They did not talk much as they walked steadily along the dirt roads, choosing them in preference to the frequented paved highway, for David cautioned her to save her breath for the all-important task of covering many miles before daybreak. Neither of them had any idea of the geography of this state to which the carnival had brought them, but they felt that it mattered little. David, country-bred, had an instinct for direction. He had chosen to turn toward the east, and Sally trotted along by his side, supremely confident that he would lead her out of danger. “One o’clock, darling,” he announced at last, when Sally was so tired that she could hardly put one foot before the other. “We’ll rest awhile and then plod along. There’s a farmhouse near. See the cows lined up by the fence? We’ll find a well and have a drink.” A three-quarters moon rode high in the sky but its light was intermittently obscured by ragged, scuddling clouds. When they had had their drink of ice-cold cistern water David made a pillow of his coat which he had been carrying over his arm, and forced Sally to lie down for awhile in the soft loam of a recently ploughed field. He sat at a little distance from her, not touching her, his knees drawn up and clasped by his strong, tanned hands, but his head was thrown back and his eyes brooded upon the cloud-disturbed beauty of the night sky. “Does your shoulder hurt, darling?” Sally asked anxiously. “No,” he answered, without looking at her. “It’s all healed. Just a flesh wound, you know.” The tone of his voice silenced her. She knew he was brooding over their future, puzzling his young head as to what he was to do with her, and she lay very still, humble before his masculinity. “I’ve been thinking, Sally,” he said at last, gently. “First, we’ll get married in the morning, or as soon as we find a county seat, and then—” “But David.” Sally sat up, her heart pounding with joy but her mind unexpectedly clear and logical, “we mustn’t, darling. You’ve got to finish college, somehow, somewhere—I can’t bear to be a burden upon you! You’re so young, so young!” “I’m going to take care of you,” David answered steadily. “We love each other and I think we always will. My father married when he was nineteen, and I’m nearly twenty-one—and big for my age,” he added, grinning at her. “We can’t go on like this, honey. Mrs. Stone would have a right to think the worst of us—of you—if we were not married when she catches up with us. She would be justified in thinking that Clem Carson told the truth to the police when he charged us with—with immorality. Don’t you see, darling, that we just _must_ be married now?” “Then I’ll run away by myself!” Sally flashed at him, springing to her feet. “I’m not going to have you forced into marriage when you’re not old enough and not really ready for it. You’d hate me for being a drag on you—”