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."

"What sort of thing?"

"You pinched me, you big ... little oaf, and you know it."

"I haven't layed a hand on you," Marc said. "In your present condition, why should I? You flatter yourself."

"Oh yeah?" Toffee said. "I've heard about nasty little boys who run around pinching little girls. If you do it again...."

From outside there was the sound of approaching footsteps. They moved to the rear of the truck and suddenly the door handles began to rattle. Then they stopped, and a voice called out, "Not in here. All locked up." The footsteps moved away, into the distance.

"Anyway," Toffee said, getting back to the matter of the pinchings, "you keep your offensive little paws to yourself from now on or I'll snap them off."

"You back on that?" Marc asked wearily. "Even in childhood you're dirty-minded, aren't you? One would think that.... Ow! Of all the spiteful things to do!"

"What did I do?"

"As if you didn't know, tubby," Marc said nastily. "Pinching me behind my back. Literally!"

"I didn't," Toffee said. "Behind your back or anywhere else. I was too busy massaging my own...."

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