"This sort of thing might strike you any moment. To save those who are still here, we have to kill every fever-bush by uprooting and stripping the bark. How many people live here?"
"There are about two thousand in this suburb. Of these, one thousand may already have died; others have fled to our other cities and towns. In them, if the plague has not been spread; and we have means of keeping it down if there is time for warning; we have seventy thousands in all."
"Seventy thousand," Stevens whispered to himself. Then, with a great roar, he cried: "We'll do it!"
"What?"
"Go South—all of us, men, women and children. We can do it easily—take the city from which I fled and live there, peacefully and healthily."
Isral stared at him. "How can we take a great city of the South?"
"Isral," answered Stevens, "you don't know what has happened to men in the great cities. They have become soft and helpless. A score of them, all armed, came after me, and fled at the first sign of opposition. A band of determined infants could take the city, for these city-dwellers are incapable of violence. What do you say to that, friend?"
"I say," declared Heber slowly, "that we'll do it!"
The Historian faced the little group of men, sweeping the small room with a glance. "Where's Denning?" he asked.