100%: the Story of a Patriot

Section 12

Section 12Peter waited until after dark, in order to indulge hissense ofthe romantic; also he flattered his self-importance by lookingcarefully about him as he walked down the street. He did not knowjust who would be shadowing him, but Peter wanted to besleuthy.

Also he had a bit of genuine anxiety. He had told thetruth whenhe said to Guffey that he didn’t know what a“Red” was; but since then he had been making inquiries, and now he knew. A “Red” was a fellow whosympathized with labor unions and with strikes; who wanted tomurder the rich and divide their property, and believed that thequickest way to do the dividing was by means of dynamite. All“Reds” made bombs, and carried concealed weapons, andperhaps secret poisons—who could tell? And now Peter wasgoing among them, he was going to become one of them! Itwas almosttoo interesting, for a fellow who aimed above everything to becomfortable. Something in him whispered, “Why not skip; getout of town and be done with it?” But then he thought of therewards and honors that Guffey had promised him. Also therewas thespirit of curiosity; he might skip at any time, but first he wouldlike to know a bit more about being a “dick.”

He came to the number which had been given him, a tiny bungalowin a poor neighborhood, and rang the doorbell. It was answered by agirl, and at a glance Peter saw that it was the girl who had spokento him. She did not wait for him to announce himself, but criedimpulsively, “Mr. Gudge! Oh, I’m so glad you’vecome!” She added, “Comrade!”—just as ifPeter were a well-known friend. And then, “Butareyou acomrade?”

“How do you mean?” asked Peter.

“You’re not a Socialist? Well, we’ll make oneof you.” She brought him in and showed him to a chair,saying, “I know what they did to you; and you stood outagainst them! Oh, you were wonderful! Wonderful!”

Peter was at a loss what to say. There was in this girl’svoice a note of affection, as well as of admiration; and Peter inhis hard life had had little experience with emotions of this sort.Peter had watched the gushings and excitements of girls who wereseeking flirtations; but this girl’s attitude he felt at oncewas not flirtatious. Her voice tho soft, was just a trifle toosolemn for a young girl; her deep-set, wistful grey eyes rested onPeter with the solicitude of a mother whose child has just escapeda danger.

She called: “Sadie, here’s Mr. Gudge.” Andthere entered another girl, older, taller, but thin and pale likeher sister. Jennie and Sadie Todd were their names, Peter learned;the older was a stenographer, and supported the family.The twogirls were in a state of intense concern. They started to questionPeter about his experiences, but he had only talked for a minute ortwo before the elder went to the telephone. There were variouspeople who must see Peter at once, important people who were to benotified as soon as he turned up. She spent some time at the phone,and the people she talked with must have phoned to others, becausefor the next hour or two there was a constant stream of visitorscoming in, and Peter had to tell his story over and over again.

The first to come was a giant of a man with tight-set mouth andso powerful a voice that it frightened Peter. He was not surprisedto learn that this man was the leader of one of the most radical ofthe city’s big labor unions, the seamen’s. Yes, he wasa “Red,” all right; he corresponded to Peter’simaginings—a grim, dangerous man, to be pictured like Samson,seizing the pillars of society and pulling them down upon his head.“They’ve got you scared, my boy,” he said, notingPeter’s hesitating answers to his questions. “Well,they’ve had me scared for forty-five years, but I’venever let them know it yet.” Then, in order to cheer Peter upand strengthen his nerves, he told how he, a runaway seaman, hadbeen hunted thru the Everglades of Florida with bloodhounds, andtied to a tree and beaten into insensibility.

Then came David Andrews, whom Peter had heard of as one of thelawyers in the Goober case, a tall, distinguished-looking man withkeen, alert features. What was such a man doing among theseoutcasts? Peter decided that he must be one of the shrewd ones whomade money out of inciting the discontented. Then came a younggirl, frail and sensitive, slightly crippled. As she crossed theroom to shake his hand tears rolled down hercheeks, and Peter stoodembarrassed, wondering if she had just lost a near relative, andwhat was he to say about it. From her first words he gathered, tohis great consternation, that she had been moved to tears by thestory of what he himself had endured.

Ada Ruth was a poet, and this was a new type for Peter; aftermuch groping in his mind he set her down for one of the dupes ofthe movement—a poor little sentimental child, with no idea ofthe wickedness by which she was surrounded. With her came a Quakerboy with pale, ascetic face and black locks which he had to shakeback from his eyes every now and then; he wore a Windsor tie, and ablack felt hat, and other marks of eccentricity and from hisspeeches Peter gathered that he was ready to blow up all thegovernments of the world in the interests of Pacificism. The samewas true of McCormick, an I. W. W. leader who had just served sixtydays in jail, a silent young Irishman with drawn lips and restlessblack eyes, who made Peter uneasy by watching him closely andsaying scarcely a word.