They couldn’t go to the capital city where they were both known; they would have to run away again, walk all night through the dark, fugitives from “justice.” ———— “Poor kid!” David consoled her after her first almost hysterical outburst. “I can’t talk to you now, and you shouldn’t be here. You’ve got to go back for your last performance. The show has to go on. They’ve been decent to us, and we can’t throw them over without warning.” “But David, we’ve got to run away again!” Sally whimpered, clinging to both his arms, bare to the shoulders in anticipation of his work in helping to load the carnival for its thirty-mile drag to the capital. “We can’t go back to Capital City! We’ll be caught! Listen, David—” “Go back to your show tent,” David commanded her sternly. “I’ll be working pretty late helping to load up, but I’ll whistle a bar from ‘Always’ under your Pullman window. We all sleep on the train tonight, and pull out for Capital City some time before morning. We pick up the engine at three o’clock, I believe. Plenty of time then to decide what to do.” He shook her a little to make her stop shivering and whimpering with fear. “Buck up, honey! I’m not going to let the police get you; neither is Pop Bybee. Dear little Sally!” and he stooped from his great height to brush the tip of her short, brown-powdered nose with his lips. During the last performance in the Palace of Wonders a village constable, his star shining importantly from the lapel of his Palm Beach suit, sauntered leisurely through the tent, eyeing the freaks with skeptical amusement and asking all the Smart-Aleck questions which the more timid members of the carnival crowd longed to ask and did not dare. “Bet you wouldn’t let me put any of that glass you’re eatin’ in my coffee,” he guffawed to the ostrich man whom Gus, the barker, was ballyhooing at the moment. “I’m on to all you guys. Rock candy, ain’t it?” “Sure, officer,” Gus interrupted his spiel to answer deferentially. “Won’t you have a little snack with the human ostrich? I particularly recommend these nails. Boffo eats only the choicest sixpenny nails; will accept no substitutes. And if a nail’s rusty, out with it! Sort of an epicure, Boffo is! Have a handful of glass and nails with Boffo, officer! Bighearted, that Boffo!” The constable refused hastily and the crowd roared with delight. The discomfited officer of the law ambled over to make his disparaging inspection of Jan, the giant from Holland. “Pull up your pants legs and let me see your stilts,” the constable ordered authoritatively. “I ain’t the sucker you guys think I am. I’m on to your tricks—been going to carnivals man and boy for fifty years.”