– the money had been expended recklessly in the days of the famous land boom, and it had been found impossible to induce labourers to isolate themselves on this lonely spot, sixty miles from the coast of Santa Barbara, with no means of regular connection with the outside world.
His eyes flashing with enthusiasm and his voice ringing with conviction, Norman closed his description of the island of Ventura with a demand for its immediate purchase by the Socialists.
"It can be bought," he declared impetuously, "for $200,000. A million dollars' worth of improvements are already there. I propose that we immediately raise $500,000, buy this island, establish a steamship line, plant a colony of ten thousand Socialists, found the Brotherhood of Man, build a model city, and create a vast fund for the propaganda of our faith."
Barbara's brown eyes danced with excitement, her cheeks flushed, while her little hands clapped approval.
"Good! Good! It's great! It's beautiful! We must do it!" she cried.
Wolf grimly shook his head.
"The idea has failed a hundred times. We must conquer the world by political action – we have the weapon in our hand – manhood suffrage. All colonies fail sooner or later. They are corrupted from outside – "
"Just so!" Norman interrupted. "But this one you can't reach from the outside. We will own the only means of communication. We will inherit all the advantages of modern civilization with none of its drawbacks. We can demonstrate the truths we hold and from our impregnable Gibraltar send out our missionaries to conquer the world. We will not merely dream dreams and see visions; we will make history. We will prove the God that's in man and establish the fact of his universal brotherhood."
"It's a wonderful idea, comrade!" Catherine exclaimed, with enthusiasm. "I congratulate you! We will accept your plan, and I move that we appoint you our agent vested with full power to collect this fund from the enemy!"
The motion was put and carried unanimously, even Wolf voting for it.
Barbara sprang to Norman's side, and grasped his hand:
"Our feud is over! I forgive you for laughing at me. You are a born leader. You've won your spurs to-night. You will raise this money?"
"As sure as I'm living!" was the firm reply.
CHAPTER VI
THE RED FLAG
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?"
"Thanks – no – Elena and I are going to shoot firecrackers – but we won't disturb your crowd. Let them speak to their hearts' content."
The Colonel turned with Elena, and entered the house, which crowned an eminence overlooking the distant bay and city, while Norman hurried down the green sloping lawn to finish the decorations of the speakers' stand.
The crowd had already begun to pour in from Oakland and San Francisco, and more than a hundred delegates from Socialist locals in other cities were expected.
On a little headland which jutted out from the long sloping mountain side on which the lawn was laid out, Colonel Worth had erected a tall steel flag-pole. The big flag which flew from its peak could be seen by every ship that entered or left the bay and for miles on shore in almost every direction.
Around this flag-pole Norman had built the speakers' platform, with every inch of its boards covered with the deep-red bunting symbolic of the Socialist cause. Behind the stand toward the mountains rose a smooth grass-carpeted hillside in semi-circular form, making a natural amphitheatre on which five thousand people might sit in tiers one above the other and distinctly hear every word uttered on the platform.
By noon every inch of this space was packed with a dense crowd of Socialists, their friends, and the curious who had come, drawn by the sensational announcement of the launching of the Socialist colony on the island of Ventura.
In the front row, packed close against the platform, were a number of famous people – conspicuous among whom was an author whose impassioned stories of the coming social upheaval had resulted in fame for himself and a divorce-suit by his first wife. His new wife, the "affinity" who caused the
