In the stall, Ron Carver looked down at the spindly frame that was now his body, and began to weep. Andy heard him, but said nothing. Then they dressed and ambled back to the main house, sharing the awkward silence of new friends. Finally, the older boy said: "I don't mean to butt in, Ronnie. But is somethin' the matter?" "I--I don't know, Andy. I'm all mixed up. I don't even know how I got here." "That's easy. Dr. Minton brought you." "But where is he now, Andy? Dr. Minton? It's very important that I see him." Andy shrugged. "Not much chance of that. Dr. Minton only comes around once, twice a year. "But I have to see him! Right away! Will they call him for me?" "Gosh. I don't think so. He's some kind of big shot in the government now." They flopped on the grass, and Andy tore out a ragged clump and chewed on it blankly. Ron said: "Andy, I'm in trouble. I need some help." "No kidding?" "Yes!" He brought his voice to a whisper. "Andy--what if I told you that I was really--" He stopped, and examined the open, innocent face in front of his eyes. He knew that it would be useless to tell the truth. "Skip it," he said. "I don't get you. What's on your mind, Ronnie?" "Nothing, Andy. I just have to get away from here." "But you can't. I mean, not until they let you. It's the rules." "Andy--how long have you been here?" The boy thought a moment. "Almost nine years," he said blissfully. "Since my folks got killed." "How long do you have to stay?" "Why, 'til I'm old enough to work. Eighteen, I guess." _Only six years to go_, Ron thought sourly. He stood up. "Andy--where do they put the PF's?" "In the shed." "Is it possible to get one out?" "'Course not. Only when we play the game." "And when will we play another game?" "Dunno. Tomorrow maybe. It's Sunday." _Play the game._ Ron said to himself. * * * * * The Evens team member caught the spinning, gas-filled airball in the path of his airjet and kept it moving in front of his Flyer. Andy was after him in a flash, shouting for Ron to join him. But Ron's daring tactics of yesterday seemed to have deserted him. He steered the PF out of the path of the Evens man, and the goal was scored. On the ground, Andy said: "What's the trouble, Ronnie? Didn't you hear me?" "Yes, I heard you. Andy, listen. I'm taking off--" "Sure, in just a minute," the freckled boy said. "But, look, the next time you see me cut across the--" "You don't understand!" Ron said intensely. "I'm running away!" "What?" Larkin's whistle sounded the signal to resume play. The airball shot into the sky, and the two teams sped after it. Andy was late getting started. He looked at Ron and gasped: "You can't do that--" But Ron Carver was already in flight, and his PF was heading away from the center of the action, heading over the jagged pinetree tops that surrounded the Roverwood Home for Boys, heading for the misty green hills beyond.