Fletcher Pratt

“ An illuminating voice floated up. “Electric store, get all the flashlights and batteries you can. We're going to need them.”
A few moments later they were at the great institution, strangely dark and silent now after all its years of ministering to the sick, with a line of rust showing redly on the tall iron fence that surrounded the grounds. They trooped into the reception room, flickering their lights here and there like fireflies. Ben mounted a chair.
“Just a minute, folks,” he began. “I want to say something.... What we have to do here is build civilization up all over again. ”

“ As I was saying—” he turned back to Vanderschoof with elaborate unconcern, and Murray took a step toward him, bristling angrily.
“Leave me alone, boys, I can handle this,” said Ben, waving the other two back. “Mr. Stevens.” The broker looked up with insolent politeness. “This is not the United States, but the colony of New York. Conditions have changed and the sooner you recognize that the better for all of us. We are trying to rebuild civilization from the ruins; if you don't share in the work, you shall not share in the benefits.” ”

“ Undoubtedly there are more people alive—if not in New York, then in other places. We have two jobs—to get in touch with them and to find out what we can do. Mr. Beeville is going to find out about the second one for us, but we can do a lot without waiting for him. ”