel to wait. He did not seem to be as much excited as
he should have been.

Samuel went home again. And later on in the afternoon, while Mrs.
Stedman had gone out to the grocer's, there came a knock on the door,
and he opened it, and to his amazement found himself confronted by
Billy Finnegan.

"Hello, young fellow!" said Finnegan.

"Hello!" said Samuel.

"What's this I hear about your making a speech?" asked Finnegan.

"I'm going to," was the reply. "But how did you know?"

"I got it from Callahan. Slattery told him."

"Slattery! Has he heard about it?"

"Gee, young fellow! What do you think he's boss for?"

And Finnegan gazed around the room, to make sure that they were alone.

"Sammy," he said, "I've come to give you a friendly tip; I hope you'll
have sense enough to take it."

"What is it?" asked the other.

"Don't try to make any speech."

"Why not?"

"Because you ain't a-going to be let to make it, Sammy."

"But how can they stop me?"

"I dunno, Sammy. But they ain't a-going to let you."

There was a pause.

"It's a crazy thing you're tryin' to do," said the other. "And take my
word for it--somethin' will happen to you if you go on."

"What will happen?"

"I dunno, my boy--maybe you'll fall into the river."

"Fall into the river!"

"Yes; or else run your head into a slungshot some night, in a dark
alley. I can't tell you what--only you won't make the speech."

Samuel was dumfounded. "You can't mean such things!" he gasped.

"Sure I mean them," was the reply. "Why not?"

Samuel did not respond. "I don't know why you're tryin' to do this
thing," went on the other, "nor who's backing you. But from what I can
make out, you've got the goods, and you've got them on most everybody
in the town. You've got Slattery, and you've got Pat McCullagh, and
you've got the machine. You've got Wygant and Hickman--you've even got
something on Bertie Lockman, haven't you?"

"I suppose I have," said Samuel. "But I'm not going to tell that."

"Well, they don't know what you're going to tell, and they won't take
any chances. They won't let you tell anything."

"But can such things be done?" panted the boy.

"They're done all the time," said the other. "Why, see--it stands to
reason. Wouldn't folks be finding out things like this, and wouldn't
they be tellin' them?"

"To be sure," said Samuel. "That's what puzzled me."

"Well," said the bartender, "they ain't let to. Don't you see?"

"I see," whispered the boy.

"There's a crowd that runs this town, Sammy; and they mean to go on
runnin' it. And don't you think they can't find ways of shuttin' up a
kid like you!"

"But Mr. Finnegan, it would be murder!"

"Well, they wouldn't have to do it themselves, would they? When Henry
Hickman wants a chicken for dinner, he don't have to wring its neck
with his own hands."

Samuel could find nothing to reply to that. He sat dumb with horror.

"You see," continued Finnegan after a bit, "I know about this game,
and I'm givin' you a friendly word. What the hell does a kid like you
want to be reformin' things for anyway?"

"What else can I do?" asked Samuel.

To which the other answered, "Do? Get yourself a decent job, and find
some girl you like and settle down. You'll never know what there is in
life, Sammy, till you've got a baby."

But Samuel only shook his head. The plan did not appeal to him. "I'll
try to keep out of trouble," he said, "but I MUST make that speech!"

So Finnegan went out, shaking his head and grumbling to himself. And
Samuel hurried off to see his lawyer friend again. The result of the
visit was that Everley exacted from him a solemn promise that he would
not go out of the house after dark.

"I know what was done in this town during the strike," said the other,
"and I don't want to take any chances. Now that they have finished the
unions, there's nobody left but us."

So Samuel stayed at home, and told Sophie and her mother all about his
various experiences, and about the people he had met. The child was
almost beside herself with delight.

"Oh, I knew that help would come!" she kept saying, "I knew that help
would come!"

Worn out as he was, the young reformer could hardly sleep that night,
for all the excitement. And early in the morning he was up and out
hunting for a copy of the "Express."

He stood on the street-corner and opened it. He glanced at the first
page--there was nothing there. He glanced at the back page, and then
at one page after another, seeking for the one that was given up to
the story. But there was no such page. And then he went back and read
over the headings of each column--and still he did not find it. And
then he began a third time, reading carefully each tiny item. And so,
after nearly an hour's search, when he found himself lost in a maze of
advertisements, he brought himself to realize that there was not a
line of the story in the paper!

