“What?” The man sank weakly to a seat, covering his face with his hands.
“Why!” exclaimed Dave in astonishment. “Why don’t you leap and shout for joy? Your Communist theory has been put into practice.”
“And Russia? She must be in ruins!” He groaned miserably.
“Not quite that bad,” smiled Dave, “though God knows it has been bad enough.”
“Communism!” exclaimed the man springing up. “Communism will never do. It drives men to dry-rot. Here we have had Communism at its very best, a group of friends, each doing the best for the whole group at all times, but we have not been happy. We have been of all men the most miserable. Each one of us would give a year of this for one week spent in honest competition for a livelihood with other men.
“Competition! Competition! I cannot tell how it is, but I know it to be a truth now; honest competition is not only the life of trade, it is the life of man and without it man will die of inactivity which comes when interest dies.
“But my country, my poor Russia, my brave Russia! She will yet see her error and build up a government like your own, a free government of the people, a government not without its faults, but ever striving toward perfection. She must do it!”
He sank back exhausted by this impassioned utterance. For some time he did not move nor speak. At last he roused himself.
“And now, my friend,” he said, “you in your great balloon will take us somewhere, I am sure.”
“If we can get our engine started,” said Dave.