“I see the face of a Scotch terrier.”
“You fool,” replied Schuettler, with a twinkle in his eye, “that is Johann Most.”
“Well,” retorted Whalen, “if that is the great Anarchist, he ought to have two more legs. He’d make a fine ratter.”
In the bundle were found a number of Communistic, Socialistic and Anarchistic documents, and a complete collection of hand-bills of all the meetings that had been held for years past. Hubner had been an active worker at all times. He would post bills, carry hand-bills and do any kind of work for the “good of the cause.” No meetings were ever held too far from his home. He was well known in all the “groups” and to all the leaders. He attended all the picnics and parades. Nothing delighted him more than to carry the big banner belonging to the International Carpenters’ Union No. 1. How he strutted and flaunted that banner as he passed churches, police stations and the residences of the wealthy. Next to Most’s book, that banner was his principal source of inspiration. He would even neglect his meals for the sake of bearing aloft that crimson standard. Whether this was the cause of his emaciated look at the time of his arrest is problematical, but certain it is his appearance, when brought before me, indicated want and starvation, and his voice was weak and husky.
“From what I can hear about you,” I said, “it appears that you are one of the ‘boys.’”
“Oh, well,” drawled Hubner, “you may hear a great deal.”
“Yes,” I replied, “I hear so much it keeps me busy thinking.”
“Have you been thinking any of me?” queried Hubner.
“I have, and I think you are the worst I have heard of yet.”
“Ah, but you have got others far more dangerous than I am.”