Very faintly he heard the wail of the prison siren. Slowly he walked up the muddy embankment, then set out in a southerly direction. The rain came down harder now, as if determined to make things as miserable for Horner as it could. He came to a fence. It was barbed wire and it meant people weren't far. He decided to climb the fence, parting the top two strands and going through. He found himself in a pasture. Something big and blocky loomed ahead--a barn. At least he could sleep there for a few hours. He would be comparatively safe if he could find a place up in the loft somewhere, but of course that would be delaying the inevitable, for if he waited till night he would still be within siren distance of the state prison. He lifted the lock bar cautiously and let the big barn door swing out. There was a faint protest of rusted metal and Horner allowed a full two minutes to pass before he went inside. The cattle smell was strong. A cow lowed uncertainly off to his left, but he could see nothing. He passed a smaller door, not meant for cattle, and the smaller door was not locked. He smiled as it swung on its rusty hinges in the rain and the wind. If anyone was about, that would explain the other hinge noise. Meanwhile, Horner was ravenously hungry. He would eat anything, even cattlefeed.... He stumbled suddenly, reaching out awkwardly to right himself. A bucket clanged against wood, and he froze. * * * * * Then, not ten feet above Horner's head, a sleepy girl's voice said, "Go back to sleep, will you, Caleb honey? It wasn't nothin'." "I heard someone down there." "It wasn't nothin', Caleb honey," the girl repeated. "One of the cows kicked inter somethin', is all. Put your arm back around me Caleb love, there Caleb, ah Caleb." "I still thought. I--" "Caleb. I swear, boy, what is the matter with you! My old man will be up an' to the barn a few minutes fum now an' all you can do is talk. Caleb Wilson if you don't ... ah...." The gloom inside the barn was less complete than it had been outside, only moments ago. Rain drummed on the roof as Horner groped slowly forward, found the foot of a ladder which probably went up to the loft. The boy named Caleb and the farm girl were up there and, from the tone of their conversation, probably undressed. Horner needed Caleb's clothing. He wondered for a moment if it would be tell-tale farm clothing, a pair of jeans and a flannel shirt, perhaps. He couldn't get very far in New York with that, not when an alarm was out for an escaped convict. But if Caleb had come a-courting in his Sunday best.... The sounds above his head made Horner blush furiously as he mounted the ladder one slow rung at a time. The wood creaked and Horner froze, but the sounds of love did not abate. Horner could see blacks and grays now, charcoals--but no pale grays and whites of day. * * * * *