When Everley arrived at his office that morning, Samuel was waiting
for him on the steps. Seeing the paper in the other's hand, the young
lawyer laughed. "You found out, have you?" he said.

"It's not here!" cried Samuel.

"I knew just what would happen," said the other. "But I thought I'd
let you see for yourself."

"But what does it mean?" demanded the boy.

"It means," was the answer, "that the Lockman estate has a mortgage of
one hundred thousand dollars on the Express."

And Samuel's jaw fell, and he stood staring at his friend.

"Now you see what it is to be a Socialist!" laughed Everley.

And Samuel saw.




CHAPTER XXX


After supper that evening came Everley with Friederich Bremer, to take
Samuel to the meeting of the local, where he was to tell his story.

The "local" met in an obscure hall, over a grocery shop. There were
present those whom Samuel had met the night before, and about a score
of others. Most of them were working-men, but there were several who
appeared to be well-to-do shopkeepers and clerks. Samuel noticed that
they all called one another "comrade"; and several of them addressed
him thus, which gave him a queer feeling. Also he noted that there
were women present, and that one of them presided at the meeting.

Everley made a speech, reading Samuel's manifesto, and telling how it
had been given out. Then he called upon Samuel. The boy stood upon his
feet--and suddenly a deadly terror seized hold upon him. Suppose he
should not be able to make a speech after all! Suppose he should be
nervous! What would they think of him? But he clenched his hands--what
did it matter what they thought of him? The poor were suffering, and
the truth was crying out for vindication! He would tell these men what
had happened to him.

So he began. He told how he had been robbed, and how he had sought in
vain for work, and how he had been arrested. And because he saw that
these were people who understood, he found himself a case, and
thinking no longer about himself. He talked for nearly half an hour,
and there was quite a sensation when he finished.

Then Everley rose to his feet again. "Comrades," he said, "for the
past year I have been urging that the local must make a fight for free
speech in this town. And it seems to me that the occasion has now
come. If we do not take up this fight, we might just as well give up."

"That's right," cried Beggs, the old carpenter.

"I took the liberty of ordering circulars," continued Everley. "There
was no time to be lost, and I felt sure that the comrades would back
me. I now move that the local take charge of the meeting to-morrow
evening, and that the two thousand circulars I have here be given out
secretly to-night."

"I second that motion," said Mrs. Barton.

"It must be understood," added Everley, "that we can't expect help
from the papers. And our people ought to hear this story, as well as
the members of the church."

And then he read the circulars, and the motion was put, and carried
unanimously.

"Now," said Everley, "I suggest that the local make this the occasion
of a contest for the right to hold street meetings in Lockmanville. As
you know, the police have refused permits ever since the strike. And I
move that beginning with Thursday evening, we hold a meeting on the
corner of Market and Main streets, and tell this story to the public.
And that we continue to hold a meeting every night thereafter until we
have made good our right."

Samuel could see from the faces of the men what a serious proposition
this was to them. Everley launched into an impassioned speech. The
workingmen of the town had lost their last hope in the unions; they
were suffering from the hard times; and now, if ever, was the time to
open their eyes to the remedy. And the Socialists were powerless,
because they had permitted the police to frighten them. Now they must
make a stand.

"You realize that it will mean going to jail?" asked Dr. Barton.

"I realize it," said Everley. "We shall probably have to go several
times. But if we make up our minds from the beginning, we can win; we
shall have the sympathy of the people--and also we can break the
conspiracy of silence of the newspapers."

"That is the thing we must think of," said the woman in the chair.

"I am ready to do what I can," added the lawyer. "I will give my
services free to defend the speakers, or I will be the first man to be
arrested--whichever the comrades prefer."


"We will lose our jobs," said some one in the rear of the room.

"Yes," said Everley, "that is something you will have to consider. You
know well enough how much I have lost already."

Samuel listened in breathless excitement to this discussion. Here were
poor people, people with no more resources than he, and at the mercy
of the same forces which had been crushing him. Here was one man who
had lost an eye in the glass works, and another, a railroad brakeman,
who was just out of the hospital after losing a leg. Here were men
pale and haggard from hunger, men with wives and children dependent
upon them; yet they were giving their time and their money--risking
their very existence--in the cause of human freedom! Had he ever met a
group of men like this before? Had he ever dreamed that such men were
living?

