days after the battle that Miela came to me one
morning with the wounded girl she and I had rescued in the air.

"We have a plan--Sela and I--my husband," she said.

The girl seemed hardly more than a sweet little child--fifteen or sixteen,
perhaps. It gave me a shock now to realize that we had allowed her to go
into such a combat. One of her blue-feathered wings was bound in a cloth.
Its lower portion, I could tell, had been burned away.

"Never will she fly again, my husband," said Miela, "for she is one of
those who has sacrificed her wings that we might all be safe from the
invader."

She then went on to explain that now, while this feeling of gratitude to
the girls ran so high among the people, the time seemed propitious for
changing the long-hated law regarding their wings. I had not thought of
that, but agreed with her wholly.

I called the people into the castle gardens that same night. Never had I
seen such a gathering. We allowed fully ten thousand to come in; the rest
we were forced to send away.

Miela made a speech, telling them that in recognition of the girls'
services in this war, I had decided to allow them henceforth to keep their
wings unmutilated after marriage. We exhibited this little girl, Sela, as
one who had given her power of flight, not as a sacrifice on the altar of
man's selfishness, but in the service of her country. Then Sela herself
made a speech, in her earnest little child voice, pleading for her
sisters.

When she ended there may have been some unmarried men in our audience who
were still against the measure--doubtless there were--but they were afraid
or ashamed to let their feeling be known. When the meeting broke up I had
ample evidence of the people's wishes upon which to proceed.

Within a week my congress met, and the law was repealed. We informed the
other cities of this action, and everywhere it was met with enthusiasm.

Enlistment and war preparations went steadily on, but despite it all there
were more marriages that next month--three times over--than in any before.
I had now been in power some three months, and the time was approaching
when we were ready to make our invasion of the Twilight Country. We had
been maintaining a rigid aerial patrol of the Narrow Sea, but no further
activities of the enemy had been threatened.

The expedition, when it was ready, numbered about a thousand young men,
each armed with one of the hand light-ray cylinders; fifty officers, and