“Don’t hit me,” he pleaded, “and I’ll go!”

This was more than Dorothy expected, and as the lad moved to obey, she raised, with her foot, the rope he had dropped with his disguise, and grasped it in her hand with the riding crop.

“You see school girls learn a lot about ‘team work,’” she said.  “We have to do it in all sorts of games.”

“What are you going to do with me?” asked the boy, who actually seemed more interested than frightened.

“Well, first I am going to make you secure.  See, I just slip this rope around you—­you had it all ready with that slip knot,” and she put it over his head before he had a chance to protest.  It fell over his hands, and she pulled the cord tight.  Then, as he was standing near the tree, she dropped the rope to his feet, gave it a jerk, and springing around the tree she had him secure with two turns of the hemp, and a knot made after the style of one Nat had showed her how to fashion.

The boy burst out laughing.

“You’re all right!” he declared.  “You beat me!  Where did you learn?”

“Oh, I often played bandit with my brothers, but never with a stranger before.  Aren’t you afraid?  Don’t you want to say your prayers?”

“I’ve forgotten them,” he said with a smile.  “Guess I forgot them when I started in at this—­the two don’t hitch.”

“Not exactly,” and Dorothy was fixing the rope more tightly.  “But you did know some once.  I can tell.”

“How?” he asked.

“Because you don’t swear.  Didn’t even when you cut your hand.  How is it?”

“Sore,” he replied.  “Please don’t pass the rope over the bandage.”

“I won’t,” answered Dorothy with some tenderness.

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?”

“Ned and Nat?  Of course I do!  Oh, don’t tell on me!  Really I shall be disgraced forever.”