Arrived at the surface, his captor halted to look about, then set off across the plains due south, at a walk, Alex trailing after at the end of the rope.
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.