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Might have nightmare. Don't shink 's good f' me t' shee too much, ol' f'law." "Listen." The little round orator, refreshed and reinvigorated, began again. "You must arm yoursellef, my prudders. You must haf guns und powder und ball und " "Dynamite!" yelled several. "Yah. Dot vas der drue veapon uf der zoshul refolushun. Dynamite! You must plenty haf.
"Anarchy foreffer!" "Ve vill shtrike, mine prudders," continued the little round orator, growing very ardent and red in the face. "Ve vill no vait long. Ve vill kill! Ve vill burn! Ve vill der togs uf var loose und ride to driumph in der shariot uf fire. Ve vill deir housen pull down deir hets upoud, und der street will run mit der foul plood uf der gabitalist!"
He was on the point of addressing some remarks to the bartender, when the little round orator cut in with an energy quite amazing. "Der zoshul refolushun haf gome, my prudders!" he said. "Der bowder vas all retty der match to be struck mit. Ve neet noddings but ter stretch out mit der hant und der victory dake. Der gabitalist fool himselluf.
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