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They neither paused nor spoke until they had left the business portion of the city

behind and were well out of the zone of bright lights. Bridge was the first to break

the silence.

"I suppose you wonder how I knew," he said.

"No," replied Billy. "I seen that clipping you got in your pocket--it fell out on the

floor when you took your coat off in the room this afternoon to go and wash."

"Oh," said Bridge, "I see. Well, as far as I'm concerned that's the end of it--we

won't mention it again, old man. I don't need to tell you that I'm for you."

No, not after tonight," Billy assured him.

They went on again for some little time without speaking, then Billy said:

I got two things to tell you. The first is that after I seen that newspaper article in

your clothes I thought you was figurin' on double-crossin' me an' claimin' the five

hun. I ought to of known better. The other is that I didn't kill Schneider. I wasn't

near his place that night--an' that's straight."

"I'm glad you told me both," said Bridge. "I think we'll understand each other

better after this--we're each runnin' away from something. We'll run together,

eh?" and he extended his hand. "In flannel shirt from earth's clean dirt, here, pal,

is my calloused hand!" he quoted, laughing.

Billy took the other's hand. He noticed that Bridge hadn't said what HE was

running away from. Billy wondered; but asked no questions.

South they went after they had left the city behind, out into the sweet and silent

darkness of the country. During the night they crossed the line into Kansas, and

morning found them in a beautiful, hilly country to which all thoughts of cities,

crime, and police seemed so utterly foreign that Billy could scarce believe that

only a few hours before a Chicago detective had been less than a hundred feet

from him.

The new sun burst upon them as they topped a grassy hill. The dew-bespangled

blades scintillated beneath the gorgeous rays which would presently sweep them

away again into the nothingness from which they had sprung.

Bridge halted and stretched himself. He threw his head back and let the warm

sun beat down upon his bronzed face.

There's sunshine in the heart of me, My blood sings in the breeze; The

mountains are a part of me, I'm fellow to the trees. My golden youth I'm

175

The Mucker