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my relatives was a railroad man； and so to obtain the free transportation which was every American's inalienable right； I had to let the passenger trains go by and take the freights。
Once I got ditched at a junction； and while waiting for the next freight I wandered down the track to where I had seen a small house and a big watermelon patch。 The man who lived there was a chap named Frank Bannerman。 I always remember him because he was a communist； the first one I ever saw； and he filled my pockets with about ten pounds of radical pamphlets which I promised to read。 He made a bargain with me that if I would read and digest the Red literature he would give me all the watermelons I could eat。
〃I'm a comrade already；〃 I said； meaning it as a merry jest； that I would be anything for a watermelon。 But he took it seriously and his eyes lit up like any fanatic's。
〃I knew it；〃 he said。 〃With a face like yourslook at the brow； look at the intellect； the intellect。〃 I was flattered。 〃Come here； wife；〃 he called through the door。 〃Come here and look at the intellect。〃
The wife； who was a barefooted； freckle…faced woman； came out on the porch and； smiling sweetly； sized up my intellect。 I made up my mind that here were the two smartest people in America。 For they saw I was bulging with intellect。 Nobody else had ever discovered it； not even I myself。 I thought I was a muscle…bound iron puddler； but they pronounced me an intellectual giant。 It never occurred to me that they might have guessed wrong； while the wise old world had guessed right。 If the world was in step； they were out of step； but I figured that the world was out of step and they had the right stride。 I thought their judgment must be better than the judgment of the whole world because their judgment pleased me。 I later learned that their judgment was just like the judgment of all Reds。 That's what makes 'em Red。
〃Are there many of us where you come from？〃 the man asked。
〃Many what？〃 I asked。
〃Communists； communists；〃 he said excitedly。
I wanted to please him； because we were now cracking the melons and scooping out their luscious hearts。 So I told him how many comrades there were in each of the rolling mills where I had worked。 I had to invent the statistics out of my own head； but that head was full of intellect； so I jokingly gave him a fine array of figures。 The fact was that there may have been an addle…pated Red among the mill hands of that time； but if there was I had never met him。
The figures that I furnished Comrade Bannerman surprised him。 I counted the seeds in each slice of watermelon and gave that as the number of comrades in each mill。 The number was too high。 Comrade Bannerman knew how many Reds there were in the country； and it appeared that the few mills I had worked in contained practically the whole communist party。 He got rather excited and said the numbers were growing faster than he had imagined。 He had figured that it would take forty years to bring about the Red commonwealth； but with the new light I had thrown on the subject he concluded that the times were ripening faster than he had dared to hope； and that there was no doubt the revolution would be upon us within three years。
The comrade told me he was not popular in the village for two reasons。 The capitalistic storekeepers called him a dead beat and the church people had rotten…egged him for a speech he had made denouncing religion。 I saw by his hands that he didn't work much； and from the hands of his wife I learned who raised the watermelons he was feeding to me。 I remember wondering why he didn't pay his grocery bill with the money he spent on pamphlets to stuff in the pockets of passers…by。
CHAPTER XXI
ENVY IS THE SULPHUR IN HUMAN PIG…IRON
While I was feasting on the watermelons and feeling at peace with all the world； a long passenger train pulled into the junction。 The train was made up of Pullmans and each car was covered with flags； streamers and lodge insignia。 On the heels of this train came another and then another。 These gay cars were filled with members of the Knights of Pythias going to their convention in Denver。
At the sight of these men in their Pullmans； my friend the communist first turned pale； then green； then red。 His eyes narrowed and blazed like those of a madman。 He stood up on his porch； clenched his fists and launched into the most violent fit of cursing I ever heard。 The sight of those holiday…makers had turned him into a demon。 He thought they were capitalists。 Here was the hated tribe of rich men； the idle classes； all dressed up with flags flying； riding across the country on a jamboree。
〃The blood…sucking parasites！ The bleareyed barnacles！〃 yelled Comrade Bannerman。 He shook his fists at the plutocrats and cursed until he made me sick。 He was a tank…town nut who didn't like to work； had built up a theory that work was a curse and that the 〃idle classes〃 had forced this curse on the masses； of which he was one。 He believed that all the classes had to do was to clip coupons； cash them and ride around the country in Pullman palace cars。 Here was the whole bunch of them in seven 〃specials〃 rolling right by his front door。 He cursed them again and prayed that the train might be wrecked and that every one of the blinkety blinkety scoundrels might be killed。 If all these idle plutocrats could be destroyed in a heap they would be lifted from the backs of the masses； and the masses would not have to work any more。
Bannerman was a fool； and I could even then see just what made him foolish。 He was full of the brimstone of envy。 The sight of those well…dressed travelers eating in the dining cars drove him wild。 He wanted to be in their places； but he was too lazy to work and earn the money that would put him there。 I knew that they were not rich men； they were school…teachers； doctors； butchers and bakers； machinists and puddlers。 They had saved their money for a year in order to have the price of this convention trip to Denver。 Comrade Bannerman was pig…iron； and envy made him brittle。 He should have been melted down and had the sulphur boiled out of him。 Then he would have been wrought iron； as were the men he was so envious of。
He was not envious of me； of course； because he thought I was a tramp。 Indeed he thought I was as envious as he； and so he classed the two of us as 〃intellectuals。〃 From this I learned that 〃Intellectuals〃 is a name that weak men； crazed with envy； give to themselves。 They believe the successful men lack intellect； are all luck。 This thought soothes their envy and keeps it from driving them mad。
I thanked Comrade Bannerman for his pamphlets and threw him a few coins to pay for the melons he had given me。 But my peep into his soul had taught me more than his propaganda could teach me。 Later I read all the pamphlets because I had promised I would。 They told of the labor movement and the theories at work in Germany。 One of them was called Merrie England and declared that England had once been merry； but capitalism had crushed all joy and turned the island into a living hell。 I remembered my mother in Wales rocking her baby's cradle and singing all day long with a voice vibrant with joy。 If capitali