We drove in a huge circle and left the car well before morning; continuing on foot in the general direction of our friend who had left the carnival to teach. It was our hope to be able to stay there until things cooled down. We finally made it, tired and hungry, and got the welcome we expected. He was overjoyed to see us. You'll never know how cosy and warm that house felt or how utterly _good_ was the smell of baking bread. His wife is a jewel. We received a jolt the next morning before breakfast. The neighbor's little girl came bursting into the house in what apparently was her normal fashion while we were teaching a small class that our friend had collected. She was extraordinarily sensitive and our combined minds made a terrific impact on her perception before we could control it. Her eyes opened and she was all for broadcasting to every child in the block, but Donald got us through a sticky moment. He made it her own personal secret in a way that only children can appreciate and then showed her one of the simpler tricks of ESP. She grasped it at once for children are extraordinarily susceptible to instruction. Their minds haven't had the chance to get cluttered by inhibitions and conventional thoughts. She was wide-eyedly delighted and promised her cross-my-heart promise that no one would ever know about us. But of course, they did. Parents being what they are, it was foolish to assume that an untrained child could keep the signs of her adventure from them. The signs pointed to a story and it didn't take them long to pry it out of her. It wasn't the girl's fault. The adult odds were against her. They poked and prodded at her for the cause of her overly bright eyes and animated spirit, until the poor child was overwrought and blurted out the details of her immense find. The mother was at once sympathetic to her and us, bless her, but not so the father. They both knew she wasn't imagining it because of the stories they'd heard of us over the years and the father blew up. We could sense the whole tableau telepathically, dreading the outcome, knowing what it must be. The father stormed about the house crying death and destruction on us, while the mother tried to get him to listen to reason. He was mentally incapable of doing it. He, like so many of the others, was terribly frightened at the unknown, fearsome thing in their midst. It was unthinkable that we should stay free of captivity when there were places for people like us! We shouldn't be allowed to mingle with normal, decent folks. The upshot was a long distance, collect phone call to the judge who doubtless accepted the charges quite happily. We couldn't stay, so we turned to run once more. That's about all there is, Princess. We've run until we can hardly run any more. We're weak and hungry and sickened by the hatred and stupid, active resistance surrounding us. We don't blame the police. They're merely doing what they are paid to do.