Her eyes dropped then to David’s face, softened and glowed with such a divine light of love that the boy’s head jerked impulsively upward from the pillow. “Where did you hide it, David darling?” “Dear little Sally!” he murmured, as he fell back, overcome with dizziness. “She guessed it, sir,” he said drowsily, turning his head with an effort to face Bybee. “I knew I couldn’t carry it far, so I hid it. The Steve chap was knocked out cold—I suppose they’ll have another charge of ‘assault with intent to kill’ against me now—so I knew he couldn’t see what I was doing. “I took the two suitcases across the road, holding them in one hand, because by that time my shoulder was bleeding so I was afraid to strain it. There’s a farm right at the end of the road. I struck a match and read the name on the mail box nailed to a post on the road. The name’s Randall—C. J. Randall, R. F. D. 2. You oughtn’t to have any trouble finding the place. “There wasn’t any moon, but the stars were so bright after the storm that I could just make out a barn about a hundred yards from the road. I cut across the cornfield and managed to reach the barn. There wasn’t a sound, not even a dog barking, lucky for me, for if I’d been caught with the suitcases I’d have had a fine time explaining how I happened to get them and what I was doing with them. But I had to take that chance.” “Even if the police had caught you with them, I’d never have believed that you robbed Pop Bybee,” Sally assured him, tears slurring her voice, but her eyes shining with pride. “If you’d seen me robbing the safe, you wouldn’t have believed it,” David said softly, his free arm drawing her down to the berth so that he could kiss her. There was a rustle of whispering, a giggle or two from the audience crammed into the corridor outside the door. But David and Sally did not mind. The kiss was none the shorter or sweeter because it was witnessed by the carnival family. “Well, sir,” David went on after that unashamed kiss, which had left Sally trembling and radiant, “I got the suitcases into the barn and up a ladder to the hayloft. You’ll find them buried under the hay, unless the Randall horses have made a meal off them by this time.” “Glory be to the Lord!” Mrs. Bybee screamed, pounding her husband on the back. “The show’ll go on, Winfield! And what are you standing there for? Hustle right out after them suitcases or I’ll go myself! You’ve got to go yourself, or that farmer Randall will take a pot shot at anybody that goes meddling around his barn.” “All right, Mother, all right!” Bybee protested. “I’ll handle it. Don’t worry. But I want to thank Dave here for what he’s done for the outfit. Dave—” he began, lifting his voice as if he intended to make an oration. “Oh, that’s all right, Mr. Bybee,” David blushed vividly. “We’ll just call it square. You didn’t turn me over to the police last night, and you’ve taken Sally and me in and given us work and protected us—”