We made one more effort to be let go, urgent, but not imploring.

In vain.
"Now for a rush, boys!" Terry said.

"And if we can't break 'em, I'll shoot in the air." Then we found ourselves much in the position of the suffragette trying to get to the Parliament buildings through a triple cordon of London police.
The solidity of those women was something amazing.

Terry soon found that it was useless, tore himself loose for a moment, pulled his revolver, and fired upward.

As they caught at it, he fired again--we heard a cry--.
Instantly each of us was seized by five women, each holding arm or leg or head; we were lifted like children, straddling helpless children, and borne onward, wriggling indeed, but most ineffectually.
We were borne inside, struggling manfully, but held secure most womanfully, in spite of our best endeavors.
So carried and so held, we came into a high inner hall, gray and bare, and were brought before a majestic gray-haired woman who seemed to hold a judicial position.
There was some talk, not much, among them, and then suddenly there fell upon each of us at once a firm hand holding a wetted cloth before mouth and nose--an order of swimming sweetness--anesthesia..