can dole it out where
it's needed."

"I--I can't help myself," the keeper said. "They're takin'
it anyway."

"Get back there," Arthur cried to the crowd. "Do you call this
decent, trying to get more than your share of this stuff? You'll get
your portion to-morrow. It is going to be divided up."

"Go to hell!" some one panted. "You c'n starve if you want to,
but I'm goin' to look out f'r myself."

The men were not really starving, but had been put into a panic by
the plain speeches of Arthur and his helpers, and were seizing what
edibles they could lay hands upon in preparation for the hunger
they had been warned to expect.

Arthur pushed against the mob, trying to thrust them away from the
counter, but his very effort intensified their panic. There was a
quick surge and a crash. The glass front of the showcase broke in.

In a flash of rage Arthur struck out viciously. The crowd paid
not the slightest attention to him, however. Every man was too
panic-stricken, and too intent on getting some of this food before
it was all gone to bother with him.

Arthur was simply crushed back by the bodies of the forty or fifty
men. In a moment he found himself alone amid the wreckage of the
stand, with the keeper wringing his hands over the remnants of
his goods.

Van Deventer ran down the stairs.

"What's the matter?" he demanded as he saw Arthur nursing a bleeding
hand cut on the broken glass of the showcase.

"Bolsheviki!" answered Arthur with a grim smile. "We woke up some
of the crowd too successfully. They got panic-stricken and started
to buy out this stuff here. I tried to stop them, and you see what
happened. We'd better look to the restaurant, though I doubt if
they'll try anything else just now."

He followed Van Deventer up to the restaurant floor. There were
picked men before the door, but just as Arthur and the bank president
appeared two or three white-faced men went up to the guards and
started low-voiced conversations.

Arthur reached the spot in time to forestall bribery.

Arthur collared one man, Van Deventer another, and in a moment the
two were sent reeling down the hallway.

"Some fools have got panic-stricken!" Van Deventer explained to
the men before the doors in a casual voice, though he was breathing
heavily from the unaccustomed exertion. "They've smashed up the
fruit-stand on the ground floor and stolen the contents. It's nothing
but blue funk! Only, if any of them start to gather aroun