I was in Russia, talking to a group of lean, ill-clothed workers in a big, barn-like factory. They were childishly eager to revolt if I could show them how -- we broke the ladders they had (this would somehow upset the guards) and stole a rifle, and shot several guards. Then I left to go to a big gathering, country dance type of thing, being held that night, because it would be suspicious if I didn't show up. By this time someone had helped me make a blunderbuss, which you loaded by pouring a lot of powder into the end, then a sort of cork with a fuse leading from it, then the bullet. You lit the fuse and it fired. But I had to hide this suspicious object since no one was allowed to have guns, and I finally hid it in one of the rich farmer's closets as we walked along (we walked on a dirt road alongside a row of closets). At the party I realized I would have to leave early to get the gun and hide it somewhere more concealed. I went with this old man to a beach park to see if this would be a good place. It seemed to be, so I went back and was going to ask Bob Lieb to take me there to hide it. I was happy that I had found a good excuse for asking him to go somewhere with me.