“A Soviet has been formed.  The Workers will not submit to inteference with the food supplies of the people such as has been threatened by men who have no right over the life and death of their fellows.  In view of this threat, the Soviet of the Workers has determined to possess itself of the mills and all properties pertaining thereto.  The whole territories and properties hither controlled under a capitalist organisation will in future be administered by the Soviet or the Workers.  You are required, therefore, to hand over forthwith all accountings, administration, and all funds, all legal documentary titles such as are held by you of freeholds and forestry rights relating to Sachigo.  Furthermore, it is required of you to restore intact the machinery of the new power station, and to hand over the whole premises in full running order.  One week’s grace will be permitted for the execution of this order.  Failing absolute compliance, the ruling Soviet of the Workers reserves to itself the right of adopting such measures to enforce the Will of the Workers as it may deem necessary.

    “On behalf of the Soviet of the Workers,

    “LEO MURKO,

    “Chief Commissionary.”

At the finish of his reading Bat had looked up into the dark face of Pete Loale who was standing by.

“Leo Murko?” he said, in an ominously restrained tone.  “Ther’ ain’t no guy o’ that name on our pay-roll.  Guess he’ll be that feller Bull dropped out into the snow.”  Then with a sudden explosive force:  “In God’s name why in hell didn’t he break that skunk’s neck?”

The week’s grace had expired.  It had been a week of further hasty preparations.  Every day had been used to the uttermost, and even far into the night the work had gone on.  The office on the hill, as well as the executive offices down at the mill, had been cleared out.  Documents, cash, books, safe.  Everything of real importance had been removed to the citadel power house.  The mining of the penstocks had been completed, and left ready to be blown sky high at a moment’s notice.  Whatever befell, the men who had given their lives to the building of the mills were determined that only a useless husk should fall into the hands of the strikers.

Now had come the Communists’ final declaration of war.  The message had been brought less than an hour ago by the same youth, who had again departed with Bat’s smiling expression of pity.  The letter was ominously brief.

    “The Order of the Soviet of the Workers will be enforced
    forthwith.  No mercy will be shown in the event of resistance.”

Bat’s fury had blazed as he read the message.  Again it was signed “Leo Murko.”  How he hated that name.  He had been alone in the office when the letter came, and had seized the ’phone and called up the engineer at the power house, and read the message to him.  Skert Lawton’s reply was as instant as it was characteristic.