V.
"We've got to fight starvation, and we've got to beat it," Arthurcontinued doggedly. "I'm telling you this right at the outset,because I want you to begin right at the beginning and pitch in tohelp. We have very little food and a lot of us to eat it. First,I want some volunteers to help with rationing. Next, I want everyounce of food, in this place put under guard where it can be servedto those who need it most. Who will help out with this?"
The swift succession of shocks had paralyzed the faculties of mostof the people there, but half a dozen moved forward. Among them wasa single gray-haired man with an air of accustomed authority. Arthurrecognized him as the president of the bank on the ground floor.
"I don't know who you are or if you're right in saying what hashappened," said the gray-haired man. "But I see something's got tobe done, and--well, for the time being I'll take your word for whatthat is. Later on we'll thrash this matter out."
Arthur nodded. He bent over and spoke in a low voice to thegray-haired man, who moved away.
"Grayson, Walters, Terhune, Simpson, and Forsythe come here,"the gray-haired man called at a doorway.
A number of men began to press dazedly toward him. Arthur resumedhis harangue.
"You people--those of you who aren't too dazed to think--areremembering there's a restaurant in the building and no need tostarve. You're wrong. There are nearly two thousand of us here. Thatmeans six thousand meals a day. We've got to have nearly ten tonsof food a day, and we've got to have it at once."
"Hunt?" some one suggested.
"I saw Indians," some one else shouted. "Can we trade with them?"
"We can hunt and we can trade with the Indians," Arthur admitted,"but we need food by the ton--by the ton, people! The Indians don'tstore up supplies, and, besides, they're much too scattered to havea surplus for us. But we've got to have food. Now, how many of youknow anything about hunting, fishing, trapping, or any possibleway of getting food?"
There were a few hands raised--pitifully few. Arthur saw Estelle'shand up.
"Very well," he said. "Those of you who raised your hands thencome with me up on the second floor and we'll talk it over.The rest of you try to conquer your fright, and don't go outsidefor a while. We've got some things to attend to before it willbe quite safe for you to venture out. And keep away from therestaurant. There are armed guards over that food. Before we passit out indiscriminately, we'll see to it there's more for to-morrowand the next day."
He stepped down from the counter and moved toward the stairway. Itwas not worth while to use the elevator for the ride of only onefloor. Estelle managed to join him, and they mounted the stepstogether.
"Do you think we'll pull through all right?" she asked quietly.
"We've got to!" Arthur told her, setting his chin firmly. "We'vesimply got to."
The gray-haired president of the bank was waiting for them at thetop of the stairs.
"My name is Van Deventer," he said, shaking hands with Arthur,who gave his own name.
"Where shall our emergency council sit?" he asked.
"The bank has a board room right over the safety vault. I dare say wecan accommodate everybody there--everybody in the council, anyway."
Arthur followed into the board-room, and the others trooped inafter him.
"I'm just assuming temporary leadership," Arthur explained, "becauseit's imperative some things be done at once. Later on we can talkabout electing officials to direct our activities. Right now weneed food. How many of you can shoot?"
About a quarter of the hands were raised. Estelle's was amongthe number.
"And how many are fishermen?"
A few more went up.
"What do the rest of you do?"
There was a chorus of "gardener," "I have a garden in my yard,""I grow peaches in New Jersey," and three men confessed that theyraised chickens as a hobby.
"We'll want you gardeners in a little while. Don't go yet. But themost important are huntsmen and fishermen. Have any of you weaponsin your offices?"
A number had revolvers, but only one man had a shotgun and shells.
"I was going on my vacation this afternoon straight from the office,"he explained, "and have all my vacation tackle."
"Good man!" Arthur exclaimed. "You'll go after the heavy game."
"With a shotgun?" the sportsman asked, aghast.
"If you get close to them a shotgun will do as well as anything,and we can't waste a shell on every bird or rabbit. Those shells ofyours are precious. You other fellows will have to turn fishermenfor a while. Your pistols are no good for hunting."
"The watchmen at the bank have riot guns," said Van Deventer,"and there are one or two repeating-rifles there. I don't knowabout ammunition."
"Good! I don't mean about the ammunition, but about the guns. We'llhope for the ammunition. You fishermen get to work to improvisetackle out of anything you can get hold of. Will you do that?"
A series of nods answered his question.
"Now for the gardeners. You people will have to roam through thewoods in company with the hunters and locate anything in the way ofedibles that grows. Do all of you know what wild plants look like?I mean wild fruits and vegetables that are good to eat."
A few of them nodded, but the majority looked dubious. The consensusof opinion seemed to be that they would try. Arthur seemed a littlediscouraged.
"I guess you're the man to tell about the restaurant," Van Deventersaid quietly. "And as this is the food commission, or something ofthat sort, everybody here will be better for hearing it. Anyway,everybody will have to know it before night. I took over therestaurant as you suggested, and posted some of the men from thebank that I knew I could trust about the doors. But there washardly any use in doing it."
"The restaurant stocks up in the afternoon, as most of itsbusiness is in the morning and at noon. It only carries a day'sstock of foodstuffs, and the--the cataclysm, or whatever it was,came at three o'clock. There is practically nothing in the place.We couldn't make sandwiches for half the women that are caughtwith us, let alone the men. Everybody will go hungry to-night.There will be no breakfast to-morrow, nor anything to eat until weeither make arrangements with the Indians for some supplies or elseget food for ourselves."
Arthur leaned his jaw on his hand and considered. A slow flushcrept over his cheek. He was getting his fighting blood up.
At school, when he began to flush slowly his schoolmates had knownthe symptom and avoided his wrath. Now he was growing angry withmere circumstances, but it would be none the less unfortunate forthose circumstances.
"Well," he said at last deliberately, "we've got to-- What's that?"
There was a great creaking and groaning. Suddenly a sort ofvibration was felt under foot. The floor began to take on a slightslant.
"Great Heaven!" some one cried. "The building's turning over andwe'll be buried in the ruins!"
The tilt of the floor became more pronounced. An empty chair slidto one end of the room. There was a crash.
The Runaway Skyscraper Page 5