No hunting-trophies, no heads of slaughtered wild things disfigured the walls, as in most bungalows; but the flickering firelight showed pictures that inspired thought and carried lessons home--pictures of toil and of repose, pictures of life, and love, and simple joy--pictures of tragedy, of reality and deep significance.

Here one saw Millet's "Sower," and "Gleaners" and "The Man with the Hoe." There, Fritel's "The Conquerors," and Stuck's "War." A large copy of Bernard's "Labor,"-- the sensation of the 1922 Paris Salon--hung above the mantelpiece, on which stood Rodin's "Miner" in bronze.

Portraits of Marx, Engels, LaSalle and Debs, with others loved and honored in the Movement, showed between original sketches by Walter Crane, Balfour Kerr, Art Young and Ryan Walker.

And in the well-filled bookshelves at the right, Socialist books in abundance all told the same tale to the observer--that this was a Socialist nest high up there among the mountains, and that every thought and word and deed was inspired by one great ideal and one alone--the Revolution! At a plain but well-covered table near the western windows, where fading sunlight helped firelight to illumine the little company, sat three men--two of them armed with heavy automatics--and a woman.

Another woman, Catherine, was standing by her chair and beckoning Gabriel to his.
"Come, Comrade!" she exclaimed.