He had thought that he was alone, that he had all the burdens of
humanity upon his own shoulders! And now here were people who were
ready to hold up his hands; and from the discussion he gathered that
they were part of a vast organization, that there existed such
"locals" in every city and town in the country. They made their own
nominations and voted for their own candidates at every election; they
published many newspapers and magazines and books. And they were part
of an army of men who were banded together in every civilized nation.
Wherever Capitalism had come, there men were uniting against it; and
every day their power grew--there was nothing that could stop them.

These men had seen the vision of the new time that was coming, and
there burned in them a fire of conviction. Suddenly Samuel realized
the import of that word "comrade" which they gave one another; they
were men bound together by the memory of persecutions, and by the
presence of ruthless enemies. They knew what they were facing at this
moment; not only Chief McCullagh with his policemen and their clubs;
not only the subsidized "Express" with its falsehoods and ridicule:
but all the political and business power of the Hickmans and Wygants.
They were facing arrest and imprisonment, humiliation and disgrace--
perhaps ruin and starvation. Only in this way could they reach the
ears of the people.

"Comrades," the young lawyer was saying, "every step that has been
taken in the progress of humanity has been taken because men have been
willing to give their lives. Everywhere that our movement has grown,
it has been in the face of persecution. And sooner or later we must
make up our minds to it--we may wait for years, but nothing can be
accomplished until we have faced this issue. And so I ask you to join
with me in taking this pledge--that we will speak on the streets of
Lockmanville next Saturday night, and that we will continue to speak
there as often as need be until we have vindicated our rights as
American citizens."

There was a solemn hush when he finished; one by one the men and women
arose and offered themselves.

"I have been out of work for four months," said one, "and I have been
promised a job next week. If I am arrested, I know that I will not get
it. But still I will speak."

"And I am in Wygant's cotton mill," said another. "And I'm not young,
and when I'm turned out, it will not be easy for me. But I will help."

"And I, too," put in Lippman, the cigar store keeper; "my wife can
tend the shop!" There was a general laugh at this.

And then Friedrich Bremer sprang up. "My father has been warned!" he
cried. "But I will speak also!"

"And I!" exclaimed Samuel. "I think I am going to be a Socialist. Will
you let me help?"

"No one's help will be refused in a crisis like this," said Everley.
"We must stand by our guns, for if they can crush us this time, it may
be years before we can be heard."

And then, somewhere in the hall, a voice began to sing. Others took it
up, until the walls of the building shook with a mighty chant. "What
is it?" whispered Samuel to Friedrich.

"It is called 'The Red Flag,'" replied Friedrich.

And Samuel sat spellbound, listening while they sang:


Hark to the thunder, hark to the tramp--a myriad army comes!

An army sprung from a hundred lands, speaking a hundred tongues!

And overhead a portent new, a blood-red banner see!

The nations gather in affright to ask what the sign may be.

Banner of crimson, banner bright, banner flaunting the sky!

What is the word that ye bring to men, the hope that ye hold on high?

We come from the fields, we come from the forge, we come from the land
and sea--

We come in the right of our new-born might to set the people free!

Masters, we left you a world to make, the planning was yours to do--

We were the toilers, humble and sad, we gave our faith to you.

And now with a dread in our hearts we stand and gaze at the work of
the years--

We have builded a temple with pillars white, ye have stained it with
blood and tears!

For our little ones with their teeming hopes ye have roofed the
sweatshop den,

And our daughters fair ye have prisoned in the reeking brothel's pen!

And so for the sign of our murdered hopes our blood-red banner see--

We come in the right of our new-born might to set the people free!

Tremble, oh masters--tremble all who live by others' toil--

We come your dungeon walls to raze, your citadel to spoil!

Yours is the power of club and jail, yours is the axe and fire--

But ours is the hope of human hearts and the strength of the soul's
desire!

Ours is the blazing banner, sweeping the sky along!

Ours the host, the marching host--hark to our battle song!

Chanting of brotherhood, chanting of freedom, dreaming the world to
be--

We come in the right of our new-born might to set the people free!




CHAPTER XXXI


While the other members of the local scattered to distribute the
circulars, Everley and Friedrich escorted Samuel home, and saw him
safely in, and the door locked. They had supplied him with some
Socialist papers and pamphlets, and he spent most of the next day
devouring these. They spread a picture of the whole wonderful movement
before him; they explained to him all the mechanism of the cruel
system, in the cogs of which he had been caught.

