A number of men began to press dazedly toward him. Arthur resumed
his harangue.

"You people--those of you who aren't too dazed to think--are
remembering there's a restaurant in the building and no need to
starve. You're wrong. There are nearly two thousand of us here. That
means six thousand meals a day. We've got to have nearly ten tons
of 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't
store up supplies, and, besides, they're much too scattered to have
a surplus for us. But we've got to have food. Now, how many of you
know anything about hunting, fishing, trapping, or any possible
way of getting food?"

There were a few hands raised--pitifully few. Arthur saw Estelle's
hand up.

"Very well," he said. "Those of you who raised your hands then
come 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 outside
for a while. We've got some things to attend to before it will
be quite safe for you to venture out. And keep away from the
restaurant. There are armed guards over that food. Before we pass
it out indiscriminately, we'll see to it there's more for to-morrow