Jeff felt it too; I could see he did. We felt like small boys, very
small boys, caught doing mischief in some gracious lady's house.
But Terry showed no such consciousness. I saw his quick eyes
darting here and there, estimating numbers, measuring distances,
judging chances of escape. He examined the close ranks about us,
reaching back far on every side, and murmured softly to me,
"Every one of 'em over forty as I'm a sinner."
Yet they were not old women. Each was in the full bloom of rosy
health, erect, serene, standing sure-footed and light as any pugilist.
They had no weapons, and we had, but we had no wish to shoot.
"I'd as soon shoot my aunts," muttered Terry again. "What
do they want with us anyhow? They seem to mean business."
But in spite of that businesslike aspect, he determined to try his
favorite tactics. Terry had come armed with a theory.
He stepped forward, with his brilliant ingratiating smile, and
made low obeisance to the women before him.
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