preparation for the dew of evening. Out, out they looked, out, out--.

"Sam!"

"Yes."

"You saw, too?"

An answering pressure of the hand.

"The eyes of him, only the eyes--out there at the edge of the corn!"

"It's the third time, Margaret." Despite the man's effort his breath
tightened. "They're all about: a score at least--I don't know how many.
The tall grass there to the east is alive--"

"Sam! They're there again--the eyes! Oh, I'm afraid--Sam--baby!"

"Hush! Leave her where she is. Don't seem afraid. It's our only chance.
Let them make the first move." Again the hand pressure so tight that,
although she made no sound, the blood left the woman's fingers. "Tell me
you forgive me, Margaret; before anything happens. I'm a criminal to
have stayed here,--I see it now, a criminal!"

"Don't!"

"But I must. Tell me you forgive me. Tell me."

"I love you, Sam."