lly were deluged with rain.

"Only one thing to do," he yelled in her ear. "--Gather up the things
an' get into that old barn."

They accomplished this in the drenching darkness, making two trips
across the stepping stones of the shallow creek and soaking themselves
to the knees. The old barn leaked like a sieve, but they managed to find
a dry space on which to spread their anything but dry bedding. Billy's
pain was heart-rending to Saxon. An hour was required to subdue him to a
doze, and only by continuously stroking his forehead could she keep him
asleep. Shivering and miserable, she accepted a night of wakefulness
gladly with the knowledge that she kept him from knowing the worst of
his pain.

At the time when she had decided it must be past midnight, there was an
interruption. From the open doorway came a flash of electric light, like
a tiny searchlight, which quested about the barn and came to rest on her
and Billy. From the source of light a harsh voice said:

"Ah! ha! I've got you! Come out of that!"

Billy sat up, his eyes dazzled by the light. The voice behind the light
was approaching and reiterating its demand that they come out of that.

"What's up?" Billy asked.

"Me," was the answer; "an' wide awake, you bet."

The voice was now beside them, scarcely a yard away, yet they could
see nothing on account of the light, which was intermittent, frequently
going out for an instant as the operator's thumb tired on the switch.

"Come on, get a move on," the voice went on. "Roll up your blankets an'
trot along. I want you."

"Who in hell are you?" Billy demanded.

"I'm the constable. Come on."

"Well, what do you want?"

"You, of course, the pair of you."

"What for?"

"Vagrancy. Now hustle. I ain't goin' to loaf here all night."

"Aw, chase yourself," Billy advised. "I ain't a vag. I'm a workingman."

"Maybe you are an' maybe you ain't," said the constable; "but you can
tell all that to Judge Neusbaumer in the mornin'."

"Why you... you stinkin', dirty cur, you think you're goin' to pull me,"
Billy began. "Turn the light on yourself. I want to see what kind of an
ugly mug you got. Pull me, eh? Pull me? For two cents I'd get up there
an' beat you to a jelly, you--"

"No, no, Billy," Saxon pleaded. "Don't make trouble. It would mean
jail."

"That's right," the constable approved, "listen to your woman."

"She's my wife, an' see you speak of her as such," Billy warned. "Now
get out, if you kn