It was all so very obvious that Samuel found himself in a state of
exasperation with the people who did not yet understand it, and spent
his time wrestling in imagination with all those he had ever known:
with his brothers, and with Finnegan, and with Charlie Swift, with
Master Albert and Mr. Wygant, with Professor Stewart and Dr. Vince.
Most of all he labored with Miss Gladys; and he pictured how it would
be after the Revolution, when he would be famous and she
 would be poor, and he might magnanimously forgive her!

And when Sophie came home, he explained it all to her. It did not take
much to make a revolutionist out of Sophie. She had become quite
thoroughly what the Socialists called "class-conscious."

The members of the local had been anxious about Samuel all day.
Everley had come in twice in the afternoon, to make sure that he was
safe; and he came over again after supper, and said that Beggs and
Lippman and the Bartons and himself were coming to act as a body guard
to take Samuel to the meeting. The circulars had created a tremendous
sensation--the whole town was talking about it, and the police were
furious at the way they had been outwitted.

So the hour of the meeting drew near. It was as if a great shadow were
gathering over them. They were nervous and restless--Samuel pacing the
room, wandering about here and there.

His speech was seething within him. He saw before him the eager
multitude, and he was laying bare to them the picture of their wrongs.
So much depended upon this speech! If he failed now, he failed in
everything--all that he had done before has gone for nothing! Ah! if
only one had a voice that could reach the whole world--that could
shout these things into the ears of the oppressed!

His friends had said they would come at a quarter to eight. But they
came at half past seven, and sat round and waited. It was thought best
that they should not arrive until the precise minute of the meeting;
and meantime they outlined to Samuel the plan of campaign they had
formed.

Dr. Barton was to make the opening speech, introducing Samuel; and by
way of outwitting the police, he was to be particularly careful to get
into this "introduction" all the essential facts which it was desired
to lay before the people. He was to tell about the twenty thousand
dollars which Hickman paid to Slattery, and about the acknowledgment
which Wygant had made to Samuel, and about how the boy had been turned
out of St. Matthew's Church. If the police attempted to interfere with
this, the doctor was to persist until he had been actually placed
under arrest; and then others were to take up the attempt in different
places, until six had been arrested. In this case Samuel was to make
no attempt to speak at all; they would "save" him for an out-door
meeting--and also Everley, who was to defend them in court. More
circulars would be given out the next afternoon, and another attempt
to speak would be made that evening.

All this was duly impressed upon the boy, and then the little company
set forth. Dr. Barton walked on one side of him, and Everley on the
other; Mrs. Barton, Mrs. Stedman and Sophie came next, and Beggs and
Lippman brought up the rear. So they marched along; they kept their
eyes open, and every time they had to pass a man they gave him a wide
berth.

So they came to the place of the meeting. At the corner were the
Bremers and half a dozen others, who formed a ring about them. There
was a huge crowd, they said--the lot was thronged, and the people
extended to streets on every side. There was a score of policemen
scattered about, and no doubt there were many detectives.

Promptly on the minute of eight the little group approached. There was
a murmur of excitement among the waiting crowd, as they started to
force their way through. Samuel's heart was thumping like mad, and his
knees were trembling so that he could hardly walk. The people gave
way, and they found themselves in the center, where several of the
Socialists stood guard over the half dozen boxes from which the
speaking was to be done.

Without a moment's delay, Dr. Barton mounted up.

"Fellow citizens," he called in a clear, ringing voice; and instantly
a hush fell upon the crowd, and a thousand faces were turned toward
him.

"We are here," he began, "for a very important purpose--"

Instantly a policeman pushed his way toward him.

"Have you a permit for this meeting?" he demanded.

"We have been refused a permit!" proclaimed Dr. Barton to the crowd.
"We are here as law-abiding citizens, demanding our right to free
speech!"

"You cannot speak," declared the policeman.

"There has been bribery of the city council of Lockmanville," shouted
the doctor.

"You cannot speak!" cried the policeman sharply.

"Henry Hickman paid twenty thousand dollars to the city council to
prevent the passage of the water bill!" cried the speaker.

"Come down from there!" commanded the officer, and made a grab at him.

"I will not stop until I am arrested!" declared the doctor. "I am here
to protest against bribery!"

"Come down and shut up!" shouted the other.

"For shame! For shame!" said voices in the crowd. "Let him speak!"

