VII
They walked down Main Street, and some way ahead they saw a crowd
gathered, filling the pavement beyond the kerb. "What is that?"
asked the Candidate, and Jimmie answered that it was the office of
the Herald. There must be some news.
The other hastened his steps; and Jimmie, striding alongside, fell
silent again, knowing that the gigantic burden and woe of the world
was falling upon his hero's shoulders once more. They came to the
edge of the crowd, and saw a bulletin in front of the newspaper
office. But it was too far away for them to read. "What is it?" they
asked.
"It says the Germans are going to march into Belgium. And they've
shot a lot of Socialists in Germany."
"WHAT?" And the Candidate's hand clutched Jimmie's arm.
"That's what it says."
"My God!" exclaimed the man. And he began pushing his way into the
crowd, with Jimmie in his wake. They got to the bulletin, and stood
reading the typewritten words--a bare announcement that more than a
hundred leading German Socialists had been executed for efforts to
prevent mobilization. They continued staring, until people pushing
behind them caused them to draw back. Outside the throng they stood,
the Candidate gazing into space, and Jimmie gazing at the Candidate,
both of them dumb. It was a fact that they could not have been more
shocked if the news had referred to the members of Local Leesville
of the Socialist Party of America.
The pain in the Candidate's face was so evident that Jimmie groped
about in his head for something comforting to say. "At least they
done what they could," he whispered.
The other suddenly burst forth: "They are heroes! They have made the
name Socialist sacred for ever!" He rushed on, as if he were making
a speech-so strong becomes a life-time habit. "They have written
their names at the very top of humanity's roll of honour! It doesn't
make any difference what happens after this, Comrade--the movement
had vindicated itself! All the future will be changed because of
this event!"
He began to walk down the street, talking more to himself than to
Jimmie. He was borne away on the wings of his vision; and his
companion was so thrilled that he honestly did not know where he
was. Afterwards, when he looked back upon this scene, it remained
the most wonderful event of his life; he told the story, sooner or
later, to every Socialist he met.
Presently the Candidate stopped. "Comrade," he said, "I must go to
the hotel. I want to write some telegrams. You explain to the
Committee--I'd rather not see anyone till time for the meeting. I'll
find the way myself."
