Jake Vodell, deep in his ambitious dream, did not notice. "The time is
coming, comrade," he said, "and it is nearer than the fool Americans
think, when the labor class will rise in their might and take what is
theirs. My campaign here in Millsburgh, you must know, is only one of
the hundreds of little fires that we are lighting all over this
country. The American people, they are asleep. They have drugged
themselves with their own talk of how safe and strong and prosperous
they are. Bah! There is no people so easy to fool. They think we strike
for recognition of some union, or that it is for higher wages, or some
other local grievance. Bah! We use for an excuse anything that will
give us a hold on the labor class. These silly unions, they are nothing
in themselves. But we--_we_ can use them in the Cause. And so
everywhere--North, South, East, West--we light our little fires. And
when we are ready--Boom! One big blaze will come so quick from all
points at once that it will sweep the country before the sleeping fools
wake up. And then--then, comrade, you shall see what will happen to
your capitalist vultures and your employer swine, who have so long
grown fat on the strength of the working class."
A moment longer he stood as if lost in the contemplation of the glory
of that day, when, in the triumph of his leadership, the people of the
nation he so despised and hated would rise in bloody revolution against
their own government and accept in its stead the dictatorship of
lawless aliens who profess allegiance to no one but their own godless
selves.
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