"Something interesting here," said the naturalist, looking up as he entered. "The outer surface of this metal appears to be rust-proof, but when you get water on the inside, things seem to go. It acts like a specially annealed compound of some kind. And look--" He seized one of the arms of his subject, who gazed at him with mildly unresisting eyes, and yanked at the outer layer of metal bands that composed it. The band stretched like one of rubber, and she gave a slight squeal as it snapped back into position. "I don't know of any metal that has that flexibility. Do you? Why--" * * * * * The door swung open and they turned to see Murray and Tholfsen. "Beg pardon for interrupting the sacred panjandrum," said the former, "but Stevens and Vanderschoof are indulging in a sulk. They don't want to play with us." "Oh, hell," remarked Ben cheerfully and started for the door, the other two following him. He found the recalcitrants soon enough. The Wall Street man was seated across a doctor's desk from Vanderschoof and looked up calmly from an interrupted conversation as Ben entered. "Thought I asked you two to go with the boys for some coal," said Ben, waving at them. "My mistake. I meant to." "You did. I'm not going." Ben's eyes narrowed. "Why not?" "This is the United States of America, young man. I don't recognize that I am under your orders or anyone else's. If you think you are going to get us to accept any such Mussolini dictatorship, you've got another guess coming. 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." "And what are you going to do about it?" "Put you out." There was a quick flash, and Ben was staring into the business end of a Luger automatic, gripped tightly in the broker's hand. "Oh, no you won't. You forget that you made this anarchy yourself when you refused to have a president. Now get out of here, quick, and let me talk with my friend."