In a flash Clarence had wrought a feasible plan out of Jim's fantasy.

"Good," he said, wringing his old companion's hand. "Go back quietly
now; hang round the corral, and when you see the carriage climbing the
last terrace raise your alarm. Don't mind how loud it is, there'll be
nobody but the servants in the carriages."

He rode quickly back to the first carriage, at whose window Mrs.
Peyton's calm face was already questioning him. He told her briefly and
concisely of the attack, and what he proposed to do.

"You have shown yourself so strong in matters of worse moment than
this," he added quietly, "that I have no fears for your courage. I have
only to ask you to trust yourself to me, to put you back at once in your
own home. Your presence there, just now, is the one important thing,
whatever happens afterwards."

She recognized his maturer tone and determined manner, and nodded
assent. More than that, a faint fire came into her handsome eyes; the
two girls kindled their own at that flaming beacon, and sat with flushed
checks and suspended, indignant breath. They were Western Americans, and
not over much used to imposition.

"You must get down before we raise the hill, and follow me on foot
through the grain. I was thinking," he added, turning to Mrs. Peyton,
"of your boudoir window."

She had been thinking of it, too, and nodded.