But all these emotions finally passed. It was evident that some even stronger force was really governing him. For, with a sharp ejaculation that conveyed every feeling suggested by disappointment, he swung his horse about and galloped off in a southeasterly direction--toward Orrville. * * * * * * It was past midnight. Effie, flushed with an unusual excitement, was gazing up into her husband's face. She was listening almost breathlessly to the story he was telling her. The little living-room, more than half kitchen, was bathed in the yellow light of a small tin kerosene lamp. For the time at least her surroundings, the poverty and drudgery of her life, were forgotten in the absorbing feelings consuming her. "I tell you, Effie, I was scared--plumb scared when I saw what it was," Bob Whitstone ended up. "Guess we've known long enough the whole blamed countryside is haunted by cattle rustlers, but--that's the first time I've seen 'em, and I guess it's the first time any one's seen 'em at work. Say, I'm not yearning for the experience again." But Effie had no interest beyond his story. His feelings on the matter of his experience were of no concern whatever at the moment. There were other things in her mind, things of far greater import. She returned to the rocker chair, which was the luxury of their home, and sat down. There was one thing only in Bob's story which mattered to her just now. "Ten thousand dollars," she murmured. "_Ten thousand_! It's a--fortune." Bob moved across to a rough shelf nailed upon the wall and picked up a pipe. "A bit limited," he observed contemptuously, as poured some tobacco dust into the bowl. "I was thinking of--ourselves." The man ceased his operation to gaze swiftly down upon the gently swaying figure in the chair. "What d'you mean, Effie?" he demanded sharply. The girl's steady eyes were slowly raised in answer to the challenging tone. They met her husband's without a shadow of hesitation. "It sounds like a fortune to me, who have not handled a dollar that I could spend without careful thought--for two years," she declared with warmth. Bob completed the filling of his pipe. He did not answer for a few moments, but occupied himself by lighting it with a reeking sulphur match. "That's a pretty hard remark," he said at last, emitting heavy clouds of smoke between his words. "Is it? But--it's just plain facts." "I s'pose it is."