le
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 passed 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 passed it over one of the boy's ankles, and
made the holding-knot as firm as he could draw it. Then passing 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