The humor of the situation was apparent to both of them.
Dorothy, however, was determined not to relent, she would hold him a prisoner, she decided, until she found the boys. They would know best what to do. Certainly such a desperado was unsafe to be at large.
"Are you going to make the fire now?" he asked, in a mocking tone.
"No, I am just going to jump on my horse and leave you here to think of your sins. I am sure you will be here when I come back."
"Oh please, miss, don't go for the police," he begged, tears welling into his deep blue eyes. "I have never done anything wrong before—and I can see, now, how silly I was."
"I am not going after the officers," said Dorothy, "but you must know that you have done very wrong—you might have hurt me seriously."
"Oh, please let me go!" he pleaded. "I will promise you anything, and I never want to play Wild West again!"
"It was too real for play," retorted Dorothy. "But you need not be too alarmed. My cousins are good boys."
"Your cousins?"
"Yes, the White boys. Do you know them?"