Mollie flung the rope high. Her aim was true. Ambrose clutched it and with desperate haste knotted it about his neck, clinging to it with his hands that it might not choke him. Then Mollie pulled, but it was of no use. The children ran to help her. It seemed almost as if the suction of the mud would drag them all down with the sinking boy. Their puny strength combined was as nothing against its relentless grip. "Oh, what shall we do?" wailed Mollie. Then in an inspiration she cried: "Run, Jimmie, Bobbie--somebody--quick an' fetch Walter." So promptly were the children accustomed to obeying the slightest command, that almost before the words were fairly uttered little feet were tearing toward the stable, little hands were untying the horse and leading him out of his stall and across the yard. It seemed to Mollie as if she were ages getting the rope fastened securely to the animal. At last it was accomplished. Ambrose's chin was now touching the mud. The rope about his neck was submerged. Only his hands and his face remained visible. "Go, Walter, go!" "Giddep!" cried the children together, striking the horse across the flanks with such force that he started with every ounce of his strength back toward the stable. So sudden and so forceful was the action that it brought Ambrose up like a cork out of a bottle and dragged him, fish-like and covered with mud, across the ground on his stomach. At that moment Peter entered the gate. He had reconsidered his decision to go in search of his confederates in the kidnapping conspiracy and decided to return home. The newspaper statement was undoubtedly true, he reflected. That being the case he had better not endanger his own safety by wandering about but make such preparations at home that, if Bailey and Swazey did bring his name into the case, any police search of his farm would reveal nothing. "That gal, Mollie knows too much, anyway," he decided for the dozenth time. He had been saying it for months but had kept her for two reasons--the income which Bailey sent him monthly for her maintenance, and the value of her service in caring for the other children. But if Bailey was going to be sent to prison the money would no longer come, so Mollie would best be silenced before any police got around; she and the brat for which he had expected to receive a thousand dollars! Peter was therefore returning home to act upon this decision. Ambrose's howls and the commotion in the stable-yard led him in that direction. When he learned what had happened his rage, already at white heat, knew no bounds. "Give me thet brat," he commanded Mollie, as she stood, holding Doris tight in her arms. "The boy's right, I was a-goin' ter fling her in th' bog, an' I be a-goin' ter do hit this minnit. Gi'n her hyar, I say; then I'm a-comin' back fer yo'." He writhed toward her, hands extended for the baby. Mollie gave one wild cry: "Run, chil'en, run!"