"You forget," put in Tiger, "that he knows too much to be let go, ever. No, he's a fixture. And now, dismiss him from your mind, and let's go over those telegrams and radiograms again. If there _is_ a new Socialist revolt under way--and I admit it certainly begins to look like it--we've got to understand the situation. Slade will have some more reports for us, in an hour or so. Till then, these must suffice." Flint, curbing his agitation, sat down at the big table and turned on the vacuum-glow light, for the October afternoon was foggy--a fog that mingled with the spray of the vast Falls and hung heavy over the world--and already daylight was beginning to fail. "Fools!" he muttered to himself. "Fools, to think they can rebel against _us_! Ants would have just as much show of success, charging elephants, as _they_ have against the Air Trust! By tomorrow they'll be wiped out, smeared out, shattered and annihilated, whoever and wherever they are. By tomorrow, at the latest. Again I say, blind, suicidal fools!" "Right you are," assented Waldron, drawing up his chair. "They don't seem to realize, even yet, that we own the whole round earth and all that is in it. They don't understand that their rebelling is like a tribe of naked savages going against a modern army with explosive bullets. Ah, well, let them learn, let them learn! It takes a whip to teach a cur. Let them feel the lash, and learn!..." At this same hour, in the last retreat, near Port Colborne, in the State of Ontario--once a province of Canada--half a dozen grim and determined men were gathered together. We already recognize Craig, Grantham and Gabriel. The other three, like them, all wore the Socialist button and the little tab of red ribbon that marked them as members of the Fighting Sections. "Tonight," Gabriel was saying, as he stood there in the gathering dusk--they dared not show a light, even behind the drawn curtains of their refuge--"tonight, comrades, the final die is cast. Everything is ready, or as nearly ready as we shall ever be able to make it. Our reports already show that every line of communication has been broken by one swift, sharp blow. True, in a few hours all these avenues can be opened up again. By morning, the Niagara works will be in receipt of messages; trains will be running; the troop-planes will be carrying their hordes at the command of Flint. By morning, yes. But in the meantime--" He spread his fingers, upward, with an expressive gesture. "By morning," Craig mumbled, "what will there be left to protect?" A little silence followed. Each was busy with his own thoughts. All at once, one of the three newcomers spoke--a tall, light-haired fellow, he seemed, in that dim light, with a strong Southern accent.