Deva slowed the car. “We’ll be checked at the first automatic station,” she said. “The scanners will note that this is a car from the city and record our basic identification. We’ll have to abandon the car before then. But that won’t be safe, either--until after dark.” His spirits rose as darkness descended and the countryside became more open. The sense of confinement, which had been with him ever since he entered the city, dropped away and he began to feel as free as he had felt during all the years of his childhood in the open country of Lonestar. “We’ll have to turn off soon,” said Deva. “Keep on the alert for some kind of trail that might lead down to the river. We’ll run the car into the water if we can get it safely down the bank.” A few minutes later, in the glow of the car’s headlights, Rick called attention to a sharp turn-off directly ahead. Deva took the controls and in another moment they had come to a halt by the bank of the river. She directed Rick to get out, and then set the car in motion again. He held his breath as it descended the steep bank. He thought for a moment she had stayed with it too long, but her running figure stumbled to the ground an instant before it struck the water with a resounding splash, and vanished from sight in the swirling dark current. “Are you hurt?” he called, hastening down the bank. “My wrist--” she answered in momentary agony. Then, as he reached her side: “I’ll be all right. We’ve got to keep moving as fast as we can.” Her speed and endurance astonished him as they moved through the sheltering brush in the darkness. He wondered how her city life could have endowed her with such stamina. But there was little time for questions. “There’s the check station,” she said, a few minutes later. “That red light over on the highway about a half mile down. Our best bet would be to get in the water and float past it. They might have detectors out if our absence has been broadcast.” “Can you swim that far in the dark?” he asked. “We’ll find a driftlog--if we can,” she said. They found a suitable log in the next few minutes. They made bundles of their clothes, so that they could be held out of the water and kept dry as long as possible. Then they slipped soundlessly into the cold, muddy waters, pushing the log forward laboriously between them. They kept silent, paddling slowly through what seemed an eternity of cold and darkness, letting the current do most of the work. Rick tried to estimate the distance they had traveled, but the light of the inspection station was invisible from the level of the water’s surface. At last Deva spoke, her voice thin with cold and anxiety. “This is far enough. I’m sure we must be well past the station.” They climbed out on the bank once more and saw the signal light a satisfying distance behind them. They dried themselves hastily against the chill of the night and donned their clothes, which had remained fairly dry.