“Danger enough, Terry, and we’ll have to be mighty careful. Women of that stage of culture are quite able to defend themselves and have no welcome for unseasonable visitors.” We talked and talked. And with all my airs of sociological superiority I was no nearer than any of them. It was funny though, in the light of what we did find, those extremely clear ideas of ours as to what a country of women would be like. It was no use to tell ourselves and one another that all this was idle speculation. We were idle and we did speculate, on the ocean voyage and the river voyage, too. “Admitting the improbability,” we’d begin solemnly, and then launch out again. “They would fight among themselves,” Terry insisted. “Women always do. We mustn’t look to find any sort of order and organization.” “You’re dead wrong,” Jeff told him. “It will be like a nunnery under an abbess--a peaceful, harmonious sisterhood.” I snorted derision at this idea. “Nuns, indeed! Your peaceful sisterhoods were all celibate, Jeff, and under vows of obedience. These are just women, and mothers, and where there’s motherhood you don’t find sisterhood--not much.” “No, sir--they’ll scrap,” agreed Terry. “Also we mustn’t look for inventions and progress; it’ll be awfully primitive.” “How about that cloth mill?” Jeff suggested. “Oh, cloth! Women have always been spinsters. But there they stop--you’ll see.” We joked Terry about his modest impression that he would be warmly received, but he held his ground. “You’ll see,” he insisted. “I’ll get solid with them all--and play one bunch against another. I’ll get myself elected king in no time--whew! Solomon will have to take a back seat!” “Where do we come in on that deal?” I demanded. “Aren’t we Viziers or anything?” “Couldn’t risk it,” he asserted solemnly. “You might start a revolution--probably would. No, you’ll have to be beheaded, or bowstrung--or whatever the popular method of execution is.” “You’d have to do it yourself, remember,” grinned Jeff. “No husky black slaves and mamelukes! And there’d be two of us and only one of you--eh, Van?” Jeff’s ideas and Terry’s were so far apart that sometimes it was all I could do to keep the peace between them. Jeff idealized women in the best Southern style. He was full of chivalry and sentiment, and all that. And he was a good boy; he lived up to his ideals. You might say Terry did, too, if you can call his views about women anything so polite as ideals. I always liked Terry. He was a man’s man, very much so, generous and brave and clever; but I don’t think any of us in college days was quite pleased to have him with our sisters. We weren’t very stringent, heavens no! But Terry was “the limit.” Later on--why, of course a man’s life is his own, we held, and asked no questions.