They were not accustomed to girls with pistols.

"Open that door, or I will shoot you all!" she cried.
Then, as she heard some one descending the stairs, she rushed again into the room where she remembered the windows were open.

They were guarded by wire screens; but she caught up a chair, and dashed it through one, plunging out into the street in spite of detaining hands that reached for her, hands much hindered by the gleam of the pistol and the fear that it might go off in their midst.
It took but an instant to wrench the bridle from its fastening and mount her horse; then she rode forward through the city at a pace that only millionaires and automobiles are allowed to take.

She met and passed her first automobile without a quiver.

Her eyes were dilated, her lips set; angry, frightened tears were streaming down her cheeks, and she urged her poor horse forward until a policeman here and there thought it his duty to make a feeble effort to detain her.