orture; but to-day
she stands in imperishable bronze in the Pantheon of
Brotherhood in the wonder city of Serles.

We, who by personal experience know nothing of bloodshed,
must not judge harshly the heroes of the Fighting Groups.
They gave up their lives for humanity, no sacrifice was too
great for them to accomplish, while inexorable necessity
compelled them to bloody expression in an age of blood. The
Fighting Groups constituted the one thorn in the side of the
Iron Heel that the Iron Heel could never remove. Everhard
was the father of this curious army, and its accomplishments
and successful persistence for three hundred years bear
witness to the wisdom with which he organized and the solid
foundation he laid for the succeeding generations to build
upon. In some respects, despite his great economic and
sociological contributions, and his work as a general leader
in the Revolution, his organization of the Fighting Groups
must be regarded as his greatest achievement.

The task we set ourselves was threefold. First, the weeding out from our
circles of the secret agents of the Oligarchy. Second, the organizing
of the Fighting Groups, and outside of them, of the general secret
organization of the Revolution. And third, the introduction of our own
secret agents into every branch of the Oligarchy--into the labor castes
and especially among the telegraphers and secretaries and clerks, into
the army, the agents-provocateurs, and the slave-drivers. It was slow
work, and perilous, and often were our efforts rewarded with costly
failures.

The Iron Heel had triumphed in open warfare, but we held our own in the
new warfare, strange and awful and subterranean, that we instituted.
All was unseen, much was unguessed; the blind fought the blind; and
yet through it all was order, purpose, control. We permeated the
entire organization of the Iron Heel with our agents, while our own
organization was permeated with the agents of the Iron Heel. It was
warfare dark and devious, replete with intrigue and conspiracy, plot
and counterplot. And behind all, ever menacing, was death, violent and
terrible. Men and women disappeared, our nearest and dearest comrades.
We saw them to-day. To-morrow they were gone; we never saw them again,
and we knew that they had died.

There was no trust, no confidence anywhere. The man who plotted beside
us, for all we