Munson had pulled up as Alex ran for the fence. When the boy began pounding the wire he at once recognized its purpose, and sprang from his horse, drawing his pistol.

Instantly Alex darted on, carrying the stone. The cowman ran after. But the man was slow on his feet, and despite his fatigue, Alex drew away from him.

"Stop, or I'll shoot!" cried the cow-puncher. "_Pull up! I will!_"

"Go ahead, and they'll hear you at the train!" called Alex, though secretly trembling. The cowman hesitated, then returned the revolver to its holster, and ran back for his horse. Immediately Alex was again at the wire, pounding out, "_Oh! Oh! Orr! Orr!_"

The cowman was again up with him, and once more he ran on, gazing anxiously toward the train for signs of commotion to show his appeal had been heard.

For some distance the strange race continued, the cowman, angry and puzzled, on one side of the fence, Alex keeping close to the wires on the other, in readiness to dodge under should his pursuer jump.

Finally the rider again swung off, and headed in at a gallop. Grimly Alex halted. With a rush the horse came directly toward him. Waiting until it was within a few yards of him, he dropped to his knees, and crawled half way through the fence.

It was his undoing. Straight at him the horseman came, as though to jump.

Then suddenly the rider whirled broadside, leaned from the saddle, and before Alex, wildly scrambling, could withdraw, had him firmly by the hair. By main force the cowboy dragged his prisoner through the fence, and upright beside him.

With a half-stifled sob Alex lurched limply against the pony's shoulders.

"Never mind, kid," said the cowman not unkindly. "You made a good fight of it. You did your best. But I had to do my best too.

"If you'll give me your word to go quiet, I'll let you ride behind me,"

he added. "Promise?"

Alex cast a last look back toward the construction-train. A few figures were moving about, slowly. Clearly his signals had not been heard.

"All right," he said wearily, and with some difficulty mounting behind the cowboy, they were off the weary way he had come.

Jack, at the construction-train, rose late that morning. He had been up nearly all night, awaiting news from the viaduct search-party, which throughout the entire day had been scouring the nearby country for his unaccountably missing chum. As he emerged from the telegraph-car door he found the Indian, Little Hawk, on the adjoining steps of the store-car.

"Good morning, Mr. Little Hawk," he said. "Sunning yourself?"

"I wait for you. I hear noise--knock," the Indian said.

"Knock, like little tick-knock in car," he added as Jack regarded him, mystified.

"Tick-knock? What do you mean?"

"On fence," said the Indian stolidly. "Hearum twice. Like dis:" And while Jack's eyes opened wide, with a stone he held in his hand the Indian tapped on the iron hand-rail of the car the telegraph words, "Oh--Oh--Orr."

In a moment Jack was on the ground before him, all excitement. "Where?

Where did you hear it?" he cried.

"Fence. Sleep dar," said the Indian, pointing to the nearby fence. "No t'ink much about. Den see horse run--way dar. Den t'ink tick-knock, an'

come you."

Uttering a shrill shout Jack was off on the jump to find Superintendent Finnan. And fifteen minutes later the superintendent, Little Hawk, and one of the foremen, mounted, were away on the gallop along the ranch fence toward the point at which the Indian had seen the disappearing horseman.

Alex was thoroughly exhausted when he found himself once more at the ranch. Slipping to the ground, he entered the cabin of his own accord, and threw himself dejectedly upon the couch.

"You've near spoiled a dinged fine rope," observed Munson, following him, and kicking at the lariat, still stretched across the floor. "Oh, well, I can take it out of the K. & Z.

"Now for some breakfast. Suppose you don't feel too bad to grub, eh?

Though you sure don't deserve none."

As on the previous morning, Alex and his jailer were near the conclusion of the meal when hoofbeats again told of the approach of a visitor. Going to the door, the cowman announced "Bennet."

"So that's his name, is it?" said Alex quickly.

"What? Did I say--Well, let it go. I don't see that it makes much difference. Yes, Bennet's his name.

"And mighty lucky thing I have you back here," he added over his shoulder.

"Good morning, Mr. Bennet," he said. "Caught us at breakfast again."

"Breakfast! What are you doing at breakfast this time of day?" inquired the K. & Z. man, entering. When the cowman explained, the newcomer glowered at Alex threateningly. "Why didn't you shoot?" he demanded.

"Too near the train. They would have heard it," responded Munson.

"Well, clear off the table. I have something I want to show you," said Bennet, producing what looked like a map from his pocket.

"And you get off to a corner," he snarled at Alex. "Why isn't he tied up?" he demanded of the cowboy.

"He agreed to a twenty-four hours' truce--not to make another break in that time," the cowman answered as he swept their few dishes into the cupboard.

Bennet's lip curled under his moustache. "And you believe him, eh?"

There was a suggestion of tartness in the cowman's prompt "Sure! He rode behind me all the way back, on his word not to attempt anything, and kept it. Could have pulled my own gun on me if he'd wanted to."

"The more fool," muttered the railroad man as he spread the roll of paper on the table.

Alex meantime had stepped to the window from which he had taken the fragment of gla.s.s, and was disconsolately watching a half dozen hens scratching about below.

Lifting his eyes, he glanced out over the plain. The men at the table heard a sharply-indrawn breath. It was immediately changed into a low whistling, however, and they gave their attention again to the map.

Alex had discovered three hors.e.m.e.n heading for the ranch from the north.

And the leading pony he would have known in a hundred. It was Little Hawk's heavily-mottled horse.

That they were coming to his a.s.sistance--that someone had heard the knocking on the wire--he had not a doubt.

The hors.e.m.e.n were still some distance out of hearing. Ceasing the whistling, Alex glanced casually toward the table. Seated in chairs, the two men were still deeply engrossed in the plan before them, talking in low voices.

When on turning back to the window Alex recognized the second horseman as Superintendent Finnan, he shot a further glance toward the K. & Z. man at the table, and a smile of antic.i.p.ation and delight overspread his face.

Then suddenly it occurred to him that in a few minutes the hoofbeats of the on-coming horses would be heard, and that Bennet would have time to get to the door and escape.