We held a consultation.
"I never fought with women in my life," said Terry, greatly
perturbed, "but I'm not going in there. I'm not going to be--
herded in--as if we were in a cattle chute."
"We can't fight them, of course," Jeff urged. "They're all
women, in spite of their nondescript clothes; nice women, too;
good strong sensible faces. I guess we'll have to go in."
"We may never get out, if we do," I told them. "Strong and sensible,
yes; but I'm not so sure about the good. Look at those faces!"
They had stood at ease, waiting while we conferred together,
but never relaxing their close attention.
Their attitude was not the rigid discipline of soldiers; there
was no sense of compulsion about them. Terry's term of a "vigilance
committee" was highly descriptive. They had just the aspect of sturdy
burghers, gathered hastily to meet some common need or peril, all moved
by precisely the same feelings, to the same end.
Never, anywhere before, had I seen women of precisely this quality.
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