The vehicle next to the one under which they were hiding was a large delivery truck with paneled sides. It was black and rather formidable looking but still it offered a possibility.
"Over there," Marc whispered, pointing to the truck. "Crawl under and toward the back. We can open the rear doors and climb inside without being seen."
Toffee nodded and started out. When they arrived at the rear of the truck, they managed to open the doors and get inside with a certain amount of cooperative pushing and pulling. They closed the doors after them and Marc found an inside catch with which the doors could be locked. They settled back in the dimness to catch their breath.
A removable panel isolated the rear compartment from the driver's cab, cutting off most of the light, and the two fugitives had to feel their way about.
"There's a bundle of rags or something over here," Toffee whispered presently. "Anyway, it's soft. Come on over and sit down."
Marc groped his way across the truck, found the bundle and sat down at Toffee's side.
"Guess there's nothing to do now," he said, "but wait for the worst."
"In the meantime," Toffee said, "what are we going to do about this kiddie business? I don't like it."
"You don't like it," Marc sighed. "I don't like it. And come to think of it, I don't suppose my wife will go for it much either."
"Ouch!" Toffee cried suddenly. "Stop it! This is no time for that sort of thing."