His car, though--toward which he loped and bounded like a jackrabbit--was parked facing east, in front of and across from the Peacock, so far away that I couldn't read his license number. I did a little loping and bounding myself, certain that in his frenzy to get away he wouldn't notice me--until, as he was getting into the car, I was close enough to read his license number. 34X768. Three-four-ex-seven-six-eight! 34x768. I repeated the numbers to myself, I whispered, sang and chanted them as I ran back toward our motel. I mustn't forget them; 34x768--34x-- "Pardon me, ma'am, could you tell me how far it is to Riverside?" "Thirty-four ex seven sixty-eight miles!" I panted, brushing past the tall soldier who was blocking my path. I rushed into the office, hunted frantically for a pen, and wrote the license number down on a registration blank. Then I telephoned the police department. I was just hanging up the receiver and mopping the perspiration from my forehead when Grant returned. Abruptly all my resourcefulness and courage melted away, and I flung myself howling into his arms. "A rabbit held me up and took all of our money!" I wailed. It was about ten minutes before Grant could soothe me to a point where he could get a coherent explanation of what had happened. The police caught the terrified thief before he was twenty miles out of town. When they stopped at the motel so that I could identify him, and to check on the money which had been stolen, I was busy writing the story of the holdup for the Banning paper. Grant, of course, didn't know how much money had been in the drawer; and I had been in no condition to count the money as I handed it to the frightened desperado. I didn't know how much had been in the drawer because Grant's airy carelessness about money, once earned, had led me to put cash in and take it out from the drawer with as much nonchalance as his, and as little regard for amount. I was pretty sure, though, that it was in the neighborhood of sixty dollars that the little man had taken; and that was the amount they found on him. They gave us a little advice on keeping better track of the money we took in, which left me with a momentary glow of triumph, and an excuse for being on the delivering instead of the receiving end of one of those maddening, superior, meaningful glances--but I knew that neither the advice nor the glance would have any effect on Grant. My career as a part-time newspaper reporter was thriving, and without my ever finding it necessary to go out looking for news. Highway accidents, which were an old, old story to us by now, occurred frequently in front of our motel. It was usually easy for me to get the names, addresses and ages of the occupants of the involved cars while the police were asking their routine questions. I simply wrote the facts, dramatizing them a little, and the editor of the paper accepted them eagerly.