"Maybe not, but I don't pretend. Hey, look, we can't get anywhere if we fight and we've got to stick together. I'll tell you what. I'll apologize. I'm sorry I said it, even if it is true. Make up?" "Okay," I said. But that was a typical trick of his. Get the last blow in and then call the whole thing off. When we got to Horst Fanger's place, I said, "I've got our packs all set up. This is where we get our horses." I'd left this until last, not wanting people running around looking for stolen horses while I was trying to break somebody out of the police jail pen. Besides, for this I wanted somebody along as lookout. There was a fetid, unwashed odor that hung about the pens that the misting rain did nothing to dispel. We slipped by the pens, the Losels watching us but making no noise, and came to the stables, which smelled better. Jimmy stood guard while I broke the lock and slipped inside. Ninc was there, good old Nincompoop, and a quick search turned up his saddle as well. I saddled him up and then stood watch while Jimmy picked himself out a horse and gear. I did one last thing before I left. I took out the pencil and paper in my pocket and wrote in _correct_ Inter E, in great big letters: I'M A _GIRL_, YOU STINKER. I hung it on a nail. It may have been childish, but it felt good. We rode from there to Mr. Kutsov's house, still following back alleys. As we rode, I told Jimmy about Mr. Kutsov and what he'd done for me. When we got there, we rode around to the back. "Hold the horses," I said. "I'll slip in and get the packs. They're just inside." We both dismounted and Jimmy took Ninc's reins. I bounded up the steps. Mr. Kutsov was waiting in the dark inside. He said, "I read your note." "Why did you come back?" I asked. He smiled. "It didn't seem right to leave you here by yourself. I be sorry. I think I underestimated you. Be that Jimmy Dentremont outside?" "You're not mad?" "No. I ben't angry. I understand why you couldn't tell me." For some reason, I started crying and couldn't stop. The tears ran down my face. "I'm sorry," I said. "I'm sorry." The front door signal sounded then and Mr. Kutsov answered the door. A green-uniformed policeman stood in the doorway. "Daniel Kutsov?" he asked. Instinctively, I shrank back out of sight of the doorway. I swiped at my face with my sleeve. Mr. Kutsov said, "Yes. What can I do for you." The policeman moved one step inside the house where I could see him again. He said in a flat voice, "I have a warrant for your arrest." * * * * * There was only one light on in the house, in the front room. From the shadows at the rear I watched them both. The policeman had a hard mask for a face, no more human than a Losel. Mr. Kutsov was determined and I had the feeling that he had forgotten my presence. "To jail again? For my book?" He shook his head. "No."