This was not the pink-walled town we had so rashly entered the day before. Our chamber was high up, in a projecting wing of a sort of castle, built out on a steep spur of rock. Immediately below us were gardens, fruitful and fragrant, but their high walls followed the edge of the cliff which dropped sheer down, we could not see how far. The distant sound of water suggested a river at the foot. We could look out east, west, and south. To the southeastward stretched the open country, lying bright and fair in the morning light, but on either side, and evidently behind, rose great mountains. “This thing is a regular fortress--and no women built it, I can tell you that,” said Terry. We nodded agreeingly. “It’s right up among the hills--they must have brought us a long way.” “We saw some kind of swift-moving vehicles the first day,” Jeff reminded us. “If they’ve got motors, they _are_ civilized.” “Civilized or not, we’ve got our work cut out for us to get away from here. I don’t propose to make a rope of bedclothes and try those walls till I’m sure there is no better way.” We all concurred on this point, and returned to our discussion as to the women. Jeff continued thoughtful. “All the same, there’s something funny about it,” he urged. “It isn’t just that we don’t see any men--but we don’t see any signs of them. The--the--reaction of these women is different from any that I’ve ever met.” “There is something in what you say, Jeff,” I agreed. “There is a different--atmosphere.” “They don’t seem to notice our being men,” he went on. “They treat us--well--just as they do one another. It’s as if our being men was a minor incident.” I nodded. I’d noticed it myself. But Terry broke in rudely. “Fiddlesticks!” he said. “It’s because of their advanced age. They’re all grandmas, I tell you--or ought to be. Great aunts, anyhow. Those girls were girls all right, weren’t they?” “Yes--” Jeff agreed, still slowly. “But they weren’t afraid--they flew up that tree and hid, like schoolboys caught out of bounds--not like shy girls.” “And they ran like marathon winners--you’ll admit that, Terry,” he added. Terry was moody as the days passed. He seemed to mind our confinement more than Jeff or I did; and he harped on Alima, and how near he’d come to catching her. “If I had--” he would say, rather savagely, “we’d have had a hostage and could have made terms.” But Jeff was getting on excellent terms with his tutor, and even his guards, and so was I. It interested me profoundly to note and study the subtle difference between these women and other women, and try to account for them. In the matter of personal appearance, there was a great difference. They all wore short hair, some few inches at most; some curly, some not; all light and clean and fresh-looking. “If their hair was only long,” Jeff would complain, “they would look so much more feminine.”