“The exile was learned in many sciences. He perceived at once the vast possibilities of this place as a hostage for escaped exiles. A warm spring, flowing winter and summer, sprang from the rocky hillside; a ten-foot vein of coal cropped out from that same hill. Limestone rock promised material for plaster; an extraordinary deposit of rock rich in mica promised windows. Put your hand on the window beside you.”
“Mica,” murmured Dave, as he took his hand away.
“Mica,” repeated his host. “All our windows are double and made of mica.”
“Well, after facing many dangers, this exile and his master made their way back to the land in which the Czar and his nobles have condemned many honest and good people to live as slaves because of their beliefs. He went back to dream and to tell of his dreams to his friends. At first these doubted, but one by one they too began to dream. From that they took to planning and preparing. All manner of seeds were gathered and hoarded. Clothing and food were saved. One night, twenty-eight of them disappeared. They have never returned; they are here. This is the work of their hands. We live, as you see, with all the material needs supplied. We have a reindeer herd which supplies us clothing, milk and meat. This greenhouse gives us the rest.”
“You are Communists?” said Dave.
“We were Communists in theory, back in old Russia. Here we are Communists in practice.”
“Why do you not go back to old Russia now?”
“What? Leave this for exile?” The man’s face showed his astonishment.
It was Dave’s turn to be surprised. Could it be that this man and his companions did not know that, for more than two years, the Communists had been in power over the greater part of old Russia?
“Don’t you know,” he said slowly, “that the Czar is dead, that his government has been overthrown, that the Communists hold sway in your land and all exiles have been called home?”