"It's done business all that time," he growled good humouredly. "An' it ain't ever made me jump through any window as I remember of, Johnny!"
"Enough," said Aldous, and in the gloom he gripped the other's hand. "You'll be there, Mac—in front of the Blacktons'—just as it's growing light?"
"That means in three quarters of an hour, Johnny. I'll be there. Three saddle-horses and a pack."
Where the trail divided they separated. Aldous went directly to the Blacktons'. As he had expected, the bungalow was alight. In the kitchen he saw Tom, the Oriental cook, busy preparing breakfast. Blackton himself, comfortably dressed in duck trousers and a smoking-jacket, and puffing on a pipe, opened the front door for him. The pipe almost fell from his mouth when he saw his friend's excoriated face.
"What in the name of Heaven!" he gasped.
"An accident," explained Aldous, with a suggestive shrug of his shoulders. "Blackton, I want you to do me another good turn. Tell the ladies anything you can think of—something reasonable. The truth is, I went through a window—a window with plenty of glass in it. Now how the deuce can I explain going through a window like a gentleman?"
With folded arms, Blackton inspected him thoughtfully for a moment.
"You can't," he said. "But I don't think you went through a window. I believe you fell over a cliff and were caught in an armful of wait-a-bit bushes. They're devilish those wait-a-bits!"
They shook hands.
"I'm ready to blow up with curiosity again," said Blackton. "But I'll play your game, Aldous."