amp. If
they're here again I'll find the power to arrest them."

"I'd advise you not to try that."

"Why?"

"They're stronger than you think."

"I'll take my chances on that. But I want to know where you stand. Are
you with me or against me?"

"Well," said Jesse, rubbing his head dubiously, "I'll do what I can."

"All right. We'll make a fresh start. Round up all hands. I'm going to
talk to them at dinner time."

Jesse glanced at him, shrugged and went out and Peter went into the
office where he spent the intervening time going over the books. It was
there that one of the clerks, a man named Brierly, brought forth from
the drawer of his desk a small pamphlet which he had picked up yesterday
in the bunk-house. Peter opened and read it. It was a copy of the new
manifest of the Union of Russian Workers and though written in English,
gave every mark of origin in the Lenin-Trotzky regime and was cleverly
written in catch phrases meant to trap the ignorant. It proposed to
destroy the churches and erect in their stead places of amusement for
the working people. He read at random. "Beyond the blood-covered
barricades, beyond all terrors of civil war, there already shines for us
the magnificent, beautiful form of man, without a God, without a master,
and full of authority." Fine doctrine this! The pamphlet derided the law
and the state, and urged the complete destruction of private ownership.
It predicted the coming of the revolution in a few weeks, naming the
day, of a general strike of all industries which would paralyze all the
functions of commerce. It was Bolshevik in ideal, Bolshevik in
inspiration and it opened Peter's eyes as to the venality of the
gentleman with the black mustache. Brierly also told him that whisky had
been smuggled into the camp the night before and that a fire in the
woods had luckily been put out before it had become menacing. Brierly
was a discharged soldier who had learned something of the value of
obedience and made no effort to conceal his anxiety and his sympathies.
He voiced the opinion that either Flynn or Jacobi had brought in the
liquor. Peter frowned. Jesse Brown had said nothing of this. The
inference was obvious.

At the dinner-shed, Peter was to be made aware immediately of the
difficulty of the task that confronted him, for dour looks met him on
all sides. There were a few men who sat near him whom he thought he
might count on at a venture, but they were very few and their pos