How can you fight something like that? Thurlow was the last and highest branch of authority in the area unless we took it to Supreme Court. For a while we were tempted to do that but on what were we to base a case? Public opinion would throw us out of court if the Supreme Justice didn't. We talked to the sheriff when we came down and he and his boys were on our side--emotionally. Legally they had to carry out the judge's orders to place us under institutional restraint if we transgressed. In short, we would be tossed in the pokey if we thumbed our noses at the order. The sheriff's advice was to suspend operations until Supreme Court sat and take it to them. When we asked if he and his staff would be witnesses for us--well, that's water under the oft mentioned bridge. There are some ugly facets of politics that force the men playing them to act as they do. Otherwise we surely wouldn't have been refused. So there we were; no witnesses--no case; because we couldn't bring our pupils into it. It was an uncertain mess at best and we didn't want them to get it in the neck along with us. For the same reason we couldn't involve our former teachers at the university. What poor payment for hours of drudgery to be dragged into a court battle! So with the sheriff's advice to go into another business ringing in our ears, we came back home to sweat it out and think. It took a while, but the only answer we felt was right under the circumstances was to go underground. That makes it sound like the dark ages, doesn't it, Princess, when knowledge has to hide and creep and skulk instead of flowering under the sun? Our gifts couldn't be let go to waste, not after the preparation and development that went into expanding them into a workable set of psychic senses. We _had_ to give Man the benefit of our awakening by waking him in turn. It's much too bad that we were so sheltered at the university. We might have had some practical experience with the world and its people. We might also have known what to do about this awful hunger that is gradually tearing us down. It's getting to be a serious problem in our untrained condition. The prof's wouldn't even let us play handball for fear of injury so consequently we're nothing but a living cliche, skin and bones. Donald feels it strongly. We shall have to try to buoy each other and go on our combined reserves. Pray that we don't get too weak. It's been almost 24 hours since we've eaten, as there wasn't time for breakfast. Our clothes seem to be drying slightly though it's still cool enough to make it uncomfortable and dangerous. This is the way colds grab you. We did pretty well in our choice of an underground location--we thought. Our mistake was in overlooking the police trained mind of our bloodhound friend, Trainor. He's a shrewd man and not unintelligent though sadly misguided. How we should like to have him on our side!