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Because we rebel, you throw us in prison, making a mockery of your boasted liberty. So they did for a time in Russia. You call us 'cutthroats. It's a good term. I hope to God we earn that title." Finding that the talk was turning into a political harangue, I turned my back on Zalnitch and started toward the door. Schreiber followed me. "Chust one minud." There was heavy menace in his look.
"You galled my son a chail-bird a minud ago. He vas in chail because he did righd, but dot don't matter. You're egsited, because your brodder vas gilled. Ve don't know nodding aboud it. Ve heard aboud it de nexd day. I don'd have nodding against Velderson, bud if you dry to pud my son, Karl, in chail again, someding vill happen to you. I'm delling dis to you vor your own good."
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