“If they were only younger,” he muttered between his teeth. “What on earth is a fellow to say to a regiment of old Colonels like this?” In all our discussions and speculations we had always unconsciously assumed that the women, whatever else they might be, would be young. Most men do think that way, I fancy. “Woman” in the abstract is young, and, we assume, charming. As they get older they pass off the stage, somehow, into private ownership mostly, or out of it altogether. But these good ladies were very much on the stage, and yet any one of them might have been a grandmother. We looked for nervousness--there was none. For terror, perhaps--there was none. For uneasiness, for curiosity, for excitement--and all we saw was what might have been a vigilance committee of women doctors, as cool as cucumbers, and evidently meaning to take us to task for being there. Six of them stepped forward now, one on either side of each of us, and indicated that we were to go with them. We thought it best to accede, at first anyway, and marched along, one of these close at each elbow, and the others in close masses before, behind, on both sides. A large building opened before us, a very heavy thick-walled impressive place, big, and old-looking; of gray stone, not like the rest of the town. “This won’t do!” said Terry to us, quickly. “We mustn’t let them get us in this, boys. All together, now--” We stopped in our tracks. We began to explain, to make signs pointing away toward the big forest--indicating that we would go back to it--at once. It makes me laugh, knowing all I do now, to think of us three boys--nothing else; three audacious impertinent boys--butting into an unknown country without any sort of a guard or defense. We seemed to think that if there were men we could fight them, and if there were only women--why, they would be no obstacles at all. Jeff, with his gentle romantic old-fashioned notions of women as clinging vines. Terry, with his clear decided practical theories that there were two kinds of women--those he wanted and those he didn’t; Desirable and Undesirable was his demarcation. The latter as a large class, but negligible--he had never thought about them at all. And now here they were, in great numbers, evidently indifferent to what he might think, evidently determined on some purpose of their own regarding him, and apparently well able to enforce their purpose. We all thought hard just then. It had not seemed wise to object to going with them, even if we could have; our one chance was friendliness--a civilized attitude on both sides. But once inside that building, there was no knowing what these determined ladies might do to us. Even a peaceful detention was not to our minds, and when we named it imprisonment it looked even worse. So we made a stand, trying to make clear that we preferred the open country. One of them came forward with a sketch of our flier, asking by signs if we were the aerial visitors they had seen.