The situation was not without its humorous side, it occurred to Alex after his first apprehension had worn off. When a few minutes later the pony broke into a slow canter, and he was forced into an awkward dog-trot, a chuckle broke from him.

The man ahead turned in surprise. "Well, you're sure a game one," he observed. "Imagine it's funny, eh?"

"I was thinking how I would look to some of my friends, if they could see me here," explained Alex good-naturedly. "Trotting along like a little dog on a string."

The cowman pulled up and laughed. "Youngster, you're all right," he said heartily. "I'm sorry you're--that is--"

"On the wrong side?" suggested Alex, smiling.

"Very well. Let it go at that. Look here! If I take that thing off, will you promise to come along, and not play any tricks?"

"Yes, I will," agreed Alex readily. For he saw there was little chance of making his escape from the horseman on an open plain.

"Hold up your hands, then," directed the cowboy. Alex complied, and quickly he was free.

"How far are we going?" he asked as they moved on, Alex walking abreast.

"About twenty miles," replied the cowman.

XXI

TURNING THE TABLES

The moonlight had given place to darkness, and Alex was thoroughly exhausted from his long walk when the fence of a corral, then a group of small buildings, loomed up, and his captor announced that they were at their destination.

"Do you live here all alone?" Alex asked, seeing no lights.

"Since you fellows captured Bucks--yes," responded the cowboy, halting at the corral bars. Dismounting, he whipped saddle and bridle from the pony as it pa.s.sed inside, and replacing the bars, led the way to the house.

It was a small, meagerly-furnished room that a match, then a lamp, disclosed. Against the rear wall was a small stove, in the center a rough table, at either end a low cot, and in one corner a cupboard. Two or three chairs, some pictures and calendars and two or three saddles completed the contents. The floor was of hard earth.

"That'll be your bunk there," said the owner, indicating one of the cots.

"And you can turn in just as soon as you like."

Crossing the room, he stood at the foot of the bed, thinking. "What's the trouble? It looks comfortable enough," observed Alex, following.

"I have it," said the cowman, and going to the saddles, he returned with a coiled lariat. Alex laughed uncomfortably.

"Lie down," the man directed. "Or, hold on! Let's see first if you have any knives about you." Objection would have been fruitless, and Alex of his own accord surrendered his pocket-knife.

"Now lie down."

With what grace he could, Alex complied. Making a slip-loop in the center of the lariat, the cowman pa.s.sed it over one of the boy's ankles, and made the holding-knot as firm as he could draw it. Then pa.s.sing the two ends of the rope inside one of the lower legs of the cot, he ran them across the room and secured them to his own bed.

"That'll leave you comfortable, and put the knots out of temptation," he remarked. "Also, if you start any wriggling this old shake-down of mine will act as watch-dog. It squeaks if you look at it. And I'm a powerful light snoozer, and powerful quick with the gun when it's necessary," he added, with an emphasis which Alex could not doubt.

Nevertheless, when presently the cowman blew out the light, and retired, Alex only waited until a steady, deep snore announced that the man was asleep. Cautiously he sat up, and reached toward his encircled ankle.

The knots had been secured cleverly and tightly. Pry and pull as he could, they gave no more than if they had been made of wire.

Working lower, Alex sought to reach the cot leg, to see whether it was fixed to the floor. With some difficulty, because of the sitting position made necessary, he was straining toward it, when suddenly the bound foot lunged from him, the rope tightened, and from the cot opposite came a squeak. The snoring instantly ceased, and Alex sat motionless, holding his breath. The ominous silence continued, and finally he lay back with a movement as though turning in his sleep.

Minute after minute pa.s.sed, and still the breathing of the man across the room did not resume.

Then suddenly, it seemed, Alex found himself sitting upright, and daylight flooding the room. He had fallen asleep.

The second cot was empty, but a moment after the door opened and the cowman appeared.

"How did you sleep, stranger?" he inquired. "I thought for a spell last night you were trying some funny business."

Alex laughed. "I slept like a log," he declared truthfully, ignoring the last remark. "Are you going to keep me tied up here all day?"

"Until after breakfast anyway," responded his host, proceeding to start a fire in the stove. "Suppose you'll have some bacon and coffee?"

"Thank you, yes. I'm more than hollow, after that Marathon run you gave me last night."

As the cowman turned to the cupboard Alex seized the opportunity to examine the leg of the cot about which the la.s.soo was pa.s.sed. With disappointment he discovered it to be a stout post driven into the floor.

Despite the discomfort of his position Alex enjoyed the simple breakfast of biscuits and bacon. He was pa.s.sing his cup for a third filling of the fragrant coffee, when his host abruptly sat the coffee-pot down and listened. "Someone coming," he remarked. Alex also heard the hoofbeats.

They approached rapidly, there was a step at the door, and a tall, well-dressed figure in riding-breeches and leggings appeared. At sight of Alex he halted in surprise.

"Who's this, Munson?" he demanded.

The cowman led the way outside and closed the door, and low words told Alex that he was explaining the previous night's occurrences. More, they told him that this well-dressed man was the connecting link between the K. & Z. and the men who were seeking to interfere with the Middle Western in the race for the Yellow Creek Pa.s.s.

What would be the outcome of the man's visit for him? Alex asked himself.

For the newcomer would not fail to appreciate the disadvantage of having been seen there by the young employee of the M. W.

The young operator was not left long in doubt. The door again opened, and the stranger re-entered, followed by the cowman, and without preliminary placed a chair before Alex and dropped into it.

"Look here, my boy," he began, "how would you like to earn some extra money--a good decent sum?"

At once seeing the man's intention, Alex bridled indignantly. But suppressing his feelings, he responded, "I'd like to as well as anyone else, I suppose--if I can earn it honorably."

At the last word a flush mounted to the stranger's cheeks, but he continued. "Well, that's all a matter of opinion, you know. Every man has his own particular code of honor. However--

"You probably have guessed who I am?"

"A K. & Z. man."

"Yes. Now look here: Suppose the K. & Z. was anxious to know from day to day the precise progress the Middle Western is making in this race for Yellow Creek, and suppose they were willing to pay a hundred dollars a month for the information--would that proposition interest you?"

Alex replied promptly, "No, sir. And anyway, it's not the information you want. It's my silence."

The man's face darkened. He had one more card to play, however.