Norman lost no time in springing his scheme for the establishment of the Socialist colony and headquarters for the propaganda of the new social religion on the island of Ventura. The season he had spent as a reporter gave him the key to the proper launching of a press story which created a profound sensation. It appeared simultaneously in the Sunday editions of all the leading dailies of the Pacific coast, and in forty-eight hours his mail had grown to such proportions that he required two secretaries to assist him in answering it. He called for a thousand volunteers to join the advance-guard of the coming Brotherhood of Man, each contributing a thousand dollars. He announced a mass meeting and picnic for the Fourth of July, to be held on the big lawn of the Worth country house on the outskirts of Berkeley. Colonel Worth had readily given his consent to the use of the lawn. He had not tried in any way to interfere with his son's association with the Socialists. He felt sure that in time he would tire of the fad, as he had of football, and in a fatherly way he began to admire the dash and audacity of the boy's plans. On the morning of the picnic, when Elena expressed her fears of the outcome, the Colonel laughed. "Don't worry, Elena. He'll come to his senses. It's like a fever. It must run its course. I'm rather proud of the extravagance of his foolishness. A boy who can forget his games and give his life to destroy the foundations of human society and try to rebuild a new world on its ruins--well, there's good stuff in him." "But if he does something rash?" Elena persisted. "He won't. With all his extravagance and enthusiasm he's not a fool. I, too, saw visions like that once." "You, Guardie?" "Yes, when I was very, very young--a mere boy of thirteen--I joined a colony of Communists." "I wish I could have seen you at thirteen," Elena cried, with a joyous laugh. The laugh died suddenly and a frown overspread her face as Norman appeared. "I want you and Elena to hear our orator to-day, Governor," Norman said, with enthusiasm. "We are going to make it a great day." "It's already great, my boy--I've just got the news." "What news?" The Colonel drew a telegram from his pocket. "A message from Washington. Sampson and Schley have annihilated the Spanish fleet. Admiral Cervera is a prisoner on board the flagship, and the army is rapidly closing in on the doomed city of Santiago." He handed the telegram to Norman, who glanced at it in silence and returned it to his father. "Come to our meeting on the lawn at noon, Governor. We've bigger news than that for you." "Bigger news?" the older man asked with a quizzical look. "Yes. A message announcing the dawn of a day when every gun on earth shall be broken to pieces and melted into ploughshares." The Colonel looked at Norman a moment, smiled, and slowly said: "I love the young--because I live myself over again in them." "Then you'll join us to-day?"