Suddenly, he was in the loft. He stood there, wanting to breathe hard but barely daring to breathe at all. From the sound of _their_ breathing, Caleb and the girl had abandoned themselves completely. Hay crunched underfoot, and Horner froze in his tracks, crouched there. But Caleb and the girl were beyond hearing. He could not see them: he was very glad that this was so. His sense of privacy had already been violated in a shocking fashion, both from their point of view and from his. They made animal sounds. Blood flooded Horner's face again. The hell with it, he finally decided. They sounded happy enough, at any event. He got down on hands and knees and groped for Caleb's clothing. With one hand he found the clothing. With the other he struck something warm and slightly yielding. Again, he froze. "Caleb! How'd you get down there?" "Down where?" "My foot." "I ain't down there." "Caleb!" The foot explored Horner's arm, his shoulder. The foot drew away as if Horner were flame. "Caleb," the voice was shocked. "Caleb, I think it's somebody." There was a gasp, a stirring, a creaking of wood and a crunching of hay. Horner remained in a motionless crouch, one hand still gripping the pile of clothing. He was aware of a dim shape as Caleb got up. He wondered if Caleb could see him crouched there and decided that for the moment he could not. When Caleb was very close, when he would have stepped on Horner had he advanced another two strides, Horner flung the pile of clothes in his face and propelled himself forward head-first. His head struck Caleb's belly as he hoped it would and the air rushed out of Caleb and the farmboy did a jackknife over Horner's shoulder. Horner backed away quickly and hit Caleb as he went down. He was not happy about that, but he had to make sure. He connected twice with Caleb's face. * * * * * "Daddy!" the girl demanded in a choking sob. It was half question and half frightened guess. She didn't raise her voice, though. And she would not raise her voice, on the chance that it was not Daddy and Daddy, maybe, would not hear. Because she was as much afraid of Daddy finding her here with Caleb as she was afraid of Horner. "Just be quiet and you won't get hurt," Horner whispered. "Who are you?" Instead of answering, Horner commenced stripping off his prison denims. He changed into Caleb's clothing while the girl administered to her lover, stroking him and cooing at him in the growing light. Horner could see the clothing now: it was shirt and loud tie and farm-catalogue suit and while Horner never would have picked these particular items for himself out of choice, they would get by in New York without too many second glances. "Got a car?" Horner asked. "Daddy has a--" "I mean Caleb." "Y-yes, sir. He come in a pick-up truck." "Where are the keys?" Horner asked. "But you ain't a-takin'--" "Where are the keys?" "You're wearin' them in your left-hand pocket, I think."