She straightened mechanically, the listlessness that was upon her making it far easier to obey than to summon the show of strength necessary to resist. "We'll quit this place," Ned repeated again. "And you'll go with me ..." He turned to face the doorway. The bent reading lamp lay at his feet, shade and chimney wrecked, oil gurgling from it. He kicked the thing viciously, sending it crashing against the wall. "The damned snake!" he muttered. "He brought you in here, did he? Into this place.... Bah!" He seized a volume from the bookcase and flung it at the ruined lamp. "Ned, don't!" she pleaded. "You keep quiet; you'll have enough to think about coming with me. Come on, now!" Mechanically she responded and with unreal, heavy movements put on her hat as he told her to do, crossed the kitchen floor and emerged into the afternoon sunlight. Her husband's horse, still saddled, stood in the shade of the ash tree. "He's left only that damn stallion," she heard Ned say. "Well, we'll take him." "What for, Ned?" she asked dully, walking after him as he strode toward the corral and catching his sleeve, shaking it for his attention. "Why are you taking him?" "To take you away on," he snapped. "That's stealing." "He didn't think of that when he tried to steal my wife; I'll steal two of his horses for a while ... just like he had you ... for a while." Her strength of wit had been spent in the furious scene within the house and she attempted no answer, just stood outside while Lytton entered the corral, bridled the curious stallion and turned to lead him out. Abe would not move. He would not even turn about and the man's strength was not sufficient to do more than pull his head around. "Come along, you----" He took off his hat and swung it to strike the horse's nose sharply, but Abe only threw up his head and blinked rapidly. The ears were flat and he switched his tail when Lytton again tried to drag him out. He would not respond; just braced backward and resisted. Ann forced her mind to function with some degree of alertness. "Let me take him, Ned," she said, white faced and quiet. "I can't see you abuse him." She took the reins from her husband who relinquished his grip on them reluctantly; then she spoke a low word to the sorrel. He sniffed her garments and moved his nostrils in silent token of recognition. This was the woman Bayard had put on his back, the only person besides his master who had ever straddled him, so it must be all right. He turned and followed her from the corral while Lytton swore under his breath. Ten minutes later, the woman mounted on the stallion, they rode through the gate. Ann was silent, scarcely comprehending what happened. They did not turn to the left and take the road toward Yavapai; instead, Ned followed a course that held straight eastward, gradually taking them away from the wagon tracks, out into the great expanse of valley. "Where are you taking me, Ned?" Ann finally rallied her wits enough to ask.