relied
upon--are getting frightened. They can't see that there's time left to
train us to take over. And frankly, I'm afraid most of them have no
inclination to give up their present power. They intend to use
force."

"But you talk as though the Yardsticks were united."

"They are uniting, and swiftly. Remember the Naturalists?"

Harry nodded, slowly. "I was one, once. Or thought I was."

"You were a liberal. I'm talking about the _new_ Naturalists. The ones
bent on actual revolution."

"Revolution?"

"That's the word. And that's the situation. It's coming to a head,
fast."

"And how will we prevent it?"

"I don't know." Harry's son stared up at him. "Most of us believe it's
too late to prevent it. Our immediate problem will be survival. The
Naturalists want control for themselves. The Yardsticks intend to
destroy the power of the older generation. And we feel that if matters
come to a head soon, the government itself may turn on us, too.
They'll have to."

"In other words," said Harry, "we stand alone."

"Fall alone, more likely," Wade corrected.

"How many of us are there?"

"About six hundred," said Harry's son. "Located in private homes
throughout this eastern area. If there's violence, we don't have a
chance of controlling the situation."

"But we can survive. As I see it, that's our only salvation at the
moment--to somehow survive the coming conflict. Then, perhaps, we can
find a way to function as Leffingwell planned."

"We'll never survive here. They'll use every conceivable weapon."

"But since there's no open break with the government yet, we could
still presumably arrange for transportation facilities."

"To where?"

"Some spot in which we could weather the storm. What about
Leffingwell's old hideout?"

"The units are still standing." Harry's son nodded. "Yes, that's a
possibility. But what about food?"

"Grizek."

"What?"

"Friend of mine," Harry told him. "Look, we're going to have to work
fast. And yet we've got to do it in a way that won't attract any
attention; not even from the government. I suggest we set up an
organizing committee and make plans." He frowned. "How much time do
you think we have--a year or so?"

"Six months," his son hazarded.

"Four, at most," Wade said. "Haven't you been getting the full reports
on those riots? Pretty soon they'll declare a state of national
emergency and then nobody will be going anywhere."

"All right." Harry Collins grinned. "We'