There
can be no end save ultimate victory. That the victory may not be apparent
for fifty years, or a hundred, cannot in any sense alter the immutable
law of evolution. Posterity will point back to this present uprising as
the first real blow struck for the freedom of the laboring classes of
Mexico, and, indirectly, of the whole world."
Elfigo, his thumbs hooked in the armholes of his vest, mark of the
dominant note in the human male since clothes were invented to furnish
armholes for egotistic thumbs, contemplated his polished tan shoes
dissatisfiedly.
"Oh, to hell with posterity!" he blurted impatiently. "What about us poor
devils that's furnishing the time and money and brains to put it over? Do
we get lined up against a wall?"
Holly Sommers chuckled. "Not if your car can put you across the line soon
enough. Then, even though Mexico might be called upon to execute one
Elfigo Apodaca as an example to the souls in bondage, some other
bullet-riddled cadaver with your name and physical likeness would do as
well as your own carcass." He chuckled again.
"Cheerful prospect," grinned Elfigo ruefully.
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