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 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 passed, 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 lassoo was passed. 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 passing 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 Pass.
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.
"Well, let it go at that, then. And suppose, in addition to a hundred a
month to keep silent as to seeing me here, and what you have learned
generally, I should give you--" He thrust his hand into an inside pocket
and brought forth a long pocketbook. "Suppose I should give you, say two
hundred dollars, cash?"
Alex caught a knee between his hands and leaned back against the wall.
"I'm not for sale," he replied quietly.
The would-be briber thrust the book back into his pocket and sprang to
his feet, purple with anger.
"Very well, my young saint," he sneered, "stay where you are, then--till
we're good and ready to let you go!"
He strode to the door, Munson following him. "If he tries to get away,"
Alex heard him add as he mounted his horse, "shoot him! I'll protect
you!"
"You _are_ a young fool, all right," Munson said, returning. "You've
simply made it worse for yourself. You've sure now got to stay right
here, indefinite.
"And, as he ordered," the cowman added determinedly, "if you try to make
a break-away of it, I'll sure shoot--and shoot to kill! When I go into a
thing, I put it through!"
Alex, however, had no intention of staying, whatever the risks, and when
presently Munson, after assuring himself that the knots were secure,
passed out, he immediately addressed himself to the task of making his
escape. It did not look difficult at first sight, since both hands were
free, and only one foot tied. But an energetic attempt to loosen the
cleverly-tied slip-loop failed as completely as it had the night before.
Likewise, strain as he could at the cot leg, he could not budge it, so
firmly was it driven into the hard ground.
With something like despair Alex at last relinquished these endeavors,
and turned to the problem of cutting the rope in some way. In the hope of
finding a nail with which he might pick or fray the lariat apart, he made
a thorough examination of the cot. There were nails, but they were driven
in beyond hope of drawing with his fingers.
Dispiritedly Alex relinquished the search, and sat up. His eyes wandered
to the window near him. Starting to his feet, he strained toward it.
The lower corner of one of the panes had been broken, and the triangle of
glass leaned inward loosely. With a low expression of hope Alex was
reaching for it, when from the rear of the cabin sounded the returning
footsteps of the cowman. Speedily Alex sank back on the cot, and assumed
an air of dejection.
A few minutes later the boy again found himself alone. But in the
meantime he had decided to leave the securing of the fragment of glass
and the attempt at escape until night. In further preparation for the
attempt Alex that afternoon stretched himself on the cot, and slept
several hours.
To the young operator it seemed that the cowman would never retire that
night. And when at length he blew out the light, and threw himself upon
his bed, he apparently lay an interminable time awake. At length,
however, when the moonlight in the window pointed to approaching
midnight, there came a faint regular breathing, then a full long snore.
Without loss of time Alex got to his feet at the foot of the cot, and
leaning against the wall, reached toward the window.
He could just touch the broken corner of pane with the tips of his
fingers. Moving his supporting hand farther along the wall, he drew back,
and reached forward with a lunge. This time he got his wrist on the
window-ledge. Thus leaning, he finally secured a hold on the fragment of
glass with his fingers, and pulled on it. A crackle caused him to falter.
Munson's breathing continued undisturbed. At the next pull the piece came
free. The next moment Alex was sitting on the cot-end, sawing at the rope
with the sharp edge of the broken glass.
To his disappointment, the edge, though sharp to the feel, did not cut
into the closely-woven and seasoned twine as he had expected. Vigorously
he sawed away, however, and at last found that the extemporized knife was
taking hold.
And finally, as the last gleam of moonlight died from the window-panes,
the remaining strand was severed, and there was a faint slap as the rope
fell to the floor. A restless move by the sleeper and a momentary
cessation of the snoring gave Alex a thrill of fear. Then the heavy
breathing resumed, and getting to his feet, he slipped to the door, found
the catch, lifted it, and passed out.
As he closed the door, Alex paused a moment to assure himself that the
cowman was still breathing regularly, and turned away jubilantly.
Exultation over his escape was considerably tempered when Alex discovered
that the moon was almost down in the west, and that in addition the sky
overhead was clouding. He set off immediately, however, heading straight
north, and when a safe distance had been put between him and the cabin,
broke into a run.
At a steady jog Alex kept on for several miles over the dimly-lit plain.
Then the moon finally disappeared, and he fell into a rapid walk. Some
time later he halted in alarm. Was he going in the right direction? On
every hand was a wall of darkness, and overhead not a star was to be
seen.
He moved on, and again halted to debate the situation. Certainly, for the
time being, he was lost. What should he do? Remain where he was till
daylight? or go ahead, and take the chance of circuiting back? He decided
to continue.
Perhaps an hour later, still pushing ahead, Alex strode full tilt into a
barb-wire fence. As he staggered back a second cry broke from him. Had he
circled back to Munson's corral?
His heart in his throat, he felt hurriedly along the top wire to a post,
and reached upward. A gasp of relief greeted the discovery that the top
of the post was well within his reach. The corral posts were not less
than eight or nine feet, with wires to the top.
A further cheering idea followed. On the ride to the Antelope viaduct he
had noted a three-wire fence similar to this paralleling the right-of-way
for several miles. Perhaps this was the same fence?
If he only knew its direction!
Dropping to the ground for a brief rest, Alex set his brains at recalling
every bit of woods or plains lore he had ever heard or read of for the
telling of direction.
It was a puff of air against his cheek that suggested the answer.
The prevailing wind! What was it here?
Southwest!
In a moment he was on his knees at the foot of the adjacent fence-post.
On the farther side, half covering the dead grass, was a small eddy of
sand!