“Sure!” said Jimmie.
“If de masters find me, dey kill me. But I trust you.”
“I'll not tell!” said Jimmie quickly.
“You help me,” went on the other. “You go to de American soldiers, you say, 'De Russian people have been slaves so many years; now dey get free, and you come to kill dem and made dem slaves again!' Vy iss it? Vat vill dey say, tovarish?”
Jimmie answered: “They say they want to lick the Kaiser.”
“But we help to lick de Kaiser! Ve fight him!”
“They say you've made peace with him!”
“Ve fight vit propaganda—de vay de Kaiser fear most of all. Ve spend millions of roubles, we print papers, leaflets—you know, comrade, vat Socialists do. Ve send dem into Germany, we drop dem by aeroplanes, we have printing-presses in—vat you call it, de Suisse, de Nederland—everyvere. De Germans read, dey tink, dey say. Vy do we fight for de Kaiser, vy do we not be free like de Russians? I know it, tovarish, I have talked vit many German soldiers. It goes like a fire in Germany. Maybe it take time—a year—two years—but some day people see de Bolsheviki vere right, dey know de vorkers, de heart of de vorkers—dey have de life, de fire dat cannot be put out in de heart!”
“Sure,” said Jimmie. “But you can't tell things like that to the doughboys.”
“My God!” said Kalenkin. “Don't I know! I vas in America! Dey tink dey are de people vat de good God made! Dey know everyting—you cannot teach dem. Dey are democracy; dey have no classes; vage-slaves—dat iss just foreign—vat you call it—scum, hey? Dey vill shoot us—I have seen how dey beat de vorkers ven dey strike on Grand Street.”