“We’re just on the point of going up,” said Jane, sweetly.  “Up in the tower.  Miss Garrison wants to see how far she can fly.”

“About 800 feet, I should say, Miss Garrison.  It’s quite a drop to the rocks down there.  Well, we’re off to the top of Craneycrow.  Isn’t that a jolly old name?”

“Chick o’ me, Chick o’ me, Craneycrow, Went to the well to wash her toe, When she got back her chicken was dead—­chick o’ me, Chick o’ me, chop off his head—­What time is it, old witch?”

“Who gave the castle such an odd, uncanny name?” asked Dorothy, under the spell of their blithesome spirits.

“Lady Jane—­the young lady on your left, an’ may it please you, Miss,” said Dickey.

“Bob couldn’t think of a name for the old thing, so he commissioned me.  Isn’t Craneycrow delightful?  Crane—­that’s a bird, you know, and crow is another bird, too, you know; isn’t it a joy?  I’m so proud of it,” cried Lady Jane, as she scurried up the narrow, winding stone steps that led to the top of the tower.  Dorothy followed more sedately, the new-born smile on her lips, the excitement of a new emotion surging over the wall of anger she had thrown up against these people.

“I wish I could go out and explore the hills and rocks about this place,” said Dickey, wistfully.

“Why can’t you?  Is it dangerous?” queried Dorothy.

“Heavens, no!  Perfectly safe in that respect.  Oh, I forgot; you don’t know, of course.  Phil Quentin and your devoted servant are not permitted to show their faces outside these walls.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, you see, we’re in America.  Don’t you understand?  You’re not the only prisoner, Miss Garrison.  Behold two bold, bad bandits as your fellow captives.  Alas! that I should have come to the cruel prison cell!”

“I had not thought of that,” said Miss Garrison, reflectively, and then she looked upon Dickey with a new interest.  They crawled through the trap door and out upon the stone-paved, airy crown of the tower.  She uttered an exclamation of awe and shrank back from the sky that seemed to press down upon her.  Nothing but sky—­blue sky!  Then she peered over the low wall, down upon the rocks below, and shuddered.

“Hello, Phil!  Great, isn’t it?” exclaimed Dickey, and Dorothy realized that Quentin was somewhere behind her in the little rock-bound circle among the clouds.  A chill fell upon her heart, and she would not turn toward the man whose very name brought rage to her heart.

“Magnificent!  I have been up here in the sun and the gale for half an hour.  Here are the newspapers, Lady Jane; Bob’s man brought them an hour ago.  There is something in them that will interest you, Dorothy.  Pardon me, but I must go down.  And don’t fall off the tower, Lady Jane.”

“Don’t worry, grandfather; I’ll be a good little girl and I shan’t fall off the tower, because I’m so afraid you’d find it out and beat me and send me to bed without my supper.  Won’t you stay up just a wee bit longer?”