“Why, of course. It weighs nothing.”
Stewart, groping angrily along the base of the wall, found it, tucked it under his arm, scrambled over, and lifted her down.
“Now, forward!” he said.
At the second step, they were in a field of grain as high as their waists. They could feel it brushing against them, twining about their ankles; they could glimpse its yellow expanse stretching away into the night.
“Splendid!” cried Stewart. “There could be no better cover!” and he led her forward into it. “Now,” he added, at the end of five minutes, “stand where you are till I get things ready for you,” and with his knife he cut down great handfuls of the grain and piled them upon the ground. “There’s your bed,” he said, placing the bundle of clothing at one end of it; “and there’s your pillow.”
She sat down with a sigh of relief.
“Oh, how heavenly!”
“You can go to sleep without fear. No one can discover us here, unless they stumble right over us. Good-night, little comrade.”
“But you?”
“Oh, I am going to sleep, too. I’ll make myself a bed just over here.”