ned the bars," he said.

"If it hasn't, we must squeeze through them," she returned simply.

At the end of the terrace Clarence dismounted, and helped them from the
carriage. He then gave directions to the coachmen to follow the road
slowly to the corral in front of the casa, and tied his horse behind
the second carriage. Then, with Mrs. Peyton and the two young girls, he
plunged into the grain.

It was hot, it was dusty, their thin shoes slipped in the crumbling
adobe, and the great blades caught in their crape draperies, but they
uttered no complaint. Whatever ulterior thought was in their minds, they
were bent only on one thing at that moment,--on entering the house at
any hazard. Mrs. Peyton had lived long enough on the frontier to know
the magic power of POSSESSION. Susy already was old enough to feel the
acute feminine horror of the profanation of her own belongings by alien
hands. Clarence, more cognizant of the whole truth than the others, was
equally silent and determined; and Mary Rogers was fired with the zeal
of loyalty.

Suddenly a series of blood-curdling yells broke from the direction
of the corral, and they stopped. But Clarence at once recognized the
well-known war-whoop imitation of Jim Hooker,--infinitely more gruesome
and appalling than the genuine aboriginal challenge. A half dozen shots
fired in quick succession had evidently the same friendly origin.

"Now is our time," said Clarence eagerly. "We must run for the house."

They had fortunately reached by this time the angle of the adobe wall of
the casa, and the long afternoon shadows of the building were in their
favor. They pressed forward eagerly with the sounds of Jim Hooker's sham
encounter still in their ears, mingled with answering shouts of defiance
from strange voices within the building towards the front.

They rapidly skirted the wall, even passing boldly before the back
gateway, which seemed empty and deserted, and the next moment stood
beside the narrow window of the boudoir. Clarence's surmises were
correct; the iron grating was not only loose, but yielded to a vigorous
wrench, the vine itself acting as a lever to pull out the rusty bars.
The young man held out his hand, but Mrs. Peyton, with the sudden
agility of a young girl, leaped into the window, followed by Mary and
Susy. The inner casement yielded to her touch; the next moment they
were within the room. Then Mrs. Peyton's flushed and triumphant face
reappeared at the win