merrily, in spite of their predicament. His haggard face, still
showing the effects of illness, grew more and more troubled, and at
last he said they would have to get down from the trap, not only to
avoid the danger of tipping over the cliff, but to relieve the
horse. In this sorry fashion they plodded along, now far above the
forest, and in the cool air of the hilltops.

"There certainly must be a top to this accursed hill," he panted. He
was leading the horse by the bit, and she was bravely trudging at
his side.

"There is a bend in the road up yonder, Phil," she said.

When they turned the bend in the tortuous mountain road, both drew
up sharply, with a gasp of astonishment. For a long time neither
spoke, their bewildered minds struggling to comprehend the vast
puzzle that confronted them. Even the fagged horse pricked up his
ears and looked ahead with interest. Not three hundred yards beyond
the bend stood the ruins of an enormous castle,

"It is Craneycrow!" gasped the man, leaning dizzily against the
shaft of the trap. She could only look at him in mute consternation.
It was Craneycrow, beyond all doubt, but what supernatural power had
transferred it bodily from the squarrose hill on which it had stood
for centuries, to the spot it now occupied, grim and almost
grinning? "Is this a dream, Dorothy? Are we really back again?"

"I can't believe it," she murmured. "We must be deceived by a
strange resem--"