They sat down close together with their backs against the wall, and her head for an instant fell upon his shoulder. By a supreme effort, she roused herself. "We cannot stay here!" she protested. "No," Stewart agreed. "Do you think you can climb this wall? We may find cover on the other side." "Of course I can," and she tried to rise, but Stewart had to assist her. "I do not know what is the matter," she panted, as she clung to him. "I can scarcely stand!" "It's the reaction," said Stewart. "It was bound to come, sooner or later. I had my attack back there on the road. Now I am going to lift you on top of the wall." She threw one leg over it and sat astride. "Oh, I have dropped the bundle," she said. "Have you been carrying it all this time?" Stewart demanded. "Why, of course. It weighs nothing." Stewart, groping angrily along the base of the wall, found it, tucked it under his arm, scrambled over, and lifted her down. "Now, forward!" he said. At the second step, they were in a field of grain as high as their waists. They could feel it brushing against them, twining about their ankles; they could glimpse its yellow expanse stretching away into the night. "Splendid!" cried Stewart. "There could be no better cover!" and he led her forward into it. "Now," he added, at the end of five minutes, "stand where you are till I get things ready for you," and with his knife he cut down great handfuls of the grain and piled them upon the ground. "There's your bed," he said, placing the bundle of clothing at one end of it; "and there's your pillow." She sat down with a sigh of relief. "Oh, how heavenly!" "You can go to sleep without fear. No one can discover us here, unless they stumble right over us. Good-night, little comrade." "But you?" "Oh, I am going to sleep, too. I'll make myself a bed just over here." "Good-night, my friend!" she said, softly, and Stewart, looking down at her, catching the starry sheen of her uplifted eyes, felt a wild desire to fling himself beside her, to take her in his arms---- Resolutely he turned away and piled his own bed at a little distance. It would have been safer, perhaps, had they slept side by side; but there was about her something delicate and virginal which kept him at a distance--and yet held him too, bound him powerfully, led him captive. He was filled with the thought of her, as he lay gazing up into the spangled heavens--her beauty, her fire, her indomitable youth, her clear-eyed innocence which left him reverent and trembling. What was her story? Where were her people that they should permit her to take such desperate risks? Why had this great mission been confided to her--to a girl, young, inexperienced? And yet, the choice had evidently been a wise one. She had proved herself worthy of the trust. No one could have been quicker-witted, more ready of resource.