"Gaston," I said. "You're a wonder. I don't suppose you brought along the little gimmick I had on my wrist?"
"I think I stuck it in the pocket," he said. "Somebody swiped the fancy gloves you had in the belt, though. I'm sorry about the gloves."
I fumbled over the blouse, and felt the lump in the pocket. With that slug-gun in my hand I was ready to lick the world.
"That's OK about the gloves, Gaston," I said. I strapped the clip to my wrist and tucked the gun away. I pulled off the old coat I wore and slipped the blouse on. This was more like it.
I looked at the house. All was peaceful. It was dark enough now that we wouldn't be seen crossing the field. It was time to go.
"Come on," I said. I took a sight on a bright star and struck out across the soft ground.
In fifty steps the house was completely lost to view. The wall and high foliage obscured the lights on the first floor; upstairs the house was in darkness. I kept the star before me and stumbled on. I never knew how hard it was to walk in a plowed field in the dark.
It was fifteen minutes before I made out a deeper darkness against the faintly lighter sky ahead. That would be the line of trees along the river; I was still assuming there was a river.
Then we were among the trees, feeling our way slowly. The ground sloped and the next moment I was sliding down a muddy bank into shallow water.
"Yes," I said, "it's a river all right." I scrambled out, and stood peering toward the west. I could see nothing. If we had to pick our way through trees all night, without a moon, we wouldn't be a mile away by dawn.