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.