She smiled as she guided her pony in and out amid the roaring throng, and carefully refused to see the scowls, her brave little shoulders seconded a pair of quiet, brave gray eyes in showing an unconquerable courage to the world, and her clean, neat cotton riding-habit gave the lie and the laugh in one to poverty; but, as the crowd had its atmosphere of secret murmuring, she had another of secret anxiety.
Neither had fear.

She did not believe in it.

She was there to help her father fight inhuman wrong, and die, if need be, in the last ditch.

T a two-hundred-million crowd, held down and compelled by less than a hundred thousand aliens.

And, least of all, had the man who followed her at a little distance the slightest sense of fear.