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.