"It is," agreed Gabriel. "Remember, this is a war of extermination. It's a case of _them_ or _us_! And if we're worsted, the whole world loses; while if they are, then liberty is born! That's why this gas is justifiable. They'll try to use oxygen-bullets on us, never fear. But where they can kill ten, with those, we can annihilate a hundred with our kind. Swine, they have called us, and fools and apes. Well, we shall see, we shall see, when it comes to an out-and-out fight between Plutocrat and Proletarian, who is the better man!" Again came silence. And this time it was Grantham who broke it. "Comrades," said he, "after you've seen as many Socialists shot down as _I_ have--shot down and burned, as Brevard was--you'll lose any lingering ideas of civilized warfare you may still retain. They hunt us like beasts, prison us in foul traps, ride us down, crush us, break and tear us, and burn us alive, because we struggle to be free men and women, not slaves. Now that our hour has struck, now that their lines of communication and defense are breached, and they--though they still don't fully understand it--are penned there in their heaven-offending, monstrous, horrible plant at the Falls, no true man can hesitate to smash them down with no more compunction than as though they were so many rattlesnakes or scorpions! "This isn't 1915, when political and civil rights still existed, and we weren't hunted outlaws. This is 1925, and conditions are all different. It's war, war, war to the death, now; and if war is Hell, then _they_ are going to get Hell this time, not we." Nobody spoke, for a little while; but Marion and Craig smoked contemplatively, and the others sat there in the dusk, sunk in thought. All at once a door opened, and the vague form of a woman became visible. "Comrades, you must go," said she. "It's nearly half past five. By the time you've got everything in readiness, you'll have no time to lose." "Right, Catherine," answered Gabriel. "Come, comrades! Up and at it!" Ten minutes later they all issued forth into the soft gloom. All were in aviator's dress, and each carried a parcel by a handle held with stout straps. Had you seen them, you would have noticed they took particular pains not to jar or shake these parcels, or approach unduly near each other. At the door of the refuge, Catherine said good-bye to each, and added some brave word of cheer. Her farewell to Gabriel was longer than to the others; and for a moment their hands met and clung. "Go," she whispered, "go, and God bless you! Go even though it be to death! Their airmen will take toll of some of the attackers, Gabriel. Not all the Comrades will return. Oh, may _you_--may _you_!" "What is written on the Book of Fate, will be," he answered. "Our petty hopes and fears are nothing, Catherine. If death awaits me, it will be sweet; for it will come, tonight, in the supreme service of the human race! Good-bye!"