"That charge was made before the vestry of the St. Matthew's Church!
And the vestry refused to investigate it, and turned out a member of
the church! And we are here--"

And so, still shouting, the doctor was dragged off the box and
collared by the policeman.

"An outrage!" cried people in the audience. "Let him go on!" And yet
others shouted, "Arrest him!" The throng was in a turmoil; and in the
midst of it, Lippman, who was the second victim appointed for the
sacrifice, sprang upon the stump of an old tree, a little at one side,
and shrieked at the top of his lungs:

"Henry Hickman paid twenty thousand dollars to Slattery to beat the
water bill; and now he and the Lockman estate are making ten thousand
dollars a month out of it! And Wygant confessed to our speaker that he
ran the city government to get franchise favors--"

And then Lippman was seized by an officer and dragged off his perch,
and choked into silence--surrounded meanwhile by a crowd of
indignantly protesting citizens. It was quite clear by this time that
the crowd had come to hear Samuel's speech, and was angry at being
balked. There was a general shout of protest that made the policemen
glad of their numbers.

Of these exciting events Samuel and Everley had been witnesses from
the vantage point of a soap box. Now suddenly the boy caught his
friend's arm and pointed, crying, "Who's that man?"

Near the outskirts of the thrown was a big burly individual, who had
been roaring in a furious voice, "For shame! Go on!" and waving his
fists in the air.

"I don't know," said Everley. "I never saw him before."

"An outrage!" yelled the man. "Kill the police! Smash them! Drive them
away!"

And Everley caught the boy's arm, crying excitedly, "He's been sent
here, I'll wager! They want to provoke trouble!"

And even as he spoke, the two saw the man stoop, and pick up a brick-
bat, and fling it into the center of the crowd, where the police were
massing.

"Arrest that man!" shouted Everley indignantly, and leaped forward and
plunged through the throng to reach him.

There was a roar from the crowd, and Samuel saw that several men had
grappled with the bully; he saw, also, that the police in the center
of the throng had drawn their clubs, and were beginning to strike at
the people. A burly sergeant was commanding them, and forcing back the
crowd by jabbing men in the stomachs.

Meantime the next speaker, a woman, had mounted upon a box, and was
crying in a shrill voice: "We are Socialists! We are the only
political party which dares to speak for the working class of
Lockmanville! We protest against this outrage! We demand free speech!
There has been bribery in our city council!"

Then suddenly the boy heard a disturbance behind him, and turned, just
in the nick of time. A fellow had thrust his way through the crowd
toward him, a rowdy with a brutal, half-drunken face. And Samuel saw
him raise his hand, with some dark object in it, and aim a smashing
blow at his head.

The boy ducked and raised his arm. He felt a sharp, agonizing pain,
and his arm dropped helpless at his side. Something struck him across
the forehead, cutting a gash, out of which hot blood spurted, blinding
him. He heard Beggs, who was beside him, give a shout--"Down!" And
realizing that his life was aimed at, he dropped like a flash, and put
his head under him, covering it with one arm as well as he could.

There was a struggle going on over him. Men were pushing and shouting-
-and some one kicked him savagely upon the leg. He crawled on a little
way, still keeping his head down, underneath the feet of the
contendents. He heard Beggs shouting for help, and heard the Bremers
answering; he heard the roar of the throng all about, the sharp
commands of the police sergeant, and the crack of clubs, falling upon
the heads of men and women. And then he swooned, and lay there, his
face in a pool of his own blood.

Meanwhile, one by one, three more speakers rose and made their
attempts, and were arrested, while the indignant people voiced their
helpless protests. Then suddenly, somewhere in the crowd, a woman
began to sing. Others took up the song--it swelled louder, until it
rang above all the uproar. It was the hymn that Samuel had heard at
the meeting of the local--The Red Flag!

It took hold of the crowd--men followed the melody, even though they
did not know the words. They continued to sing while the police were
leading away their prisoners; they followed, all the way to the
station house, with shouts of protest, and of encouragement for the
victims.

And so the throng moved on, and the uproar died away. There was left
upon the scene a little group of frightened people, gathered about two
who lay upon the ground. One of them was Samuel, unconscious and
bleeding; and the other was Sophie, clinging to him and sobbing upon
his bosom, frantic with grief and fear. And meanwhile, in the distance
one could still hear the melody ringing:

Yours is the power of club and jail, yours is the axe and fire,

But ours is the hope of human hearts and the strength of the soul's
desire!