"We're a nation of wasters, compared to Europe," MacRae said thoughtfully. "The only thing they are prodigal with over there is human flesh and blood. That is cheap and plentiful. But they take care of their natural resources. We destroy as much as we use, fish, timber—everything. Everybody for himself and the devil take the hindmost."
"Well, I don't know what we can do about it," Stubby drawled.
"Keep from being the hindmost," MacRae answered. "But I sometimes feel sorry for those who are."
"Man," Stubby observed, "is a predatory animal. You can't make anything else of him. Nobody develops philanthropy and the public spirit until he gets rich and respectable. Social service is nothing but a theory yet. God only helps those who help themselves."
"How does he arrange it for those who can't help themselves?" MacRae inquired.
Stubby shrugged his shoulders.
"Search me," he said.
"Do you even believe in this anthropomorphic God of the preachers?" MacRae asked curiously.
"Well, there must be something, don't you think?" Stubby hedged.