"They could have
killed us--or--or anything--and I never felt better in my life."
"That argues that they are all women," I suggested, "and
highly civilized. You know you hit one in the last scrimmage--
I heard her sing out--and we kicked awfully."
Terry was grinning at us. "So you realize what these ladies
have done to us?" he pleasantly inquired. "They have taken
away all our possessions, all our clothes--every stitch. We have
been stripped and washed and put to bed like so many yearling
babies--by these highly civilized women."
Jeff actually blushed. He had a poetic imagination. Terry had
imagination enough, of a different kind. So had I, also different.
I always flattered myself I had the scientific imagination, which,
incidentally, I considered the highest sort. One has a right to a
certain amount of egotism if founded on fact--and kept to one's
self--I think.
"No use kicking, boys," I said. "They've got us, and apparently
they're perfectly harmless.
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